Recipient: hobbitgwen
Author: kaydeefalls
Pairing: Dominic/Viggo/Billy
Rating: R


Stuart was a bit put-offish, but that would probably pass, and he loosened up nicely after a few pints. Billy wasn't overly impressed by his acting ability, but Dom argued that it wasn't their place to judge, and he'd probably warm up to the role in time. Billy retorted that Dom just thought he was pretty and fancied a shag, to which Dom could only smile.

It was too bad that Stuart got the sack, really, and Dom was inclined to regret the lost shagging opportunity. Until the day the hobbits walked on set and found the new Aragorn practicing his swordplay.

He was going through the set at half speed, sword slicing meticulously through the air. His face was set in grim concentration. His hands looked rough and strong grasping the hilt. His body followed the sword with an instinctive fluidity that put all six weeks of the hobbits' fencing training to shame. Just watching him made Dom feel clumsy and awkward.

The new Aragorn and his sword created the most erotic image Dom had ever seen, better even than that porno with the lesbians and the firemen. Dom decided he didn't miss Stuart at all.


"Careful, Dom," Sean warned him, during a late evening of video games at Elijah's house. "You might be getting more than you bargained for."

Dom waved his hand dismissively. "Bollocks. You saw the man. Don't tell me he didn't bring a bit of a twitch to your resolutely heterosexual prick."

Elijah glanced up from his game with a grin. "Hell, I'd do him." Something on the television screen made a tinny crash, and Elijah fumbled with his controller with a curse. Billy was efficiently kicking his ass at their new real person shooter game.

Dom sprawled across the couch, very nearly kicking Elijah's head in the process. "That's not saying much. You'd do anything that breathes, Lijah."

"I'd do anything with tits that breathes," Elijah corrected, keeping his eyes on the game this time. "Only rarely do I make exceptions for man sex."

"You're an inspiration to us all," Billy said dryly, and killed Elijah's character with a well-timed hand grenade.

Elijah swore fluently and passed his controller over to Sean.

Billy stood, flexing his fingers. He leaned over and neatly swiped Dom's beer bottle, taking a healthy swig. "You want a go?" he asked Dom, indicating the Playstation. "You could pretend your shooter's Viggo, and beat the shit out of things. Very macho."

"I wonder if you can make the characters masturbate," Elijah mused. "I'll bet there's a cheat for it. Game programmers are a dirty bunch."

Dom pointedly ignored him. "Nah, you can keep at it," he told Billy. "Sean's too easy to beat at this sort of game, it isn't any fun."


"Suit yourself," Billy said, giving Dom an unreadable look. He settled back down on the floor in front of the couch with his controller.

Elijah plopped down right on top of Dom's outstretched legs. "Viggo's probably straight, you know."

"No matter," Dom said airily, kicking Elijah off the couch. "Anyway, I don't believe in it. Straightness. Everyone's willing to make exceptions from time to time."


"You don't count, Sean. You're married." "So you really are set on shagging Viggo?" Billy asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Dom grinned. "Sooner or later. No one can resist the Monaghan charm."

"Just try me," Sean muttered, killing off a few bad guys with a shotgun.

"I'll bet someone else gets to him first," Elijah said.

"Yeah?" Dom smirked. "How much?"

Elijah tilted his head to one side, considering. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. How much are you willing to bet that someone else shags Viggo first?"

"I could use a new video game or two. A hundred dollars, say?"

"A hundred?"

"Do you want to be taken seriously or not? This is Viggo, after all, not some five dollar fuck."

"Fine," Dom said. "But it's got to be another cast member, then. No waitresses or call girls or production assistants. And not you, either, because that would be cheating."

"Done," Elijah agreed. They shook on it.

A loud rat-a-tat noise blasted from the game. Billy's character had apparently found a machine gun. Dom glanced over and met Billy's eyes for half a second. Billy grinned mischievously and went back to his game.


Viggo brought his camera to the set the next day. It was a fantastic piece of machinery, nothing like the cheap one-offs Dom occasionally bought for holidays and such. Dom would have been afraid to even touch this thing; there were too many setting and shutters and lenses and lord knows what other sensitive and easily breakable parts.

Dom tried to chat him up between takes, but Viggo proved difficult to distract. "It's like a circus," Viggo commented once, his voice pleasantly gravelly, as he snapped a few shots of the scale doubles. "A traveling circus."

Sean Bean, overhearing them, gave Viggo a friendly round of razzing about it, then wandered off again.

"If you would be so kind?" Viggo said, and handed his far too expensive camera to Dom. Dom held it gingerly, terrified of dropping it or perhaps even breathing on it. Viggo crouched low to the ground and, in one sudden spurt, calmly hurtled himself across the grass and tackled Bean to the ground.

