DomBilLijOrli... because four heads are better than one
Happy Birthday to raynemaiden!
Note: Written with "Fools Gold" by the Stone Roses on repeat in my cd drive. Title is nicked from another Stone Roses song off their eponymous album. I scoured the web for a real audio or mp3 file of the song, but I'm clueless about such things, and came up empty-handed. Hopefully this works whether you're familiar with it or not. If not, buy the record. Or, even so, buy the record. :)
Don't Stop
"Oh man, this song makes me think of New Zealand."
"It's a Frodo and Sam song, innit?" Dom slurred.
Elijah slumped his head into his curled palms. "'The pack on my back is aching, the straps seem to cut me like a knife.' Yeah, that's definitely hobbit strife. Probably more Sam than me, though. He had to carry all that cookery stuff."
"Or more Sam than Frodo," Billy corrected.
"Whatever."
* * *
The hobbits minus Sean plus an elf sat around Dom's living room, splayed over strewn pillows he had thrown down on the hardwood floor to create an 'opium den' feel. "Goes good with Indian take-away, no?" Dom had enthused. Four aluminum containers of tandoori chicken and salmon tikka, six pakoras, ten samosas, seven pudina paratha breads and one appetizer assortment later, the hobbits and elf were stuffed as though they'd consumed that much in lembas bread---had lembas bread actually been a real food item. "I bet it tasted a lot like real thick naan, but like extra floury," Orlando had chirped. Billy had devoured most of the vegetable fritters himself, much to everyone else's dismay. "We'll be paying for that later," Dom foreboded.
In honor of B.K.---Elijah's suggestion---they had drunk only red wine: six bottles of a Californian pinot noir and one bottle of suspect French merlot. "Bet this is from Cali too," Dom muttered, squinting one eye at the label, "but I can't see straight enough to tell. Which is the real one?" he asked Billy, swatting at the air on either side of the bottle. "The middle," Billy alerted him. "Oh, well, that one from's... that's from one... it's French."
* * *
"Put it on repeat! Repeat!" Dom shouted, scrambling up onto his feet, nearly tripping four separate times on his red 'opium den' pillow and another near-miss on Orlando's stretched, deep blue-trousered legs.
"Stupid clumsy hobbit," Orlando laughed to himself.
Dominic pivoted on the spot, teetering slightly. "Watch it, little miss eunuch elf."
"You just have size issues." Orlando gave a smirk.
"'I'll rub that cheek right off your lips, baby,'" Elijah chuckled.
"Oh, it wouldn't be the first time today."
Dom smiled at him smugly, remembering the look on the girls' faces earlier that evening when he'd dipped Orlando at the waist, backward, and kissed him lightly but dramatically for the paparazzi and his own amusement. He thought of how he'd dug his fingers into Orlando's layers of ribs, and... turned around sharply to face the stereo system.
"Repeat, repeat," he muttered.
"Come on, Dom, I like the Stone Roses too, but that song's ten minutes long," Billy protested, his Scottish dense and stretched under doses of wine.
"Nuh uh."
"No, no." Elijah grabbed the cd case. "Nine minutes and fifty-three seconds!" he proclaimed.
"Yeah, like I said. Long," Billy sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head onto the plush sofa cushion at a near-90 degree angle.
"But it's Sam and Frodo. It's... it's... it's to honor them and their achievement," Elijah countered, lightly rocking on his knees to every other beat of pulsating rhythm that was now rumbling the floorboards.
"Yeah," Dom shouted over the music, shimmying his hips and shoulders, "they fuckin' saved Middle-earth. So we owe it to them to play this over and over. A lot."
"Apparently." Billy yawned and smiled.
"Are you going to do this for the whole---."
"What?!"
"ARE YOU---Dammit, Dom, turn the fucking music down a little!?" Orlando batted his eyelashes. "Please?"
"Fine." Dom jabbed the down arrow a few quick times.
"So, yeah. Are you gonna keep this up for the whole tour? 'Cause it could get tiring."
"Yeah, I'm gonna haunt you with a portable radio and play 'Fools Gold' at you all through Europe. Watch out, Elf. I'm coming for you."
"Oh no, Dom!" Orlando shrieked and cowered. Dom glared at him.
"Hey, I'm not going to make it for the other premieres, until New York," Elijah said, trying not to let the wine make him teary-eyed. "We're celebrating now."
