NaNoWriMo - The Story So Far, Parts 89-92
89. Sweet the Sting
With a strut into the room with his hat cocked sure defiantly.
Billy/Dom, R, 500 words
Dom's wearing a hat, tipped forward so that it almost covers his black-lined eyes. It's actually Billy's hat, but Billy only wore it once before Dom stole it out of his closet. Looks better on me, he'd claimed, and Billy hadn't argued. Everything looked better on Dom, including those silly silver rings he wears stacked on his middle finger and thumb. Billy never quite manages to pull that look off, although Dom does it with aplomb.
Those rings are cold at the base of Billy's spine, where Dom's hand has casually landed in the gap between Billy's t-shirt and jeans. Dom's absently engaged in conversation with Viggo, and while Billy is trying to focus on what they're saying, he can't quite manage. A chill runs up Billy's back and settles in his lower arms, where goose bumps form, pricking up the hair on his forearms. He shudders, and Dom moves his hand slightly when he leans in.
"Wee bit chilly?" he says in a faint imitation of Billy's accent, and Billy nods and moves closer to Dom, snuggling into the body heat that he always seems to radiate, even in the dead of winter. Dom doesn't even need to turn on the heat in his house, and he always sleeps in the buff.
That train of thought leads Billy in an interesting direction, and he loops one arm around Dom's waist, pulling them together until their sides brush. Dom looks over at him, tilting his head up to see out from under the hat, and he smiles. "I'll warm you up," Dom whispers in Billy's ear, the day-old stubble on his chin scratching against Billy's cheek.
Billy smiles back at Dom and squeezes him closer. Dom moves his hand from Billy's back to his hip, and the cool air chills Billy where Dom's hand had rested. Viggo takes that as his cue to leave them, wandering across the room to where Orlando is demonstrating his newfound air-archery technique.
"Think they'd miss us?" Dom rumbles, gesturing with his free hand toward the gathered crowd.
Billy shakes his head, and Dom uses his hand to guide them out of the room. They walk a short distance down a hallway, ending in Viggo's studio. There's a faint smell of chemicals and paint, and it's chillier in there than it had been in the living room. As soon as they're inside, Dom turns and moves Billy against the nearest wall, pressing the length of his warm body against Billy's. He leans in, tipping his head up, and kisses Billy slowly on the mouth, sliding his tongue inside when Billy's lips part.
When they separate, Dom instantly kneels on the floor in front of Billy and briefly rubs his face against the fabric covering Billy's already half-hard cock. He reaches up with one hand and unzips Billy's pants, pulling out his erection. His hand goes to his hat, about to take it off when Billy grabs him by the wrist.
"Leave it on," he says.
*****
90. Take to the Sky
This house is like Russia, with eyes cold and grey.
Billy/Dom, PG-13, 500 words
Billy has owned the house for almost two decades now. It's been too big for him since Ali left, just two months to the day after Ruth... Well, that was seventeen years ago. Now, Billy wanders from empty room to empty room, pacing a groove into the hardwood floors, a track down the middle where the varnish has dulled. He doesn't sleep much, not according to what Elijah says. Sweet Elijah, spends a couple of weeks every year with Billy, tucked away inside that house. For the first five years or so, Elijah actually thought that sheer force of will could snap Billy out of it, get a reaction out of the shell of a man they'd all once loved. But after the sixth year, Elijah lost hope. He goes now out of habit and obligation, and because Billy's house is the quietest place on Earth, even with Billy in it.
Dom hasn't spoken to Billy since the funeral, the cold afternoon in the yard behind the tiny little chapel. Right in front of his daughter's grave, Billy had laid into Dom, cursing him and calling him every name under the sky. Elijah and Orlando had pretty much dragged Billy away, all while he shouted that everything was Dom's fault. Dom never listened, and it shouldn't have ended that way, but because it did, everything after that was on Dom.
Viggo drove Dom straight to the airport after that, where he caught a flight back to Los Angeles. And he made a life for himself, half in California, half in Hawaii. His star rose, and he made a life with Evi and their son, and he didn't speak to Billy after that. Elijah called him every so often, usually after one of his trips, and slid in an update about Billy where he could.
