Rhetorical Question

~1600 words :: LotRiPS :: Dom/Orlando, Elijah/Orlando, Dom/Elijah :: 12/31/06
Dom knows he hasn’t got a chance with Orlando, but can’t a man at least have his wank fantasies?


“He’s straight.”

“No…” Elijah twists around just as Orlando tries to insinuate himself into Viggo’s lap. The pub’s noisy and Dom can’t quite catch what Viggo says, but Orlando’s face breaks into a grin and he worms his hands into Viggo’s armpits, tickling him. Elijah turns back to Dom, his face scrunched up in a frown. “No fucking way.”

Dom shrugs. “He’s just comfortable with his sexuality. You saw the girl he pulled last night.” He cups his hands about six inches away from his chest and raises his eyebrows.

“Could still be bi,” Elijah mutters, glowering down at his beer.

“Fine, don’t believe me.” Dom shrugs again and sits back. Over Elijah’s shoulder he can see Orlando lean in and whisper something in Bean’s ear. Bean cuffs him on the shoulder and laughs, and Dom says sullenly, “I’m just trying to keep you from making a fool of yourself.” He picks up his beer and raises his hand. “Swear to God.”

Elijah hesitates, and then says, “Your fingers are crossed.”

“Are not!” Dom says indignantly, waggling his fingers in front of Elijah’s face.

“No, your other hand.”

“That’s just how we hold drinks in England.”

Elijah glances behind him again, and fuck if those three don’t choose that exact moment to toast to something. “Why aren’t Bean and Orli holding their glasses like that, then?”

“It’s, uh…” Dom trails off as Orlando plants a kiss on Viggo’s cheek, entirely too close to his mouth for Dom’s liking. “Uh. Germany, I meant.”

“I’ve never seen you do it before…”

“Would I lie to you?”

Elijah’s eyebrows draw together and he snorts. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Serious about what?” Billy says, plunking three more glasses down on the table.

“Nothing,” Dom and Elijah answer in unison.

Without missing a beat, Billy says, “Tell me something I don’t know,” and sits down next to Dom.

“Oi! What’re you implying?” Dom hooks his arm around Billy’s neck, not nearly tight enough to choke, but Billy gags and thrashes anyway. Elijah giggles and kicks their shins, and in an instant, Dom and Billy are both on him, almost knocking his chair over.

It’s the only time Orlando even glances their way.


Dom dreams about Orlando, about Viggo and Bean. Even in his dreams he’s on the sidelines; his dream self is surprisingly resigned. Who wouldn’t want to fuck Sean Bean, after all, and Viggo…well, Viggo is Viggo, and Dom can’t imagine he gets turned down much, either.

It’s not a bad dream, for all that. Maybe Dom’s got a bit of the voyeur in him, though he’s never much liked being left out. Maybe it’s just because it’s Orlando and it doesn’t matter who he’s shagging, because just the thought of him gives Dom a stiffie at the most inopportune moments. This moment is completely opportune, though. When better to have a bit of a wank than in bed on a Saturday morning?

He wakes with the blankets kicked off and his hand down his pants, and that’s where it stays, tight around his cock as he nudges the foreskin up to rub over the sweet spot just below the head. He worms his other hand in, cups his balls and tugs, feeling them tighten up in his palm.

Snippets of the dream flicker behind his eyelids: Orlando with a cock up his arse and another down his throat; Orlando’s face covered in jizz, a great gob of it dripping down from his Mohican; Orlando with arms tied behind his back and his arse in the air, red with palm prints, the kinky bugger. Or maybe it’s just Dom who’s kinky, and outside of his dreams, Orlando’d never beg to be spanked until he came. Doesn’t matter, though. It doesn’t matter because Dom is close, close, just millimetres away from creaming his pants, and he’s long since resigned himself to the fact that this is as much of Orlando as he’s going to get.

He gives his balls another tug and Viggo and Bean melt into Elijah drilling Orlando’s tight arse so hard Dom can almost feel it himself, and he arches up, groaning as he shoots stream after stream of jizz over his chest.


Cunt, Dom thinks, eyeing Elijah over the rim of his Coke. Trust a Yank to think he can come marching into my dreams and steal Orlando from me.

Elijah just grins and waves, then goes back to reading over his tatty script.

