|In Working Order
||[Nov. 17th, 2004|10:11 pm]
Lunchtime Challenge Fics
|||||1985 - In my head||]|
Disclaimer: This didn't happen anywhere except in my twisted little world (which is, to be precise, not the same as the Real World).
Title: In Working Order
Summary: Orlando is just so fucking pretty.
Warnings: First attempt at writing Orlando. He is a bad, bad boy.
A/N: Kraken_wakes gave this to me when I requested a lunchtime fic. I can only say that she is EVIL, EVIL I tell you!! On the other hand, it was fun to write. (EVIL!) Here's the challenge, verbatim (leaving out the cackling and Machiavellian rubbing of the hands together): "Billy/Orlando. During filming of Lotr. Must reference the boys' trip to the Star Wars set. First-time. Words to include: beans, sherbet, chocolate buttons, roundabouts, snail, dust, rain, seven, purple, snooker." (Snooker? Fucking snooker?)
In Working Order
"How about Elwood?"
"Straight as the proverbial arrow."
"I say he's queer as a three-pound note."
"Bullshit, Dom. Have you seen him ogling Liv?"
"Oh, like that proves anything." Dom runs his hand over the curve of Billy's side. "I've seen you ogling Liv."
Billy turns over to look sternly at Dom. "I'm a manly man and I love women. Of course I ogle Liv."
"I'm hurt." Dom pouts just to see Billy respond.
"No worries. She's pretty enough, but she doesn't have these." Billy flicks one of Dom's prominent ears, to make him squirm. "Or this." His hand slips considerably lower, to squeeze the rather exhausted toy lying limp between Dom's thighs. Dom squeaks. "Or your positively nasty mouth." He traces Dom's lips with one finger.
Dom grins smugly. "All true."
"Back to to Elwood." Billy taps his nose, grinning as Dom bats his hand away.
"I still say he's gay as a treeful of budgies."
"I say he's straight."
"Well. We should get him drunk and see if he'll kiss one of us."
"Worked on you." Billy smirks.
Dom sticks his tongue out at Billy. "Okay. Orli."
"I know. I can't figure him out either."
"He's just so fucking pretty."
Dom raises his eyebrows. "Is that right, Billy?"
"Well. Yeh." Billy, to Dom's everlasting delight, blushes.
"Oho, the great Billy Boyd has a crush."
"Shut up, you wanker." Billy's eyebrows come down as he tries to look severe, but his mouth gives him away--always does, Dom thinks cheerfully--sheepish and embarrassed.
"The trip to the Star Wars set," Billy mumbles. He is still red, but recovering.
"S'okay. I wouldn't kick him out for eating crackers in bed, either."
"I'd kick you out for eating crackers in bed, so don't even think about it."
Dom ignores this. "Maybe we should get him drunk and see if he'll kiss one of us." Dom waggles his eyebrows.
"Me first," Billy says, grinning.
Dom rolls his eyes. "Fine, you first. When?"
"No time like the present." Billy's voice is light.
"Okay... tomorrow night."
Green eyes widen. "You don't, ah, mind…?"
"Shite no." Dom wriggles closer to Billy, sliding one hand over him, onto Billy's back, pulling him closer. "I think it's hot as hell. I wanna see him kiss you. See you kiss him."
"What if…" Billy doesn't finish the sentence, but his mouth gives him away again: He licks his lips.
"What if there's more?" Dom looks interested. "Hmm. Well, then... I want all the details. And, you know. Use a condom." He smirks. "Have you thought about it much? You know... fucking him?"
"A bit." Billy shrugs.
"Well. Who hasn't?" Dom, again, looks interested. "How much?"
"I don't know, Dommeh. You've kept me quite busy." Billy thinks about it. "Just, you know. Occasionally. On set, or watching him down the pub or something."
"Oh my god, you are so sad." Dom rolls onto him, pins him down. "He's eleven years younger than you. Sad, sad, sad, sad."
"Shut the fuck up." Billy's hands bely his words, running gently up and down Dom's back.
"Maybe you should make me."
"Maybe I will."
* * * * *
"This is a plot." Orlando squints at Billy. Rain pounds on the kitchen windows, washing away the dust of a dry spell. Summer. It's December, Christmas break, but it's summer. None of them are used to it yet.