He always listened to the things Elijah didn't say.
Dom, you shithead. You really fucked up.
Dom's son turned three and went to preschool on the island, where he learned the many meanings of "aloha" and how to count to ten in Hawaiian. Dom and Evi celebrated their fifth anniversary in Aspen, where he taught her how to snowboard and discovered how much she liked marshmallows in her hot chocolate.
Talk to him, you bastard.
Evi was in New York for their tenth anniversary, while Dom was alone in the big house in L.A. She was doing a Broadway play, something she'd always wanted to do. He drank a bottle of wine by himself and fell asleep on the couch.
It's bad, Dommie. It's really bad.
They sold the house and split the profits just two months short of their fifteenth anniversary. Dom moved into a smaller place in Malibu, almost a little bungalow. It was enough for him and, on the weekends, his son.
And the last time he'd called:
It's never too late, Dom.
And that's why he's standing at the end of Billy's driveway, looking up at the quietest house he's ever seen.
*****
91. Talula (Tornado Mix)
He's my favorite hooker of the whole bunch.
Elijah/Orlando, NC-17, 500 words
Elijah's got a pouty little mouth and pink lips that could suck the varnish off of Orlando's fingernails, if he ever spent more than ten seconds on his hand before Orlando pressed his palm onto Elijah's head and moved him to his knees.
He's definitely Orlando's favorite, even above Dom. Dom had a tongue that could make Orlando come before Orlando even had the opportunity to get Dom's pants off. That used to be what Orlando was looking for. Lately, though, he's looking for the softness of Elijah, the way the younger man bends under him and flexes when Orlando is inside of him. Elijah never closes his eyes with Orlando, and for an extra ten dollars, he'll say Orlando's name when he comes with Orlando's cock buried in his ass.
When it first started, Orlando went to Elijah a couple of times a month, when the pickings were slim that the bars he frequented. On nights when he couldn't find what he was looking for, he'd find Elijah on the usual corner. Sometimes Elijah would just suck him off in the backseat of Orlando's car, with Orlando's fingers buried in his ass. Sometimes Orlando took him home, fucked him in his bed and gave him a handful of twenties and a peck on the cheek when they were done.
After a while, Orlando completely stopped finding what he was looking for in the bars. None of them had Elijah's blue eyes and pale skin, with long fingers and flexible knees. On one particularly memorable night, he dragged a man who looked a little like Elijah to a bathroom stall, where the man sucked his cock for the better part of fifteen minutes before they both gave up. Half an hour later, after Orlando found Elijah on the corner, he came in the palm of Elijah's hand, whispering his gratitude.
So Orlando stopped looking altogether. He rides up to Elijah's corner every few days, and Elijah, who knows his car on sight, always hops in without question. They ride to Orlando's house in comfortable silence, unless Orlando is feeling particularly horny, in which case he'll press the palm of Elijah's hand into his crotch at a stop light. They don't always make it all the way inside the house.
It becomes Orlando's routine, every other night, driving up to the corner and unlocking his door. Sometimes Dom is there, and he waves to both of them before Orlando drives off. Sometimes, Elijah is alone, smoking a cigarette while he waits, though he always puts it out before he climbs into Orlando's car. It's all very normal, almost quaint, comforting in a sense, like picking up a lover after work. Orlando spends his days looking forward to seeing Elijah, kissing him, fucking him. He looks forward to the small moments after, when they actually talk, long conversations that leave Orlando's cheeks aching from smiling so wide.
And then one night, Orlando drives up to the usual corner and finds it deserted.
*****
92. Taxi Ride
I'm down to your last cigarette.
Orlando/Viggo, PG, 500 words
Orlando bought a new pack of cigarettes before he hit the bar on Friday night.
The first cigarette was smoked in the parking lot of the convenience store, immediately after ripping off the crinkle wrap and digging into the foil. It stuck a little to his dry lips, and halfway through he pulled a tube of ChapStik out of his pocket and applied a generous amount. He left the parking lot as he took the final puff and reluctantly tossed the butt out the window.
