NaNoWriMo - The Story So Far, Parts 97-100
Since this is the last posting of these, I just need to mention again how grateful I am for mgal, who beta read every single one of these pieces and never once complained, even when I broke up her darling Monaboyd by introducing Viggo or Evi or (god forbid) Karl. She's fantastic and I adore her and I'm going to forever be indebted to her.
97. The Wrong Band
You know that I'm drowning. Put on your raincoat again.
Viggo/Orlando, PG, 500 words
Viggo puts on his raincoat and steps into the blanket of mist that has permanently settled over London, in preparation for the winter months. Viggo used to love winter, up in the mountains of Idaho, near the Canadian border, where it snowed two feet if it snowed an inch, and the air was always crisp, the sky always blue. In London, the snow is grey slush two minutes after it hits the ground, not a white patch to be seen anywhere. And the air in London is always thick with smog. Stepping out into it instantly makes Viggo want to turn around and go back inside, closing the door behind him. Closing the winter out.
But he doesn't, because he's got something to do. Something important. And he's determined that today is the day that he's actually going to do it, rather than giving in to that instinct to turn around and shut the door on the weather and the city. Yes, today. Today, he's going to go see Orlando.
He makes it all the way to Orlando's street by muscle memory, retracing steps that he hasn't taken in years, through neighborhoods that have changed completely and haven't changed at all. He passes a familiar deli and, although a new girl works behind the counter, the same grey Persian that Viggo remembers is curled up on the windowsill. The cat lifts her head as Viggo walks by. There's a new building on the corner near Orlando's flat, on what had once been a small vacant lot that local children gathered on in the afternoons after school to play football.
Orlando's flat looks exactly the same. The brick façade doesn’t appear to have been cleaned at all in the intervening years, and there's a fine coat of moss growing on the one corner that gets sun during the summer. The front door could use a coat of paint. Viggo remembers the four-digit security code for the insignificant deadbolt, and he's not surprised to discover that it hasn't changed. The door swings open, and Viggo takes a step into what passes for the building's lobby. Viggo passes the seldom functional lift and heads for the stairs.
The fourth floor smells exactly the way he remembers, like noodles and dish soap. He counts five doors and stops directly in front of the sixth. He raises his hand and tentatively knocks on it.
Several moments of silence pass, and Viggo is considering either knocking again or just leaving all together when the door opens to reveal Orlando. He's skinny, as he's always been, although his face actually looks gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. His hair is a shoulder-length mass of brown curls, and he's mid-yawn when he processes Viggo's presence at his door. Viggo instantly finds himself with an armful of the Brit as Orlando launches himself at Viggo, hugging the older man with a strength concealed by his lanky body.
"Vig, you bastard," Orlando murmurs in his ear. "You came."
*****
98. Toast
With a toast, he's telling me it's time to let you go.
Dom/Evi, PG, 500 words
Billy was, of course, Dom's best man. It didn't come as a particular surprise when Dom asked him, not that Billy could have been surprised anymore, not after hearing the news of their engagement. But, after several assurances that he wouldn't have to wear anything pink, sparkly or generally ridiculous, Billy agreed.
Several weeks after that, in the ensuing panic, he called everyone he could think of, from Viggo to Elijah to Matthew Fox, desperately trying to beg off. They all told him more or less the same thing: Deal with it, you ninny. Actually, Viggo had thrown in a couple of colorful expletives as well while reminding Billy that Dom had done the same thing for him and carried it off admirably.
And that's pretty much how Billy found himself sitting at the head table, at Dom's right hand, while the maid of honor gave her toast. She was a pretty girl that Billy recognized from Dom's show. Billy listened to her stories about the day that Dom and Evi met on set, the mudslide they were nearly trapped in that cemented their relationship, and the day that Dom proposed to Evi on the beach in front of the cast. When she was done, everyone in the room applauded, and Dom looked expectantly over at Billy.
Billy cleared his throat and backed his chair away from the table, standing up shakily. He raised his glass, a heavy crystal filled with ice water, and surveyed the audience. Elijah, Viggo and Orlando were gathered together on one side of a nearby table, all of them shooting him expectant stares. Orlando made a little "come on, come on" motion with his hand, and Billy cleared his throat again.
