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Pr0ndrops by kiltsandlollies
Note: Erm, so I rather rudely went about randomly dropping pRon in people's journals. I just might do it again, so best be warned, right?

1) For [info]water_vole:
Elijah's never been with anyone as old as Billy, contrary to popular belief, and Billy takes an absurd delight in this. After all, age and experience actually count for something to Elijah, when they don't as much to others. Elijah knows to mind his manners around Billy, at least as much as he knows to mind his lips and teeth and tongue when they wrap around Billy's cock. It's only taken a few weeks for Billy to teach Elijah exactly what he likes, and Elijah's memorized his lessons, the most important one being that if he doesn't swallow, then he doesn't get to come. Billy's enforced this rule mercilessly, and the first time Elijah managed to pass Billy's little test, and finally was allowed to come in a shocking, quick fashion, all over himself and Billy's bathroom floor, Elijah knew he would never fail again.

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2) For [info]shirasade:
Dom's been here before. He's quite familiar now with the little cracks in the plaster of the wall, and his fingers find them every time Billy pushes into him from behind, every time Billy's teeth find his neck, every time Billy mutters something vicious and filthy into his ear. Yes, this wall just might be Dominic's new best friend—well, after Billy anyway. And like Billy, this new best friend does not appear to mind when Dominic hisses and screams and bucks against it. Billy's hands find Dominic and press Dominic's hands hard against that wall, leaving sweaty prints on the paint, but Dominic doesn't care. The wall is a friend, and the wall does not protest. When Billy thrusts for the last time, pinning Dominic against the wall so hard his hipbones will be bruised tomorrow, Dominic appreciates the wall even more for its strength, for its consistency in holding him up. When Dominic comes, breathless and choking, he appreciates everything in the world, up to and including the wall. And when Billy turns him around and kisses him gently, Dominic gathers strength from the wall, strength enough to spin Billy around— So Dominic's two best friends can become better acquainted.

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3) For [info]quailquill:
Dominic isn't sure how long he's been here on the floor, face down, his hands behind him and tucked low near the small of his back, held fast by the length of kitchen twine that binds his wrists. Billy moved away from Dominic after binding him this way, and now that it has been at least ten minutes, Dominic misses Billy's touch—kind or cruel, Dominic can and will take it—desperately. Dominic takes a breath and prepares to speak, but before the words can come, Billy is there, moving from the darkness in the corner of the room. Dominic can feel the warmth coming from Billy's body just before Billy's hand lands in the back of his hair, pulling, yanking Dominic to his knees. "Fuck, yes, Billy, let me—" Billy moves quickly, stands in front of Dominic and opens his jeans one–handed. His other hand remains in Dominic's hair, dragging Dominic forward. Dominic's open is already wet and open, and Billy wastes no time shoving himself into that fierce heat. "I was watching you, Dom," Billy breathes as Dominic dives and swallows, allowed to bring Billy pleasure only with his mouth. "Was watching your back. Because someone has to.

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4) For [info]thepsychicclam:
Elijah really does know how to be quiet. He just chooses not to be most of the time. But when certain things cross his vision, and certain ideas cross his mind immediately afterward, Elijah can fall into a silence that means a great deal to both him and Dominic. Elijah watches Dominic mess with the stereo, a look of complete concentration on his slightly puffy face, and Elijah's head tilts. He sees the curve of Dominic's back when Dom's tee shirt rises, sees the curve of Dominic's hips when his jeans slide down. Most of all Elijah sees just Dominic before him. On his knees. "Know what you're thinking," Dominic murmurs into the silence, not turning to face Elijah. "Know what you're doing." Elijah doesn't answer, and so Dominic bends a little more, still playing with the dials on the stereo. "So quiet over there. When you could be here. Behind me. Think I'm worth a little more than your stare, Lijah. Think you'd be better off inside me than between your hands." There is a little whimper, just the tiniest noise, behind Dominic, and Dominic laughs. "Not already, Elijah. Not when you could be in my mouth, yeah?" And Elijah still does not make a sound.

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5) For [info]trickytwink:
Billy's watched Dominic for a good half hour now, sliding in between bodies on the party floor like a piece of fabric, like the scarf around his neck that catches on hideous sequined dresses and is easily tugged by hands much bigger than Billy's. Billy circles him from a small distance, eyes locked on Dominic's ever–stronger body as he flits from polite embrace to full–on grind against bodies taller than Billy's. Dominic moves on, is almost passed from man to woman in this stifling room, and would be lost in the sea of people were Billy's gaze not so keen. It goes on forever this way, until Dominic spills from a small gaggle of bodies softer than Billy's and lands in front of Billy's impassive face. Dominic's face splits into a smile, full of challenge and joy at once, but Billy is careful not to react, to betray anything more than acknowledgement of Dominic's presence. This does not seem to please Dominic, but then it isn't meant to, really. Dominic's smile falters, but only a little, and he turns on one foot to lose himself once more in the crowd, in the warmth. And then Billy catches the scarf, yanks it back with force he's never shown Dominic, much less his clothing, and Dominic spins, reels into BIlly's grip, laughter in his voice and dark blue fear and interest in his eyes. "Caught," he smiles again, relaxing against Billy's body. "Kept," Billy nods back, and waits for the change, waits for Dominic's expression to shift into something needier. Dominic's hips twist, just enough for Billy to know he's won before they've even begun to fight. The scarf slides from around Dominic's neck and down his chest, leaving Dominic's throat, neck and collarbones open to Billy's eyes, lips and teeth. "Here?" Dominic whispers. Billy nods once more, and another change comes over Dominic, one that Billy looks for time and again and occasionally gets to see. "Make me," Dominic hisses, squaring his shoulders. And then it is Billy's turn to smile.