Bean and Viggo are one thing. Dom knows he hasn’t a chance against Sean fucking Bean, but Elijah’s just a kid. Yeah, he’s pretty, and maybe Dom’s a bit curious to see how his cock compares to the one he has in Dom’s head, but that’s different. That doesn’t mean he can have Orlando. Especially not in Dom’s dreams.

Dom wanders over and plops down on the grass next to Elijah. “How was your weekend?”

“Cool,” Elijah says, but Dom doesn’t listen to find out what was cool about it. In Dom’s head, Elijah’s weekend was spent fucking Orlando. Dom had spent it wanking, for the most part. It was research, though. He had to find out if Elijah was going to force his way into every fantasy or if it was just a one (or two, or five) time thing.

If Real Elijah’s weekend was anything like Dream Elijah’s, it would certainly qualify as cool.

There’s a crash and a shout, and Viggo runs past in full gear, sword out and everything. Orlando’s close behind him, his bow trained on Viggo’s back.

Dom watches Elijah out of the corner of his eye. “Bit dangerous, that.”

“Yeah,” Elijah says. “Do you think Orlando pitches or catches?”

“What?”

Elijah digs around in his pocket and pulls out his fags. “You know,” he says, and pauses to light up. “D’you think he tops or bottoms?”

“I told you,” Dom says, too quickly, “he’s straight.”

Elijah rolls his eyes. “If he weren’t straight…taking it up the ass from Viggo or fucking him into the mattress nightly?”

It’s got to be the images those words call up that make Dom’s pants feel a little too tight. It’s never the way Elijah’s eyeing him, and definitely not the way he sounded when he said it. “Erm.” Definitely not. “Taking it.”

“Seriously? I- Are you blushing?”

“No!”

“You are.” Elijah sounds positively gleeful, the bastard.

Dom stands, thankful for Merry’s baggy trousers, and says, “I’ve gotta piss.”

Elijah just smirks at him.


After that, Elijah stops fucking Orlando in Dom’s dreams. Now he rides him, thighs tense as he practically bounces up and down on Orlando’s cock. He also likes to be bent double, feet in the air as Orlando pounds into him.

Dom begins to feel like he knows way too much about Elijah’s sex life for someone he’s not even attracted to. Well, not that he wouldn’t do him if given the chance. He’s never been one to pass up a good fuck, after all, and Elijah’s definitely easy on the eyes, and Dom can’t help wondering if his cock’s really as big as it looks in his dreams and just what it’d be like to suck off someone who’s cut. Elijah’s cut, isn’t he? Dom’s never fucked a Yank before.

Not that he plans on starting now or anything. He’s just curious what it’s like.


A furtive glance in the toilets Friday night down the pub answers his question. Well, the question about whether or not Elijah’s cut. No telling about the size, though he’s not bad even soft.

“Are you looking at my dick?”

“Why would I be looking at your dick?”

Elijah shakes off and tucks himself in. “You tell me,” he says, zipping up his jeans.

“Since I wasn’t looking, I don’t know.”

“Whatever.”

When Elijah’s gone, Dom backs into a toilet cubicle, locks the door, and is hard as a rock and close to bursting with just a few strokes. He leans back against the wall, hips pumping as he fucks his fist as if it’s Elijah’s arse. Christ, he can even hear Elijah calling his name.

“Dom!” This time it’s accompanied by the cubicle door rattling, and Dom’s eyes fly open. “I know you’re not really taking a shit in there.”

Oh God.

“Dom!”

The door rattles right open. Dom never imagined he’d die of embarrassment, or that his last thought before kicking the bucket would be, Fucking cheap locks. “I-”

“Shut up.” Elijah pushes in, locks the door again behind him. It’s a tight squeeze, but considering Elijah’s hand is on Dom’s cock and his tongue down Dom’s throat, Dom figures personal space isn’t really an issue.

Dom fumbles Elijah’s fly open. Their knuckles bump as they wank each other, the precome-slick heads of their cocks rubbing together. Elijah kisses sloppily, but his hand is just right and he makes these whiny little grunts when he comes that sound nothing like how he did in Dom’s dream.

When Dom comes, he bites Elijah’s bottom lip, and Elijah’s softening cock jerks back to life in Dom’s hand. Elijah pulls back, red-cheeked and breathing hard, and he says, “Orlando really is straight, you know.”

Dom is rather surprised to find he doesn’t care. “Yeah?”

“So are you gonna come back to my place and fuck me or what?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”