"Right. I'm doing this for Lij. We're celebrating ditching him."
"Piss off," Elijah scoffed. "It's just this... this is almost it."
"Elijah..." Billy popped his head up, looking seriously at the younger man who was still kneeling, but no longer swaying to the rhythm, his eyes downcast.
"It's not gonna end, you know." Dom kneeled beside him and squeezed his shoulder, rubbing small circles.
"Awwww." Orlando jumped up and kneeled at Elijah's right side, tackling him in a frenetic embrace.
"Thanks, Elf." Elijah looked up for the first time and smiled. To Orlando, Elijah's eyes were cast in shadow, but from the sofa, Billy could see the shimmer of reflected moisture. He pulled himself into a sitting position, grabbing his knees tightly to his chest.
"Hey," Dom chided lowly, staring at Elijah. "What about me?"
"What?" Elijah swiveled his head to face the Mancunian. "Oh, oh." He reached a hand out to Dom's upper arm. "I firm-shoulder-squeeze you too, Dom."
"Thanks," Dom spat, though his eyes already twinkled with the play of foreshadowed mischief. "I firm-shoulder-squeeze you a whole lot, man."
"Mmmm, love is in the air," Orlando sighed, shaking his flouncy brown head of hair as though he was in a shampoo advert. "What about Billy?" Nodding his head in the Scot's direction.
"Oh, I'm all firm-shoulder-squeezed out, thank you muchly, boys," Billy smiled through sleepy lids.
"It's past his bedtime," Dom informed the others matter-of-factly.
"Oh, come on, ya old geezer!" Orlando sprang up from Elijah's side and pounced on Billy, hugging him hard into the sofa.
"Ow! Toff!" Billy cursed him through airy giggles. Orlando slid down on the floor beside him, one arm draped languidly over Billy's shoulder and the sofa cushion. He pressed his forehead into the older man's cheek, both of them beaming, both of them with heavy-lidded eyes.
"Goodnight, ladies," Dom chuckled. He stopped abruptly. In slow motion, it seemed, Billy's head turned sluggishly against Orlando's, his smile dimming as though it was being turned down, down, down. And off. Billy's thin line of lips met Orlando's forehead so smoothly, so neatly, Dom blinked his eyes to make sure he had seen it. Orlando did not move. Billy did not move. Lips to forehead, the two men remained plastered as though Weta had sculpted them and installed them in Dom's living room. Then Orlando's head shifted, slowly up, up, up. And there. Thin, pressed lines of lips. Billy's eyes squinted shut, Orlando's too. The most uncomfortable kiss Dom had ever seen.
A bass tripped into the foreground of the music, and the men's eyelids flickered. That quickly, Orlando's lips pulled back and his tongue slid over Billy's upper lip. He rubbed his nose lengthwise down the Scot's and pushed his tongue against the crack of his lips. Billy opened his mouth wide and devoured Orlando's tongue, lips blossoming from drawn and white to full and red, wet with Orlando's saliva. Twining his fingers into the ale-colored hair, Orlando tugged his head back and plunged deeper into the kiss, loosely smacking his lips against Billy's. They turned their lower torsos against each other, legs tangling.
When Orlando's upper thigh could go no higher, Dom heard Billy sigh, the tiniest, most cathartic kind of sigh. As he watched them together, Dom's right fingers dragged down Elijah's arm, hooking in the rolled up sleeve of his plum dress shirt. He dipped his fingers into the inner crook of that arm and felt the young man's skin twitch below his touch. Dom jumped in response. He looked at Elijah; Elijah was staring at him.
"Dom." He was shaking his head, but he wasn't moving.
"Lij," Dom began, but he stopped, swinging back around to the sound of shuffling fabric. Orlando was slowly grinding into Billy against the sofa. Dom's jaw dropped at the twisted mess of limbs, Billy barely recognizable but for the halo of pale hair wavering behind Orlando's dark head and two small pale hands clinging to his thrusting backside, digging into each buttock (like he wanted to get inside).
"What... what's...?" Dom heard Elijah stammer beside him.
"I don't know," Dom murmured, confused by the wine, the tribal drums and swirling reverb of the song, the painful snugness of his own erection.
"Dom." Apparently Elijah was in a similar state of confusion, and was aware of Dom's as well. He eyed Dom's crotch with wide open eyes that seemed almost all pupil in the low light. Dom chanced a quick glance back at Billy, whose hands were no longer visible now---just shifting impressions of knuckle and fingertip disappearing and reappearing beneath the fabric of Orlando's trousers.