"The first time that I met Dom, he swept me into a bear hug within ten seconds of being introduced," Billy starts. "I was half-drunk and kind of smelly, and he just opened up his arms and hugged me until I thought he was going to crush my ribs and puncture a lung." Some people in the audience laughed. "That's just the kind of man Dom is," he continues. "He's so..." Billy lowered his arm slightly as he searched for the right word. "Open," he said. "Dom is open. He'll let you read him like a book if you just take two seconds to open the cover. But the problem with being open," Billy continued, the words beginning to roll unbidden out of his mouth, "is how easily you can be hurt." Billy cleared his throat again. "I've seen Dom hurt," he said, looking out into the sea of people in front of him. "My favorite thing about Dommie, though, is that he found his way through it. He found his way to you," Billy said, looking over at Evi. "May you never hurt again," Billy finished, raising his glass and taking a long sip.
When Billy sat down, he noticed that Dom's eyes were moist. "Thanks, Bills," he whispered.
"You're welcome," Billy answered.
*****
99. Twinkle
Boy so hard, boy so hard.
Billy/Dom, NC-17, 500 words
Billy has a twinkle in his eye that Dom is intimately familiar with. It's the one that says, You're in for trouble, my Dommeh. It's that twinkle that has him half hard before Billy even lays a finger on him.
Oh, but Billy does lay a finger on him, and more than that. Billy strips his clothes off with careful precision, laying Dom back on the bed and instructing him to close his eyes. Dom complies immediately, and Billy sets to work exploring every inch of Dom's body with his hands and tongue.
He starts with Dom's eyelids, placing gentle kisses over both of them, before moving down to his mouth. Billy lingers there for long minutes, flicking his tongue in to taste Dom, then nibbling at his bottom lip as Dom whimpers and mewls and strokes his hands up Billy's still-clothed back. When he moves to unbutton Billy's shirt, Billy swats his hands away and continues his trail down to Dom's chest. He gently teases one nipple to hardness, sucking on it with his warm mouth and then blowing a stream of cool air on it until Dom's hips buck uselessly. Billy moves to the other side and does the same, nipping and blowing. Billy moves further down, dipping his tongue into Dom's belly button before biting a gentle path down the trail of hair that leads to Dom's cock.
And then Billy's mouth is gone, replaced by the clicking sound of cool metal. Dom's eyes fly open as Billy wraps a hard leather ring around Dom's cock and secures it tightly. The head of Dom's cock swells above the leather, and he whimpers as Billy stands up, away from the bed.
"Be good, my Dom," Billy says, his green eyes sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. "I'll be back."
That was three hours ago, and Dom's cock has been aching ever since. Blood has pooled in his groin, sending a slow and steady throb up his erection. He longs to touch himself, to rip the cock ring off and wank himself to sweet completion, Billy's name on his lips. But after the last time, Dom knows better. His ass ached for a week after that, and while that's almost temptation enough, Dom knows that the look in Billy's eyes when he returns and finds Dom just as he left him will be sweeter than any orgasm he could possibly have.
That knowledge is confirmed when Billy saunters through the door again after three and a half hours, smelling faintly of beer and cigarette smoke. Just the sight of him makes Dom nearly buck off the bed, and Billy smiles wolfishly and strips off his jacket.
"My Dommeh," he whispers, walking softly up to the bed, drinking in the vision of Dom in front of him. Dom feels terribly naked and, when Billy's eyes settle on his aching cock, like he could come despite the cock ring if Billy were to just lay one finger on him.
*****
100. Virginia
The thing that he loves he will change.
Dom/Elijah, PG, 500 words
"Billy loves milk, Elwood. What's your problem with it?" Dom asks one foggy Sunday morning as the two of them sit across from each other at the breakfast table. Elijah is eating a dry bowl of cereal, while Dom pours an extra splash of milk into his own coffee.
So Elijah pours himself a tall glass of milk and chokes it down, resisting the urge to gag.