"Yes, you've found us out." Billy leans in close. "We really, really wanted to get yeh drunk." He wobbles slightly on his kitchen barstool, steadies himself with one palm flat on the countertop.
"All right. But why?" It's working, because Orlando is drunk, and Billy feels a wee bit squiffy himself.
Squiffy enough that he rests his forehead against Orlando's and answers honestly. "We wanted to see if we got you drunk if we could see if you would kiss me." That came out odd, he thinks, but doesn’t quite care.
Dom, sprawled bonelessly in an overstuffed chair a few feet away and still on his first beer, nearly spits out his mouthful.
"Oh." Orlando appears to be considering this. "Is it a bet?" Even drunk--maybe especially drunk--he is beautiful. Even wearing a hideously ugly purple-striped shirt (certainly not because of that), he is beautiful.
Billy pulls away from him; leans his chin on his hand and stares. "Yes." Billy improvises. "If you kiss me, I get to drive Dom around that sick-making roundabout seven times in a row."
"What if I don't kiss you?" Orli is pissed, but clearly interested in the conversation.
"Then I have to eat a particular recipe that Dom will make up for me."
"It will involve beans, chocolate buttons, and sherbet," Dom puts in helpfully. He has recovered and is watching them intently. "It'll be delicious."
"Said the man who eats snails," Billy replies without looking at him.
"Mm-hmm." Orlando looks at his glass. "S'empty."
Billy gapes for a moment, surprised at this revelation. "Mine, too." Moving with the careful precision of the veteran drunk (or Scotsman), he pours himself and Orli two fresh fingers of whisky.
"Why do I have to kiss you? Why not him?" Orli turns on his stool, looking mulishly at Dom. "You don't want to kiss me?"
"Billy wants to kiss you more." Dom purrs it, and Billy feels suddenly inclined to push Orli out the door toward his own house and climb into Dom's lap. But wait a minute… his eyes flick to Orlando, who is.... Well, Orlando. Pretty as a girl, but with all the best toys attached... Billy is confused, and Dom is laughing at him.
Orlando swings his gaze to Billy. "Why d'you wanna kiss me?"
Billy shrugs. "Dunno." He mumbles it, starts to pick up his glass, is thwarted by Orlando's hand, pressing his own firmly down so he can't lift it. "What?"
"Think I'm bent?" Orlando is unreadable suddenly, brown eyes opaque, digging into Billy. His delicate mouth curls just a bit, and Billy feels the pull of that dangerous expression. Billy, who likes being on top, is thinking about being below Orlando.
"I, I," Billy stutters, accent think, muddled. "I doan know. Can't tell w' yeh, Orli."
"Assume I am. Tell me what you really want." Not as drunk as he seems? Billy can't decide.
It is easy to forget, with Orlando, that the simplicity is not all there is. Billy has seen it vanish--seen Orli's dark eyes flicker and measure, weigh and judge. Orlando is not stupid. The simple laugh, carefree happiness, headlong adventuring--those are real, but so is this. Especially when Orli is Legolas, Billy's Pippin sees this. Complexity. Depth. It is hot as hell, and Billy feels his jeans tighten slightly, between his legs.
"Jest a kiss?" He's not sure why it comes out as a question.
Orlando looks at him, looks at Dom, back at Billy. "I'll kiss you. Wouldn't want you to lose your bet." His light voices is at odds with his face, still a little hard.
Dom has been watching them both like a hawk. "What about me? Don't mind if I lose?" He could be discussing a footie wager, but his body tenses.
Orlando glances at him, smooth. "He wanted to kiss me worse." He shrugs, mock sympathy; smiles just a little. It does nothing to change the perilous angle of his head, dark straight eyebrows canted over gleaming eyes, jaw set just so.
"Mind if I watch?"
Billy feels he should say something, something like it's not a snooker game yer working out, but he is tongue-tied by whisky and pheromones and Orlando's hand, still calm and firm over his.
One dark eyebrow goes up. "You can watch. The kiss." The unspoken promise (threat?) of more to come, after the kiss, makes Billy's throat go dry.
