NaNoWriMo - The Story So Far, Parts 41-44
As mgal pointed out, I am clearly gearing up for Gay Cowboy Month...
41. Icicle
When my hand touches myself, I can finally rest my head.
Elijah, NC-17, 500 words
Elijah's been pent-up all night, sitting in Dom's living room watching Orlando and Viggo and the way that their hands move under the blanket that they share, as if no one else knows what's going on there. Of course, Billy and Dom probably don't know, given that they've spent much of the night curled up in the same chair, and Elijah actually thinks that Dom's breathing has quickened, and Billy is definitely not watching the movie anymore.
They've been acting like this for the last two months, the four of them. They walk around set pretending that they're covert, when everyone knows but is too polite to say anything. Even Astin noticed, and Astin doesn't notice anything. Everyone knows what goes on in the Cuntebago during lunch breaks. And he's seen Dom and Billy sneak off from the lunch tent, though he doesn't know where they go. When they get back, Billy usually has a few stray blades of grass in his wig and Dom's fat suit is off-kilter.
Elijah is just a little bit jealous. And horny. After all, he's been in New Zealand for nearly a year and hasn't managed to pull a single bird or bloke. He figured that things would get easier once Orlando and Dom were paired off, since they were certainly the most attractive members of the cast, but by that time everyone had come to see Elijah as a little brother, a crazy little kid, and he was left wanting.
So when a strange smacking noise echoes through Dom's living room and is followed by one of Orlando's soft giggles, Elijah decides that he's had enough torture for one night. He excuses himself, though no one protests too much, and drives himself the short distance home.
He's been aware of his half-hard cock all night, and when he changes out of his jeans and into a pair of warm flannel boxers and slides into bed, he finds that he can't relax. Dom and Viggo and Billy and Orlando are all in his head, tangled up together, a mess of mouths and hands and skin. Suddenly, Elijah's cock is more than half-hard.
He rolls over, determined to sleep, but his cock is trapped between his belly and the mattress, and the weight feels so good. Reluctantly, he twists against the sheets and the friction actually causes him to grunt.
He gives up and rolls onto his back, sneaking one small hand under the waistband of his boxers. Against his will, the images fill his head again, Viggo's cock in Orlando's mouth, Dom's fingers buried in Billy's ass. Elijah strokes, smearing pre-come down the length of his shaft, and groans when a picture of Viggo fucking Orlando on Dom's couch flashes behind his eyelids. He grips his cock tighter, jacking himself off as Dom swallows around Billy's erection. When he comes, it's with the image of all four of them together, bodies entwined until it's not clear where one person ends and the next begins.
*****
42. iiiee
We scream in cathedrals, why can't it be beautiful? Why does there gotta be a sacrifice?
Viggo/Orlando, PG, 500 words
It's in the middle of nowhere, a tiny, clean little chapel with a Christian cross on the top and some words in Latin that Orlando can't make sense of. There's not a house for miles and the main village is further than that, far enough that the locals had told Orlando he couldn't walk, not in that heat, and he'd had to pay a farmer to drive him in a Model T that would have been an antique if it hadn't been so spotted with rust that Orlando could barely see the worn black paint underneath.
There's a little graveyard behind the church, small enough to feel intimate instead of spooky but old enough that there's a real history to the place, a sense that the graveyard and the church are the last remains of a once prosperous village. It would have been the perfect place to bury Viggo, if Viggo had actually wanted to be buried. But, of course, being Viggo, he had other ideas.
They'd been in bed together, Viggo's arm thrown over Orlando's stomach, his fingers tracing the sun on Orlando's belly. Viggo picked that moment to tell Orlando that he wanted to be cremated, a normal enough request, but he followed that by instructing Orlando on the exact places where he wanted his ashes scattered. A strange medieval monument in Rome. An empty field in Hungary. Next to a house in a remote part of Thailand. He'd said that they were places he'd never been but always wanted to visit. Orlando told him that he'd have plenty of time to see them all. Then, buy a rocket and shoot my ashes into space, Viggo had answered. Orlando told him to shut up and then kissed his mouth to make sure he did.