"Oh," Dom said. Quickly, he swung his head back toward Elijah's direction. Too quickly: he had to close his eyes a second to stay the dizziness that seemed to spin him by the ears. He opened his eyes onto the same vision of Elijah: mouth agape, eyes wide---maybe wider. Crystal blue eyes catching the light. Pink, plush mouth, curled into the smallest bow, pre-Raphaelite. Only vaguely aware that his hand had never let go of Elijah's arm---in fact had been gripping hard, fingernails clawing the crease of his elbow, Dom placed his hand firmly on Elijah's crotch, thumb underneath the soft, thick tweed. Elijah's breath hitched and Dom drew his hand down until his fingertips were almost off the material. Then up, again---and wasn't the tweed a little less piled now? Down, almost off. And up. Down, down, down, down, down, and up. Yes, stiff; taut patterns of gray and black. He watched Elijah's swollen trousers with grim satisfaction. He wished someone would touch him where he ached.
Dom looked back up at Elijah, but his eyes were closed and he was humming softly, a rough melody that wove in and out of the one still booming from the stereo. "I...I, " he started, then stole a brief glance at Billy and Orlando. The two were now prostrate on the floor, Orlando leaning over Billy's chest, breathing and tonguing hot circles into Billy's exposed hairs, pushing his black shirt off his sides as he massaged deep rings around his ribs.
Dom barely gave it a moment's thought. "Come on," he purred in a thick, gruff tone. Tugging Elijah by the wrist, he kneel-crawled his way clumsily over to Billy and Orlando, Elijah staggering on his own knees behind him. Parallel to the other men, he pushed Elijah onto the floor, straddling his hips. Billy and Orlando stopped and turned to watch as Dom rubbed himself once, twice, then fell onto Elijah, kissing him hard on the mouth. With teeth and tongue, he opened the American's lips and claimed his tongue, more scraping than sucking. Elijah writhed and squirmed beneath him, panting into his mouth with the smallest whimpers. Then their cocks met, rubbing up, then across, then down---and Elijah was liquid beneath him, rolling into waves of their choppy motions.
Billy craned his neck, pushing his scalp into the floor, arching his hips into Orlando's. Through misty-hazed eyes, he watched Dom on Elijah, and bit his lip. He snapped his eyes shut when Dom let out a low moan, a short-u'ed "uuuhh" that made Billy think of Manchester accents. Madchester. He picked up the strains of the song on it's third---fourth?---rotation. "I know the truth and I know what you're thinking." Billy cringed. For a millisecond, second-thoughts and questions glimmered gold and green at the back of his head. His hand shot forward and he shut all those thoughts up, blackened them.
"Dom," Billy sighed, and plunged his fingers into the crook of Dom's arm, snagging coarse brown hairs as he pulled down along the very short sleeve of Dom's black t-shirt. He drew his fingers down Dom's arm, slick with sweat, ridged with hard goosebumps like fine braille. "I can read you," Billy whispered to himself and smiled, biting his tongue between his small, glistening teeth. Orlando shuffled his hips over him and leaned back. Billy's chest beaded with cool perspiration as air replaced warm skin. He merely watched with one hand tucked beneath his head, the other tracing lines into the damp gray-black cotton on Dom's side, the satiny skin on Dom's right arm, outlining spirals on his pulsing bicep.
Orlando moved off and kneeled behind Dom. His hands smoothed wide paths around Dom's waist, nails scratching along the black leather belt, until he cupped Dom with an overlapping gesture, separating him from Elijah. He pinched hard into the damp cotton and Dom arched his back like a cat, hissing. "Meow," Orlando grinned impishly, and pulled his hands around again, cupping Dom's ass, thumbs down and rubbing. "Get up, Billy," he commanded, jerking his head once, then again, when Billy hesitated, leaning unstably on his elbows.
Dom stayed frozen, back still curved---Elijah sucking harsh kisses at his neck---as Orlando swiftly unbuckled his belt and dragged his pants down by the beltloops. Orlando slid one long finger down Dom's crack, tickling moist, coarse hairs, darker than the blond hairs that fell jagged against Dom's forehead. "Lie down," Orlando commanded, pushing Dom flat onto Elijah. Dom's cock ground straight against his stomach and he groaned. Elijah opened his eyes and grabbed his head, shoving his tongue into Dom's mouth again and again. Dom groaned, long and diminishing. He felt his shoes and trousers being pulled off, felt one sock being peeled back, then another. He felt his legs being opened, rolled over Elijah's, hot skin meeting cool, soft material. He felt a slick, hot jab between his legs, up, and---"uuuhh," out. He groaned again, short and choked.