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6) For [info]_canadiansun:
The sound of Billy's voice is what does Dominic in, even more than the touch of his soft hands or the feel of his lithe but strong body. No, it's when Billy calls out Dominic's name—and it's always Dominic in bed, never Dom, never Dommie, never wanker—that Dominic feels his stomach muscles clench and release, and then there is the tight, curling energy that explodes from him in a rush and pours into Billy. And Billy writhes beneath him and says it again and again and again and more than once Dominic's had to cover Billy's mouth with his own or once with his hand, just to stop the sound before Dominic completely unraveled before he had a chance to make Billy feel the same way. To make Billy hear his own name called out in darkness, cried out in love and passion and need.

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7) For [info]khaoskat:

When Elijah rolls over in bed, he's never quite certain whose arms will open to him. Whose warmth will envelop him, whose lips will fall on his forehead and in his hair. Still, that is supposed to be part of the charm of their little arrangement—an everchanging embrace in the middle of an everlasting night.

But sometimes, when he wakes at two, three o'clock in the morning, Elijah stays perfectly still, afraid to turn either way. On one side of him rests Dominic, curled up so tight in his sleep that Elijah cannot blame the guy for needing his yoga in the morning—well, the afternoon, anyway. On the other is Billy, sprawled out on his stomach, whispering the quiet narrative of his dreams into his pale blue pillow.

Elijah loves them both, surely, and can't imagine leaving either one of them, whatever their many faults. He adores Dominic's sense of humour and their communal love of music and games, and he respects and admires Billy's peacemaker's strength and implacable calm. Their bodies, so different, are sources of great joy for Elijah as well. He wallows in Dominic's shows of affection, the way his bulked–up and tanned arms and legs wrap around Elijah’s smaller, wiry body—and he is desperately greedy for Billy's cooler, more detached touch, often granted in hidden places of the house and behind locked doors during premieres.

Now, though—2:47 a.m. according to Dominic's Moonbeam alarm clock—Elijah remains on his back between them, wondering which way to turn. When he finally makes his decision, it is as if Billy and Dominic have known all along and have planned accordingly, for the moment Elijah has turned on his side, one hand reaching for Billy's pale cheek, Elijah feels Dominic's hand, so terribly, terribly hot, on his ass, the long fingers tracing down the cleft, already, already needy and persuasive at once. Billy's eyes open and he smiles at Elijah, spiderwalking his hand down Elijah's chest and wrapping his fingers around Elijah's cock.

Elijah exhales dreamily and lets his eyes fall closed at their caresses, far past the point of arguing, at least for one more night. They move against him, Billy's scent and taste warm in Elijah's nose and throat and lungs and Dominic's blast–furnace body comforting, enveloping him again.

When Dominic slides inside him, Elijah gasps, only seconds before Billy's mouth covers his own. They stay still, silent, waiting for Elijah's heartbeat to slow, before Dominic moves again. Elijah bucks a little, his cock heavy and hard in Billy's grip, and from the corner of his barely opened eye, Elijah can see Billy rising a little to look at Dominic. Billy's tongue flicks across his lower lip, and Elijah groans, wanting that mouth on him so badly that even Dominic recognizes the meaning of that cry.

"He only does that for me," Dominic whispers, reaching over to lace his fingers with Billy around Elijah's cock. His gravelly voice is the last thing Elijah hears before he comes, hard and shaking. "You just haven't earned it yet, baby."

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8) For [info]thalassatx:

Given more than ten minutes to bitch about it, Billy might fuss that Dominic's moving too fast, that his diving and bobbing and swallowing are not in the perfect rhythm Billy expects—demands—at any other time. He also might complain that Dominic's paying more attention to bringing himself off—one hand stroking feverishly between his legs as his tongue works vague, raspy miracles over Billy's cock—than he is to making Billy happy.

But there's so little time, now. And Billy has his own concentration issues anyway, what with keeping his Pippin trousers from pooling on the dusty floor of Studio B and shushing the little moans and curses that come from Dominic's throat whenever he pulls back to take a breath.

And of course, there's the issue of the goddamn wigs. Billy likes to plunge his not–so–fucking–dainty–thank–you hands into Dominic's streaky, tangled hair while Dominic's sucking him off, and the feel of Merry's wig is just not the same, no, not at all. It's soft, to be sure, but given one good yank the damn thing will tear at Dominic's scalp and hurt far more than Billy's usual pull and twist in Dominic's real curls.

