Ride
Title: Ride
Rating: R
Pairing: Elijah/Orlando
Disclaimer: No I don't own them, yes it is made up
Feedback: Any feedback at all is welcome!
Notes: Written for Orlijah-Month 2009, Prompt 11: Sports Orlijah. Thanks to the Grand National website for lots of info!
"Oh, Elijah, don't stop, don't stop."
The hand that was shoving Elijah's face deep into dark curly hair and red swollen cock gave him no choice anyway. Not that Elijah would have stopped, even if he could have. He swallowed around the cock, and felt another drop of precome slide down his throat.
"I'm - so close..." Then the gush came and Elijah almost gagged, holding back the reflex to swallow.
He straightened up as Orlando slid to the ground, eyes half-closed. "God, Elijah, why do you do this to me?"
Elijah shrugged, mischievously. "Don't really know. Payback?"
Orlando gave a shaky laugh. "Give me a minute."
"Better hurry up," Elijah said, eyes sparkling. "Your father's coming in to check on the horses in a couple of minutes, remember?"
Orlando let out a groan and let Elijah help him up.
"Come on then," he said. "You'd better get Red saddled up."
They walked over to a stall at the end of the stable, where a large chestnut horse huffed and whinnied softly.
"Hey, boy," Elijah said quietly, opening the gate and going in. Orlando waited outside, taking a step back as the horse's head followed him.
"He can smell your fear, y'know," Elijah said casually, letting the horse nuzzle his hand. "Come on, there's a good boy."
"Alright, Lij?" Dom, the stable boy, a relatively short man in his late twenties, approached the stall and let himself in. "He's pretty much ready for you. Mr Bloom's coming out, so you'll have to hold on a moment."
"I know," Elijah said. "Thanks."
Dom fed the horse a chunk of apple, giving the rest to Elijah. "You beautiful boy, eh?"
For a ridiculous moment, Orlando felt a ripple of jealousy - then realised Dom was talking about the horse.
"He is, isn't he?" Elijah agreed.
"Dominic? Elijah?" A shout echoed through the draughty building and Orlando turned to see his father, Bernard Bloom, wealthy business man and owner of the best racehorse in the country, striding down, yelling for his stable boy and the country's best jockey.
"Hi, Dad," Orlando said, as Bernard joined him outside the stall. Dom opened it from the inside and Elijah led the horse out.
"Everything OK?" Bernard asked. He was not a horseman himself - he backed off as the animal nosed at his jacket.
"Fine, yeah," Elijah answered, pulling the horse's head back gently with the reins. "He's fighting fit and raring to go, as they say."
"Well, don't wear him down today." Bernard certainly had a knack of sounding rude and disrespectful.
Elijah visibly bristled. "Don't worry, Mr Bloom, I know how to treat horses."
Bernard took a deep breath to stop himself retaliating. "And how are you? Have you seen your physio?"
Elijah nodded. "All's well."
"No aches, no pains?"
"No, Mr Bloom."
"Good." Bernard gave a rare, tight smile. "I want to see you lift that cup tomorrow, Elijah." He took another step back as the horse stamped one foot.
"If you don't mind, Mr Bloom, Red needs to get out," Dom said, taking the reins off Elijah and guiding the horse away.
"Certainly," Bernard said. "I'll wait at the track."
Orlando followed his father to the field they had converted, years ago when Bernard bought the estate, into a practice track. A white picket fence circled the perimeter. They waited past the fence, as Red's trainer, Viggo Mortensen, approached, without greeting them. They stood in silence, watching as Dom and Elijah led Red out, then as Elijah hopped on lightly with practiced ease.
"Ready, set - go!" Dom shot the empty rifle into the air. Red started off at a sprint, Elijah crouching into the saddle and leaning over the horse's neck. The animal's legs were a blur - over the first practice fence, then the second.
Twenty minutes later and Elijah finished, slowing Red and trotting to the edge of the paddock to where Dom was waiting, just in front of where the other three were standing.
"16 minutes 43 seconds," Dom said.
"Fuck," Elijah said, dismounting and rubbing a hand down the horse's neck and flanks.