"Like this, Billy." Orlando took Billy's hand and curled all but his index finger down. He guided the Scot's hand into wet heat. Dom. Both men moaned. "Right," Orlando continued. "Curl, and..." Dom's hips jolted backward in tandem with a gasp. "That's it. Now two."
Billy was aware of hands on his crotch (again), teasing his aching groin, before they fondled the zipper and released him. "Ahhh," he sighed. His trousers were tugged down quick and hard and hands guided his hips until he was directly behind Dom. "He's... I've...." Billy stammered.
"Shhh," Orlando whispered into his ear. "Ooh, you're cock is so red, Billy." His eyelashes brushed Billy's cheek, and he pecked him lightly there. "Just like your face, mmmm." He pulled back and crawled toward the low coffee table eyeing the leftover contents of their dinner.
Billy closed his eyes and swiveled his fingers around Dom, arching his back at the sound of Dom's deep, quick breaths. He opened his eyes to see Elijah staring back at him, blue eyes half-lidded, behind Dom's shoulder. The American's hands thrust slowly up Dom's back, pulling the black t-shirt up in bunches that fell back inches higher when his hands plunged down again to Dom's lower back, and the motion was repeated. Billy's cock throbbed at the tantalizing glimpses of Dom's sculptural back. He tugged once at his own testicles and rolled them into his left palm, biting his lip.
"Back," Orlando panted, collapsing beside Billy, wrapping a hand around Billy's cock. Billy hissed and recoiled as a cold, thick gelatinous substance hit his tender skin. "It's all I could find," Orlando shrugged.
Billy looked down. "Yogurt." From beneath Dom, Billy heard a muffled snort. Then a gasp, as Dom bit into Elijah's neck.
Billy removed his fingers and Orlando replaced them, smearing raita on and into Dom.
"Fuck!"
"Yeah, well," Orlando chuckled. Grabbing Dom's jaw with his left hand, he forced the man's head around at an awkward curve and smacked his lips into Dom's. He let his tongue linger over Dom's lower lip then bit down lightly. "21st Century Rock n' Roll." He smiled and licked the corner of Dom's eye. Black eyeliner smeared thin under spit and sweat. He marveled at how Dom's eyes shone a piercing deep blue framed extravagantly in black. "'Isn't it funny how you shine,'" he breathed. Dom grunted and licked a long path up Orlando's neck. He turned, grunting again, and Orlando watched as Dom's head bowed like a rutting bull and plunged forward. Billy rode him from behind, hard and slow, neck a short arc upon which his head swayed out of time with his thrusts. Orlando lunged for that neck.
* * *
The song's rhythm was too groove-based---too dub, too dance---for anyone to keep up. It was a disjointed, tremulous pace. Orlando ground into Billy's bare hip, coming hard and fast into his closed trousers. Billy jammed slow and hard into Dom, coming bent and doubled in sighs, gasping into Dom's sweat-drenched shirt. Dom thrust backward into Billy's slow fuck, but tried to satisfy the frantic rub of Elijah's hard tweed and scraping metal zipper as they rubbed, rubbed, rubbed against each other. Elijah came with a deep-throated scream as Dom came, hard metal teeth searing stitched kisses into his cock for the last push.
Dom collapsed into Elijah's neck. Billy fell onto Dom's back, hugging him loosely at the sides. Orlando fell to the floor, laying on his back, hand in his trousers, one finger lazily curling the wet hair between his legs. Light star-taps of muted chimes snuffed out the song. The room was filled with nothing but the disorienting sound of arhythmic breathing. Then the song crackled into life again. The drums stammered into a tripping gait. The guitar bent its notes around their ears. And the bass kicked in, jumping over Ian Brown's Mancunian vocals of gravel and air. Billy listened to the short "u" of "cut," and smiled into Dom's back. Elijah nuzzled Dom's neck and smiled. Orlando looked on and grinned, shutting his eyes. Dom thought briefly of Manchester.
"Home," he muttered.
"This song really does make me feel New Zealand," Elijah murmured.
