Title: Soft Touch
Length: 600 words
Disclaimer: I don't know any of these people—it's just a lucid fever-dream.
"What do I look like?" Elijah asked, giving Orlando his best expression of disdain. "Some kind of soft touch?"
Dom and Billy watched interestedly from the other side of the loungeroom, sitting together on a couch like Tweedledum and Tweedledee, a tartan rug covering their knees.
"I bet you a cup of tea that Orli talks Lij into it," Billy said to Dom.
"Do I look stupid?" Dom looked at Orlando, perched on the arm of Elijah's armchair like a giant puppy dog begging to be taken for a walk. "Elijah's going to cave any minute."
Orlando looked up, his fatuous expression transforming into a glare. "Shut up, you two! You're queering my pitch!"
"Oh, believe me," said Billy, smirking, "your pitch couldn't get any queerer."
As Orlando opened his mouth to respond with something cutting, Elijah crossed his arms in a way that managed to attract everyone's attention.
"This is your idea of effective cajolery then, is it?" Elijah said to Orlando, voice surprisingly mild, given the way he was slitting his eyes at Dom and Billy.
Orlando beamed at him. "Yeah?"
Elijah sniffed. "Why am I not surprised. And no! I'm not going skinny dipping with you. It's fucking freezing out there."
"Oh," said Orlando, shoulders slumping. "But I'm bored, Lij."
"Fer God's sake," Billy muttered.
"Couldn't find his arse with both hands," Dom agreed.
"Shut up," Orlando said, but without his previous vim, and while he wasn't actually pouting, his bottom lip was definately protruding in a more than usually lush arc.
Elijah rolled his eyes and made a barely audible, but definately rude, noise. "You haven't even given me one good reason why I should, Orlando."
Billy nodded admiringly, muttering, "Nice save," as a conversational aside to Dom.
"Not just a pretty face, that one," Dom agreed. He pushed the throw-rug aside and slid off the couch. "I'll just be making that cup of tea then, shall I?"
"Good idea," said Billy, following him into the kitchen. "I'll help."
Orlando was staring with renewed hope at Elijah. "Um?"
Elijah cocked an expectant eyebrow.
"We have to take all our clothes off?"
"Okay, see?" Elijah said, his smile containing a hint of a leer. "How hard was that?"
"Is that a trick question?" Orlando asked, but he didn't wait for an answer before grabbing Elijah's hand and pulling him towards the french doors leading out to the beach.
"No, not a trick," said Elijah, allowing himself to be pulled outside into the brisk autumn air, while unzipping his jumper with his free hand and watching the hypnotic flex, flex of Orlando's ass in front of him. "Just considering all the advantages of mutual nudity."
Orlando stumbled as he stepped off the veranda but he made a fast save and turned, Elijah's hand still gripped in his own, his gaze lifting straight to Elijah's mouth.
They stood for a moment, staring at each other, the wind pulling gently at their clothes. Then Orlando tugged and Elijah fell forward, sliding against Orlando's body until his feet touched the ground.
Orlando shivered. "Actually, I don't think I feel like swimming anymore."
"I never felt like swimming in the fucking first place," Elijah said, rubbing against Orlando in a full-body motion that rapidly had them both panting.
When Orlando let out a breathy moan, Elijah stood on tip-toes, wrapped a hand around Orlando's neck, and pulled him in.
The wind gusted past the kitchen window just as Orlando's lips glanced against Elijah's, bringing with it a snatch of Billy's voice...
"Dom, wait! Don't pour the water yet! It looks like you're going to owe me a pot of tea in a minute!"