Flash

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Title: "Flash"
Pairing: Dominic Monaghan/Orlando Bloom
Rating: PG
Summary: Wherein Dom watches, Elijah wonders and Orlando stands too close.
Disclaimer: As always, the line between reality & fantasy should be noted & appreciated.
Notes: Written for the Contrelamontre 'skin' challenge. For Zarah, for her birthday.


"Tell me why we're here again?" Dom asked, wrinkling his nose as the flash of lightbulbs blinded him again.

"Because Karl asked us to go, and you said yes when I called you." Elijah-logic.

"Right." Dom was getting caller ID first thing tomorrow. Not that it would stop him from picking up the phone when Elijah called. Refusing Elijah was just...no. Couldn't be done.

"Fuck me..."

"Huh?"

Elijah nudged Dom in the ribs lightly, gestured toward the entrance of the theatre. "Look who just strolled in."

Dom looked. Glimpsed a too-white smile, flashes of tanned skin, a mop of curly, dark hair. Felt the tug, suppressed it. "Fuck. Thought he was in London still."

Elijah put a nail-bitten hand on his arm. "Hey, don't. He's still your friend, right?"

Dom shrugged, managed to smile brightly all for the cameras -- wouldn't do any good for word to leak out of trouble in the Fellowship Paradise -- as Orlando spotted them and began making his way over to their spot. "Yeah, I guess. Still friends," he repeated, tasting the words on his tongue.

"You're never going to tell me what happened, are you?"

"Nope." And this time, Dom's smile was real as he tapped Elijah's nose. "So, stop begging."

"Not." Then Elijah was in Orlando's arms in a flurry of limbs and skin and patches of bright red and black.

"Lij, hey!" Orlando's happy smile slipped just the tiniest bit when bright eyes turned to Dom. "Dom."

"Orli," Dom nodded, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Sorry everyone...no display of groping and snogging for the cameras tonight. Carry on.

Elijah let go of Orlando, punched him playfully on the arm. "What gives? Thought you were in London."

"I was. Now I'm not." Orlando's eyes kept straying toward Dom, darting away.

Elijah looked back and forth between Dom and Orlando, brow furrowed. "Oh."

Yeah, Dom thought, that about summed it up. Oh, indeed.

A few heavy beats of silence ensued -- Dom kept his head firmly bowed, didn't concentrate on Orlando's wrists, the way the skin stretched over the bone, the supple grace in the way they connected to strong hands. A bright memory of those hands on his body, warm and assured, had him clenching his fists in tight balls. No. Wouldn't go there.

"Well," Elijah finally stated, voice much too bright. "This is awkward. I think I'll be...um...that way."

"No, wait --"

But it was too late; Elijah had already moved to the other side of the room.

Dom chuckled, the sound without mirth. "Cheeky bastard."

"Yeah." Orlando cupped the back of his neck. Dom didn't look, didn't notice the flex of Orlando's forearm, the dark hairs, the tanned skin. "So..."

"So." Yep, moving right along.

Orlando sighed, and grabbed Dom's hand -- heat and roughness. "Come on."

Dom allowed himself to be tugged into a dark corner, away from prying eyes. He couldn't stop thinking of the heat searing into him, curling the edges of his body like pages of a book when they caught on fire. Book fires always burned bright...but they never lasted. "Alright, I'm here." Jerked his hand free, mourned the loss.

"Look, I can't." Orlando stopped, leaned against the wall, dark eyes boring a hole into him. "I'm not sorry."

"I never asked you to be."

"Then what is all this?" Orlando's voice was soft, deadly so. "It's been six months."

Dom shrugged, gaze skittering down, snared by those wrists, those hands again. "I know how long it's been." Knew to the day, the hour, could count the minutes if he concentrated long enough.

"Dom, please."

Dom looked up, saw the hurt, the confusion. He wanted -- fuck, he wanted -- but he didn't have the words. "What are you, then?"

"I don't know." Orlando's reply was drawn out. "But I think I'd like...I know I'd like more."

"We weren't supposed to feel," Dom reminded him, grey eyes looking into brown. Searching. "I wasn't supposed to..."

"Supposed to what?" Orlando asked, when Dom just stood there, not moving.

The words were a whisper. "To crave."

Orlando shoved himself off the wall, the heat of his skin radiating in waves, snaring Dom once again. "I crave, too," Orlando whispered back, lips dangerously close to Dom's ear, breath fanning across his puckered skin.

Dom turned his head slightly, lips almost touching, the back of his hand just brushing Orlando's. Felt the jump. "So, now what?"

Orlando's hand brushed back, fingers barely curling around Dom's. "Now I buy you a drink. And we'll see."

Dom swallowed, nodded, kept his eyes on Orlando's. "We'll see."


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