Dom corrected himself internally. "Yes, home."
Note: Written with "Fools Gold" by the Stone Roses on repeat in my cd drive. Title is nicked from another Stone Roses song off their eponymous album. I scoured the web for a real audio or mp3 file of the song, but I'm clueless about such things, and came up empty-handed. Hopefully this works whether you're familiar with it or not. If not, buy the record. Or, even so, buy the record. :)
Don't Stop
"Oh man, this song makes me think of New Zealand."
"It's a Frodo and Sam song, innit?" Dom slurred.
Elijah slumped his head into his curled palms. "'The pack on my back is aching, the straps seem to cut me like a knife.' Yeah, that's definitely hobbit strife. Probably more Sam than me, though. He had to carry all that cookery stuff."
"Or more Sam than Frodo," Billy corrected.
"Whatever."
* * *
The hobbits minus Sean plus an elf sat around Dom's living room, splayed over strewn pillows he had thrown down on the hardwood floor to create an 'opium den' feel. "Goes good with Indian take-away, no?" Dom had enthused. Four aluminum containers of tandoori chicken and salmon tikka, six pakoras, ten samosas, seven pudina paratha breads and one appetizer assortment later, the hobbits and elf were stuffed as though they'd consumed that much in lembas bread---had lembas bread actually been a real food item. "I bet it tasted a lot like real thick naan, but like extra floury," Orlando had chirped. Billy had devoured most of the vegetable fritters himself, much to everyone else's dismay. "We'll be paying for that later," Dom foreboded.
In honor of B.K.---Elijah's suggestion---they had drunk only red wine: six bottles of a Californian pinot noir and one bottle of suspect French merlot. "Bet this is from Cali too," Dom muttered, squinting one eye at the label, "but I can't see straight enough to tell. Which is the real one?" he asked Billy, swatting at the air on either side of the bottle. "The middle," Billy alerted him. "Oh, well, that one from's... that's from one... it's French."
* * *
"Put it on repeat! Repeat!" Dom shouted, scrambling up onto his feet, nearly tripping four separate times on his red 'opium den' pillow and another near-miss on Orlando's stretched, deep blue-trousered legs.
"Stupid clumsy hobbit," Orlando laughed to himself.
Dominic pivoted on the spot, teetering slightly. "Watch it, little miss eunuch elf."
"You just have size issues." Orlando gave a smirk.
"'I'll rub that cheek right off your lips, baby,'" Elijah chuckled.
"Oh, it wouldn't be the first time today."
Dom smiled at him smugly, remembering the look on the girls' faces earlier that evening when he'd dipped Orlando at the waist, backward, and kissed him lightly but dramatically for the paparazzi and his own amusement. He thought of how he'd dug his fingers into Orlando's layers of ribs, and... turned around sharply to face the stereo system.
"Repeat, repeat," he muttered.
"Come on, Dom, I like the Stone Roses too, but that song's ten minutes long," Billy protested, his Scottish dense and stretched under doses of wine.
"Nuh uh."
"No, no." Elijah grabbed the cd case. "Nine minutes and fifty-three seconds!" he proclaimed.
"Yeah, like I said. Long," Billy sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head onto the plush sofa cushion at a near-90 degree angle.
"But it's Sam and Frodo. It's... it's... it's to honor them and their achievement," Elijah countered, lightly rocking on his knees to every other beat of pulsating rhythm that was now rumbling the floorboards.
"Yeah," Dom shouted over the music, shimmying his hips and shoulders, "they fuckin' saved Middle-earth. So we owe it to them to play this over and over. A lot."
"Apparently." Billy yawned and smiled.
"Are you going to do this for the whole---."
"What?!"
"ARE YOU---Dammit, Dom, turn the fucking music down a little!?" Orlando batted his eyelashes. "Please?"
"Fine." Dom jabbed the down arrow a few quick times.
"So, yeah. Are you gonna keep this up for the whole tour? 'Cause it could get tiring."
"Yeah, I'm gonna haunt you with a portable radio and play 'Fools Gold' at you all through Europe. Watch out, Elf. I'm coming for you."
"Oh no, Dom!" Orlando shrieked and cowered. Dom glared at him.
"Hey, I'm not going to make it for the other premieres, until New York," Elijah said, trying not to let the wine make him teary-eyed. "We're celebrating now."
"Right. I'm doing this for Lij. We're celebrating ditching him."