"Come here, Billy." It is a command, but Billy doesn't think to disobey. He leans forward a little. Orlando takes his hand off Billy's, moves it to the back of his head. He has long fingers, long arms--he is altogether a long, slender specimen of a human being--and he draws Billy to his mouth effortlessly.
Orlando's lips are dry and soft. Billy closes his eyes, presses his lips against Orli's. Tilts his head a little (feels Orli tilting his, the other way); parts his lips slightly and feels Orlando's mouth open, just a little. Tastes his breath--warm whisky, damp heat--scoots forward a little more, flick of tongue along the perfect lips. Orlando's tongue: There it is, slipping out to meet Billy's as his mouth opens further, seals harder over Billy's mouth, tastes him, twines his slick, hot tongue all around Billy's.
Orlando breaks the kiss, releasing Billy's head, moving back and away, settling on his stool again. Billy wonders if Orlando closed his eyes at all; wipes his hand across his mouth. He knows he must look like a slack-witted fool, eyes glazed with lust, body loose and boneless, except his cock, which is throbbing against the too-tight seam at his crotch.
"Well done, Bills." Dom's voice breaks the silence like glass, and sounds almost normal. He stands, surveys them both. Orlando is still gazing at Billy, face pleasant and deadly. Dom slaps his pockets, checking for his keys, maybe. "I'll just go then, shall I?"
Orlando and Billy both look at him (finally). "If it's okay with you... and Billy..." says Orlando calmly.
"S'fine with me," Dom says. His eyes are intent and curious, but his smirk is genuine enough. "Just. You know. Return him in working order."
Billy turns a green glare onto Dom. "Fucker."
"Enjoy yourself, Billy." He tosses a wrapped condom onto the counter and pivots to go, grinning.
"Aren't you going to kiss him goodbye?" Orlando's words fall into the rain-splashed quiet.
Dom turns, takes two steps back and inserts himself between them. He leans over and kisses Billy, long and deeply. Feels Billy's face heat against his, hands come up to hold Dom against him.
At last Dom breaks away. "Love ya, Bills."
Billy raises an eyebrow, mouth quirked in a grin. "You too, Dommeh."
"Right then. Call me in the morning." And Dom is gone, through the kitchen door into the night.
As the door closes behind him, Orlando reaches for Billy again. This time his kiss is not gentle; it is hard and searching and deep, and Billy understands that Orlando is tasting Dom in his mouth, plundering him for that taste. He opens to it completely, gives it up. Doesn't think about it, although--I goddam well will later. Orlando shifts forward, brings his knee against Billy's crotch, pressing against the hard bulge of Billy's erection; Billy groans into Orli's mouth. One hand is in Billy's hair again, the other on his hip. Billy's hands settle on Orlando's waist, the thin smooth fabric of the shirt bunching under his fingers.
"Billy." Orlando stands up, and Billy does too, though it isn’t easy. "C'mon." Billy is being led through his own house to his own bedroom. He has the wit to grab the condom, and Orli laughs.
In the dark hallway Billy finds his back against the wall, Orli's mouth fierce on his, long body shoved against his own. Orlando is taller than him, and Billy can feel Orli's hard-on pressed into his stomach. He puts his arms around Orlando, slides his hands onto his arse (god it feels lovely, as lovely as Billy always thought it would) and pulls him forward, hard, so Orli moans a little from the friction. Orlando's hands are pinning Billy's shoulders back, and when he tears his mouth from Billy's he is breathing quickly. "You like to be on top with Dom?" His voice is thick and hard, and Billy nods, hoping Orlando will see the movement in the darkness. "Not tonight, Bills. You understand?"
Billy nods again; clears his throat. "Yeh. I understand."
"Good." Then Orlando is bending down to him again, and Billy lifts his head to meet Orli's mouth. They kiss like it is a battle, but Billy has already surrendered, and he knows it. Orli knows it, too. This is a token resistance, a war where the players all understand their roles, and they play them well.
Fumbling in the dark--clatter against walls, thud against the half-closed door--and they are in Billy's bedroom. The bed is unmade, clothes scattered around. Light leaks from the bathroom, which also appears messy. "How do you like it, Billy?"
