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“Hmm, what?” Dom can’t help but be purposefully obtuse. Tormenting Elijah is far too much fun. Especially when his friend is practically *bouncing* with suspense.
“You looked pretty chatty down there with Greenshirt. Don’t tell me you didn’t find anything out. C’mon Dom, you promised,” Elijah whines.
“Oh calm yourself precious. Greenshirt’s name is Billy. Your go-go boy is – get this – Orlando. He is just as pretty close-up. And he is available, go do your worst.”
“Orlando?” Elijah stops to think. Dom can tell by the way he is chewing on his lip that this requires a bit of effort. From the smoke and drink and inappropriate dance remixes taking up space in his brain, Elijah retrieves a memory.
“Ah, shit. I thought I’d seen him around before. This is ridiculous.”
“Care to elaborate?”
Elijah throws back the rest of his beer, then heaves a dramatic sigh. “Viggo.”
Dom knows it’s a small world. And an even smaller gay world, so he is not so terribly surprised. At a party like this you really can’t throw a stone without hitting someone who’s slept with someone you’ve slept with - which is part of the reason he has sworn off dating guys he meets at clubs. Let Lij deal with messes like this.
“One of Viggo’s, huh? So, you’ve met him before?”
“Not exactly,” Elijah’s response is cagey. “But, I have seen him before. At the last party Viggo had before we broke it off.”
Dom remembers now. Viggo, the club mogul, and Elijah had started screwing around several months ago. Viggo had a reputation for his weakness for pretty young boys, and Dom knew it wouldn’t end well. Not that there was any telling Elijah that. Fortunately it didn’t take Elijah long to realize that he did not have Viggo’s undivided attention. Unfortunately, according to Elijah “the sex was so fuckin’ hot” that it took him a bit longer to make his graceful exit. An exit that was in part precipitated by the unexpected presence of both his boyfriends at a party Viggo threw during Pride.
“Oh Elijah, this is perfect,” Dom teased. “You two have practically had sex already. Getting in to his hotpants should be a piece of cake.”
Elijah did not look so amused at this prospect.
Orli grabs Billy by his green shirt and pulls him onto the dancefloor. “Dance with me Billy,” he pleads, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed.
Billy sighs, but he’s also had enough to drink that he can feel his limbs obeying the music before he makes the conscious decision to submit to Orlando’s request. On the dancefloor he closes his eyes for a moment and lets the beat, the liquor and the push of bodies sweep him away. No, he’d never get up there and shake his kit like Orlando, but when he feels the music and the crowd like this he can’t help but move. He’s only vaguely aware of time, and the tracks slip seamlessly into one another.
Orlando writhes and preens, hands flashing and hips swiveling in front of Billy. Even when he’s not on a stage he is putting on a show. Billy isn’t surprised the big-eyed dj has taken an interest in his friend. Orlando has a way of getting himself noticed.
Billy is sweating now, his shirt is sticking to him, and he rubs the back of his neck where he can feel little rivulets forming. As he wipes away the beads, he realizes there’s still the sensation of something there, and he turns around, but not quickly enough to catch the two grey eyes before they hastily focus on the turntable.
Dom glances from Billy to Orlando and back. "So, are you two....together?"
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Billy looks at Orlando wistfully for a moment, then shakes his head as if to clear it. "Not like that, no. Well, that's the short answer. The long answer could take hours. He's available, I guess that's really what's relevant here."
"So why do you not look entirely happy about it? Or am I overstepping my bounds?"
"Will you look at him? Just really look at him for a moment. Who wouldn't want someone like that? He's so beautiful he's barely human. It's disgusting, really. Makes the rest of us look bad."
"Don't over-generalize. He's really not my type, so it's not like he's got any mystical powers of attraction or anything."
"Really. So what is your type?"
"Guys who don't dance around naked."
Billy laughs. "Fair enough."
"So what's *his* type, then? Should I give Elijah any hope, or just lie and tell him his pretty dancer-crush has a boyfriend?"
"Tell him what you like. I have no desire to meddle in Orlando's affairs."
Dom nearly spits out his beer. "Orlando? That's rich."
"Well, I don't want to offend, but are you sure? If you all have some unresolved history or something, I can certainly put Elijah off."
Billy glanced up at the booth, appraising Lij. "No, let him try. He seems like a nice enough kid. Certainly a better alternative than most of these drugged-out gym queens. So shall I tell Orli that he has an admirer? Or will young Elijah be taking it from here?"
"Well, I could forge a little note: 'Do you think I'm cute, yes or no?' That about feels like the level he's operating on."
"Give him a break. From the looks of him he hasn't been picking up men in bars for very long."