The third cigarette was smoked on the long walk from the parking lot of the pub into the actual bar itself, and when he carried the final bit of it inside with him, Astin looked disappointed. Orlando responded to that by discretely blowing a puff of smoke in his face as he hugged the older Hobbit.
Elijah and Dom bummed the fourth and fifth cigarettes, respectively. Dom lit his with Orlando's lighter, and Elijah monkey-fucked off of Dom's to light his own, sparks flaring as Elijah crushed the cigarettes together. Orlando laughed at both of them and slid into the booth next to Viggo, ordering a beer from the shapely waitress who came over with a smile.
Orlando smoked his eighth cigarette just as the party was coming to a head, with all four of the Hobbits out on the dance floor. He sat in the booth and took slow drags while listening to Bean and Viggo debate football and the Indian caste system. Orlando ordered his second beer and nodded his head occasionally.
The twelfth and thirteenth cigarettes were chain-smoked after the party died down. They all stood in the parking lot, debating who was sober enough to drive the drunks home. Astin offered to take Orlando home, but only if he put out his cigarette. Orlando flipped him off, at which point Viggo slung an arm over Orlando's shoulder and said he'd take him.
So Orlando lit up the fourteenth in the passenger seat of Viggo's car, although he didn't smoke more than half of it, since his fingers were shaking a little too much for Viggo not to notice if he raised his hand. He threw half of it out the window at a stop light and then rolled up the window while Viggo looked on, amused.
Orlando gave the fifteenth cigarette to Viggo, who claimed he didn't much feel like rolling one of his own, and he kept the sixteenth for himself. They sat in Viggo's living room, blue smoke drifting up to the ceiling, and when Viggo asked to bum another, Orlando handed him the rest of the pack.
The last cigarette was smoked the following morning, when Orlando wandered out of Viggo's bedroom, his hair a tangled mass of dirty curls and his throat oddly dry. He found the pack on Viggo's coffee table, right where Viggo had left it. He slid the last one out and lit it, smiling as he blew a smoke ring at the ceiling.
With a strut into the room with his hat cocked sure defiantly.
Billy/Dom, R, 500 words
Dom's wearing a hat, tipped forward so that it almost covers his black-lined eyes. It's actually Billy's hat, but Billy only wore it once before Dom stole it out of his closet. Looks better on me, he'd claimed, and Billy hadn't argued. Everything looked better on Dom, including those silly silver rings he wears stacked on his middle finger and thumb. Billy never quite manages to pull that look off, although Dom does it with aplomb.
Those rings are cold at the base of Billy's spine, where Dom's hand has casually landed in the gap between Billy's t-shirt and jeans. Dom's absently engaged in conversation with Viggo, and while Billy is trying to focus on what they're saying, he can't quite manage. A chill runs up Billy's back and settles in his lower arms, where goose bumps form, pricking up the hair on his forearms. He shudders, and Dom moves his hand slightly when he leans in.
"Wee bit chilly?" he says in a faint imitation of Billy's accent, and Billy nods and moves closer to Dom, snuggling into the body heat that he always seems to radiate, even in the dead of winter. Dom doesn't even need to turn on the heat in his house, and he always sleeps in the buff.
That train of thought leads Billy in an interesting direction, and he loops one arm around Dom's waist, pulling them together until their sides brush. Dom looks over at him, tilting his head up to see out from under the hat, and he smiles. "I'll warm you up," Dom whispers in Billy's ear, the day-old stubble on his chin scratching against Billy's cheek.
Billy smiles back at Dom and squeezes him closer. Dom moves his hand from Billy's back to his hip, and the cool air chills Billy where Dom's hand had rested. Viggo takes that as his cue to leave them, wandering across the room to where Orlando is demonstrating his newfound air-archery technique.
"Think they'd miss us?" Dom rumbles, gesturing with his free hand toward the gathered crowd.