A week later, Viggo was diagnosed with cancer.
He went through chemo and radiation, albeit reluctantly. His hair fell out, and he grew weak. At Orlando's insistence, he tried alternative medicines, herbal teas and vitamin pills so big that they would choke a horse. But nothing worked. They tried everything that every doctor from Los Angeles to London could think of. Orlando even dragged Viggo to a healer, but she just shook her head and apologized profusely.
He checked into a hospital, and the cast came to visit. Fans sent cards from Iceland, Norway and other places that Orlando hadn't even heard of, and Viggo read them all. When he was too tired for that, Orlando read them for him. Near the end, Viggo asked Orlando to take him home, back to their bed. They laid there together, Orlando holding Viggo's hand tightly as Viggo reminded him of all the places on his list that he never would see. Orlando kissed him and promised he'd see them all.
That's why Orlando is standing outside a church in the middle of South Africa, the sun beating down on his face, an urn tucked under his arm. He'd promised that Viggo would see everything he wanted.
*****
43. In the Springtime of His Voodoo
Standin' on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, and I’m quite sure I'm in the wrong song.
Billy/Dom, PG, 500 words
It's hot as balls, and Billy is completely sure that he's dreaming. Until, that is, he reaches down and pinches two fingers of flesh and it hurts like a bitch.
The last thing he remembers is going to sleep on a particularly cool Scottish night, the windows in his house open to let in the fresh air. He fell asleep reading an article about Doodle in the latest Rolling Stone.
And then he wakes up smack in the middle of the fucking desert, sun beating down on his head. He doesn't recognize the clothes he's wearing, which seem to consist of a plaid shirt, blue jeans and cowboy boots. Billy is positive that he's never owned a pair of cowboy boots in his life. He pats himself down, looking for a wallet, keys, anything that resembles home, but finds nothing.
There is what looks like a hardware store nearby. Confused, Billy makes his way toward it, figuring that at least he can use the phone to call Dom.
To his surprise, Dom greets him by name as he walks in the door. He is attired much the same way that Billy is, with the addition of a bolo tie and a worn cowboy hat. Billy is relieved to see him.
Billy is less relieved by the fact that Dom seems to think he's insane when he tells him the story. Sure, Billy is Scottish, but according to Dom, both of them have lived in Arizona for the last ten years, running the hardware store together. That's as much as Dom will explain before he carts Billy back to the house that they apparently share and tucks him into the bed that they also apparently share. There is such a sincere look of concern on Dom's face that Billy starts to think that maybe he is insane.
Billy falls asleep in the bed that smells like both of them, and when he wakes up, he is still there. Dom is curled up next to him, a thick book in his hands which he puts down when he notices that Billy is awake. He greets Billy with a smile, but doesn't ask how he's doing, and Billy doesn't offer any more protests, reluctant as he is to have Dom cart him off to a hospital.
Instead, Dom pulls him out of bed and leads him downstairs, into their kitchen, where he sits Billy at the breakfast table and goes to work at the stove. He cooks up eggs and bacon and toast with lots of butter and, Billy notes, his favorite jam. Dom pours Billy a glass of orange juice and a cup of tea, and sets it all on the table in front of him.
Billy surveys the spread for a moment, wondering what exactly to do. But when Dom sits down across from him with a smile and loads a plate full of scrambled eggs, Billy shrugs and does the same. There are worse places to end up, he figures.
*****
44. Ireland
When I was out in the desert and a cowboy tried to lasso me.
Viggo/Orlando, PG, 500 words
The ranch was Orlando's responsibility, even though he didn't own it. He would never own a ranch like that, with several thousand head of cattle, plus pigs and two dozen horses and one very ornery goat. Orlando didn't have that kind of money. He'd never have that kind of money, unless he robbed a bank or suddenly struck oil, but given that he was too pretty for prison and didn't know oil, he was okay where he was.