"Piss off," Elijah scoffed. "It's just this... this is almost it."
"Elijah..." Billy popped his head up, looking seriously at the younger man who was still kneeling, but no longer swaying to the rhythm, his eyes downcast.
"It's not gonna end, you know." Dom kneeled beside him and squeezed his shoulder, rubbing small circles.
"Awwww." Orlando jumped up and kneeled at Elijah's right side, tackling him in a frenetic embrace.
"Thanks, Elf." Elijah looked up for the first time and smiled. To Orlando, Elijah's eyes were cast in shadow, but from the sofa, Billy could see the shimmer of reflected moisture. He pulled himself into a sitting position, grabbing his knees tightly to his chest.
"Hey," Dom chided lowly, staring at Elijah. "What about me?"
"What?" Elijah swiveled his head to face the Mancunian. "Oh, oh." He reached a hand out to Dom's upper arm. "I firm-shoulder-squeeze you too, Dom."
"Thanks," Dom spat, though his eyes already twinkled with the play of foreshadowed mischief. "I firm-shoulder-squeeze you a whole lot, man."
"Mmmm, love is in the air," Orlando sighed, shaking his flouncy brown head of hair as though he was in a shampoo advert. "What about Billy?" Nodding his head in the Scot's direction.
"Oh, I'm all firm-shoulder-squeezed out, thank you muchly, boys," Billy smiled through sleepy lids.
"It's past his bedtime," Dom informed the others matter-of-factly.
"Oh, come on, ya old geezer!" Orlando sprang up from Elijah's side and pounced on Billy, hugging him hard into the sofa.
"Ow! Toff!" Billy cursed him through airy giggles. Orlando slid down on the floor beside him, one arm draped languidly over Billy's shoulder and the sofa cushion. He pressed his forehead into the older man's cheek, both of them beaming, both of them with heavy-lidded eyes.
"Goodnight, ladies," Dom chuckled. He stopped abruptly. In slow motion, it seemed, Billy's head turned sluggishly against Orlando's, his smile dimming as though it was being turned down, down, down. And off. Billy's thin line of lips met Orlando's forehead so smoothly, so neatly, Dom blinked his eyes to make sure he had seen it. Orlando did not move. Billy did not move. Lips to forehead, the two men remained plastered as though Weta had sculpted them and installed them in Dom's living room. Then Orlando's head shifted, slowly up, up, up. And there. Thin, pressed lines of lips. Billy's eyes squinted shut, Orlando's too. The most uncomfortable kiss Dom had ever seen.
A bass tripped into the foreground of the music, and the men's eyelids flickered. That quickly, Orlando's lips pulled back and his tongue slid over Billy's upper lip. He rubbed his nose lengthwise down the Scot's and pushed his tongue against the crack of his lips. Billy opened his mouth wide and devoured Orlando's tongue, lips blossoming from drawn and white to full and red, wet with Orlando's saliva. Twining his fingers into the ale-colored hair, Orlando tugged his head back and plunged deeper into the kiss, loosely smacking his lips against Billy's. They turned their lower torsos against each other, legs tangling.
When Orlando's upper thigh could go no higher, Dom heard Billy sigh, the tiniest, most cathartic kind of sigh. As he watched them together, Dom's right fingers dragged down Elijah's arm, hooking in the rolled up sleeve of his plum dress shirt. He dipped his fingers into the inner crook of that arm and felt the young man's skin twitch below his touch. Dom jumped in response. He looked at Elijah; Elijah was staring at him.
"Dom." He was shaking his head, but he wasn't moving.
"Lij," Dom began, but he stopped, swinging back around to the sound of shuffling fabric. Orlando was slowly grinding into Billy against the sofa. Dom's jaw dropped at the twisted mess of limbs, Billy barely recognizable but for the halo of pale hair wavering behind Orlando's dark head and two small pale hands clinging to his thrusting backside, digging into each buttock (like he wanted to get inside).
"What... what's...?" Dom heard Elijah stammer beside him.
"I don't know," Dom murmured, confused by the wine, the tribal drums and swirling reverb of the song, the painful snugness of his own erection.
"Dom." Apparently Elijah was in a similar state of confusion, and was aware of Dom's as well. He eyed Dom's crotch with wide open eyes that seemed almost all pupil in the low light. Dom chanced a quick glance back at Billy, whose hands were no longer visible now---just shifting impressions of knuckle and fingertip disappearing and reappearing beneath the fabric of Orlando's trousers.
