Paler Than Grass
Recipient: sassywitch
Author: strongplacebo
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Billy's feet itch, Dom watches Postman Pat and everyone sees Viggo naked.
Notes:: Title from a poem by Sappho. ("Look at him, just like a god...")
Author's Notes:: Thanks to kissing_athelas for the beta and for not falling out with me over the letter 's'. I'm sorry for ignoring you.
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The first time Sean met Elijah, as he so often told Billy, it was in the lobby of a hotel in LA, and they hugged. This worried Billy the first time he heard it, shouldn't Merry and Pippin have the same rapport? Then he remembered meeting Orlando, and meeting Sean, and meeting Elijah, and he couldn't see why meeting Dominic would be any different.
When Dominic arrived, Billy was in Wardrobe with Elijah. They were both partially naked, which probably wasn't how Billy would have chosen to make an impression, but Dominic didn't seem to mind. He bounded in, all ears and too-short hair and hugged Elijah before wrapping himself around Billy.
"'Ello, Pip," he said, and Billy grinned, pushing his cheek into Dominic's (really, surprisingly large) ear. Elijah beamed and stuck his thumb up at Billy. Pete, standing at the door, made formal introductions while Dominic stood very close to Billy and Billy's bare skin.
They all went out that night, even Sean, to a pub that had been recommended by one of the natives. Dominic pulled his chair next to Billy's so he could use the back as an armrest.
"Can't drink too much tonight," Orlando proclaimed, returning to the table with his third beer. "I've got more archery tomorrow. I don't know how good my aim will be if I'm swaying from side to side."
"It'd make it more interesting though," Dominic told him. "You could see how many times you shoot the trainer before you manage to hit the target."
"What he really needs," Billy added, "is a moving target. Then they'd be swaying in tandem." He leant to the right and Dominic followed, left, right, left in unison while Elijah pealed out his high-pitched giggle and Orlando mimed shooting an arrow at them. That was the last beer they let Orlando have that night.
The next day, the four hobbits went to have moulds taken of their feet and faces. The mixture around Billy's feet felt odd and gloopy. He was very conscious of the fact that he wasn't allowed to move at all. Dominic had already finished. He came and sat on the stool next to Billy.
"Now whatever you do, Billy, you mustn't move. Not one muscle, do you understand me?"
Billy grinned and focused on a speck of white on the floor beside him. He could see Dominic's feet out of the corner of his eye, long and narrow and covered in globs of plaster.
"Hey, Billy," Dominic said conversationally, "Look what I can do. I'm the only one in my family who can move the little toe on its own." He demonstrated. Billy's right thigh muscle twitched, but that was all.
"The second toe in is moving too," he told Dominic. "You're not doing it right."
Dominic looked down at his toes. "Hmm, you're right. It must be this stuff on it. It's terribly uncomfortable, isn't it, Billy? And I find that it really makes me need to scratch."
This was a total lie, of course, but Billy's left foot immediately started itching.
"It's such a relief to be out of that mess and able to scratch finally," Dominic continued. He bent over and started scraping furiously at his foot. The phantom tickle in Billy's foot increased.
"You're such a wanker, Dominic Monaghan," he laughed as Dom waggled dirty fingers up at him.
During training, Bob Anderson (who, Sean informed him, was a Hollywood legend) decided to pair Dom and Elijah together, leaving, as Dom called them, the "old farts" together. Elijah giggled and flourished his sword very inexpertly, while Sean just frowned and looked at his stomach again.
"He just has more respect for us," Billy responded absently, studying his wooden sword. "He's put the babies in the play-pen together while we get on with some real work." He swung his sword a couple of times and pointed it at Dom. Dom had raised his own weapon and braced himself in a fighting stance when Bob approached the group.
"You're all kids compared to me," he told them. "I taught Errol Flynn. Now fall into line."
That evening, Dom decided to demonstrate what he'd learnt with a slightly soggy chip. Orlando immediately grabbed two more and proceeded to show them all how the elves do it (i.e., better than hobbits). They were mid-battle when Stuart came storming in. Billy watched him over Dom's left shoulder and nudged Orlando. Orlando looked up.
"Ah, he's just in one of his pissy moods again," he declared and battle recommenced. Billy left them to it.
Stuart's glass was already half-empty. Billy signalled the barmaid. He looked sideways at Stuart for a while.
"Want to talk?" he asked eventually.
"Fuck off," Stuart replied and drank some more. Billy took his beer and went back to the table. One of Orlando's chips had broken and Dom was claiming victory. He smiled when Billy sat down.