Billy breaks his hold, backs away from Orlando. "Does it really matter?" His voice smirks unbearably, and Orlando closes the gap between them with one long stride.
"No." He grips Billy's upper arms tightly, hard thin fingers digging into Billy's strong biceps. "Not at all." Then he is bruising Billy's mouth with his own, teeth digging cruelly into Billy's lip, tongue swiped along the pain. Billy stands still, breathing hard, head fallen back, as Orlando bites and kisses his way down his neck. Orli's hands slide down, he is pulling Billy's shirt up. He leans back and yanks the shirt up and over Billy's head. His mouth is immediately all over him, licking, biting, kissing Billy's chest, which rises and falls rapidly. Billy clutches Orlando's hips for balance, choking back a whimper as Orlando sucks fiercely first on one nipple, then the other.
"Take my trousers off," Billy manages to say.
"No." Orli stands back abruptly, begins unbuttoning his own shirt with quick, elegant hands. But Billy sees that they are trembling, just a little, and a rush of fierce happiness gives him back his voice.
"Fine. I guess they'll jest... stay on, then." He tosses the condom onto the night table, sits on the bed. Stretches out and watches Orli shrug the shirt off.
"No, you take them off." This is not the carefree Orlando Billy is used to, but he can deal with this, oh yes he can.
Billy's great talent lies in improvisation, in using the situation handed to him. He is flexible, and that means more than being able to bend in unusual ways (and besides, Dom is better at that particular parlour trick than Billy). No. Billy does love women, and he does love men, and he is not really picky about whether he is on top or on bottom. He gives every partner what he or she wants, and Orlando obviously wants to be in charge. So Billy will give him that. But Orlando just as obviously wants to be challenged, and so Billy will give him that, too.
"You got mah shirt off in no time flat," Billy says irritatingly.
"Take off your trousers." Flat, calm; Orlando is unbuttoning his own jeans, and he doesn't look at Billy as he steps out of them--both of them are barefooted, shoes discarded long ago in the living room. Orli's pants, if he was wearing any, must have gone with the jeans, because he is naked now.
Billy doesn't answer his demand, just stares hungrily at Orlando. His cock is as mouth-watering as the rest of him, long and rather narrow, springing from a nest of dark curly hair, the foreskin fully back, head swollen and dark in the faint light. Billy wants, quite a lot, to kneel on the bed and take Orli into his mouth, but he knows that is not what Orli wants.
"Take off your trousers, Billy," Orlando repeats, stalking toward the bed.
"Take 'em off me," Billy says.
"Billy." Orli's voice is that of sweet reason. He sits on the edge of the bed. "If you don't take them off," he leans down to whisper into Billy's ear, "I can't. Fucking. Fuck you." He bites Billy's ear, the thin, sensitive outer edge, not the soft lobe, and very, very gently twists it in his teeth.
Billy shudders. "Take 'em off me." His voice is full of air, rasping unpleasantly against his throat.
One hand snakes over Billy's chest, down to his erect nipple. "Billy," Orlando breathes, and his lips have to come together to make the B, a little kiss on Billy's ear, and his tongue has to flick up to make the L, a little lick, and Billy whimpers as Orlando's fingers circle his nipple lightly, an agonizing tickle made worse by knowing what will be next.
"Convince me," Billy manages to grate out, then he shrieks as Orlando pinches, hard, biting down at the same time.
"Convinced?" Orli asks, and Billy nods, eyes just a little damp, cock pressed so tight against his jeans he wonders if they can come off. Orlando lets go of his ear and his nipple and sits back, watching as--why, yes, they will unzip asamatteroffact--Billy gets his jeans and boxers off: denim pushed down, hips arched then dropped as he gets them past his arse.
Wriggle and kick and they are gone, flying into a corner. He lies back again, shivering under Orlando's dark eyes. "Well?"
"Where's the lube?"
"My, aren't you the gentleman," Billy drawls, but even he knows that would be taking a good thing a bit far, so he leans over to rummage in the night table for it. "Warms with friction," he says lightly, dropping it onto the bed.
"How nice," Orlando says, in the exact tone he would say, "Who gives a fuck?" Billy nearly laughs. "Put this on me."