So Billy contents himself, with less than two minutes to go in their break, with watching Dominic's eyes flutter and close as he swallows Billy down hard and fast. Billy breathes in through his teeth, staying quiet as an example to the ever–noisy creature on his knees before him. But then, when Dominic's hand floats up to caress Billy soft then hardharddeep around his shaft and in the auburn curls there, Billy gives in, surrenders to the momentarily superior power of Dominic, and his eyes squeeze shut just as Dominic pushes one long, roughened finger inside him. Billy gasps, cries out something that might sound like, "Fuck, Dom, fuck—"

And Dominic holds him there until it is all over, drinking Billy positively dry and loving every last bit of it. Billy wants to say something, something better than the usual "arsehole" or "wanker, took you fucking long enough"—but he is pre–empted by another voice, that of Rick, maybe, or John Mahaffey, far outside the studio but loud enough for both Dominic and Billy to hear.

"Gonna need another fifteen minutes, Pete—"

And Dominic catches Billy's eyes with his usual sark–bastard smile creased all over his face.

"Turn over, shortarse," Dominic hisses, unmistakeable glee in those grey blue eyes.

And even now, given fifteen minutes more, Billy still cannot find either the words or the reason to bitch.

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9) For [info]water_vole:

If you asked Dominic now, long months after that ridiculous fan club interview, about his favourite things, parts, what have you, of one William Boyd, he'd be hard pressed to mention anything more than said William Boyd's fingers. They're long and thin and kept tidy, the nails trimmed and the palms clean of ink and sweat and dirt—all things that seem to stick to Dominic and lead Elijah to call him "Pigpen" when he's not listening. Billy's fingers move quickly through script pages, flinging them away when they don't merit his attention, and travel slowly up and down a short glass of whiskey, gathering condensation on their tips that Billy licks away without even really noticing what he's doing.

Those fingers are charming, too, caressing Dominic's tanned arm in something beyond friendliness as Billy pulls him down hallways and into bedrooms. They're efficient as well, flying at buttons and zippers until Dominic finds himself suddenly naked, all the better for Billy's touch.

Yes, those fingers are busy and beautiful; and very much so when they dance across Dominic's hard, concave stomach to stroke and play down Dominic's hard, aching cock. Well, perhaps they're even more stunning when they fall, trembling, on Dominic's bottom lip, urging Dominic's mouth to open, to receive their salty lengths and bathe them so Billy can do more, give more of what Dominic always, always wants.

But Dominic must finally concede that Billy's fingers are at their most amazing when they press insistently inside him and curl gently there, teasing and whisper–touching until Dominic nearly weeps with need. Yes, Billy's fingers hold the key to Dominic's pleasure and pain, and they never, ever falter, not even when Dominic's own, much rougher fingers close around Billy's free hand and crush the digits there as he gasps.

"You're going to break my fingers," Billy fusses, only half–serious, in Dominic's ear as he finally withdraws his hand from Dominic and fills the emptiness with his cock. Dominic shakes his head and laughs.

"Never," Dominic whispers, kissing Billy's precise, perfect fingers. "Not a chance in hell."

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10) For [info]elvea87:
The sound of keys in the front door lock makes both of them shiver, they’ve learned, though it took Billy a long time to admit to himself just how much he needed that sound and what it represented: their return to each other, and to hell with everyone—and everything—else. It's one of many sounds that have been repeated during the course of this not–a–relationship, along with others like fuck yes, bastard, give over, harder.

So they listen, they listen hard for the sound of the keys in the lock even as Dominic pushes into Billy until Billy hands are smacking the wall and he is pushing back, his hips sweaty in Dominic's grip.

"Stay fucking still," Dominic hisses, and Billy shakes his head. "Yes, you can," Dominic returns. "Yes, you can, and if you don't, I'll stop and leave you like this, Billy."

Billy pushes back once more, and Dominic's larger, stronger hands wrap around his wrists to hold him against the wall.

"On your fucking toes, Billy," Dominic growls, and Billy obeys without a word, rising up until the angle changes and they both gasp. "Stay there and keep your mouth shut so I can finish this."

Billy exhales, pants hard as Dominic shoves inside him again and again. Dominic is sucking in air through his teeth, and the sweat on his forehead drips on to Billy's back, making Dominic smile. They hear the car roar into the driveway, and they both freeze, but only for seconds, and then Dominic is growling again, pushing so hard that Billy bites down on his lip to keep from screaming. They have less than seconds before it has to end, and Billy is so close—

Dominic grunts twice in rapid succession before his hands fall again to Billy's hip, forcing his absolute stillness while Dominic comes, his body shaking behind Billy.

And Dominic is so good at this, knows himself and Billy all too well, Billy thinks, that it should come as no surprise when Dominic flips him suddenly and pulls up Billy's jeans, yanking the zipper up over Billy's aching, flushed cock and pressing his hand hard over the prominent ridge through the jeans.

"Oh, god ..." Billy moans at the sound of the keys in the front door.

"I'm sorry, Bill," Dominic whispers, backing away to the door. "I'm so sorry ..."

Billy slides down the wall to the floor, pulling his knees to his chin as Dominic disappears, ignoring the throbbing need between his legs.

He does not see Dominic's arms slide around Elijah thin waist, does not feel the warmth between them.

Does not hear Elijah's breathless giggle. "Did I make it?"

"Just in time," Dominic smiles indulgently. "Just in time."

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11) For [info]beizy:
He’s older, yes.

But then, so is Billy. Older than the other three, anyway, and it’s not as if Billy’s one to care about anyone’s age, not now, not after eight months of this hibernation in New Zealand.