Dom wondered if he really knew what he was getting into with this man.


"Any success?" Billy asked innocently, poking his head into the trailer they shared.

Dom grimaced. "I'm not sure how to begin," he admitted. "He's a bit...odd."

"You seemed to be making progress." Billy's eyes twinkled with mirth. "He let you hold his camera, after all. Nearly as precious to him as his sword, it is."

And not nearly as convenient a phallic symbol, Dom didn't add.

"Right." Billy laughed and ruffled the curls of Dom's wig. "Someday, lad."

"I'd like to see you do any better," Dom groused. "It's not like I can just go up to him and say, hey, fancy a shag?"

"You could add that you've got a hundred quid riding on it," Billy suggested generously.

Dom glared at him. "See? The expectations are too high now!"

"Worried you might not be, eh, up to it? You know, Dom, there comes a time in every man's life when-"

Dom threw a discarded prosthetic ear at him. Billy just laughed.


When Viggo and Bean started up a game of pool at the pub, Dom was quick to join in. He was a decent player, and managed to get in a few good shots. But his attempt at dazzling Viggo into shagging him went nowhere. Dom did catch him nodding appreciatively at one particularly tricky shot, but Viggo never once availed himself of the opportunity to check out Dom's muscular arms or fine arse. Not even when Dom deliberately leaned over for a shoot with said arse wiggling about mere inches away from Viggo's groin.

"Wanton hussy," Billy mouthed at him from across the pool table, after the third time he'd tried the arse thing, and Dom gave up for the night.


Dom wondered idly how long a man like Viggo might go without a shag. Maybe he was celibate, and neither Dom nor Elijah would ever be able to collect on the wager. Or did he already have a significant other stashed away somewhere? That could account for Dom's abject failure at seducing him. Or maybe Viggo was simply no longer a barely post-adolescent male with a semi-permanent hard on like Dom. Tragic thought, that.

Dom refused to consider the possibility that Viggo was just completely heterosexual. Not with a body and voice like that. It just wouldn't be fair.


Desperate times call for desperate measures. It had been a full week since the wager, and Dom was starting to panic. He had tried the arse thing, the very tight clothing trick, the low, seductive voice, and the blatant double entendres, in a variety of combinations, all week. Clearly, it was time to resort to that timeless albeit slightly dishonorable solution: alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. Once Viggo was stinking drunk, he'd probably shag anything.

So Dom challenged Viggo to a drinking contest.

That was the last thing he remembered about that night, to be honest, so it probably hadn't gone particularly well. He woke up on Orlando's couch with something extremely lewd scrawled across his chest in sharpie, a massive hangover, and no idea where his trousers were. It took him two hours to wash off the marker, the hangover only started abating after he vomited into the shower, and he never did find those trousers.


Dom followed the other hobbits to the pub that night, still feeling vaguely ill. He thought perhaps he should drown his sorrows in tonic water for a change, what with the faint but persistent nausea at the barest suggestion of alcohol.

"I'm sick of seduction," Dom grumbled. "Let's call it a draw, Elijah. No one will ever shag Viggo, and that's that."

"I shagged him," Billy said unexpectedly.

Dom gaped at him.

"I did," Billy insisted, grinning widely. "Last night."

There was a deafening silence. Elijah gazed across the table at them as though Christmas had come early, his eyes positively sparkling with glee.

"You didn't," Dom said. "You couldn't possibly."

"But I did." Dom looked over at Elijah and Sean pleadingly. "He didn't, did he?"

"A hundred quid!" Elijah crowed. Sean just drank deeply of his beer, saying nothing.

"Oh, I see how it is," Dom complained. "Some friends you lot are, abandoning me in my hour of need!"

"Need," Elijah snorted. "Heh. I'll bet you're in need."

Dom glared at him. "None of that, you."

"It's all right, Dom," Elijah said sympathetically. "I understand. I'm in need, too. Of a hundred quid. Pay up!"

"Oh, foul treason!" Dom groaned, shooting a wounded look at Billy. "How could you, Bills? After all we've been through together!"

"What, sharing a trailer with your manky socks?"

"Think of the socks!" Dom persisted. "Think of the long hours in Feet together! The video games!"

"What will you ever tell the children?" Elijah put in. "I mean, aside from the fact that Daddy made Daddy lose a glorious hundred quid to Uncle Lij. Come on, Dom, pay up."

A wager was a wager. Dom paid up.

Oddly enough, he didn't really care that someone else had gotten to Viggo first. It was probably the nausea speaking, but truth be told, he was rather relieved. He just couldn't believe it had been Billy, of all people. For fuck's sake, since when did Billy even fancy men? And what did Billy have that Dom didn't have?