Viggo, the owner of the ranch, was a good man. He was kind, gentle with the horses, and he pretty much let Orlando have free reign of the place as long as he did his job. Orlando cleaned the stables, groomed the horses and led the cows out to pasture, and when he was done, he took a horse and rode for as long as he wanted, until his thighs ached and his face was chapped from the wind.
When winter came, there was less to do around the ranch, and Orlando wondered if Viggo was going to let him go. To his surprise, Viggo kept Orlando on. He said that there were plenty of things to do around the house, which had fallen into a bit of disrepair over the last few seasons. Viggo wasn't particularly handy with anything that wasn't a saddle and reins.
So Orlando moved from the small cottage near the stables into the big house. At first, he fixed little things around the place. He reframed a door, fixed a squeaky floorboard, cleaned out the chimney. When those things were finished, he moved on to the household chores. Orlando gathered firewood and stacked it beside the house. He went to town once a week to pick up supplies, including Viggo's coffee.
They fell into a routine that winter. Viggo was the first to rise in the morning, before dawn, and he cooked breakfast for himself and Orlando. They ate together, and then sometimes afterward they would walk out to the barn to check on the horses. Orlando did a little work around the house, tidying up after Viggo's breakfast, and as soon as that was done, it was time for lunch. Their conversations were easy, and they talked about everything from the books that Viggo lent Orlando to the guitar, which Orlando was teaching Viggo how to play. They barely even noticed when spring rolled around and the snow thawed.
But when the trees started to grow buds, and the air warmed enough that there was no need for firewood anymore, Orlando took it upon himself to pack his bag one morning. He tidied up the room that he'd stayed in all winter, making sure that he left everything the way he'd found it.
Orlando passed through the kitchen on his way toward the front door, heading back to his little cottage by the stables, when Viggo stopped him.
"There's a loose floorboard in the hallway," he said. "Stay... And fix it?"
Orlando put his bag down.
41. Icicle
When my hand touches myself, I can finally rest my head.
Elijah, NC-17, 500 words
Elijah's been pent-up all night, sitting in Dom's living room watching Orlando and Viggo and the way that their hands move under the blanket that they share, as if no one else knows what's going on there. Of course, Billy and Dom probably don't know, given that they've spent much of the night curled up in the same chair, and Elijah actually thinks that Dom's breathing has quickened, and Billy is definitely not watching the movie anymore.
They've been acting like this for the last two months, the four of them. They walk around set pretending that they're covert, when everyone knows but is too polite to say anything. Even Astin noticed, and Astin doesn't notice anything. Everyone knows what goes on in the Cuntebago during lunch breaks. And he's seen Dom and Billy sneak off from the lunch tent, though he doesn't know where they go. When they get back, Billy usually has a few stray blades of grass in his wig and Dom's fat suit is off-kilter.
Elijah is just a little bit jealous. And horny. After all, he's been in New Zealand for nearly a year and hasn't managed to pull a single bird or bloke. He figured that things would get easier once Orlando and Dom were paired off, since they were certainly the most attractive members of the cast, but by that time everyone had come to see Elijah as a little brother, a crazy little kid, and he was left wanting.
So when a strange smacking noise echoes through Dom's living room and is followed by one of Orlando's soft giggles, Elijah decides that he's had enough torture for one night. He excuses himself, though no one protests too much, and drives himself the short distance home.
He's been aware of his half-hard cock all night, and when he changes out of his jeans and into a pair of warm flannel boxers and slides into bed, he finds that he can't relax. Dom and Viggo and Billy and Orlando are all in his head, tangled up together, a mess of mouths and hands and skin. Suddenly, Elijah's cock is more than half-hard.
He rolls over, determined to sleep, but his cock is trapped between his belly and the mattress, and the weight feels so good. Reluctantly, he twists against the sheets and the friction actually causes him to grunt.
