
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/979526.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Lord_of_the_Rings_RPF
  Relationship:
      Orlando_Bloom/Elijah_Wood, Dominic_Monaghan/Elijah_Wood
  Character:
      Orlando_Bloom, Elijah_Wood, Dominic_Monaghan, Billy_Boyd, Sean_Astin
  Additional Tags:
      Non-Consensual_Touching, Drug_Use, Drug_Dealing, Gangs, Underage
      Prostitution, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Urination
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-08-05 Words: 1660
****** Kids ******
by deleerium
Summary
     Elijah runs a gang of New York street kids. Orlando's a catholic
     school boy. Bad, sexy things happen when their paths cross at a
     party.
Elijah wiped the head of his cock with a grubby hand and tucked it in his fly,
zipping up with a smirk. "You're still tight. All that selling and you're still
that." His voice sounded loud in the dark room, even over Dom's heavy
breathing.
Dom was crouched on the bed, one leg shoved up under his chest, naked from
waist to knees. Elijah sneered and smacked Dom on one cheek – hard – his smile
growing toothy when he heard Dom groan. "Gotta go. There's a party. Uptown." He
scrabbled backwards off the dirty mattress and pushed to his feet, wiping a
hand through his hair. "You comin'?" He shrugged into a black jean jacket and
walked to the door.
Dom shifted, straightening his leg, dirty jeans and worn briefs wadded around
one ankle. He fumbled under his belly for his own cock and grimaced at the cold
pool of come, the limp length of it. Wish I could remember that. He looked over
a shoulder at Elijah, his gaze not quite all there. "You got anything? Anything
good?"
"Couple of bumps." Elijah dug in a pocket and tossed a brown vial at Dom. "Not
that it'd do you any good." Junkie. "Now."
Dom didn't flinch when the vial hit him in the shoulder, just pawed after it
across the mattress. "That's shit, man." He tugged on the cap and dropped the
little bottle. "Fuck." He pushed to his knees, feeling with a hand. And found
it, slick with cooling come. "Fuck." Naked from waist to knee, he used his
teeth to open it and shoved it up his nose, breathing in – sharp and sure.
"Shit." His eyelids twitched and he shuddered, blinking hard. He threw the vial
on the floor, where it rolled into a pile of molding fast food wrappers, sticky
tissues and the remnants of what used to be a bathroom towel. "That sucked."
"Beggars and choosers, asshole." Elijah wasn't smiling any more. "You fucking
coming or not?" There was more than just sharp command in the sound; there was
annoyance. Not that it mattered if Dom came or not. Elijah's gang was mobile.
Metamorphic, even - changing street rats like rich dicks changed their ties.
Dom had just been around longer than the average rat.
Dom stared at Elijah, the unforgiving set of his jaw, the sharp glass of his
gaze. "Yeah, man." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and crawled to
his feet, struggling with his clothes. "Yeah, I'm coming. Sure."
+
Big place. And not too many kids – twenty or so.
Totally workable.
Elijah was three feet inside the door when he yanked a beer out of someone's
hand, smacking the kid lightly on the cheek when he started to protest.
"Thanks, fuckwad." The kid gaped at him. Elijah stared him down until the kid
turned away. Dom and Billy push through the door, Sean and the others shuffling
behind. Elijah jerked his head towards the room of teenagers, hiding his words
behind the first long swallow of beer. "Be friendly. We need cash."
Elijah drank and watched them move uneasily through the rooms. Sean lighting up
in a corner with a chick. Billy and Dom easing into a group on the sleek sofas.
He took his time.
He scanned the room carefully. First the faces, the clothes, the bottles on the
counter. Then the white lines of coke sprinting discretely up a few noses. The
kids moving in pairs through open and closing doors. Or standing in groups in
the shadows at the edges of the room.
And that's when Elijah saw him. Saw him and stopped. Stopped to stare – dropped
his fuck-all, kick-all, take-it-all sneer for a long minute and just fucking
stared.
Because the guy was a genuine, green, grade-A catholic school boy. Mother
fuckin' school jacket, tie and everything. Taller than Elijah liked, but thin.
Hair like a chick's – dark and curly. I bet he's clean – clean and nervous and
new. Crisp, like laundry. And fucking pretty. Really fucking pretty. New penny
skin and white teeth and pretty eyes. Pretty like Barbie. The brunette kind.
Elijah liked 'em pretty.
But he liked it even better when they were new.
+
Elijah circled the room in a slow spiral. Shot the shit with a group of guys he
recognized from downtown. Bummed another beer and a quick drag from an ugly
chick with good legs. But always watching – watching the fold of the prep's
gray slacks over his crotch. The way he lounged – casual, like he wasn't the
only guy wearing a tie in a room full of drunk, drug-snorting, Broadway wanna-
be's. And there was a word for the way the guy moved. A kind of style.