"The morning after the night before" was a trite and pointless phrase in Billy's opinion. Because of this, he made sure whenever it popped into his head, he never said it out loud. Like right now, when he was lying on the sofa with his feet in Elijah's lap, Orlando curled up in the armchair and Dom sat leaning against the sofa. The hair on the back of Dom's neck was sticking up in a too-short-to-lie-flat way. Billy could imagine running his fingertips over the ends and feeling the ripples like a soft-bristled brush. The television was playing a cartoon in the background, The Flintstones, which Billy remembered from his childhood.
"Alvin and the Chipmunks," Elijah said, and everyone else shook their heads. Billy laughed out loud to see it, and see Elijah's face, all wide eyes and pouty lips.
"Postman Pat," Dom said with satisfaction. Billy laughed. He had seen it before, in the few years before he turned into a teenager and stopped watching afternoon cartoons and started doing other, more grown up things.
Orlando laughed and nodded. "And Jess," he said. Dom started singing.
"Postman Pat, Postman Pat, Postman Pat and his black and white cat."
Orlando joined in at the end. Billy didn't know the tune.
"Aw, you're so young," he laughed. "With your postman cartoons."
"It wasn't just a cartoon, Billy," Dom insisted. "It was so much more than that. It was a way of life."
Orlando laughed as he looked over at him. Billy patted Dom on the head.
"Like a small child, you are," he told him. Dom turned around and poked his tongue out.
"Little baby," Billy said fondly. "Little Dommie."
Dom grinned, still twisted awkwardly to look at Billy. Elijah laughed, loud and high.
"Dommie and Orlando-y!" he said gleefully.
"Orli," Dom said, turning to look at Orlando. Orlando grinned back at him.
"Orli," Elijah repeated as his phone started ringing. His face dropped and he "yeah, yeah"-ed into the phone. They had a meeting with Peter.
As soon as they found out the name of the new guy, they did a quick search to find out which films he had been in. They tried to be subtle while Stuart was still saying goodbye, but he was gone within days. They settled in at Orlando's house to watch The Crew, which was not worth the pain, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which was amusing as all hell, and The Indian Runner, which oh, dear God.
Orlando sat up totally straight, Elijah squeaked and hid his face in a cushion, Dom dropped his jaw and Billy widened his eyes beyond their comfort level. He felt like Elijah.
"Well, that's. That's," Dom started.
"Shh," Billy said, staring. "It's moving."
"IT?" Elijah yelped from his sanctuary.
"Don't worry about it, 'Lijah," Dom reassured him. "He means the image of your totally naked, soon-to-be very close colleague." Dom slowed down on the last few words, drawing them out in emphasis.
Elijah made a sound of anguish. Billy and Dom laughed.
"Don't traumatise the Yankee Doodle, Dommie," Billy warned as Orlando relaxed back down into the sofa.
"Right," Orlando said. Dom gazed at him, eyes bright.
They'd only just arrived at the pub, so Billy hadn't had time to get drunk. Besides, he needed to concentrate on discussing the vitally important subject of the state of English football with Dom. Elijah was otherwise occupied in scoping out the pub and eating handfuls of the disgusting peanuts they'd warned him about.
"The problem is, Dommie, that the English haven't been any good at football since 1966. And I'm fairly sure that was a fluke."
Dom was getting riled, which was always funny. Billy suppressed his grin and opened his mouth to continue as Orlando slopped his drink down on the table. Beer spread in a puddle and dripped over the table edge.
"Goddamnit, Orli!" Elijah yelled, twisting away from the waterfall and wiping at his jeans.
"Sorry, Doodle." Orlando dropped a pile of cardboard coasters into the puddle in an attempt to soak up most of the moisture.
Dom looked pensive.
"I want a nickname," he announced, "like you two. No one's given me one yet."
Dommie, Billy thought, while Elijah hummed and Orlando looked thoughtful.
"Dom," Orlando mused, "Dom, Om, Om, Pom, Lom, Slom, Sblom-inic."
"Sblominic?" Elijah said incredulously, and he laughed his approval. Dom's mouth spread wide in a grin and he high-fived Orlando.
Billy pushed his chair back from the table as Orlando screeched, "Sblommie!".
"Toilet," he said to their enquiring faces.
Dom always hurried to the trailer after shooting to get his feet removed, to get to the pub again. Billy took his time today because he needed to see Bob Anderson. When Peter spotted him, Dom had already left for the pub with Orlando and Elijah.
"Billy, I'm glad you're here. Our new Aragorn has arrived."