Dom snorts. "Appearances can be so deceiving, can't they? He's probably pulled more guys than the two of us put together. He only *looks* shy and innocent. In fact, he's quite the opposite. His appearance is purely genetic. Can't be helped." Dom looks Billy up and down, then smiles and turns to go. "So... maybe I'll see you later."
"Maybe. Nice meeting you."
'Nice meeting you?' Billy wanted to choke himself with a feather boa. A cute guy flirts with you, and the best you can come up with is 'Nice meeting you'?
Orlando sashays towards Billy, stealing his drink and swallowing it down in one gulp. He gestures towards Dom's retreating figure. "So who was that then? Friend of yours?"
"Hardly. He was trying to find out more about you, of course. You know, if I'm going to be your pimp, we really need to talk about some financial compensation. How does that go? 'Bitch bettah have mah money!'"
"Billy, that was the worst ghetto accent I've ever heard."
"Fuck off. So aren't you curious to find out who's been eyeing you?"
"Not really. He couldn't possibly be a better date than you." Orlando flutters his eyelashes at Billy.
"Except that this really isn't a date, Orli. Anyway, it's just as I said. The wee moppet in the booth. Name's Elijah."
"He looks familiar. I feel like I've met him before..."
Dom danced his way over to Greenshirt. Damn Elijah...he swore he wouldn’t play the pawn, but knew Lij would make him miserable until he caved. So.
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“Hey yourself,” Greenshirt answered back in a Scottish accent. He was leaning against a pillar off to the side of things, but Dom could see the dancing friend was clearly in his line of sight.
“So, you don’t dance?” Dom asked, tipping his head meaningfully toward Elijah’s go-go crush.
“Like that? Noooo,” Greenshirt laughed. “I forgot to pack my hotpants.”
“Hotpants? I’m thinking kilt by the sound of things,” Dom winked. Dammit. Was he flirting with Greenshirt? No. Most definitely not. He was the Wing Man.
“A kilt? Aye, sweaty wool, makes the lads swoon.”
They both laughed at that, and easily moved on to cover the basics. Greenshirt’s name was Billy. He was from Glasgow, was in the theater. Dom was, well Dom. He was from Manchester, he was a dj and occasionally wrote music reviews for small magazines.
They had been chatting for a bit, and Dom had nearly forgotten his mission, until Greenshirt – Billy, he chided himself – brought it to his attention.
“Eh, your friend up there is looking a mite frantic. Is he well?”
Dom glanced up at the booth in time to see Elijah trying his best to look nonchalant. “No, unfortunately he’s a bit cracked. Would you believe he sent me over here to play his school girl games for him?”
“Let me guess, your friend thinks my friend is cute.” Dom nodded apologetically. Dammnit Elijah, he suddenly felt like an ass. “S’okay, it happens all the time.”
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“Lij, do I need to remind you of your oath? No more tweaked-out
“He’s not tweaked out. I’ve seen him before. He doesn’t do drugs.
Well, not the really bad ones, at least.”
“Good to see your standards haven’t slipped. Much.”
“I think your bigger problem is going to be his boyfriend.”
“Who? The guy in the green shirt?”
“Have you noticed how he’s been looking at your dancer boy? That’s
not just lust – that has a definite edge of possessiveness to it.”
“Nope. Definitely not. They’re just friends.”
“How do you know?”
“They don’t touch a lot when they talk. If they were together, I
think Mr.Greenshirt would be all over that lusciousness. Besides,
would you let your boyfriend dance like so in front of all these
guys? Wearing just...that?”
“Well, I’d have to have a boyfriend to answer that question, now
“Which leads me to my plan.”
“No. No more plans, Lij. I’m tired of being your...what do you call
it? Wing man. I won’t be your wing man any more. I have too much
“Then perhaps you haven’t gotten such a good look at Mr. Greenshirt.
He’s very cute. Plus, you may even be an inch or so taller than
him...I know how much you like that.”
“I could never date anyone that turns up at these circuit parties. They’re all the same. They might be gorgeous, sure, but they don’t want
anything from you unless you have sex with them, and the minute you
do, they’re out the door anyway.”
“You say that, and yet I have vivid memories of wanting to install a
revolving door in your bedroom.”
“Yeah, but it’s different now; that’s not what I want anymore. The
likelihood of finding boyfriend material in here is roughly the same
as finding a string of pearls up your ass.”
“That reminds me...”
Orlando was a vision. Olive skin, beautiful curly hair, long lean
body, muscles rippling as he danced. He was on a platform with three
other men, but he was the most beautiful of the bunch. He wasn’t shy
about touching himself as he moved, his hands sliding over his bare
arms, bare thighs, bare torso. The flashing lights played with the
smooth surface of his skin, drenching him in swirling color..