Billy finds Ian’s age, his experience, calming, after the noise of Elijah, the storms of Dominic, the exuberance of Sean. He also finds Ian kind, and generous with his time, his advice and sometimes his money.

He finds him during the day and waits for the nod, the smile and the brittle, cheeky laughter that comes from Ian’s throat when he is pleased—when they’ve done well in his eyes.

And often Billy finds Ian in the middle of the night, reading script pages and drinking from a short glass of something that makes Billy almost want to taste it on Ian’s lips, on his tongue. But of course he does not ever make that move, because he does not want what might follow from there.

He doesn’t want to fuck Ian, no—not at all. No, what he wants is for Ian to watch him fuck Dominic. To watch Elijah go down on him with his usual furious energy. To watch Sean make them all drinks and take pictures and provide the alibis.

He wants Ian to watch them at night like he watches them during the day, measuring them with eyes that are Elijah’s match and more. He wants Ian to coach and pace Elijah’s strokes down Dominic’s cock. He wants Ian to show Sean how to make a proper Black Russian. He wants Ian to order Dominic to his hands and knees and make him stay there while Billy fucks him, hard.

He wants Ian to see, and to approve. Because he’s older, yes.

But then, so is Billy.

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12) This one was for [info]the_drifter, who specifically demanded only one ending punctuation mark—freeing me to dance in the land of run–on sentences. Bless!

“This is not what I wanted for you,” Billy whispers, and it’s the first he’s spoken in hours, long hours during which Dominic has been soundly broken first by Billy’s eyes, then his lips, then his hands, all to Dominic’s simultaneous pleasure and horror—and the weight of Billy’s words is so heavy that Dominic can hardly bear it as he’s borne the scars, the pain, the fever dreams he’s had for weeks knowing Billy’s disappointment in his behaviour—but of course Dominic will bear it, denying himself relief or release because, well, this is not what Dominic wanted, either.

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13) For [info]cindyjade; BB/DM

They both begin on their knees, of course, because it's more convenient that way. But once behind Dominic, once able to reach and twist and turn Dominic this way and that, Billy's not one to remain kneeling. Not when it's Dominic who really belongs there, who relishes it, to be honest.

Still, it takes a moment for Billy to decide what he wants, and once made, that decision is not always final. He likes to leave things up for negotiation, up for discussion—if not necessarily up for dissension. Two fingers are usually all it takes to make Dominic fall and rise at once, almost on fingers and toes now, and Billy is pleased.

"Three," Billy whispers, not half in warning, and Dominic waits for it, feels it harder than the other two, and only just catches himself before pushing back, clenching, greedy. Billy hums, turns his wrist lightly and listens for the catch in Dominic's breath before he speaks again.

"Circle, Dominic," he says, terribly gentle now and pressing Dominic forward to move. "Just like this, around the room. Make me a perfect circle. Make me two." Dominic can feel the weight of Billy's smile behind him, heavier and harder than the push and twist inside him. "Make me proud, Dominic."

Dominic inhales, and begins to crawl.

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14) For [info]thepsychicclam; DM/EW

There's a limit to Elijah's open–mindedness when it comes to music, and Billy just might be it. Oh, sure, it was fantastic to watch Billy go at it on stage at the party, to belt out that song about getting lucky or whatever the fuck it was called. Billy's a great singer. Not half bad on the guitar, either. The thing is, even after watching Dom and Billy both throw their voices and hearts (and in Dominic's case, half his body, it seemed) into song that night, Elijah couldn't summon the courage to do more than nod his head in time to the music. He couldn't go out there and just be—be what, though?

Dominic and Billy were being themselves. One's a natural showman, a whore for adrenaline, attention and love; the other's a natural force, drawing the crowd's energy and adoration to him instead of handing it over on a loud Mancunian plate. And in the past Elijah's been content to let them do this—to let them play out the Dom and Billy Show. But the moment Dom slid by him from the side of the stage to fall to his knees in front of a smirking, satisfied Billy, bowing and scraping, Elijah felt something ugly rise up in his chest. He ran out there after Dom more out of routine than anything else, but the moment had already passed—one of many moments he would never share between Dom and Billy.

Which is of course why Elijah determined to make the moments that followed his and Dominic's alone.

Dominic held up well under the strain of being fucked against a cracked, peeling wall in the back of the American Legion hall. He kept quiet—as quiet as Dom's capable of, anyway, which isn't saying a great deal—and kept still until Elijah yanked at his cock, bringing him off quickly and harshly, and only after Elijah had come wildly and hard inside him.

Elijah's seen video of Billy's performance on the internet. He even has a tape of it somewhere in the house. But it's not as if he goes looking for it. Because when he finds it, whenever it's mentioned, whenever Dominic gets a strange look in his eyes and he stands in front of their shared CD collection wondering where the hell the Proclaimers CDs have disappeared to, Elijah recalls that night. Remembers slamming Dominic against the wall, remembers whispering threats and curses and promises alike, remembers the words "not fucking worthy" rushing out between gritted teeth as he came.

It's not exactly a memory he wants to keep forever.

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15) For [info]begiled, who wanted something developed out of her LJ haiku, which contained the words toolbelt, away, and some others. Who am I to deny her?