Billy looked up and saw the excitement on Peter's face. The new Aragorn must be good.
"Come and be the first to meet him," Peter encouraged, and Billy followed him into the training room. Stunties were clumped around in groups, almost universally gazing towards where Bob was stood with a stranger. Blond hair, tall, worn and baggy jeans, Billy observed.
"Aragorn!" Peter called, and Billy smiled. Viggo turned around. It amused Billy that he responded. He was a lot older than Stuart. He didn't look heroic; he looked tired. He smiled though, and wandered over to them.
"Viggo, I'd like you to meet Billy Boyd. Pippin."
Billy wondered how it felt so natural to be referred to as his character. He worried he might be turning into one of these method types.
Viggo smiled and Billy thought of him in the Indian Runner. He smiled back.
"They've got you working straight away, I see," Billy offered. Viggo laughed tiredly and nodded.
"I just stepped off the plane."
Billy liked the sound of his voice. It was slower than in his films. It drifted through the air.
"And then they throw me in with this lot," he gestured at the stunties, "which was something of a baptism of fire."
Billy laughed, looking at the others. "Aye, it would be. They're lovely guys when they're not trying to kill and maim you. You'll meet some of them tonight if you come out with us."
Viggo blinked twice and stood very still. "I think I'll pass this evening. Catch up on my jet lag. Tomorrow though, for sure."
Billy left him alone, in the middle of the training room, sword dangling from his hand. The first thing he said when he arrived at the pub was:
"Nice guy, that Aragorn."
Conversation halted and everyone turned to face him. Billy enjoyed watching the reactions. Dom's mouth hung open a little; Billy could see his tongue. Elijah started.
"Wait, wait, you've met him?"
"How have you met him?" Petulance didn't suit Orlando.
"What's he like? Is he coming out?"
Billy answered Dom's questions first. "He seems nice. Friendly. Confident. He's not coming out, he's only just stepped off the plane. He was being tortured in the training room with the stunties."
"Where's he staying?" Dom demanded. "We should go see him."
Billy laughed. "You'll meet him tomorrow, Dommie. Let him sleep now."
Dom grinned and stuck his tongue out.
Orlando sat back, nursing his drink. "I'm going to work with him," he said and he sounded content. We're all going to work with him, Billy thought, and he was content too.
The next day, Billy stood at the back of the crowd of hobbits and elves that surrounded Viggo, listening intently. Viggo was poised and verbose; he spoke quietly and slowly and people hung on his words. Billy wondered how long that novelty would last, with this hyperactive group.
Viggo and Orlando were taken off, more training with the stunties and Bob. The hobbits chattered, following Peter and Fran to their trailer for re-write run-throughs.
"I think he's taller than Stuart," Elijah declared.
"Everyone's tall to you," Dom told him, making a sterling attempt to ruffle his hair, one that Elijah dodged furiously, arms flailing.
"He might seem taller to you, Elijah, because he appears like a saviour to our film," Sean smiled and Billy agreed.
"Works for Aragorn, too," he added and Elijah nodded and giggled.
Viggo did come out to the pub that night, despite informing all that he was still tired and partially jet-lagged. Orlando sat beside him and leant his way.
"He's not just an actor, you know, guys," he informed the group at large. Billy watched Viggo watch him. "He's, like, a proper artist. Photos and paintings and all that shit."
Viggo grinned as attention swung his way once more. Billy leant forward. It was pretty cool. Orlando was grinning hard too.
"What sort of things do you paint?" Dom demanded. Billy turned to look at him. His hair was rather perfectly sculpted. Billy wanted to try to ruffle it up, make it dishevelled, but from the look on Dom's face, he didn't think it would go down too well.
"Beautiful things," Viggo replied and Orlando blushed in the dark light. Dom smiled and Billy saw the sneer behind it. He pulled Dom's face towards him and whispered in his ear,
"Be nice, Dommie."
Dom smiled at Billy, and Billy thought it was genuine. He let his hand slide down and around from Dom's neck. He thought maybe a few strands of hair might have been misplaced.
"He's going to show me some of his poems, aren't you, Viggo?" Orlando announced.
Orlando didn't come to Dom's house. They had invited him to watch films but he was already going with Viggo to take photos, or something. Dom probably remembered better than Billy, since all Billy knew was that he was here and Orlando was there and Dom was storming around slamming drawers while making cups of tea. Elijah smiled at Billy, small and tight, and got up.
"I've got an early call time tomorrow," he said, and Billy neglected to remind him that they had the same call sheet. "I think I'll just go."