"I wish you wouldn't smoke so much, Elijah," Dom says on an afternoon while the two of them lounge around outside in the lawn chairs that Elijah bought for five dollars each at one of the neighbor's yard sales. "Billy says that cloves give you cancer faster than regular cigarettes."
So Elijah switches from cloves to Marlboro lights and cuts his consumption in half.
"You should try this new fabric softener," Dom suggests, holding out a dryer sheet for Elijah, who sniffs it dutifully. It smells like cotton and baby powder, and he wrinkles his nose. "It's what Billy uses, and his clothes always smell fresh, even after a night at the pub."
Elijah buys that brand the next time he's at the grocery store.
"Don't drive so fast, Doodle," Dom cringes as Elijah speeds down the deserted highway. They're on their way to location, and they're running half an hour late. "Billy says you should keep it to ten kilometers over the limit, at most, if you don't want the cops to pull you over."
Elijah eases his foot off the gas pedal and sets the cruise control to five over.
"You shouldn't have had so much to drink, 'Lij," Dom says as Elijah wanders bleary eyed into the kitchen. His head is pounding and his stomach churns a little after his first sip of coffee. "And have some eggs. Billy says they're the best cure for a hangover."
Elijah eats his eggs over easy with two slices of toast.
"You should try wearing color," Dom suggests, as Elijah shrugs into his very favorite grey t-shirt. It's worn and fraying at the hem, and there's a hole in one of the armpits. "Billy's got a green sweater that would look fantastic on you. It really brings out his eyes."
Elijah strips off his t-shirt and lobs it into the nearest trashcan.
"You've gotta brush 'em for at least two minutes, Elwood," Dom says as Elijah spits out a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. "Billy says that's the best way to avoid cavities. That, and flossing. Oh, and don't leave the water running when you brush. It wastes gallons over a week."
Elijah brushes his teeth until his gums bleed over a dry sink.
"I don't understand your taste in music, Doodle," Dom complains as Elijah clicks on the car stereo. "Why can't you be more like Billy and just stick to the classics? The Beatles, the Stones, the Sex Pistols. Now that's music," he finishes, leaning over to turn the stereo down.
Elijah leans forward and flicks the music off completely.
97. The Wrong Band
You know that I'm drowning. Put on your raincoat again.
Viggo/Orlando, PG, 500 words
Viggo puts on his raincoat and steps into the blanket of mist that has permanently settled over London, in preparation for the winter months. Viggo used to love winter, up in the mountains of Idaho, near the Canadian border, where it snowed two feet if it snowed an inch, and the air was always crisp, the sky always blue. In London, the snow is grey slush two minutes after it hits the ground, not a white patch to be seen anywhere. And the air in London is always thick with smog. Stepping out into it instantly makes Viggo want to turn around and go back inside, closing the door behind him. Closing the winter out.
But he doesn't, because he's got something to do. Something important. And he's determined that today is the day that he's actually going to do it, rather than giving in to that instinct to turn around and shut the door on the weather and the city. Yes, today. Today, he's going to go see Orlando.
He makes it all the way to Orlando's street by muscle memory, retracing steps that he hasn't taken in years, through neighborhoods that have changed completely and haven't changed at all. He passes a familiar deli and, although a new girl works behind the counter, the same grey Persian that Viggo remembers is curled up on the windowsill. The cat lifts her head as Viggo walks by. There's a new building on the corner near Orlando's flat, on what had once been a small vacant lot that local children gathered on in the afternoons after school to play football.
Orlando's flat looks exactly the same. The brick façade doesn’t appear to have been cleaned at all in the intervening years, and there's a fine coat of moss growing on the one corner that gets sun during the summer. The front door could use a coat of paint. Viggo remembers the four-digit security code for the insignificant deadbolt, and he's not surprised to discover that it hasn't changed. The door swings open, and Viggo takes a step into what passes for the building's lobby. Viggo passes the seldom functional lift and heads for the stairs.
The fourth floor smells exactly the way he remembers, like noodles and dish soap. He counts five doors and stops directly in front of the sixth. He raises his hand and tentatively knocks on it.
