Jesus. Hazy senses kicked into overdrive as he threaded his fingers through Karl's silky hair. All thoughts of dozing -- all thought at all, for that matter -- fled as soul-shattering pleasure rocked him. Karl devoured him again and again, tongue laving over sensitive flesh, hands gently massaging, lips worshipping, mouth on him, over him, in him, seeming to suck his very soul. Dom came almost immediately, surrounded by wet heat, teased by loving hands. As always, the force of his orgasm ripped through him with the force of a hurricane, emptying his mind of every thought, save one -- Karl. Dom reached out, pulled Karl up for a passionate kiss. Warm, hot, wet, home. "Morning," Dom smiled and curled his hand over Karl's erection. Karl put his hand over Dom's, stopping his gentle ministrations. "In a moment. I want you to see something." Dom just stared at him. "You're inhuman. You know that, don't you?" Karl smiled. "Not at all. I ache for you. Don't ever think I don't. But I can wait." He brought his lips down to Dom's again, a slow kiss that evaporated argument. "Now, get up. We've got to be at work in a bit and I want you to see this." Dom grumbled, but rolled out of bed and grabbed his jeans from the previous night. Karl laid back on the bed, propped up by pillows, arm thrown above his head. "Why don't you put on something of mine?" he suggested. "Maybe because you're about four inches taller than me?" "I might have something that would fit." Dom narrowed his eyes. Karl was up to something. But figuring out Karl's moods would take a lifetime, Dom was certain, so he settled for shrugging, and opened the closet door. Why was his favorite bomber jacket hanging up next to Karl's leather? And his jeans...his sweaters...what the fuck? Dom ran a finger across the length of the closet, flipping through clothes. It looked like the entire contents of his closet now shared space with Karl's clothes, mingling together. Dom turned back to Karl, a question on his lips. Karl answered it before he could speak. "You're mine. You belong here with me. I got all your things earlier this morning from your house, brought them here." All his...? Dom looked around, went to the bathroom. Sure enough, his toothbrush and toothpaste were now on the counter with Karl's. His comb, deodorant, loose change...God. More intrigued than upset, Dom went through each room of the house, finding his things mixed in with Karl's. CD collections now merged, knickknacks now shared the same spaces, books next to each other. Everything fit in so seamlessly that it was like Dom had always lived here...like he and Karl had always been together. He went back into the bedroom. Karl was still lying there, relaxed, a look of total contentment on his face. "How did you even find the time?" Dom asked. A shrug. "I was inspired. If you don't like where anything is, feel free to change it. This is your home now." Home...Karl...a lifetime, an eternity of that body, those eyes, that focus solely on him, forever and ever. Yes, thank God. Dom blinked back unexpected tears, moved beyond articulation. It all seemed so simple now. Why hadn't he seen it sooner? "I love you," Dom whispered, then jumped on the bed into Karl's arms. Karl rolled him over, pinned him down with his body. "Now, you can show me how much you appreciate my efforts." Karl brought Dom's fingers back to his cock, smoothed fingers over flesh. They ended up being twenty minutes late to makeup. * * * * Orlando was never quite sure exactly of what all he did after Karl had left him, shaking and gasping, in the tent. He remembered stumbling to a liquor store for a bottle of something, anything cheap and potent. Anything that would drown out the memory of an achingly gentle kiss and harsh hands around his throat. Anything that would make him forget that Dom was mixed up with a perfect psychopath. He remembered a sleazy motel room, more drinking, puking, drinking, passing out. But he remembered nothing of what he thought, what he might have said, for which he was profoundly grateful. He stumbled into the makeup trailer in the morning, still drunk, still unable to forget that voice, so soft, so seductive, so lethal. Caren, his makeup lady, had taken one look at the bruises on his neck, taken one look at him, all disheveled, still reeking of cheap vodka, and promptly called Peter and told him that she would need an extra hour with him. But she didn't say a word of recrimination to Orlando, just got him in a shower, covered his bruises, fed him apple juice and toast. He had been so grateful for her help, her silence. He embodied his character throughout the day...regal, aloof, contained. He was so grateful for Legolas, for his calm, his Zen. Orlando never wanted to take off his costume, never wanted to go back to being himself. Being himself would mean facing Karl, not Eomer (thank God they'd had no scenes together today, Orlando wasn't quite that fucking Zen). Being himself would mean facing what he'd done and why he'd done it. And the almost robotic calm lasted until the end of the day. And then Billy, of all people, had to go and ruin it. "So, where were you last night?" Billy asked, once they were on their way home for the night. "Didn't feel like going out." "Well, you missed some fireworks by staying a' home." "Oh?" "Apparently Dom and Karl are an exclusive item now. Never thought I'd see the day when our Dommie would settle down with one man." A curious roaring echoed in Orlando's ears. No. No, this wasn't happening. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, feet unable to continue moving. "What happened last night?" He barely recognized his own hoarse voice. Billy shrugged. "Dunno, actually. Reckon Dommie and Karl had been in a spat, 'cause Dom was just sitting all alone at a table, being all morose, drinking a lot. Tried to kiss Viggo at some point." The roaring grew into a crescendo as fear leapt, curled in icy tentacles around Orlando's heart. "Anyhoo," Billy continued, oblivious to Orlando's white-knuckled fists clenching and unclenching with every word. "Karl comes in and he and Dommie exchange words or some such. Very intense. Then Dommie's flinging himself at Karl and all apologizing for somethin' or another. A wee bit embarrassing, that. Thought the lad would've 'ad a bit more pride." Billy shrugged. "Then, they left. Guess they got it all patched up though. Both seemed right cheerful this morning, very affectionate, when I saw them on set together." "I've been doing stunt work all day with Vig and Brett and the 2nd unit." Orlando's reply was almost automatic. He had to warn Dom. That was his only thought. Now. Before it was too late. "I'll, um, catch you later," Orlando mumbled and left Billy standing on the sidewalk. He went tearing down the street to the house, feet miraculously free of the cement that had been holding them. Please, please let Dom be home. Orlando ran faster, caught in the grips of a panic unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. He had no idea why he was so anxious. It was like the numbness had been violently shattered, leaving him with nothing except worry and terror. Please, let him be home. He chanted it over and over as he raced up the porch steps of his house. Please, don't let him be at Karl's. Orlando would rather face a thousand real Balrogs than to see Karl again. But he would do it, if he had to. Warning Dom was more important than anything else in the world. Orlando raced inside, flipped on a light switch, skidded to a halt. No. His horrified gaze swept the room -- Dom's stuff was no longer there. Gaping holes were there in place of Dom's extended Beatles collection, his afghan throw was no longer on the sofa, his stupid ManU poster was no longer on the wall. No, God, no. Orlando ran up the stairs, hyperventilating, heart racing, calling Dom's name as he raced into Dom's bedroom. Nothing. No clothes in the closet, none in the dressers. No books strewn all over the bed in wild disarray. Just an empty room. No. No, this wasn't happening, it wasn't real. Back down the stairs, toward the back door. Have to warn Dom, have to warn him... Orlando was so intent on his purpose that he almost ran over Dom in the kitchen before he saw him. Orlando skidded, slid, stumbled back to avoid falling flat on his ass. "Dom," he gasped, overcome with a relief so profound that he was shaking with it. Oh, thank God. Emotionless gray eyes swept over him, seemed to dismiss him. Dom gestured toward a small bag on the kitchen table. "Karl mixed up a few of our things when he moved me out this morning." He sounded so clinical, so cold. This wasn't his Dommie. "You moved in with him?" Oh no. Fuck, please, no. Dom nodded, a curt motion. "Of course I did. I belong with him." He turned to leave and Orlando lunged, grappling with Dom's arm, whirling him around. "Are you fucking insane? Do you have any idea what that man is capable of? Last night he..." Dom wrenched free of Orlando's hold, eyes no longer cold, but flashing with anger, with disgust. "Don't fucking talk to me about last night. I know what you tried to do. I know Karl turned you down." "This isn't about that. He tried to..." "I DON'T CARE!!!" Orlando stared at Dom in shocked silence, barely breathing. He'd never seen Dom act like this, look like this. God, no. Please. "I am trying to be mature about this, I really am," Dom continued, gentling his voice. "And I forgive you. I do. I didn't explain things to you yesterday and I'm sorry. You couldn't have known." "Known what?" Orlando choked back tears, voice thick. He could feel his best friend slipping away from him, had no idea how to stop it, the right words to say to make Dom come back to him. "Karl and I belong to each other." Orlando closed his eyes, felt his heart break. No. Oh God. He didn't know it was possible to feel this much pain and still continue to live. I saw him first... "I love him." Dom's voice, saying unfathomable things. "He loves me. The bet's off -- you win. Congratulations." "Dom, please, wait." Orlando opened his eyes, reached out, ran his fingers down Dom's arm. Dom just stared down at his hand like it was something foreign, something repulsive. Orlando let it drop to his side. "Please, don't do this. I'm begging you. For the sake of our friendship, don't do this." His voice cracked on the last words. Dom smiled, shook his head sadly. "You just don't get it, do you?" The question sounded rhetorical, pitying. Dom leaned forward and placed the softest of kisses on Orlando's lips. Orlando could taste faint traces of vanilla mixed with shattering defeat. "I'll see you tomorrow," Dom murmurred and walked out the door. Orlando just stood there, rooted to his spot in the kitchen. He raised his hand to his lips, tasted the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Fuck. No, God...not Dom...please. I saw him first... And now they had each other. Unsuspecting, pure Dom and sweet, insidious, poisonous Karl... Karl, with his addictive kisses and honeyed lies. No. No, Orlando was not going to let this happen. He was going to save Dom, he was going to save the both of them before it was too late. Karl was not going to win this time. Onto Part Fifteen
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