Dom spent the rest of the evening furtively studying Billy out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure it out.


It was probably his eyes, Dom decided. Billy had very nice eyes. Not pretty like Elijah's, all huge and dewy and rather freakish, really, but nice understated eyes. Nice color. Nice sparkle. Dom had never seen Billy give anyone a come-hither look, but he would imagine that those eyes could be quite satisfyingly seductive if Billy wanted them to be.

No, Dom thought. Billy's hands. They appeared so deceptively delicate, but Dom knew from experience that Billy had a hell of a grip. Contradictory hands. Intriguing.

Maybe it was Billy's lips? They were cute enough. Or his smile. Yeah, it was probably his smile. Billy's smile was infectious. And everyone likes a bloke who can make them laugh.

Or maybe...

Dom decided he needed a drink, after all.


"Hey," Viggo said, voice low, breath tickling Dom's ear. Where had he come from, anyway? "Sorry about last night."

"Don't remember last night," Dom said vaguely. "What's to be sorry for?"

Viggo grinned. "For drinking you under the table and passing you off to Orlando."

"Ah." Dom nodded sagely. The world was a little hazy. He must have had more than one drink already. Two nights drunk in a row, not the brightest idea. Oh, well. "Orlando's a cunt. He drew a prick on my chest in sharpie."

"I'd be willing to make amends."

The world snapped back into focus. Dom blinked. That couldn't mean what it sounded like.

"Huh?" Viggo smiled wolfishly. "Just something Billy suggested." His eyes were vaguely feral, or perhaps just slightly mental.

Dom wasn't sure whether he ought to jump him or flee. He chose the third option, and followed Viggo out of the pub. Billy was waiting for them in the parking lot, his car already warmed up and ready to go.


It wasn't until Dom was already starkers and stretched out across Viggo's bed, with Viggo and Billy snogging contentedly over the general area of Dom's groin, that his brain caught up and began to assess the situation.

He was glad he'd had a couple of drinks, or he'd probably be panicking right now. As it was, he didn't seem to be contributing much to the whatever thing unfolding between the three of them, and that made him decidedly nervous. What was the proper etiquette in this sort of situation? Should he pointedly ignore the other two and start jerking off until they noticed him, or interrupt them? Or should he just get the hell out of this bedroom before it was too late?

Something hot and wet trailed along the inside of his thigh, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. "Don't worry," Billy whispered in his ear, voice husky in ways Dom had never imagined Billy's voice could get, and he supposed that this meant that Viggo was the one responsible for the thing with the thigh and the yeah. "You've already lost the wager, so there are no expectations."

Billy chuckled, making Dom's skin tingle, and Dom decided that he definitely shouldn't flee the room yet. After all, that would be rude.

He captured Billy's mouth with his own, feeling Billy's laugh vibrate against his tongue, and stopped worrying.


Naked Viggo completely and utterly fulfilled the implicit promise of fully-clothed, sword-loving Aragorn, and his hands were strong against Dom's shoulders and chest, pressing him down into the mattress, but Dom somehow couldn't be arsed about him.

It was Billy's lips, definitely, that had lured Viggo in. Dom could now assert from experience that Billy had fantastically talented lips, firm and demanding on Dom's cock. And his tongue was even better, if that was possible.

At some point, Dom lost track of Viggo entirely.


They moved together, slick and hot and hands everywhere, nails scraping against flesh and tongues tasting every inch of skin they could reach.

And faintly, somewhere, the unmistakable whir of a camera shutter, and a click, drowned out by panting breaths and wordless release.


Dom woke up with a vaguely unpleasant taste in his mouth, bright sunlight in his eyes, and a crick in his neck. He'd never felt better.

"Morning," Viggo said cheerfully, swathed in a green bathrobe and carrying a cup of coffee and a suspicious manila envelope. Billy moaned and buried his face into a pillow, his arm and leg dead weights across Dom's chest and thighs.

Dom tried to sit up, but failed due to the excess of Billy weighing him down. "Hmwhaf?"

"Exactly," Viggo agreed. He tossed the manila envelope at the bed. It glanced off Dom's ribcage and several exquisitely developed photographs tumbled out. "For you."

Dom glanced blearily at the photos, then flushed bright red. "You've got to be in makeup in half an hour," Viggo said calmly, heading back out again. He paused at the doorway, and turned. "Oh, and next time?" The barest hint of a smile ghosted across his lips. "Don't bother with a middle man."

He waved cheekily and was gone. "Don't worry," Billy mumbled into the pillow, unaware of Viggo's departure. His arm slipped down to squeeze Dom's stomach. "We won't."


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Fabulous artwork ©2002 by Hope.
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