Billy watched him with an odd mixture of admiration and
embarrassment. Orlando’s his mate...was almost something more in the
not-so-distant past, but there it was. Billy chuckled to think that
this gorgeous creature is the same man who picks his toes and has
terrible morning breath.
It would have never worked anyway. Seeing all the men watch Orlando
dance was a bit much to bear, even just as a friend. They didn’t
even try to hide their lusty stares, and Orli always left with
handfuls of phone numbers at the end of the night. It would take a
very secure man to tolerate that, and not even Billy was up to the
He watched another dancer come from behind the stage curtain and tap
Orli gently on the shoulder. They danced together for a few moments,
then Orlando slid down off the platform and headed towards Billy, his
face shining, pulse racing, eyes gleaming. Fuck if he wasn’t the
most dazzling creature.
“Billy! Are you having fun? You haven’t been leaning against this
pole all night watching me, have you?” He took Billy’s elbow and
steered him toward the tiny dressing room all the dancers shared.
Once safely inside, Orli plopped into a chair, grinning at his
reflection in the chipped, lipstick-smeared mirror. He shifted to
watch Billy’s reflection as he pulled Orlando’s bag out from under
the bench, handing him a large bottle of water and a towel.
Billy looked wearily up at Orlando, watching him wipe the sweat from
his face. “We’re going to be here all fecking night, aren’t we?”
Orlando sighed and rolled his eyes. “Billy. You want to leave
already? You haven’t even danced yet, have you? Christ, loosen up a
little! You’re meant to be having fun here. There’s no place for a
wallflower at the fucking White Party.”
“I don’t even know why you dragged me along here. I can’t say it’s
doing much for my mood, watching you shake your ass around and getting
ogled by all these other men.” Billy scoffed, taking the towel back
and shoving it into a gym bag. “And really, could you be wearing any
less clothes? Though the Union Jack hot pants are certainly nice. ”
Orlando laughed and kissed the top of Billy’s head. “You know you
could be up there, too. I make good money for shaking my ass. And
these guys aren’t too bad, considering.”
“Considering what, that they’re all high on designer drugs and half
undressed?” Billy thought about it and reconsidered. “Okay, so they
are all pleasantly buzzed, and they don’t have on much more than you.
Not so bad, maybe. But certainly not enough to get me up there.
Who would want to watch me shake my wee ass?”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Bill. You’ve got a great body. And I’ve
seen you dance, and you’re really quite good.”
“Ah, but sadly I seem to lack whatever mad exhibitionist tendencies
you seem to thrive on.” He rubbed Orli’s shoulders with firm hands.
Orlando stands, grabbing Billy around the waist and pressing his back
against the mirror. He pulls his face close to Billy's, a slightly predatory glance in his eyes. “Give us a kiss, Bills. Just a quick snog. Come on.”
“No, Orli. We’ve gone that route before, and we know where it leads.”
Orlando sighs and looks away, but doesn’t let go. He's quiet for a moment, then sighs. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you want.”
“That’s not it and you know it. As much as I’d love to fuck your
pretty brains out right here right now, I could never live with just
having parts of you. It’s all or nothing for me. It hurt too much
to go through that with you the first time. Don’t ask me to do it
‘You’re right. I’m sorry. But you know in a parallel universe
somewhere we’re a scorching couple.”
“Stop quoting movie lines at me and go wag your kit around some more.
One of the DJ’s has a bit of a thing for you. I think his eyes have
bugged out of his head a bit from all the gawking.”
“Which one? Dark hair or light hair?”
“Dark hair. I’d check his ID, though. He looks like he’s a young
The music was pounding and lights were flashing over the dance floor. Drink in hand, scanning the writhing crowd, Dom is in his element. Headphones hang around his sweaty neck as he grooves to the beat, glancing over and giving Elijah a wink.
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Elijah is fiddling with knobs, queuing up the next song, bobbing his head, cigarette hanging on his bottom lip. One song moves smoothly into the next and Elijah looks up with a grin. On the dance floor below arms wave, glowsticks twirl and shirtless men tease the crowd from elevated platforms. This is Dom’s favorite part of the job – seeing the results of their work played out in the form of gyrating bodies.
Dom and Elijah had jumped on the chance to DJ this party. What a thrill to be a part of the White Party weekend. Sure they’d spun at all the big (and small) clubs in New York, but this was such a fucking rush. The crowd below was teeming with men, far more than the same faces he and Elijah wearied of in the New York scene.
Elijah tapped Dom’s shoulder to get his attention. Following his gaze, Dom looked to see what (more likely who) had caught his friend’s eye. “Nice,” Dom said in approval, voice striving to be heard over the throbbing bass.
Here's our inagural post. This will be fun! This will be a loooong mofo story when it's done, I can tell. We need a userpic! Not sure if we should design one. I don't think we could fit all four lovely guys without making it an animation.
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