Dominic never had Billy figured for the junk type. Sure, they waltzed through flea markets, picking up oddments and putting them back down to the irritation of those manning the booths, but Billy rarely kept anything in his hands for more than a second.

The tool belt was different, though.

The leather was soft, worn to the colour of browned butter, Dominic thought, and Dominic’s hand found his wallet long before Billy even looked up with a quiet “sold, yeah?”

“Anything for you,” Dominic smirked, watching Billy watching him pay for the tool belt. “Anything for the handiest of manliest.”

***

Six hours later, Dominic shifts in the bed to feel leather on his back and Billy’s hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t move,” Billy says quickly, sharply, but still so terribly quiet that Dominic freezes in response.

“Billy, what—”

“‘S amazing what you can fit in these things,” Billy whispers. “Amazing what constitutes ‘tools.’”

And then it’s Dominic’s turn to whisper, to gasp as something smaller, something just as buttery soft, buttery brown, skitters across his ass and over his thigh.

“Oh, God, Billy—”

“So fucking blasé about this earlier, Dominic. Did you really think you were buying it for me?”

***

The tongues of the leather flogger settles neatly near the head of Dominic’s cock, and it takes everything he has not to arch up into it.

“Of course, nothing too big can rest in these pockets, yeah? That’s why you get this tonight, Dominic, and not the switch, hmm?”

Dominic stays quiet, biting his tongue until Billy’s words have disappeared into the air.

“Turn over now, Dominic,” Billy sighs, and Dominic does, with the slow, catlike stretch he knows Billy appreciates. Billy’s smile is tight and passes quickly, replaced by his hand on the back of Dominic’s thigh, steadying him.

***

“If you move or make a sound beyond the count, I’ll start over,” Billy murmurs, and Dominic nods. Billy’s laughter is soft, and he leans down to Dominic to speak again.

“And if y’behave yourself, you can choose what comes out of the pockets next.”

Dominic closes his eyes, clenching his fingers in the sheets, trying desperately not to move. He feels Billy’s warm breath near his ear just before Billy kisses him, and then the rush of air as Billy rises behind him, the flogger twirling deftly in his graceful hand.

Dominic begins the count—

And they are away.

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16) For [info]beizy: DM/SA

"The fuck you reading, Astin?" Dominic laughs, as if there could possibly be anything between two covers that could compete with him between two sheets. And it's hardly worth answering, not when Dominic's already wedged a finger in the book to pull it away. "Neanderthal—you people always emphasize the th. It's NeanderTAL, if you're going to be correct about it, which you're not."

You people, Sean imagines, means Americans. He wonders if Dominic would take a hint if he just gathered the book back up and walked away. Wonders if Dominic would take a hint if one were presented to him on a tray, swimming in a glass of Killean's.

"C'mere," Dominic tiger–smiles, moving on hands and knees over sheets that were still crisp an hour ago. "Read this. Read me. C'mon."

If there's one thing Sean's learned over the past three days with Dominic, it's the pointlessness of trying to argue with him when he's in need of a good fuck—as is obviously the case now. Sean allows himself a smile as Dominic advances, appreciating for once Dominic's tendency to forget to put his clothes back on after said good fucking.

"Particularly obnoxious tonight," Sean sighs, turning Dominic flat on his back and wriggling already like the wild thing he is.

"I think 'mad sexy' is the phrase you're looking for," Dominic retorts. "You plan on talking through this like y'do everything else?"

"You're charming, know that? Do you do this to Elijah?"

"No, I blow him before breakfast and everybody's happy. Answer the question."

"Dunno. You plan on getting fucked again at some point?"

"'s my only plan. I'm not here to further my education."

"NeanderTHAL."

Another snarl, but it doesn't matter, because two fingers into it, Dominic always stops with the bitching. Sean's learned that, too, just as he's learned that Dominic's little swipes don't even break the skin. They don't leave scars. He's all surface level emotion, and Sean's not particularly interested in exploring his depths. Leave that to people with time and patience.

"Come on, come on," Dominic hisses, drawing his thighs back and scratching at Sean's shoulders. "'s enough, just do it." Except of course it's not enough, and Sean takes a deep breath before he moves forward anyway, closing his eyes against the sound of Dominic keening, demanding more and taking it before he's really ready, all in the name of now now now.

"Greedy fuck," Sean growls, the words coming out before he can stop them, and Dominic laughs, a rushing sound that cuts the air in the room.

"Best you'll ever have." Dominic's legs wrap around Sean's body, pushpulling like they always do, and Sean gives up trying to be nice about this. He shoves into Dominic's body hard, the sound of Dominic's laughter echoing in his brain. It doesn't take long—in fact it's shorter than usual, and Sean's mind reels a bit, imagining that Dominic's worked himself up hard already, because even he's not usually this spun–out so soon. Dominic freezes, his body sharp and taut in Sean's hands, and Sean feels it beginning and ending all at once.

His hand races, wrapping around the base of Dominic's cock and twisting, sliding up and down and around the length until Dominic is reduced to a near wail. Yeah, now, there, Sean thinks, and waits it out.