He gives up and rolls onto his back, sneaking one small hand under the waistband of his boxers. Against his will, the images fill his head again, Viggo's cock in Orlando's mouth, Dom's fingers buried in Billy's ass. Elijah strokes, smearing pre-come down the length of his shaft, and groans when a picture of Viggo fucking Orlando on Dom's couch flashes behind his eyelids. He grips his cock tighter, jacking himself off as Dom swallows around Billy's erection. When he comes, it's with the image of all four of them together, bodies entwined until it's not clear where one person ends and the next begins.
*****
42. iiiee
We scream in cathedrals, why can't it be beautiful? Why does there gotta be a sacrifice?
Viggo/Orlando, PG, 500 words
It's in the middle of nowhere, a tiny, clean little chapel with a Christian cross on the top and some words in Latin that Orlando can't make sense of. There's not a house for miles and the main village is further than that, far enough that the locals had told Orlando he couldn't walk, not in that heat, and he'd had to pay a farmer to drive him in a Model T that would have been an antique if it hadn't been so spotted with rust that Orlando could barely see the worn black paint underneath.
There's a little graveyard behind the church, small enough to feel intimate instead of spooky but old enough that there's a real history to the place, a sense that the graveyard and the church are the last remains of a once prosperous village. It would have been the perfect place to bury Viggo, if Viggo had actually wanted to be buried. But, of course, being Viggo, he had other ideas.
They'd been in bed together, Viggo's arm thrown over Orlando's stomach, his fingers tracing the sun on Orlando's belly. Viggo picked that moment to tell Orlando that he wanted to be cremated, a normal enough request, but he followed that by instructing Orlando on the exact places where he wanted his ashes scattered. A strange medieval monument in Rome. An empty field in Hungary. Next to a house in a remote part of Thailand. He'd said that they were places he'd never been but always wanted to visit. Orlando told him that he'd have plenty of time to see them all. Then, buy a rocket and shoot my ashes into space, Viggo had answered. Orlando told him to shut up and then kissed his mouth to make sure he did.
A week later, Viggo was diagnosed with cancer.
He went through chemo and radiation, albeit reluctantly. His hair fell out, and he grew weak. At Orlando's insistence, he tried alternative medicines, herbal teas and vitamin pills so big that they would choke a horse. But nothing worked. They tried everything that every doctor from Los Angeles to London could think of. Orlando even dragged Viggo to a healer, but she just shook her head and apologized profusely.
He checked into a hospital, and the cast came to visit. Fans sent cards from Iceland, Norway and other places that Orlando hadn't even heard of, and Viggo read them all. When he was too tired for that, Orlando read them for him. Near the end, Viggo asked Orlando to take him home, back to their bed. They laid there together, Orlando holding Viggo's hand tightly as Viggo reminded him of all the places on his list that he never would see. Orlando kissed him and promised he'd see them all.
That's why Orlando is standing outside a church in the middle of South Africa, the sun beating down on his face, an urn tucked under his arm. He'd promised that Viggo would see everything he wanted.
*****
43. In the Springtime of His Voodoo
Standin' on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, and I’m quite sure I'm in the wrong song.
Billy/Dom, PG, 500 words
It's hot as balls, and Billy is completely sure that he's dreaming. Until, that is, he reaches down and pinches two fingers of flesh and it hurts like a bitch.
The last thing he remembers is going to sleep on a particularly cool Scottish night, the windows in his house open to let in the fresh air. He fell asleep reading an article about Doodle in the latest Rolling Stone.
And then he wakes up smack in the middle of the fucking desert, sun beating down on his head. He doesn't recognize the clothes he's wearing, which seem to consist of a plaid shirt, blue jeans and cowboy boots. Billy is positive that he's never owned a pair of cowboy boots in his life. He pats himself down, looking for a wallet, keys, anything that resembles home, but finds nothing.