"That's more than 3 minutes slower than your fastest time," Bernard said, "and even 13 minutes 7 seconds wouldn't win it for you." He sighed angrily. "I'm not sure there's even any point us going in for this race. Can't you run him any faster, Elijah?"
"He's going full speed," Elijah said.
Viggo was frowning at Bernard, eyes steely.
"Where's your whip? I want to see you using it tomorrow."
Elijah scowled. "I'm not whipping this horse, Mr Bloom."
"Well, you should be." Bernard pulled his long tweed coat a little further around his bulky body. "Come along, Orlando, supper will be ready soon."
"Right. Bye, Elijah - see you, Dom, Viggo." As Bernard turned, Orlando gave Elijah a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Love you. Get a good night's sleep."
"Thanks. Love you too."
Orlando turned and headed after Bernard, while Elijah, Dom and Viggo headed back to the stables more slowly.
***
"...and in the blue and grey checks, we have American born Elijah Wood, riding the 33-1 outsider Red Monsoon. Wood, if you remember, rode Chaos Equals Freedom to victory at Ascot last year - great jockey on the flat, but we'll reserve judgement for the jumps. This is a six-year old stallion in great condition, trained, of course, by Viggo Mortensen, who trained last year's National winner Adelie. This horse isn't the fastest but with such a winning combination behind him, he might be in with more of a chance than the bookies gave him. Over to you, Sean."
"Thanks, Ian. In the red with black striped we have..."
Orlando could just about hear the commentators in their booth, reading names and details of the horses and jockeys as the camera focused on each one. Elijah was already mounted, although there was about 10 minutes before the race kicked off.
"Remember," Viggo was saying gruffly, "don't go too fast for the first fence, it doesn't matter if you're coming last at that point. Take your time." Elijah nodded earnestly. His eyes were shining with nerves and excitement. "Watch out at Westhead. And, for God's sake, don't fall at Becher's Brook. If you feel yourself going over at any time, get as far to the outside of the track as you can."
"I will," Elijah said. Viggo ran his hand up and down the horse's long neck.
Bernard cleared his throat. "Good luck, Elijah."
"Thanks," Elijah said.
"Come on, mate, you can do it," Dom agreed.
Orlando came a step closer to the horse than he was comfortable with. Elijah leaned down and Orlando kissed him gently.
"I believe in you," he said sincerely.
Elijah snorted. "That's so cheesy. But thanks."
"Horses and jockeys, please make your way to the gate. Horses and jockeys to the gate. Thank you." The announcement echoed and Elijah, with a last tight smile, led Red away.
"...and they're off! The 2-1 favourite Winner Takes It All is in the green and purple there on the left at the front as the pack approaches the first fence - Grey Lake, 4-1, coming up right behind him - and they're over, nice and neat - oh, and Painted Lady has fallen, hurtling over that first fence - that's a disappointment, she was a nice runner, very nice indeed. That's Fagin over now, followed by Tantalini in the purple and green, Pineapple Sundae in the black and white, Old Codger in the pink and blue stars. Sebastian The Third, Collette, Red Monsoon - "
Orlando cheered, Viggo gave a small smile.
They're coming up to fence two, we've lost a few on that first gate - Fontaine Blue, Merry Hill, Funnyman, all taken the first fence to fast and fallen. The second fence - they all seem to have made it - and - I can't believe what I'm seeing, Winner Takes It All is down! In the green and purple, Winner has taken a wrong footing just before Fence 3:Westhead, possible hesitation or - I don't think I've ever seen a favourite fall so early, now it really is anybody's race! That's Westhead, pretty difficult, a 6 foott ditch on the approach guarding a 5 foott high fence."
The horses jumped neatly over another two fences, losing another two horses. Then Viggo tensed beside Dom, and Dom clutched Orlando's sleeve.
"Becher's Brook," Viggo said, at Orlando's questioning gaze. "There's an extra two foot drop on the other side."
"And Grey Lake is over, Collette, Red Monsoon - he's lost his footing! But he's staying upright - and he's OK, on to Foinavon!"
"God," Dom whined softly, hands over his face. "Is he OK?"
"Thank fuck," Viggo breathed - his hands were shaking a little. Orlando could hear his heart thumping in his ears.