"Don't worry about him," Billy reassured as Elijah pulled on his jacket. "He'll be all right in a bit. I'll calm him down."
Elijah nodded, casting a glance towards the kitchen. "Don't worry about me, Sblom," he called out. "I'm going to get an early night." He scarpered pretty quickly.
Dom came out, clutching three steaming mugs. "Has he just left?" he demanded. Billy nodded, eyeing the hot water and Dom's unsteady hands. Dom plonked them down on the table, on top of the TV guide, slopping a little out on the listings for TVNZ.
"He could have told me he was going to leave before I went to the effort of making him a cup of tea. What a waste of milk. And now I'm going to have to buy some more tomorrow, and I'm running out of tea bags too and he just goes swanning off with some random guy."
Billy leant forward and reached out a hand. Dom studied it as it hovered beside his own. Eventually, he turned his palm upwards and Billy was able to drop his hand on top and wrap it around.
"Dommie," he said seriously. "Don't be such a fucking wanker. I'll drink the tea if you're that upset."
Dom laughed, only a little and somewhat bitterly, but Billy counted it a success nonetheless. He sat back on the sofa, leaning his head against the back. Billy's hand swung with him, then dropped onto the cushion as Dom released it.
Dom closed his eyes and sighed quietly. Billy looked at his eyelids and the shape of his mouth, then down to the pattern on the arm of the sofa. A car accelerated up the street outside. Billy shifted so he was sitting sideways, one knee bent up onto the cushion. Dom rolled his head to face him and opened his eyes. Billy stared at him and kept staring as Dom flopped an arm over his body towards him. He took Dom's hand again and Dom squeezed it gently.
"You don't have to drink Elijah's tea if you don't want to." Dom's face was serious. Billy chuckled lightly, and this time Dom didn't let go of his hand. Billy was perfectly happy with that. He moved his thumb slowly over the bend of Dom's knuckles and into the soft flesh dipping between them. Dom shifted towards Billy again, just a little bit. Billy leant closer and kept his eyes on Dom's. Dom's eyes were glinting from the streetlamps outside, the grey darkening towards the middle and the black of his pupils. Billy moved nearer and Dom blinked twice.
Sitting up suddenly, so suddenly that Billy flinched back momentarily, Dom grasped Billy's head with his free hand, gripping tightly with both. Billy tightened his grasp on Dom's hand automatically.
"God, Billy," Dom said, and plunged forwards. He smashed his lips against Billy's, so hard Billy could feel Dom's teeth behind the thin flesh. Billy grasped the back of Dom's head, pulling them closer together, moving their whole bodies inwards. Their hands squashed awkwardly between them but Billy just gripped tighter until Dom shook himself free. Billy regretted it, but only for the second it took for Dom's hand to reach around his body, knotting Billy's shirt between his fingers. The material pulled tight around his ribs and under his arms.
"Oh," Billy muttered against Dom's mouth and felt the vibrations as Dom hummed in response. He could feel Dom's desperation seeping out of every pore.
"Billy, Billy," Dom murmured, pulling Billy down on top of him. Billy grabbed Dom's hip to steady himself and hovered, braced and kneeling, entwined between Dom's legs. He could feel the curve of Dom's hipbone where it peeked out from low jeans.
"Come on." Dom pushed his hips upwards, towards Billy's, and Billy tightened his grip on the bone. Dom let go of Billy's shirt and Billy felt cold where the warmth of Dom's body left him exposed. He grew warm again when Dom scrabbled hurried fingers over the opening of his jeans. Billy pushed into his hands, useless in the face of constantly moving digits, and Dom made an irritated noise. Billy leant down to cover Dom's mouth, moving one hand to his groin to help Dom press, stroke, open, do something except flutter teasingly around his flies.
As soon as Billy's underwear-covered cock spilt out through his jeans, Dom abandoned him entirely, fumbling instead with his own flies. Billy looked down between their bodies for his first glimpse of Dom's cock. He thought it would be long and slender, like Dom's fingers and toes. He rumbled deep in his chest; Dom's hands were blocking his view. Dom growled at Billy, shoving his hands upwards, brushing over the soft skin above Billy's boxers. His hands glanced briefly over Billy erection, but not enough, especially through cloth and through Dom's haste.