The wrapped condom lands on Billy's bare chest with a little papery sound, and he sits up to open it, cellophane crinkling and then discarded. Billy leans over and licks Orlando's cock just once, base to head, before he sets to work, rolling the thin latex down. "Very nice," Billy says, smoothing it, feeling Orli's cock twitch with his heartbeat, harden further as Billy's fingers massage him. When the condom is down all the way, Billy leans over again to kiss the head through its thin sheath.
"Now the lube," and Orli's voice finally has an edge. Billy keeps his eyes down, hiding his exultation over that tiny tremor. He pours the KY into his hand and then rubs it between his palms to warm it before massaging it firmly over Orlando's cock, humming a little to himself, allowing his slick fingers to slip down past the condom, to massage Orli's balls, sliding through the wiry, soft hair and loose skin there. Orli doesn't speak, but his breathing quickens. "Now you," he says finally, and his hands are almost brutal as he pushes Billy down and turns him over, so that Billy is flat on his stomach. Orlando kneels between his legs, using his knees to efficiently widen Billy's legs. "Up," he commands, and Billy does it, moving onto his hands and knees, though the bed felt good against his aching cock. Now it throbs, hanging in the air as Orlando abruptly slathers him with chilly oil.
"Fucker," Billy mutters, wincing away from the cold. Orlando slaps his thigh, a sharp, stinging little blow.
"Be still." Then he is sliding one finger inside Billy, before Billy can prepare himself. He tenses but remains still with an effort, groaning a little as Orli twists his finger around. He can feel Orlando leaning over him, heat radiating from the slender, muscular body, though they are not touching anywhere except right there, in that one tender, tight little place. Orlando slides another finger in, and Billy groans again, closing his eyes.
"Is two fingers enough?" Orlando's voice implies that it had better be.
"It ought to do." Billy's voice is the only weapon he has left, and he wields it skillfully; his tone implies that Orlando will not have much that is larger to offer.
"Oh, Billy." Silky, menacing. Billy wishes he could see Orlando's face. He feels the bed dip and shift as Orli moves around behind him. The head of his cock is against Billy's puckered entrance, and Billy forces himself to relax, knowing he'll get no more warning. Orlando thrusts inside him in one hard, unforgiving push.
"Fuck!" Billy cries.
"Does it hurt?" Orlando sounds curious.
"No." Billy is sullen, his teeth clenched.
"All right then." Orlando's hands fasten firmly onto Billy's hips, and on the second thrust he pulls Billy back against him, a deep, hard thrust that puts his head against Billy's prostate.
"Fuck!" Billy cries again, this time pleasure and pain mingled as stars burst beneath his eyelids.
"Fuck, yeah," Orlando grinds, and then he is moving, moving fast and hard against Billy, fingers digging into his hipbones (that's sure to leave marks, thinks Billy) as he thrusts. He is mostly silent, the only sounds his harsh, fast breathing and the wet slide and smack of his cock inside Billy, his pelvis against Billy's arse.
After four thrusts against his prostate, Billy's cock is so hard and tight he thinks he might come without any touch at all, but goddammit he wants to be touched, wants to be grasped and twisted and squeezed. He begins to grit his teeth, trying not to make a sound as Orlando pounds into his body, but finally--after an eternity--"Now, Orlando, fucking touch me, you fucker," he gasps when the rhythm will let him. "Fuck, fuck, now, dammit," he chants raggedly, his voice spiraling higher.
"Close now," Orlando growls, and Billy doesn't know if he means Billy or himself, but Orli leans over. Oh sweet Jesus, the feel of his slick narrow chest against Billy's back, his breath hot on Billy's neck--those things are almost enough to bring Billy off alone, but then Orlando grips his cock and Billy shouts. Orlando makes a long, hard sound as he comes, slapping his hand desperately up and down Billy's shaft, thumb slipping around the head, deep, shuddering thrusts inside him; and Billy comes too, wordless high sounds fading away as the heatwarmtidalwave pounds over his body, spurting out between Orlando's fingers onto the shuddering bed beneath them...
Drifting, nothing but breathing to do, just... breathing. Let it slow, let it slow...