***
Oh, too close. Elijah clung on tightly, pulling on the reins to slow Red Monsoon slightly. The horse was damp already as they came up almost immdediately to Foinavon. Red made it, landing neatly.
"Good boy," Elijah panted, cracking the whip in the air just behind Red. The horse bolted a little more, coming up to Canal Turn.
Diagonal, Viggo had said. Elijah gritted his teeth, tensed in the stirrups, and turned Red slightly, executing a neat jump and immediate 90 degree turn.
***
Viggo whooped loudly, the most extravagent display of emotion Orlando had ever seen him give. "Yes! He's done it! Nice on, Lijah!" He punched the air, clapping a high five with Dom.
"...and there are still 28 horses going, that's right, 28. Grey Lake still slightly ahead, and a couple flagging near the end - Milly Molly Mandy, Appleby, Godiva. Coming up to Valentine's Brook, then a thorn fence, then Booth. Tantalini looking very good there, as does Old Codger - and they're going over - oh, and a hestitation from Collette, and she's fallen! That's going to wreck havoc for those coming after - Red Monsoon - has he - no, he's recovered it, so close to almost tripping there over Collette, but he's off with the rest of them. They've all cleared Booth..."
They watched the next few fences - no horse fell. Bernard's grip on his slip of paper detailing the runners was tightening. Red was in the second half of the horses now, not at the front but not at the back.
"...and approaching the Chair, the tallest and widest fence on the course - Grey Lake has stumbled - but recovered! What an amazing save! Followed by Old Codger, Tantalini, Pineapple Sundae, and Fagin, slowing a little. That's Red Monsoon, who's gaining pretty well, but another stuble could set him right back. Coming up now to the water jump, Fence 16, and the end of the first circuit."
"Now what?" Orlando asked. "They go round again?"
"Yep," Viggo said teresly.
***
"...and they're finished the fences, this is the closest contested final we've seen in a long, long time!"
The voices of the commentators were fast and escited, spitting out the words like stones over the tense hum of the crowd.
"Grey Lake, still a little in the lead, followed by Tantalini, Pineapple Sundae, Old Codger and Red Monsoon. Now it's a clear run to the end, deceptively long, often tires out horses and jockeys mentally and physically. Grey Lake is pushing hard - and - Red Monsoon is closing on Old Codger on the inside lane - and he overtakes! Tantalini going full tilt, looking exhausted, Red Monsoon is closing on Pineapple Sundae now, that horse was built for just this purpose - and Tantalini closes on Grey Lake - and I can't believe this is happening, Grey Lake has dropped into second place - and Red Monsoon has gone into third, right behind Grey Lake and Tantalini. Grey Lake is falling back, it seems the spirit has gone right out of him - Red Monsoon is still chasing, that horse is a real fighter - nearly neck and neck now with Tantalini! Tantalini pulls ahead - there's about 60 yards left, folks, just 60 yards - and Red Monsoon - has overtaken! Red Monsoon is in the lead, Red Monsoon - a last spurt of speed - and the winner of this year's Grand National is, believe it or not, Red - "
Orlando didn't even hear the rest of the sentence. He found himself buried in a group wide hug, coming from friends and family who had come up for the day, and Viggo, Dom and his father all being buried too. He pulled away, to see Elijah slowing the horse and trotting round in a small neat circle at the end of the track.
***
Winner's Circle. Flashbulbs on cameras went off, dazzling Orlando. Bernard was talking to a reporter animatedly - Viggo was stroking the horse with strong, rough hands. Elijah stood next to him, face flushed and eyes bright, still shaking and panting a little, soaked with sweat. Orlando swallowed and turned his head away forcible, trying to look every inch the respectable son of the horse owner. The next time he allowed himself a look at his gorgeous lover, he was holding the silver cup high.
***
"I hope it won't be a come down for you when you ride me instead of the fastes racehorse in the country," Orlando murmured, as Elijah kissed him thoroughly when they finally went to bed.
Elijah glanced up through his eyelashes. "Oh, I don't know. You're pretty fast yourself. And you've got a great recovery time."
Orlando snorted and pulled Elijah onto his lap. "Go on, do your thing!"