Dominic comes hard—never one to do anything halfway, the little shit—all over Sean's hand and his own stomach. His body trembles and that pouty mouth of his dispenses words softer than any Sean's ever heard from him at any other time. It's in these few minutes that Sean can see more than the Hobbit Mattress Dominic's somehow become. For the first time this weekend, the grin does not immediately slide back over Dominic's face, and Sean fights to keep his eyes open, to hold this moment for as long as he can. He comes violently, harder than the first few times this weekend, and falls on Dominic, desperate for breath, and pulls away only when his arms and legs have stopped shaking.

"'s good," Dominic murmurs, boneless and sweaty in the sheets. Sean nods and watches him fall into sleep, feeling strangely happy and happily strange. It's only after several minutes that Sean has the strength to move again, stretching and reaching blindly for the book at the end of the bed.

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17) For [info]cindyjade; billy/dominic, and no, the tattoo’s not real, as far as I know. I added a bit to this since its first appearance.

"This needs cutting," Billy muses, running one hand up the back of Dominic's neck, nearly making sparks through the shredded, mussy brown–blond nest Dominic calls his hair. It is too long, really, and Dominic knows that and doesn’t care. He’s not had a proper cut since the last episode wrapped, and its not as if his neighbours here in Hawaii are the sort to send him odd looks over his hair. Billy, however …

At Billy’s next tug, Dominic laughs half into the pillow and arches his back, a cat enjoying the attention and already demanding more. Billy tilts his head to one side and smirks, pulling lightly at the longer strands between his fingers, and Dominic's motion stops—his back curved, shoulders and chin both proud and high in the air. There's a shift—just a small one, barely enough to make the mattress protest—and then Billy's weight settles neatly on the small of Dominic's back and on his ass.

"Definitely needs cutting," Billy repeats, exasperation and amusement in his voice. Dominic's senses go into a tiny overdrive then—the touch of cool metal, the raspy sound of shears opening and closing, the scent of Billy's hands (fresh from the shower, Billy smells of early autumn trees). The hair tickles Dominic's neck and shoulders as it falls, and he squirms, but Billy's concentration's not so easily broken. Not at any point does it occur to Dominic to worry over what his hair's going to look like once it's been fashioned to Billy's approval. Right now he just wants Billy to finish—to receive that approval.

Billy brushes away the last of the mess from Dominic's neck, and his sharp inhale makes Dominic smile silently. Billy's fingers trace over the small tattoo, the Sanskrit characters only two months old and not yet seen by anyone. Dominic can almost feel Billy's stare go confused, then concerned.

"What's it mean—" Billy begins, and Dominic turns, flipping Billy to his back and spreading himself out and over, length and width and new strength covering Billy completely.

"Rise," Dominic whispers, his mouth falling hard on Billy's. "Seemed appropriate."

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18) For [info]sumbitch, who wanted and needed a happy Elijah. This was very different for me, as I rarely write “happy,” and ever more rarely write Elijah. But I was floored by how easily it came.

Elijah’s more than a pair of enormous eyes and hobbit feet now. Where the last year has allowed him to indulge in pursuits other 23–year–olds take for granted, it’s only now, half–hidden in Prague and relaxed in a way he hasn’t felt since New Zealand, that Elijah feels truly happy, truly stable—

Truly his own man.

He misses Dominic, yes. But in two weeks they’ll be together again, maybe with Billy, too. For now he walks the streets of this old, beautiful city for the most part undisturbed, for the most part rested—

For the most part loved and left to find his way.

When Dominic calls late one night to tell him jokes and warn him of rumours and bring him off wildly with only a few drawn out breaths and sentences, Elijah realizes that there’s nothing else he needs or wants anymore.

Everything is illuminated.

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19) For [info]trianne’s slasholympics; dm/im. Dominic’s running track for the United Kingdom team, Ian’s the team’s Olympic liaison, and then some.

"Flush it, flush it, flush it," Dominic hisses silently at the uncooperative toilet, at the mossy brown mess of dope swirling around inside. Ian lights up one last cigarette behind him, his laughter only suppressed by his impeccable tact.

"Aren't you pleased you're not on the American team," he muses, peering over Dominic's shoulder. "That would make for a different sort of suspension than the kind you typically enjoy."

“Need a plunger. Something, anything. Don’t be such a fuck. Help me.”

“And what do I get out of this?”

Dominic throws his hands in the air. “I’ll tie me fucking medal around your dick and suck you off. Fair?”

“Fairest of them all.” Ian takes one last draw of smoke and fire and tosses the cigarette into the muddy water. It takes a moment, but then he’s back, holding the smallest plunger Dominic’s ever seen in one hand and a bottle of what would to anyone else look like water in the other.

“If this is your biggest hurdle all week, you’re going to make Great Britain very proud.”

“Which is—” Dominic huffs, pushing the rubber and wood contraption up and down repeatedly, keenly aware of the Olympic inspector’s visit any minute now. “My only—mmph—goal.”

“How noble of you, Dominic.”

Dominic looks over his shoulder, a smile creeping across his face. “Learned from the best.”

Ian’s smile in return is thinner. “If you don’t medal—”

“I will.”

“If you do not, we will have to renegotiate your position—”

“I don’t need any fucking endorsements—”

Ian laughs, throaty and rich and terribly pleased. “You need mine, dear boy. Everything else is irrelevant. Do remember that.”