Billy is shaking, he can feel the muscles on his arms and legs standing out as he struggles to stay on his hands and knees beneath Orli's slumped body. "Geh' off," he finally groans, and Orlando laughs, a sound utterly at variance with what has just transpired, and slides off Billy onto the bed next to him.
Billy makes a sour face and drags a corner of his duvet up and over the large wet spot under him. Then he collapses onto his face and lies there bonelessly for a while, feeling twinges and aches settle into pleasurable warmth. He hears Orlando's in-drawn breath as the condom is pulled off, then feels the mattress move as the younger man reclines again. There is silence for a long, comfortable time.
"Mmph." Billy pushes his face into the pillow. Orlando's hand slides over his back.
Billy rolls over with a groan to face Orli. The dark hair is matted down, fine-boned face flushed and concerned. "I'm fine, you git." Billy smiles at him, and is relieved to see Orlando smile back. "Tha' was fun."
Orlando's eyes take off, roaming over the wall behind Billy as he blushes. "Sure was."
Billy laughs. "Christ, Orli, don't tell me you're embarrassed."
Orlando shrugs, glances at Billy's face for a moment. "I... uh. Well, no. I mean, it just occurred to me that... you're about, you know. Ten years older than me." Billy's eyes widen in disbelief. "And maybe I shouldn't have been so, uh. Bossy."
Billy curls into a ball, he laughs so hard. "Orlando, you are such a twat. Ow." His thigh twinges a bit and he uncurls. "That shite doesn't matter in bed. Or in the kitchen. Or against the wall."
"Fuck you." Orlando is grinning, though.
"Already done that," Billy points out. "And quite well, ta very much."
"I can't believe you didn't know I liked you." Orlando's smile is sweet, and Billy knows he is holding something back.
"Hmm." Billy props his head on his hand to watch him. "Liked me?"
Orlando is blushing again, blushing furiously. "Yes."
"Me... and Dom."
"Shite." Orlando looks at the wall behind Billy again, but he doesn’t turn his face away. "Both of you. Watching the two of you..." He sighs. "Either. Both. Billy-n-Dom, Dom-n-Billy... I'm sorry."
"Hey." Billy uses his voice to draw Orlando's gaze back to his own. "It's okay, Orli. Me and Dom, we're... y'know. We're good, we're together. But neither of us is worth a fuck as far as jealousy goes--as you may have noticed earlier this evening." His expression is wry, and Orli cracks a faint smile. "I've never gotten it, really. Why bother? Trust or don't, share the love, just do what makes you happy." Billy reaches to touch Orlando, rests his hand on his wrist. "You should tell Dom."
Orlando's smile is now positively blinding, and Billy feels a familiar ache, the ache of beauty, an ethereal beauty he has never, will never have. Orlando doesn't really know he has it. He knows he is handsome, not being blind, but it is an everyday truth for him, and he just doesn't know--doesn't quite know what effect that beauty has on others, doesn't quite know what to do with it. Yet.
Which is certainly a good thing, Billy concedes privately. He leans over to kiss Orlando lightly. "Just return him in working order."
Orli smiles wickedly. "Maybe you can be there to supervise."
Billy's mouth falls open, and when he figures it out, he closes it with a snap. "Mebbe so." Now he is the one who is blushing, and he sits up in the middle of the disarranged covers, running his hands through his hair. He shakes his head, drops his hands into his lap. "Christ. What have I got us into?" he mutters, smiling slightly.
Orlando bounces to his feet. "Nothing too heavy, I promise. But... fun. Fun I can guarantee."
"Fun, huh?" A chance to warm himself at that fire, with that smile, just for a little time... Let it go, enjoy it.It's Dom's voice in his head, and Billy smiles. "I'm thirsty," he says. "And hungry." He stretches, wincing as his back pops and crackles. "And I miss Dom."
"Call him. It's early." Orlando's black eyes glitter at him, and Billy doesn't know whether to fall into that sharp-edged smile--it's a lovely thing, after all--or laugh. Laugh, he decides. Need at least a couple of hours for any other reaction.
So Billy laughs, and reaches behind himself for the bedside phone. He tosses it to Orlando. "You call him. You're the one who wants to kiss him."