"Oh," Dom said. Quickly, he swung his head back toward Elijah's direction. Too quickly: he had to close his eyes a second to stay the dizziness that seemed to spin him by the ears. He opened his eyes onto the same vision of Elijah: mouth agape, eyes wide---maybe wider. Crystal blue eyes catching the light. Pink, plush mouth, curled into the smallest bow, pre-Raphaelite. Only vaguely aware that his hand had never let go of Elijah's arm---in fact had been gripping hard, fingernails clawing the crease of his elbow, Dom placed his hand firmly on Elijah's crotch, thumb underneath the soft, thick tweed. Elijah's breath hitched and Dom drew his hand down until his fingertips were almost off the material. Then up, again---and wasn't the tweed a little less piled now? Down, almost off. And up. Down, down, down, down, down, and up. Yes, stiff; taut patterns of gray and black. He watched Elijah's swollen trousers with grim satisfaction. He wished someone would touch him where he ached.
Dom looked back up at Elijah, but his eyes were closed and he was humming softly, a rough melody that wove in and out of the one still booming from the stereo. "I...I, " he started, then stole a brief glance at Billy and Orlando. The two were now prostrate on the floor, Orlando leaning over Billy's chest, breathing and tonguing hot circles into Billy's exposed hairs, pushing his black shirt off his sides as he massaged deep rings around his ribs.
Dom barely gave it a moment's thought. "Come on," he purred in a thick, gruff tone. Tugging Elijah by the wrist, he kneel-crawled his way clumsily over to Billy and Orlando, Elijah staggering on his own knees behind him. Parallel to the other men, he pushed Elijah onto the floor, straddling his hips. Billy and Orlando stopped and turned to watch as Dom rubbed himself once, twice, then fell onto Elijah, kissing him hard on the mouth. With teeth and tongue, he opened the American's lips and claimed his tongue, more scraping than sucking. Elijah writhed and squirmed beneath him, panting into his mouth with the smallest whimpers. Then their cocks met, rubbing up, then across, then down---and Elijah was liquid beneath him, rolling into waves of their choppy motions.
Billy craned his neck, pushing his scalp into the floor, arching his hips into Orlando's. Through misty-hazed eyes, he watched Dom on Elijah, and bit his lip. He snapped his eyes shut when Dom let out a low moan, a short-u'ed "uuuhh" that made Billy think of Manchester accents. Madchester. He picked up the strains of the song on it's third---fourth?---rotation. "I know the truth and I know what you're thinking." Billy cringed. For a millisecond, second-thoughts and questions glimmered gold and green at the back of his head. His hand shot forward and he shut all those thoughts up, blackened them.
"Dom," Billy sighed, and plunged his fingers into the crook of Dom's arm, snagging coarse brown hairs as he pulled down along the very short sleeve of Dom's black t-shirt. He drew his fingers down Dom's arm, slick with sweat, ridged with hard goosebumps like fine braille. "I can read you," Billy whispered to himself and smiled, biting his tongue between his small, glistening teeth. Orlando shuffled his hips over him and leaned back. Billy's chest beaded with cool perspiration as air replaced warm skin. He merely watched with one hand tucked beneath his head, the other tracing lines into the damp gray-black cotton on Dom's side, the satiny skin on Dom's right arm, outlining spirals on his pulsing bicep.
Orlando moved off and kneeled behind Dom. His hands smoothed wide paths around Dom's waist, nails scratching along the black leather belt, until he cupped Dom with an overlapping gesture, separating him from Elijah. He pinched hard into the damp cotton and Dom arched his back like a cat, hissing. "Meow," Orlando grinned impishly, and pulled his hands around again, cupping Dom's ass, thumbs down and rubbing. "Get up, Billy," he commanded, jerking his head once, then again, when Billy hesitated, leaning unstably on his elbows.
Dom stayed frozen, back still curved---Elijah sucking harsh kisses at his neck---as Orlando swiftly unbuckled his belt and dragged his pants down by the beltloops. Orlando slid one long finger down Dom's crack, tickling moist, coarse hairs, darker than the blond hairs that fell jagged against Dom's forehead. "Lie down," Orlando commanded, pushing Dom flat onto Elijah. Dom's cock ground straight against his stomach and he groaned. Elijah opened his eyes and grabbed his head, shoving his tongue into Dom's mouth again and again. Dom groaned, long and diminishing. He felt his shoes and trousers being pulled off, felt one sock being peeled back, then another. He felt his legs being opened, rolled over Elijah's, hot skin meeting cool, soft material. He felt a slick, hot jab between his legs, up, and---"uuuhh," out. He groaned again, short and choked.