“I do,” Dominic nods. “Every fucking day.”

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20) TRICKY I FOUND IT YAYE. That first Dominic/Norman prondrop from 800 years ago? I found it. Here 'tis.

The first thing that occurs to Dominic when he wakes is that the man asleep next to him is just rather more of everything, isn't he? Taller, broader, stronger, scarier than anyone Dominic's ever managed to pull. Tanner, too, and craggier, maybe older—maybe. Dominic's not entirely sure. It's not as if he's supposed to be keeping track of these things, right? So he backtracks a little, tries to remember last night and fails spectacularly. Casting his eyes quickly around the room, Dominic recognizes that, well, it's not his room, and that's a start. Dominic half expects the place to be a mess, but it's not, really. Yes, there's the requisite television with three empty beer bottles perched atop, and there are ashtrays, several in fact. But other than that, it's quite tidy, and Dominic's oddly comforted by this, in the same way he's comforted by the sudden shift next to him, the quiet growl of a woken beast.

He means to say something, anything, but that growl gets lower, more persuasive, and Dominic's heard it before somewhere, sometime, likely last night, yes. Pulled, then, not the puller. Well, he can work with that, especially once presented with the sight of strong, tanned—yes, more so than his own, also a strange relief—legs slipping from under the sheet and a chest that deserves something stronger by way of description than barreled. Dominic swallows and moves, overtaken a little, and slides one hand down that chest, ignoring tattoos and scars in favour of dips and ridges of muscle.

"Nice ..." The growl sweetens, and Dominic smiles into skin he's already tasted not eight hours ago. He's not even bothered by the sound of a lighter, the scent of a cigarette flaring up and around them both. "Keep at it," Dominic hears just before he circles the man's cock with his tongue, and the coarse American accent makes him want to laugh and die at once.

Less than five minutes later, the cigarette's long gone, and Dominic's swallowed a lot more than his laughter. He's on his stomach now, still ready to die, and considering who's doing the killing, Dominic decides this is not entirely a bad way to go.

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21) And in the same post was this wee billy/dominic, for [info]maitheas.

Put it down, Billy thinks, sending dark green thunderbolts Dominic's way until Dominic's hand tightens around the coffee cup. It's just Dominic's way, to push the boundaries between them even in play, and more often than not Billy just lets him do it, ignoring the rise in his temper and the jump in his veins. But as Dominic knocks back the remainder of his third coffee, Billy's eyes narrow further and he stands, leaving the little canteen and his Merry—his stubborn bastard of a "cousin"—behind.

Dominic follows, his giggle low and happy, but Billy doesn't turn back. Their day ended not twenty minutes ago, and the sun's setting on the horizon. He has better things to do than amuse a hyperkinetic Dominic Monaghan. Not that those better things don't include Dominic, but it's not going to be about his amusement tonight.

It usually takes less than a minute for Billy to secure Dominic to the bedposts, but he allows for more when Dominic's in a mood like this, all twitchy and uncontrolled even in the movements of his fingertips. Three times Billy's had to evade Dominic's lips, and twice he's had to press down hard around Dominic's cock to remind him that as he's seen fit to keep himself awake tonight by such low means as caffeine, Billy has every right to keep him up by far more sophisticated measures.

Measures that more or less include keeping Dominic this way for the next several hours.

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22) for [info]cindyjade; billy/dominic

“Don’t even think about it,” Dominic laughs, because it’s clear that Dominic himself has. Billy traces his hands down Dominic’s back anyway, scraping lightly with dull fingernails at the small, and Dominic laughs again, rising up on his elbows and turning to face Billy. “I’m serious. Don’t.”

Billy shifts his weight and settles further down Dominic’s body, hovering just above his knees, all the better to reach and tug at the sheet to expose more skin. Dominic inhales and makes to speak one more time, and Billy’s hand goes flat on his back.

“I’m not even thinking about it,” Billy murmurs. “Doesn’t really require thinking, anyway.”

“Billy—“ the sheet falls away, taking with it the rest of Dominic’s words. And then there’s Billy’s sharp little knee parting Dominic’s thighs, his sharp little teeth sinking into Dominic’s neck. “Billy, Christ, I’ve got a call in twenty minutes I think, don’t have time—“

“No thinking,” Billy smiles. “On my part or yours.”

Billy’s fingers are cool and wet now, but growing warmer as they slide down Dominic’s back and into the cleft of his ass. Dominic closes his eyes and doesn’t think, doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything until he’s not left with any choice.

“Twenty minutes, “ Billy muses out loud, his fingers moving quickly. “More than enough time.” Dominic nods, and Billy laughs, turning his wrist and pressing, twisting and pushing. “Aren’t we agreeable all of sudden?”

“’s what happens when you stop thinking,” Dominic whispers, and pushes back.

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23) also for [info]cindyjade; billy/dominic

Billy’s bitten Dominic exactly 61 times, and never in quite the same place twice. The first three times, Dominic had laughed, well prepared in advance for the attack of those sharp little teeth.

Dominic can’t now remember the last time he was honestly, adequately prepared for anything Billy does the moment they’re left alone. Granted, Billy’s not always so fierce, not always up and in for the kill. But 61 times bitten and 58 times shy, Dominic still feels every scrape and score of teeth across his skin as if no one else has done it before.