Elegant – that was it. Elijah got it just before the guy looked across the
room. At him.
Elijah smirked and sucked on the neck of his bottle, his gaze steady as he
swallowed. And swallowed again. And again. The catholic school boy flushed and
ducked his head. Turned his shoulder in, away from Elijah's stare and sucked
nervously on his own beer.
But Elijah caught him looking again. And a few beers later – again. So fucking
easy. I love when they're easy. So he waited, patiently.
Waited for the first unsteady step from those long legs, excusing himself from
the group with some shitty, polite excuse.
Elijah followed him down the hall. Watched him smile at some blonde slut and
then shut the bathroom door.
Elijah waited outside for a handful of seconds before trying the knob.
Unlocked.
Elijah's sneer flashed once before a look of feigned desperation smoothed his
features. He pushed open the door.
+
Orlando's head jerked when the door opened, his eyes wide, his hand holding his
cock over the toilet. The need to piss burning under his fingers. "The hell?"
Elijah shut and locked the door, hiding the quiet snick of the lock with words.
"Shit, sorry. I have to fucking piss, man." He was already across the room, his
hip nudging at Orlando's, fingers already opening his jeans.
"Wait half a minute, will..."
"Can't wait." Elijah pulled his cock out.
Eyes wide and dilated, Orlando blinked, his next words carrying the tiny slur
of one too many beers. "There's no room, man, gimme a sec."
“There is so. Here.” Elijah pushed into the space between Orlando's hip and the
tub, cock pointed at the tub. The stream hit the tile first, trickling down
across white porcelain.
The sound and the soft blanket of alcohol made it easy for Orlando to follow,
pissing forever. So long that he almost forgot Elijah was there. Almost. So
long he worried that he would piss himself inside out – most of his body into
the toilet, with a guy pressed against his ass.
But all good things come to an end. So he shook. And then froze, strangling on
a curse choked off. A curse because there was more than just his hand.
Elijah hand wrapped around Orlando's cock.
+
Good, so fucking good. Elijah squeezed Orlando's neck, fingers pressed against
his throat. "Help you with that?" He pulled on Orlando's cock, pushing his hand
off and away. Pulled slow and hard, knowing that reactions would be slow,
knowing how sensation tumbled over on itself if you were drunk -- and there was
a hand on your cock.
Orlando collected enough breath to move. To speak. It felt... "The fuck, man, I
don't..."
Elijah pushed a knee between Orlando's, body pressing against his. "Shhh,
fuckin' feels good, you're hard, I can feel it."
Something about the words clicked and Orlando's body caught up with his brain.
He pushed back with a snarl, hand yanking on Elijah's wrist, elbow snapping
back, looking for ribs. "Fuckyou." The anger raw and blurred.
But Elijah felt it coming – felt the wind up of Orlando's muscles for a fight.
And fighting was something else Elijah loved.
He twisted away from the blow and shoved Orlando forward, off-balance, hand
tight around his throat, pressing his cheek to the patterned wall. "Shut up,
preppy," Elijah panted, weight against Orlando, his cock hard against the
smooth curve of Orlando's ass. He stroked faster, getting his foot on the
toilet, his knee tucked tight against Orlando's balls.
So good, so good...
Until he heard the helpless sob for breath. Felt something hot hitting his
wrist. Fuck. He loosened his grip instantly – hand moving to cup the warm part
of Orlando's mouth.
Elijah gentled his stroke, drawing it out, rubbing his knee against the heat
between Orlando's thighs. Whispered, "It's okay, won't hurt you." He sneered at
the words, but gentled his touch. He took his time, rubbed his body against the
long back. He rubbed his cheek against the padded shoulder of a navy jacket,
his hand twisting now, speeding up as the cock in his hand hardened, twitched
and hardened more. Slick at the head. "C'mon, s'okay." He stifled a groan when
Orlando shuddered and the first spurt slapped down the back of his hand. "Fuck
yeah, that's it." He squeezed again and Orlando moaned.
Gotcha. Elijah pulled Orlando back, upright, stroking until he felt the first
hard flinch of Orlando's body, loose and leaning back against him. Elijah
tilted his head, nosing the hair at the back of Orlando's neck. Crisp. Like
laundry. Only better. Gently, he tucked the soft cock into Orlando's trousers
and shuffled him back and around.
Orlando's cheeks were blood red, his eyes darker than before. Black with
surprise, embarrassment and pleasure. He opened his mouth, his arm jerking
towards Elijah's wrist.
Elijah shushed him again and zipped up his trousers. Looking at him – looking
his fill, up close. Prettier than that fucking doll. Without warning, Elijah
grabbed a handful of Orlando's hair – tight – and pulled him down. Gently. Bit
his lower lip and licked over the mark. Kissed him – licking again. "I'm
Elijah."
Orlando blinked. In shock.
But the door was unlocked – open – and Elijah was gone.
END
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