"Like this, Billy." Orlando took Billy's hand and curled all but his index finger down. He guided the Scot's hand into wet heat. Dom. Both men moaned. "Right," Orlando continued. "Curl, and..." Dom's hips jolted backward in tandem with a gasp. "That's it. Now two."
Billy was aware of hands on his crotch (again), teasing his aching groin, before they fondled the zipper and released him. "Ahhh," he sighed. His trousers were tugged down quick and hard and hands guided his hips until he was directly behind Dom. "He's... I've...." Billy stammered.
"Shhh," Orlando whispered into his ear. "Ooh, you're cock is so red, Billy." His eyelashes brushed Billy's cheek, and he pecked him lightly there. "Just like your face, mmmm." He pulled back and crawled toward the low coffee table eyeing the leftover contents of their dinner.
Billy closed his eyes and swiveled his fingers around Dom, arching his back at the sound of Dom's deep, quick breaths. He opened his eyes to see Elijah staring back at him, blue eyes half-lidded, behind Dom's shoulder. The American's hands thrust slowly up Dom's back, pulling the black t-shirt up in bunches that fell back inches higher when his hands plunged down again to Dom's lower back, and the motion was repeated. Billy's cock throbbed at the tantalizing glimpses of Dom's sculptural back. He tugged once at his own testicles and rolled them into his left palm, biting his lip.
"Back," Orlando panted, collapsing beside Billy, wrapping a hand around Billy's cock. Billy hissed and recoiled as a cold, thick gelatinous substance hit his tender skin. "It's all I could find," Orlando shrugged.
Billy looked down. "Yogurt." From beneath Dom, Billy heard a muffled snort. Then a gasp, as Dom bit into Elijah's neck.
Billy removed his fingers and Orlando replaced them, smearing raita on and into Dom.
"Fuck!"
"Yeah, well," Orlando chuckled. Grabbing Dom's jaw with his left hand, he forced the man's head around at an awkward curve and smacked his lips into Dom's. He let his tongue linger over Dom's lower lip then bit down lightly. "21st Century Rock n' Roll." He smiled and licked the corner of Dom's eye. Black eyeliner smeared thin under spit and sweat. He marveled at how Dom's eyes shone a piercing deep blue framed extravagantly in black. "'Isn't it funny how you shine,'" he breathed. Dom grunted and licked a long path up Orlando's neck. He turned, grunting again, and Orlando watched as Dom's head bowed like a rutting bull and plunged forward. Billy rode him from behind, hard and slow, neck a short arc upon which his head swayed out of time with his thrusts. Orlando lunged for that neck.
* * *
The song's rhythm was too groove-based---too dub, too dance---for anyone to keep up. It was a disjointed, tremulous pace. Orlando ground into Billy's bare hip, coming hard and fast into his closed trousers. Billy jammed slow and hard into Dom, coming bent and doubled in sighs, gasping into Dom's sweat-drenched shirt. Dom thrust backward into Billy's slow fuck, but tried to satisfy the frantic rub of Elijah's hard tweed and scraping metal zipper as they rubbed, rubbed, rubbed against each other. Elijah came with a deep-throated scream as Dom came, hard metal teeth searing stitched kisses into his cock for the last push.
Dom collapsed into Elijah's neck. Billy fell onto Dom's back, hugging him loosely at the sides. Orlando fell to the floor, laying on his back, hand in his trousers, one finger lazily curling the wet hair between his legs. Light star-taps of muted chimes snuffed out the song. The room was filled with nothing but the disorienting sound of arhythmic breathing. Then the song crackled into life again. The drums stammered into a tripping gait. The guitar bent its notes around their ears. And the bass kicked in, jumping over Ian Brown's Mancunian vocals of gravel and air. Billy listened to the short "u" of "cut," and smiled into Dom's back. Elijah nuzzled Dom's neck and smiled. Orlando looked on and grinned, shutting his eyes. Dom thought briefly of Manchester.
"Home," he muttered.
"This song really does make me feel New Zealand," Elijah murmured.
Dom corrected himself internally. "Yes, home."