More, he’d said once, breathless and needy, sweat pouring from him, and Billy had responded with less, turning bites to licks to kisses before pulling away entirely. Since then Dominic’s learnt it’s sweeter not to prepare, not to expect, not even to wish or dream or desire.

He’s also learnt to bite back.

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24) for [info]beizy; hobbitpile. Well, more like hobbit pile–up. So crack-ish. I blame Nyquil.

Turns out Elijah really can sleep anywhere.

Dominic discovered it first, bursting into Elijah's trailer with FIFA Soccer in one hand and two bottles of beer in the other. Elijah had been sprawled across his couch, snoring lightly, glasses midway down his nose and some HP Lovecraft (Lovecrap, Billy had snorted, later) anthology tipped onto the floor and held open by Elijah's index finger, as if he'd wake any moment now and pick right up where he'd left off.

Dominic had tilted his head and peered at Elijah for a good five minutes (an eternity in Monaghan Standard Time), waiting for him to stir. No movement, no murmur, nothing. Not even when Billy had come crashing through the door bearing enough takeout packages to feed (in Dominic's words) the fucking whole of Michel fucking Delving did Elijah even blink. And yet, had either of them leaned over Elijah and whispered in his ear the magic word scene, Elijah would have likely sprung to his feet, all pretty eyes and serene English accent.

Neither Billy nor Dominic feels the need to do any such thing.

To that end, they deposit the game, the bottles and the unpronounceable Thai food on the table next to Elijah's television, and Dominic moves to the door, on guard as ever. Billy hums pleasantly as he searches through Elijah's backpack, producing the digital camera with not a little fierce glee.

"Such a magician," Dominic snorts from his perch by the door.

"You knew it was in there, he's got it with him all the fucking time—"

"I prefer prestidigitator, and no, he's doesn't. Yesterday Orlando had the damn thing—"

"I'll give you a press two digits—"

"Would you just shut it? If you wake him up, you lose your turn."

"To do what?"

Billy's forehead crumples, all innocent confusion. "T'fuck him, of course. Isn't that why we're here? I mean, besides the food."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Don't know that I actually would fuck him, though. 's a bit ... wee, isn't he?" It's Billy's turn to tilt his head now, appraising Elijah's sleeping form. "So thin. Mind you, he's got good arms. Very nice ass."

"I'm inclined to agree." Sean shuts the door behind him, just missing Billy's slap across the back of Dominic's head. He turns back to the little scene in front of him and rolls his eyes. "Must be nice to sleep whenever the hell you want to. Elijah—"

Dogpile isn't strong enough of a word to describe Dominic and Billy's attack. Sean lands with a thump near the door, trapped underneath a cursing, heavily accented tangle of limbs, finally the Pippin under all the other hobbits. Billy and Dominic entertain themselves for several seconds biting and kicking, and Sean fights his way out from beneath them at his leisure, taking time to land a few blows of his own, mostly on Billy's extraordinarily ticklish back and Dominic's extraordinarily firm ass.

"Try it again, Astin," Dominic growls, "and I'll return the favour a lot fucking harder."

"Wait, wait," Billy huffs, crawling from out of Dominic's near chokehold. "Camera's not charged up yet."

"You are fucking not videotaping anyone biting anyone's ass tonight."

"Well, certainly not yours, Dom," Billy says sweetly. "Yours is not a very nice ass. Must be from all the hours you spend with your head stuck up inside it—"

"That's probably the least familiar thing stuck up there," Sean snorts, and it's only Billy's reflexes that hold Dominic back from throwing Sean against the door again.

"Ah–ah. Don't wake the little one."

"You're all cunts. All of you. Especially him."

"And you're the cuntiest of all cunts, Dommie. Meriadoc the Magnificient Cunt."

"Jesus Christ, would you just get a room." Sean's already reaching for the containers of food, spreading them across the foldout table. "Dinner, kids. And remember, we use forks when we're in someone else's home."

Dominic's not four bites into his meal before he's flicking rice in Billy's direction. "So you wouldn't fuck him? Really?"

Billy makes a noise, the sonic bastard child of tsk and meh. "I'd break him in two."

Sean rolls his eyes again, turns around to look at Elijah. He's turned around now, facing the inside of the couch, but he's still sleeping peacefully. "You might be surprised."

Dominic next forkful of rice lands neatly in Sean's lap. "D'you fuck him?"

"What, like on a regular basis? No." A packet of duck sauce, this time, and Sean throws Dominic a Look in return. "A few times."

"How many's a few?"

"Billy, do us all favour and swallow before you talk, okay?"

"Billy swallowing, that would be a first—fuck, ow."

"A few." Sean puts down his fork, nails Billy with another Look. "We should get him up."

"Yes, you should," Billy nods sagely. "We'll just watch."

"See, now Billy watching, that wouldn't be a first—dammit, kick me again, Billy—"

"I think you should fuck him, Dommie." Billy says, and the room goes quiet for a moment, Sean watching Dominic watching Billy watching Elijah. Sean takes a deep breath and waits for Dominic's eyes to meet his own.

"I think you should, too."

Elijah's smile spreads wide across his face, but he's careful to keep his eyes closed.

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