After all the wonderful feedback for part one of "Elijah's Collection," my poor brain went into RPS overload. Last night on the bus going home, this little bunny hopped into my head and wouldn't leave until I'd written it. So I dutifully obeyed the muse. The result: one pervy little vignette called "Doll."
Then, just as I was about to fall asleep, the sequel fell into my head. So, if I ever get time to write it, "Doll" will be followed up with "Fully-Posable Action Figures."
Pairing: EW/OB, LotR RPS (Pre-slash)
Length: 400 words
For: All the fellow_shippers who gave me such wonderful feedback for Elijah's Collection (1). Thankyou for the warm welcome!
Disclaimer: I don’t know any of these people — it’s just a lucid fever-dream.
Summary: Orlando has a kink for dolls.
Notes: This is a stand-alone vignette, but it looks like there'll be a sequel one day. The working title is "Fully-Posable Action Figures."
Orlando's perv-o-meter pinged just before Elijah took over from Dom on the gameboy.
Elijah was semi-reclined on the couch, peering at the game's action from beneath slitted eyes. In the inconstant light flickering from the screen, his skin looked like it was powdered—pale and perfect and ready for a shoot. His lashes jutted out from his lids, lush enough to cast shadows, and the quarter-moons of his eyes flashed seductive hints of blue.
He was as still as a doll. Like the perfect porcelain confections Orlando remembered watching little girls play with during the transient times of school recessess and lunch hours.
Orlando had always envied those little girls with their eerily undead dolls. There was something about the way those dolls had obediantly closed their eyes when they were laid down. Something about the way their eyes slowly unlidded when they were pulled upright into a girlish embrace. Something about trust and knowability and being the centre of the world, even if it was just in the glassy blue eyes of a doll. Orlando sometimes wondered if he'd even remember the bloody dolls if he'd ever had a chance to play with them. Or had seen the mystery of their eyes closing under the gentle pressure of his own hands.
But, of course, boys don't play with dolls. Perhaps that was why, even now, there was some inner secret to them that fascinated him, far beyond his adult factual knowledge of counterweights and gravity.
That was when Orlando realised that he was doing it again. Perving at Elijah.
"Sucked in," said Elijah, suddenly, coming alive at Dom's spectacular and flaming death. He rolled upright like a surfer on his board, eyes wide and full of light reflected off water that wasn't there—eyes so blue they didn't seem real.
"Greedy bastard," said Dom, handing over the console. "Take him down Billy!"
"You wish," said Elijah, grabbing the console and throwing himself into the game. With every jab at the buttons and wrench of the joystick, his body veered and jumped, telegraphing the twists of the game.
And in that moment—while Elijah was utterly alive, vibrant, and focused—Orlando couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have Elijah beneath his hands, all that energy soothed out of him. What it would be like to be the centre of Elijah's world.
What it would be like to hold Elijah every time he closed his eyes.
Doll 2: Fully-Posable Action Figures