Billy shakes his head, and Dom uses his hand to guide them out of the room. They walk a short distance down a hallway, ending in Viggo's studio. There's a faint smell of chemicals and paint, and it's chillier in there than it had been in the living room. As soon as they're inside, Dom turns and moves Billy against the nearest wall, pressing the length of his warm body against Billy's. He leans in, tipping his head up, and kisses Billy slowly on the mouth, sliding his tongue inside when Billy's lips part.
When they separate, Dom instantly kneels on the floor in front of Billy and briefly rubs his face against the fabric covering Billy's already half-hard cock. He reaches up with one hand and unzips Billy's pants, pulling out his erection. His hand goes to his hat, about to take it off when Billy grabs him by the wrist.
"Leave it on," he says.
*****
90. Take to the Sky
This house is like Russia, with eyes cold and grey.
Billy/Dom, PG-13, 500 words
Billy has owned the house for almost two decades now. It's been too big for him since Ali left, just two months to the day after Ruth... Well, that was seventeen years ago. Now, Billy wanders from empty room to empty room, pacing a groove into the hardwood floors, a track down the middle where the varnish has dulled. He doesn't sleep much, not according to what Elijah says. Sweet Elijah, spends a couple of weeks every year with Billy, tucked away inside that house. For the first five years or so, Elijah actually thought that sheer force of will could snap Billy out of it, get a reaction out of the shell of a man they'd all once loved. But after the sixth year, Elijah lost hope. He goes now out of habit and obligation, and because Billy's house is the quietest place on Earth, even with Billy in it.
Dom hasn't spoken to Billy since the funeral, the cold afternoon in the yard behind the tiny little chapel. Right in front of his daughter's grave, Billy had laid into Dom, cursing him and calling him every name under the sky. Elijah and Orlando had pretty much dragged Billy away, all while he shouted that everything was Dom's fault. Dom never listened, and it shouldn't have ended that way, but because it did, everything after that was on Dom.
Viggo drove Dom straight to the airport after that, where he caught a flight back to Los Angeles. And he made a life for himself, half in California, half in Hawaii. His star rose, and he made a life with Evi and their son, and he didn't speak to Billy after that. Elijah called him every so often, usually after one of his trips, and slid in an update about Billy where he could.
He always listened to the things Elijah didn't say.
Dom, you shithead. You really fucked up.
Dom's son turned three and went to preschool on the island, where he learned the many meanings of "aloha" and how to count to ten in Hawaiian. Dom and Evi celebrated their fifth anniversary in Aspen, where he taught her how to snowboard and discovered how much she liked marshmallows in her hot chocolate.
Talk to him, you bastard.
Evi was in New York for their tenth anniversary, while Dom was alone in the big house in L.A. She was doing a Broadway play, something she'd always wanted to do. He drank a bottle of wine by himself and fell asleep on the couch.
It's bad, Dommie. It's really bad.
They sold the house and split the profits just two months short of their fifteenth anniversary. Dom moved into a smaller place in Malibu, almost a little bungalow. It was enough for him and, on the weekends, his son.
And the last time he'd called:
It's never too late, Dom.
And that's why he's standing at the end of Billy's driveway, looking up at the quietest house he's ever seen.
*****
91. Talula (Tornado Mix)
He's my favorite hooker of the whole bunch.
Elijah/Orlando, NC-17, 500 words
Elijah's got a pouty little mouth and pink lips that could suck the varnish off of Orlando's fingernails, if he ever spent more than ten seconds on his hand before Orlando pressed his palm onto Elijah's head and moved him to his knees.
He's definitely Orlando's favorite, even above Dom. Dom had a tongue that could make Orlando come before Orlando even had the opportunity to get Dom's pants off. That used to be what Orlando was looking for. Lately, though, he's looking for the softness of Elijah, the way the younger man bends under him and flexes when Orlando is inside of him. Elijah never closes his eyes with Orlando, and for an extra ten dollars, he'll say Orlando's name when he comes with Orlando's cock buried in his ass.
When it first started, Orlando went to Elijah a couple of times a month, when the pickings were slim that the bars he frequented. On nights when he couldn't find what he was looking for, he'd find Elijah on the usual corner. Sometimes Elijah would just suck him off in the backseat of Orlando's car, with Orlando's fingers buried in his ass. Sometimes Orlando took him home, fucked him in his bed and gave him a handful of twenties and a peck on the cheek when they were done.