"Move," Dom grunted, and pressure against Billy's thigh made him realise what Dom wanted. He pushed up again, onto both hands now, and gazed down as Dom curled his legs up, jeans and boxers bunching around his calves. Billy rearranged himself so that Dom could have the space he needed to bare himself, to get naked for Billy. Dom's cock was poking up from the mess of curls at the join of his legs, long like Billy had thought and dark pink. Billy freed one hand so he could reach down and touch, when Dom twisted and turned, lifting his hips and ass into the air and into Billy. Billy's eyes rolled up when the flesh of Dom's behind nudged his cock, abandoning him as Dom resettled on the cushions. His back dipped in the middle, rising to bring Dom's backside closer to Billy's groin. Billy spread one hand down Dom's back and over the swell of his ass.
Dom moaned and pushed his bottom up. "Billy," he said, and Billy sat back on his heels. With both hands free, he was able palm each of Dom's butt cheeks, pushing them together briefly before pulling them apart. The small pink pucker of Dom's asshole clenched and flexed up at him.
"Lick your fingers, Billy," Dom instructed him, turning his face so that he was resting with his left cheek on the sofa arm, face to the back. Billy sucked two fingers into his mouth, tonguing around and between them until a sliver of excess saliva ran down his fist. Dom writhed and pushed himself against the settee. Billy pulled Dom's ass cheeks apart again and rubbed his saliva-shiny fingers down the crack.
"Do it, Billy," so Billy did. He pushed two fingers into the fleshy pucker and listened to Dom inhale, short and sharp. Dom's ass constricted around Billy's fingers, so tight, so hot.
"Oh," Dom said as Billy moved his hand cautiously, watching Dom's hole cling to him then relax back. Billy made an answering sound, buzzing through his nose as noisy, contented resonance.
Billy enjoyed watching, watching the muscles in Dom's legs tense and twitch, watching him draw his bottom lip between his teeth, watching his hands clench into fists and relax again with every push of Billy's fingers into his ass. Dom's eyebrows were drawn in and his face read longing.
"Come on, come on," he urged. Billy withdrew his hand and pulled the cloth of his boxers down over his cock, lodging them tight under his balls. Dom's asshole constricted again and Billy could see the tension in his muscles. He spat in his hand and rubbed it over his cock, quickly, so as not to get lost in the slippery slide of the motion. "Billy," Dom moaned once more and Billy couldn't take it. He directed his cock toward Dom's anus and positioned the head just outside the tight ring of muscle. Dom's nostrils flared as Billy braced himself on his right hand. He pushed, and the sudden give of muscles pulled him in, in, in.
"Uh--"
The noise got stuck in Dom's throat and Billy blinked and huffed out his breath. Dante never knew an inferno like this, the press and pull and push and heat of Dominic. Slowly, he moved again, out and into the tightness and fire. Dom closed his eyes and clenched his teeth with every thrust.
"Fuck," Dom muttered as Billy pushed.
"Fuck," Billy gasped out in agreement as he propelled his hips forwards, pressing Dom further into the cushions beneath him.
"Dom, God, Dom," Billy gritted out as Dom's ass clenched around him, tighter than before. He thrust again, the intensity and the urgency pushing him on towards a conclusion. He could feel Dom all over, on the stretch of stomach above his cock which slid against the mound of Dom's behind, where his thighs pressed against Dom's, on the inside on his wrist, pushing against the heat of Dom's torso. Dom's breath came out in gasps as Billy shoved his hips forward, now more quickly, building up to a climax.
"Oh, oh," Dom struggled out, rubbing himself against the sofa and clenching his fists.
"Oh," Billy agreed as Dom tightened almost unbearably around him. A twisted knot of excitement burnt in Billy's stomach as he pressed on to the all-consuming wave that crashed through him, knocking the breath from his lungs and covering him, smothering him so that he could barely wheeze in enough breath to realise that he was wet all over. Sweat pasted his shirt to his back and the slid of hot skin on hot skin meant that the connections between his body and Dom's body were marked by droplets and rivers spreading over and down. As his face scrunched up and his eye creased, he realised there was wetness on his cheeks too.
Dom lay passive as Billy withdrew, gingerly and regretfully. Billy lowered himself down between Dom and the sofa back so he could see Dom's face. Dom's eyebrows and Dom's nose and Dom's right ear and Dom's eyelids. There was wetness on Dom's cheek; he'd been crying too. Billy lifted his hand, wearily, he was exhausted, and wiped tears and sweat from his cheek then from Dom's cheek. The combination smeared across Dom's face and he frowned, eyes still closed.
Billy dropped his hand down to Dom's waist, under the edge of his t-shirt, and pulled and shifted until they were lying side by side facing each other. Dom's breathing had slowed to a soft, even pace. When Billy closed his eyes, he could still feel it in the faint rise and fall of Dom's chest, and the whispery exhale across his skin.
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