There is what looks like a hardware store nearby. Confused, Billy makes his way toward it, figuring that at least he can use the phone to call Dom.
To his surprise, Dom greets him by name as he walks in the door. He is attired much the same way that Billy is, with the addition of a bolo tie and a worn cowboy hat. Billy is relieved to see him.
Billy is less relieved by the fact that Dom seems to think he's insane when he tells him the story. Sure, Billy is Scottish, but according to Dom, both of them have lived in Arizona for the last ten years, running the hardware store together. That's as much as Dom will explain before he carts Billy back to the house that they apparently share and tucks him into the bed that they also apparently share. There is such a sincere look of concern on Dom's face that Billy starts to think that maybe he is insane.
Billy falls asleep in the bed that smells like both of them, and when he wakes up, he is still there. Dom is curled up next to him, a thick book in his hands which he puts down when he notices that Billy is awake. He greets Billy with a smile, but doesn't ask how he's doing, and Billy doesn't offer any more protests, reluctant as he is to have Dom cart him off to a hospital.
Instead, Dom pulls him out of bed and leads him downstairs, into their kitchen, where he sits Billy at the breakfast table and goes to work at the stove. He cooks up eggs and bacon and toast with lots of butter and, Billy notes, his favorite jam. Dom pours Billy a glass of orange juice and a cup of tea, and sets it all on the table in front of him.
Billy surveys the spread for a moment, wondering what exactly to do. But when Dom sits down across from him with a smile and loads a plate full of scrambled eggs, Billy shrugs and does the same. There are worse places to end up, he figures.
*****
44. Ireland
When I was out in the desert and a cowboy tried to lasso me.
Viggo/Orlando, PG, 500 words
The ranch was Orlando's responsibility, even though he didn't own it. He would never own a ranch like that, with several thousand head of cattle, plus pigs and two dozen horses and one very ornery goat. Orlando didn't have that kind of money. He'd never have that kind of money, unless he robbed a bank or suddenly struck oil, but given that he was too pretty for prison and didn't know oil, he was okay where he was.
Viggo, the owner of the ranch, was a good man. He was kind, gentle with the horses, and he pretty much let Orlando have free reign of the place as long as he did his job. Orlando cleaned the stables, groomed the horses and led the cows out to pasture, and when he was done, he took a horse and rode for as long as he wanted, until his thighs ached and his face was chapped from the wind.
When winter came, there was less to do around the ranch, and Orlando wondered if Viggo was going to let him go. To his surprise, Viggo kept Orlando on. He said that there were plenty of things to do around the house, which had fallen into a bit of disrepair over the last few seasons. Viggo wasn't particularly handy with anything that wasn't a saddle and reins.
So Orlando moved from the small cottage near the stables into the big house. At first, he fixed little things around the place. He reframed a door, fixed a squeaky floorboard, cleaned out the chimney. When those things were finished, he moved on to the household chores. Orlando gathered firewood and stacked it beside the house. He went to town once a week to pick up supplies, including Viggo's coffee.
They fell into a routine that winter. Viggo was the first to rise in the morning, before dawn, and he cooked breakfast for himself and Orlando. They ate together, and then sometimes afterward they would walk out to the barn to check on the horses. Orlando did a little work around the house, tidying up after Viggo's breakfast, and as soon as that was done, it was time for lunch. Their conversations were easy, and they talked about everything from the books that Viggo lent Orlando to the guitar, which Orlando was teaching Viggo how to play. They barely even noticed when spring rolled around and the snow thawed.
But when the trees started to grow buds, and the air warmed enough that there was no need for firewood anymore, Orlando took it upon himself to pack his bag one morning. He tidied up the room that he'd stayed in all winter, making sure that he left everything the way he'd found it.
Orlando passed through the kitchen on his way toward the front door, heading back to his little cottage by the stables, when Viggo stopped him.
"There's a loose floorboard in the hallway," he said. "Stay... And fix it?"
Orlando put his bag down.