After a while, Orlando completely stopped finding what he was looking for in the bars. None of them had Elijah's blue eyes and pale skin, with long fingers and flexible knees. On one particularly memorable night, he dragged a man who looked a little like Elijah to a bathroom stall, where the man sucked his cock for the better part of fifteen minutes before they both gave up. Half an hour later, after Orlando found Elijah on the corner, he came in the palm of Elijah's hand, whispering his gratitude.
So Orlando stopped looking altogether. He rides up to Elijah's corner every few days, and Elijah, who knows his car on sight, always hops in without question. They ride to Orlando's house in comfortable silence, unless Orlando is feeling particularly horny, in which case he'll press the palm of Elijah's hand into his crotch at a stop light. They don't always make it all the way inside the house.
It becomes Orlando's routine, every other night, driving up to the corner and unlocking his door. Sometimes Dom is there, and he waves to both of them before Orlando drives off. Sometimes, Elijah is alone, smoking a cigarette while he waits, though he always puts it out before he climbs into Orlando's car. It's all very normal, almost quaint, comforting in a sense, like picking up a lover after work. Orlando spends his days looking forward to seeing Elijah, kissing him, fucking him. He looks forward to the small moments after, when they actually talk, long conversations that leave Orlando's cheeks aching from smiling so wide.
And then one night, Orlando drives up to the usual corner and finds it deserted.
*****
92. Taxi Ride
I'm down to your last cigarette.
Orlando/Viggo, PG, 500 words
Orlando bought a new pack of cigarettes before he hit the bar on Friday night.
The first cigarette was smoked in the parking lot of the convenience store, immediately after ripping off the crinkle wrap and digging into the foil. It stuck a little to his dry lips, and halfway through he pulled a tube of ChapStik out of his pocket and applied a generous amount. He left the parking lot as he took the final puff and reluctantly tossed the butt out the window.
The third cigarette was smoked on the long walk from the parking lot of the pub into the actual bar itself, and when he carried the final bit of it inside with him, Astin looked disappointed. Orlando responded to that by discretely blowing a puff of smoke in his face as he hugged the older Hobbit.
Elijah and Dom bummed the fourth and fifth cigarettes, respectively. Dom lit his with Orlando's lighter, and Elijah monkey-fucked off of Dom's to light his own, sparks flaring as Elijah crushed the cigarettes together. Orlando laughed at both of them and slid into the booth next to Viggo, ordering a beer from the shapely waitress who came over with a smile.
Orlando smoked his eighth cigarette just as the party was coming to a head, with all four of the Hobbits out on the dance floor. He sat in the booth and took slow drags while listening to Bean and Viggo debate football and the Indian caste system. Orlando ordered his second beer and nodded his head occasionally.
The twelfth and thirteenth cigarettes were chain-smoked after the party died down. They all stood in the parking lot, debating who was sober enough to drive the drunks home. Astin offered to take Orlando home, but only if he put out his cigarette. Orlando flipped him off, at which point Viggo slung an arm over Orlando's shoulder and said he'd take him.
So Orlando lit up the fourteenth in the passenger seat of Viggo's car, although he didn't smoke more than half of it, since his fingers were shaking a little too much for Viggo not to notice if he raised his hand. He threw half of it out the window at a stop light and then rolled up the window while Viggo looked on, amused.
Orlando gave the fifteenth cigarette to Viggo, who claimed he didn't much feel like rolling one of his own, and he kept the sixteenth for himself. They sat in Viggo's living room, blue smoke drifting up to the ceiling, and when Viggo asked to bum another, Orlando handed him the rest of the pack.
The last cigarette was smoked the following morning, when Orlando wandered out of Viggo's bedroom, his hair a tangled mass of dirty curls and his throat oddly dry. He found the pack on Viggo's coffee table, right where Viggo had left it. He slid the last one out and lit it, smiling as he blew a smoke ring at the ceiling.