"Look Away." Lotrips. BB/OB, BB/DM.
Title: Look Away
Author: kaydee falls (OneRingDoodle@aol.com)
Pairing: BB/OB, BB/DM
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "So who was the voyeur, Billy or Orlando?"
Archive: TAKE IT. PLEASE... just tell me where
Feedback: is always nice.
Disclaimer: None of this happened. I don't know the sexuality of anyone involved.
Notes: Improv fic for ContreLaMontre. Had to start with the line "Even watching him felt like being a voyeur." 45 minute time limit.
Even watching him felt like being a voyeur. Billy blinked, but couldn't look away. Too fucking perfect, that body, plus the bedroom eyes and that smirking little come-hither smile. Orlando Bloom practically screamed sex.
Not literally, of course. Not like Dom, who really did scream sex sometimes -- he liked to randomly shout it out whenever there was a lull in the conversation. Bloody annoying habit, but whenever Billy complained about it ("For fuck's sake, Dom! Why do you always DO that?"), Dom just grinned and explained patiently that he was twenty-three years old, healthy, and male, and therefore horny pretty much 24/7.
"Orli understands me," Dom proclaimed dramatically, slinging an arm around Orlando's waist and practically melting into his lap. Orlando smirked down at him.
Billy tried to roll his eyes, but they were kind of stuck on Orlando. "Aye, you're both complete prats."
"Mmm," Dom agreed, winking at him wickedly. Billy hadn't thought the lad could press himself any closer to Orlando, but then, Dom's concept of personal space was just barely allowing the other person enough room to breathe. And it wasn't like Orlando was complaining. Smug bastard.
Fucking sexy smug bastard, but still.
* * * * *
Orlando sleeps with his mouth ever-so-slightly open. He snores. Faintly, but that's still snoring. And he stretches out completely, occupying as much space as possible, arms and legs splayed out everywhere. But even with his face smushed up against the airplane window and ridiculously long limbs challenging the confines of the (first class!) airplane seat 3F, he manages to be sexy as all hell. The numerous glasses of champagne Billy enjoyed in honor of his birthday (twice in one day, as if his jetlagged body wasn't confused enough) probably aren't helping. He doesn't usually feel an urge to shag blokes he's known for less than twenty-four hours. Or, even more disturbingly, to reach out and trace the outline of Orlando's cheek, run his thumb over too-perfect lips, feel the muscles of the lad's stomach tense and relax under the palm of his hand.
It must be the champagne.
* * * * *
Billy liked it when Dom kissed him. He liked it a lot, actually. Not that he and Dom were anything together, really ("Don't be daft, Elijah, Dom and I are just good mates." "Yeah, good mates who like a fuck every other night or so!"), but it still felt nice. And, well, Dom wasn't the only one in the cast who was horny pretty much 24/7. They had a good arrangement. Hell, a great arrangement. Not a specifically exclusive one, though. That was never part of the package. Because you can't do buddy fucks if you become more than buddies.
But Billy never screwed around with anyone else. Not because of any noble concept of devotion or dogged loyalty. Just because you can't continue buddy fucks once you've had a taste of something better.
Orlando's body screamed sex (not literally). So did the smug, cat-who-got-the-canary expression on his face. Billy caught a glimpse of the feral light in Orlando's eyes, and almost couldn't look away. He moaned softly into the kiss, and Dom probably thought it was for him.
So who was the voyeur, Billy or Orlando?
* * * * *
It's pure random chance that he's at the foreign exchange counter at that particular moment. Pure random chance that he overhears the tall young man ahead of him ask for New Zealand dollars. Pure random chance that he remembers the production people telling him that he'd be on the flight from Heathrow with --
"You wouldn't happen to be Orlando Bloom, would you?"
The bloke whirls around and positively beams at him, with shockingly white, perfect teeth shining out in contrast to a face that's just barely made the transition from adolescent gawkiness to maturity. He's going to be a real looker in a year or two, Billy has time to think before being swept up in a huge hug.
"Oh my god, you're a hobbit!"
"Aye, that I am," Billy laughs once he's released, finally getting a good look at the elf. Shit, he's a real looker NOW.
Billy thinks he's going to like this guy.
* * * * *
"I'm serious," Dom said, gaze unnaturally intense. Maybe he even was. He hadn't fooled around with Orlando or Elijah for...hell, a week at least.
"Okay." It probably wasn't what Dom wanted to hear, but Billy didn't really know what he was supposed to say. To avoid awkwardness, he kissed Dom again.
At the other end of the trailer, Orlando was laughing at something Elijah had just said. Perfect teeth sparkling. Perfect body splayed languorously across the couch. Perfect eyes meeting Billy's for just a second, just long enough for a smirk.
The thing about voyeurism is that no matter how much it turns you on, you still feel like an outsider. Distant. Detached. From Orlando. From your own body. You're just watching.