Several moments of silence pass, and Viggo is considering either knocking again or just leaving all together when the door opens to reveal Orlando. He's skinny, as he's always been, although his face actually looks gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. His hair is a shoulder-length mass of brown curls, and he's mid-yawn when he processes Viggo's presence at his door. Viggo instantly finds himself with an armful of the Brit as Orlando launches himself at Viggo, hugging the older man with a strength concealed by his lanky body.
"Vig, you bastard," Orlando murmurs in his ear. "You came."
*****
98. Toast
With a toast, he's telling me it's time to let you go.
Dom/Evi, PG, 500 words
Billy was, of course, Dom's best man. It didn't come as a particular surprise when Dom asked him, not that Billy could have been surprised anymore, not after hearing the news of their engagement. But, after several assurances that he wouldn't have to wear anything pink, sparkly or generally ridiculous, Billy agreed.
Several weeks after that, in the ensuing panic, he called everyone he could think of, from Viggo to Elijah to Matthew Fox, desperately trying to beg off. They all told him more or less the same thing: Deal with it, you ninny. Actually, Viggo had thrown in a couple of colorful expletives as well while reminding Billy that Dom had done the same thing for him and carried it off admirably.
And that's pretty much how Billy found himself sitting at the head table, at Dom's right hand, while the maid of honor gave her toast. She was a pretty girl that Billy recognized from Dom's show. Billy listened to her stories about the day that Dom and Evi met on set, the mudslide they were nearly trapped in that cemented their relationship, and the day that Dom proposed to Evi on the beach in front of the cast. When she was done, everyone in the room applauded, and Dom looked expectantly over at Billy.
Billy cleared his throat and backed his chair away from the table, standing up shakily. He raised his glass, a heavy crystal filled with ice water, and surveyed the audience. Elijah, Viggo and Orlando were gathered together on one side of a nearby table, all of them shooting him expectant stares. Orlando made a little "come on, come on" motion with his hand, and Billy cleared his throat again.
"The first time that I met Dom, he swept me into a bear hug within ten seconds of being introduced," Billy starts. "I was half-drunk and kind of smelly, and he just opened up his arms and hugged me until I thought he was going to crush my ribs and puncture a lung." Some people in the audience laughed. "That's just the kind of man Dom is," he continues. "He's so..." Billy lowered his arm slightly as he searched for the right word. "Open," he said. "Dom is open. He'll let you read him like a book if you just take two seconds to open the cover. But the problem with being open," Billy continued, the words beginning to roll unbidden out of his mouth, "is how easily you can be hurt." Billy cleared his throat again. "I've seen Dom hurt," he said, looking out into the sea of people in front of him. "My favorite thing about Dommie, though, is that he found his way through it. He found his way to you," Billy said, looking over at Evi. "May you never hurt again," Billy finished, raising his glass and taking a long sip.
When Billy sat down, he noticed that Dom's eyes were moist. "Thanks, Bills," he whispered.
"You're welcome," Billy answered.
*****
99. Twinkle
Boy so hard, boy so hard.
Billy/Dom, NC-17, 500 words
Billy has a twinkle in his eye that Dom is intimately familiar with. It's the one that says, You're in for trouble, my Dommeh. It's that twinkle that has him half hard before Billy even lays a finger on him.
Oh, but Billy does lay a finger on him, and more than that. Billy strips his clothes off with careful precision, laying Dom back on the bed and instructing him to close his eyes. Dom complies immediately, and Billy sets to work exploring every inch of Dom's body with his hands and tongue.
He starts with Dom's eyelids, placing gentle kisses over both of them, before moving down to his mouth. Billy lingers there for long minutes, flicking his tongue in to taste Dom, then nibbling at his bottom lip as Dom whimpers and mewls and strokes his hands up Billy's still-clothed back. When he moves to unbutton Billy's shirt, Billy swats his hands away and continues his trail down to Dom's chest. He gently teases one nipple to hardness, sucking on it with his warm mouth and then blowing a stream of cool air on it until Dom's hips buck uselessly. Billy moves to the other side and does the same, nipping and blowing. Billy moves further down, dipping his tongue into Dom's belly button before biting a gentle path down the trail of hair that leads to Dom's cock.
