Fic Repost
May. 14th, 2010 04:13 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nzstoriesAs far as I can see, we're still on April's theme, which is great because it's soooo slow at work, and I really dislike having nothing to do.
Title: Sticks and Stones
Characters: S/E, D, B
Rating: R
Word Count: 500
A.N.: Drabble series, old-school LotRIPS. A bit of Sean’s book is in here, paraphrased. If you’ve read it, you’ll know which bit it is.
Mancunian - a native of Manchester, UK.
“Hey, Lij - lookit! Mick’s lips!”
Raucous laughter fills the trailer, and Sean’s face reddens. He knocks Dominic’s hands away from the crease in his belly, yanks his shirt down and grabs his jacket. They call after him as he turns blindly toward the door, but he doesn’t care.
Fucking fat hobbit. He kicks savagely at an inoffensive rock and tenses as it skitters toward the dimly-lit car park in a spray of gravel. But there’s no answering clank of innocent metal, and he sighs with relief.
These reshoots are gonna be a bitch. Why the hell can’t he stand prosperity?
[][][]
He remembers too late. Elijah has the keys, which rather spoils his grand exit. As he sags against the car, gravel crunches in the darkness behind him.
“He loves you, you know.”
“He’s got a strange way of showing it.”
“He’s Mancunian, dummy. What’d you expect, hearts and flowers?”
A hand grips his shoulder, kneading reassuringly, and Sean forces the words out.
“You laughed too.”
The hand stills, and he holds his breath. Silence blooms and contracts.
“When you laugh at someone you love, you have to trust that he laughs with you.”
Sean thinks about that, and nods tentatively.
[][][]
“Sorry, mate.”
“'s okay”
Dom slouches out of the gloom, Billy close behind him.
“You gotta loosen up, Seanwise. Look – make fun of me if you like. My jaw’s crooked, my eyes’re too close together...”
“Bullshit. You know you pull more girls at the bars than any of us do.”
“That’s different. That’s... technique,” Dom smirks.
Sean grins back and holds his free arm out. “Com’ere, you bastard.”
They melt together in a four-way hug, and Sean sighs resignedly.
“I’m so easy to mock, aren't I?"
Billy laughs, “That’s as may be, laddie, but you’re also very easy to love.”
[][][]
The erstaz flagstones of Osgiliath are hard under Sean’s back, and Peter’s directing, demonstrating exactly what he wants.
“Okay, now put the blade under his chin.”
“Which chin?” Elijah returns innocently.
A titter runs through the crew, and Sean flinches. Blue eyes meet his own , intent and purposeful. Then Elijah's lips curve into a slow smile, his gaze goes soft warm tender, and it moves over Sean’s face, a palpable caress.
Laugh with me, Sean.
“Fuck you.” But he says it with a grin, and Elijah giggles and pushes his face against Sean’s neck.
“You’re gonna pay,” Sean whispers.
[][][]
Night brings another kind of fantasy. The kind that doesn’t only mess with your mind; it sinks into the very soul of you, and makes of the real world a mockery.
It brings the creak of wood and the sharp snick of breaking thread.
“Damnit, Astin! That was my favorite tie!”
“Shut it, Lij.”
Sean kisses his leisurely way down warm, silky skin, bestowing a nip here, a suck there. Then he nudges the creamy thighs apart and licks teasingly at Elijah’s erection. Whimpers and the desperate straining-upward of slim hips reward him, and he smiles.
Such a sweet revenge.
~end
Title: Sticks and Stones
Characters: S/E, D, B
Rating: R
Word Count: 500
A.N.: Drabble series, old-school LotRIPS. A bit of Sean’s book is in here, paraphrased. If you’ve read it, you’ll know which bit it is.
Mancunian - a native of Manchester, UK.
“Hey, Lij - lookit! Mick’s lips!”
Raucous laughter fills the trailer, and Sean’s face reddens. He knocks Dominic’s hands away from the crease in his belly, yanks his shirt down and grabs his jacket. They call after him as he turns blindly toward the door, but he doesn’t care.
Fucking fat hobbit. He kicks savagely at an inoffensive rock and tenses as it skitters toward the dimly-lit car park in a spray of gravel. But there’s no answering clank of innocent metal, and he sighs with relief.
These reshoots are gonna be a bitch. Why the hell can’t he stand prosperity?
[][][]
He remembers too late. Elijah has the keys, which rather spoils his grand exit. As he sags against the car, gravel crunches in the darkness behind him.
“He loves you, you know.”
“He’s got a strange way of showing it.”
“He’s Mancunian, dummy. What’d you expect, hearts and flowers?”
A hand grips his shoulder, kneading reassuringly, and Sean forces the words out.
“You laughed too.”
The hand stills, and he holds his breath. Silence blooms and contracts.
“When you laugh at someone you love, you have to trust that he laughs with you.”
Sean thinks about that, and nods tentatively.
[][][]
“Sorry, mate.”
“'s okay”
Dom slouches out of the gloom, Billy close behind him.
“You gotta loosen up, Seanwise. Look – make fun of me if you like. My jaw’s crooked, my eyes’re too close together...”
“Bullshit. You know you pull more girls at the bars than any of us do.”
“That’s different. That’s... technique,” Dom smirks.
Sean grins back and holds his free arm out. “Com’ere, you bastard.”
They melt together in a four-way hug, and Sean sighs resignedly.
“I’m so easy to mock, aren't I?"
Billy laughs, “That’s as may be, laddie, but you’re also very easy to love.”
[][][]
The erstaz flagstones of Osgiliath are hard under Sean’s back, and Peter’s directing, demonstrating exactly what he wants.
“Okay, now put the blade under his chin.”
“Which chin?” Elijah returns innocently.
A titter runs through the crew, and Sean flinches. Blue eyes meet his own , intent and purposeful. Then Elijah's lips curve into a slow smile, his gaze goes soft warm tender, and it moves over Sean’s face, a palpable caress.
Laugh with me, Sean.
“Fuck you.” But he says it with a grin, and Elijah giggles and pushes his face against Sean’s neck.
“You’re gonna pay,” Sean whispers.
[][][]
Night brings another kind of fantasy. The kind that doesn’t only mess with your mind; it sinks into the very soul of you, and makes of the real world a mockery.
It brings the creak of wood and the sharp snick of breaking thread.
“Damnit, Astin! That was my favorite tie!”
“Shut it, Lij.”
Sean kisses his leisurely way down warm, silky skin, bestowing a nip here, a suck there. Then he nudges the creamy thighs apart and licks teasingly at Elijah’s erection. Whimpers and the desperate straining-upward of slim hips reward him, and he smiles.
Such a sweet revenge.
~end
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