Billy tried to focus on kissing Dom, but he couldn't look away.
THE END
Author: kaydee falls (OneRingDoodle@aol.com)
Pairing: BB/OB, BB/DM
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "So who was the voyeur, Billy or Orlando?"
Archive: TAKE IT. PLEASE... just tell me where
Feedback: is always nice.
Disclaimer: None of this happened. I don't know the sexuality of anyone involved.
Notes: Improv fic for ContreLaMontre. Had to start with the line "Even watching him felt like being a voyeur." 45 minute time limit.
Even watching him felt like being a voyeur. Billy blinked, but couldn't look away. Too fucking perfect, that body, plus the bedroom eyes and that smirking little come-hither smile. Orlando Bloom practically screamed sex.
Not literally, of course. Not like Dom, who really did scream sex sometimes -- he liked to randomly shout it out whenever there was a lull in the conversation. Bloody annoying habit, but whenever Billy complained about it ("For fuck's sake, Dom! Why do you always DO that?"), Dom just grinned and explained patiently that he was twenty-three years old, healthy, and male, and therefore horny pretty much 24/7.
"Orli understands me," Dom proclaimed dramatically, slinging an arm around Orlando's waist and practically melting into his lap. Orlando smirked down at him.
Billy tried to roll his eyes, but they were kind of stuck on Orlando. "Aye, you're both complete prats."
"Mmm," Dom agreed, winking at him wickedly. Billy hadn't thought the lad could press himself any closer to Orlando, but then, Dom's concept of personal space was just barely allowing the other person enough room to breathe. And it wasn't like Orlando was complaining. Smug bastard.
Fucking sexy smug bastard, but still.
* * * * *
Orlando sleeps with his mouth ever-so-slightly open. He snores. Faintly, but that's still snoring. And he stretches out completely, occupying as much space as possible, arms and legs splayed out everywhere. But even with his face smushed up against the airplane window and ridiculously long limbs challenging the confines of the (first class!) airplane seat 3F, he manages to be sexy as all hell. The numerous glasses of champagne Billy enjoyed in honor of his birthday (twice in one day, as if his jetlagged body wasn't confused enough) probably aren't helping. He doesn't usually feel an urge to shag blokes he's known for less than twenty-four hours. Or, even more disturbingly, to reach out and trace the outline of Orlando's cheek, run his thumb over too-perfect lips, feel the muscles of the lad's stomach tense and relax under the palm of his hand.
It must be the champagne.
* * * * *
Billy liked it when Dom kissed him. He liked it a lot, actually. Not that he and Dom were anything together, really ("Don't be daft, Elijah, Dom and I are just good mates." "Yeah, good mates who like a fuck every other night or so!"), but it still felt nice. And, well, Dom wasn't the only one in the cast who was horny pretty much 24/7. They had a good arrangement. Hell, a great arrangement. Not a specifically exclusive one, though. That was never part of the package. Because you can't do buddy fucks if you become more than buddies.
But Billy never screwed around with anyone else. Not because of any noble concept of devotion or dogged loyalty. Just because you can't continue buddy fucks once you've had a taste of something better.
Orlando's body screamed sex (not literally). So did the smug, cat-who-got-the-canary expression on his face. Billy caught a glimpse of the feral light in Orlando's eyes, and almost couldn't look away. He moaned softly into the kiss, and Dom probably thought it was for him.
So who was the voyeur, Billy or Orlando?
* * * * *
It's pure random chance that he's at the foreign exchange counter at that particular moment. Pure random chance that he overhears the tall young man ahead of him ask for New Zealand dollars. Pure random chance that he remembers the production people telling him that he'd be on the flight from Heathrow with --
"You wouldn't happen to be Orlando Bloom, would you?"
The bloke whirls around and positively beams at him, with shockingly white, perfect teeth shining out in contrast to a face that's just barely made the transition from adolescent gawkiness to maturity. He's going to be a real looker in a year or two, Billy has time to think before being swept up in a huge hug.
"Oh my god, you're a hobbit!"
"Aye, that I am," Billy laughs once he's released, finally getting a good look at the elf. Shit, he's a real looker NOW.
Billy thinks he's going to like this guy.
* * * * *
"I'm serious," Dom said, gaze unnaturally intense. Maybe he even was. He hadn't fooled around with Orlando or Elijah for...hell, a week at least.
"Okay." It probably wasn't what Dom wanted to hear, but Billy didn't really know what he was supposed to say. To avoid awkwardness, he kissed Dom again.
At the other end of the trailer, Orlando was laughing at something Elijah had just said. Perfect teeth sparkling. Perfect body splayed languorously across the couch. Perfect eyes meeting Billy's for just a second, just long enough for a smirk.
The thing about voyeurism is that no matter how much it turns you on, you still feel like an outsider. Distant. Detached. From Orlando. From your own body. You're just watching.
Billy tried to focus on kissing Dom, but he couldn't look away.
THE END