And then Billy's mouth is gone, replaced by the clicking sound of cool metal. Dom's eyes fly open as Billy wraps a hard leather ring around Dom's cock and secures it tightly. The head of Dom's cock swells above the leather, and he whimpers as Billy stands up, away from the bed.
"Be good, my Dom," Billy says, his green eyes sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. "I'll be back."
That was three hours ago, and Dom's cock has been aching ever since. Blood has pooled in his groin, sending a slow and steady throb up his erection. He longs to touch himself, to rip the cock ring off and wank himself to sweet completion, Billy's name on his lips. But after the last time, Dom knows better. His ass ached for a week after that, and while that's almost temptation enough, Dom knows that the look in Billy's eyes when he returns and finds Dom just as he left him will be sweeter than any orgasm he could possibly have.
That knowledge is confirmed when Billy saunters through the door again after three and a half hours, smelling faintly of beer and cigarette smoke. Just the sight of him makes Dom nearly buck off the bed, and Billy smiles wolfishly and strips off his jacket.
"My Dommeh," he whispers, walking softly up to the bed, drinking in the vision of Dom in front of him. Dom feels terribly naked and, when Billy's eyes settle on his aching cock, like he could come despite the cock ring if Billy were to just lay one finger on him.
*****
100. Virginia
The thing that he loves he will change.
Dom/Elijah, PG, 500 words
"Billy loves milk, Elwood. What's your problem with it?" Dom asks one foggy Sunday morning as the two of them sit across from each other at the breakfast table. Elijah is eating a dry bowl of cereal, while Dom pours an extra splash of milk into his own coffee.
So Elijah pours himself a tall glass of milk and chokes it down, resisting the urge to gag.
"I wish you wouldn't smoke so much, Elijah," Dom says on an afternoon while the two of them lounge around outside in the lawn chairs that Elijah bought for five dollars each at one of the neighbor's yard sales. "Billy says that cloves give you cancer faster than regular cigarettes."
So Elijah switches from cloves to Marlboro lights and cuts his consumption in half.
"You should try this new fabric softener," Dom suggests, holding out a dryer sheet for Elijah, who sniffs it dutifully. It smells like cotton and baby powder, and he wrinkles his nose. "It's what Billy uses, and his clothes always smell fresh, even after a night at the pub."
Elijah buys that brand the next time he's at the grocery store.
"Don't drive so fast, Doodle," Dom cringes as Elijah speeds down the deserted highway. They're on their way to location, and they're running half an hour late. "Billy says you should keep it to ten kilometers over the limit, at most, if you don't want the cops to pull you over."
Elijah eases his foot off the gas pedal and sets the cruise control to five over.
"You shouldn't have had so much to drink, 'Lij," Dom says as Elijah wanders bleary eyed into the kitchen. His head is pounding and his stomach churns a little after his first sip of coffee. "And have some eggs. Billy says they're the best cure for a hangover."
Elijah eats his eggs over easy with two slices of toast.
"You should try wearing color," Dom suggests, as Elijah shrugs into his very favorite grey t-shirt. It's worn and fraying at the hem, and there's a hole in one of the armpits. "Billy's got a green sweater that would look fantastic on you. It really brings out his eyes."
Elijah strips off his t-shirt and lobs it into the nearest trashcan.
"You've gotta brush 'em for at least two minutes, Elwood," Dom says as Elijah spits out a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. "Billy says that's the best way to avoid cavities. That, and flossing. Oh, and don't leave the water running when you brush. It wastes gallons over a week."
Elijah brushes his teeth until his gums bleed over a dry sink.
"I don't understand your taste in music, Doodle," Dom complains as Elijah clicks on the car stereo. "Why can't you be more like Billy and just stick to the classics? The Beatles, the Stones, the Sex Pistols. Now that's music," he finishes, leaning over to turn the stereo down.
Elijah leans forward and flicks the music off completely.