Disclaimer: I do not know these people. No profit is made nor offence intended.
Pairing: Elijah Wood/Dominic Monaghan
Rating: NC17
Summary: A fancy dress party
AN: About Charlie Chaplin ("the little tramp"): Most people (now and during his lifetime) believed that Chaplin had brown eyes because they had only seen him in black and white with black eye makeup on. It fact they were very blue. Chaplin remarked in his autobiography that people meeting him for the first time were always struck by his blue eyes.
Feedback: perhobfan@yahoo.co.uk - always appreciated
Jimmy Ruhl threw the best parties. Indisputably the best. Best food, drink, music and
venue. And this one was no exception. His thirtieth birthday party - excuse, though none
was needed, for hedonism gone mad and beautiful people to party. That was the invitation
– You are a Beautiful Person – come paaaaaaaaaarty!
Dom paused in the entrance to the mansion and cut a nervous glance into the full length
mirrors that lined the entrance hall. Not bad.
The theme for the night's festivities was the golden age of Hollywood – 20s or 30s. True to
Jimmy's edict, the hall was filled with Greta Garbos, Errol Flynns and Clark Gables. A lone
Fred Astair, complete with top hat and tails, was on the dance floor, stomping to Alice
Cooper, his Ginger Rodgers nowhere to be seen.
Dom thought about leaving. He loved the old black and white movies, but even he didn't
know who some of these people were meant to be. As he turned to go, he heard a familiar
voice.
"Dom! My man, wow..."
Orlando stood by the bar, some dubious looking drink in his hand. Dom swallowed and
strode over.
"Wow yourself, mate. Very chic, literally..."
Orlando gave a rather camp twirl. He was dressed as The Sheik, complete with cloak and
boots and headdress, his dark eyes flashing seductively and heavily lined with kohl.
"Rudolf Valentino – at his funeral, thousands of women lined the streets, rending their
garments and sobbing... makes you think, doesn't it?" Orlando jiggled his eyebrows
playfully. Dom had never seen him look so devastating. Not a word he associated often
with other blokes, but just spot on tonight.
Orlando ordered more cocktails, and the two men turned to check out the party. They
spotted friends, waved and laughed, but stayed put by the bar, sipping their lethal drinks.
"Heard from Billy lately?" Orlando sounded casual, not even looking at Dom as he asked
the question but scanning the room. Dom wasn't fooled.
"Yesterday. Filming going fine, family fine, everything's – fine..." he replied, also casually,
leaning back against the bar. In the middle of the dance floor, Jimmy Ruhl was strutting
his stuff with the young auburn haired star of the latest critic's choice movie. She was
having a ball, surrounded by an enthusiastic crowd, following Jimmy's lead. Pink blasted
out at full volume from the speakers – Let's Get This Party Started, and Jimmy was
happy to oblige. Dom and Orlando knew Jimmy had no real interest in the girl - his
boyfriend was at the party - but they also knew the host wouldn't hurt a fly. It was all
good fun.
"Did he-" Orlando stopped mid-sentence and sighed.
"Twice. He asked about you twice. And twice he asked me not to tell you he had asked
about you - twice."
"Okay, thanks mate. I guess if he wants to talk to me, he will, though that is definitely a
good sign." Orlando turned away from Dom and after a moment headed in the direction of
the men's room.
Dom's eyes swept the ballroom, the bar, the alcoves specially built under Jimmy's finicky
eye, the grand staircase. Finally, he spotted Ian at a table, John by his side. The thick
white hair was tucked underneath a deerstalker, and Gandalf's long clay pipe had been
replaced by a rather imposing Meerschaum – unlit. His companion was absently plucking
at a prop violin on the table between them. It was unusual to see John Rhys-Davies at
such events and Dom beamed broadly at them both before settling into a spare chair.
"Holmes and Watson?" he asked, grinning. "Like it. You could say it's-"
"Please refrain from saying elementary, Dominic. It soon got old." Ian sipped his glass of
wine and cast a doleful look in John's direction. The big man rolled his eyes and gave a
theatrical sigh.
"He's very fussy about his violin. He says if anyone's going to be plucking, it will be him.
He's getting awfully crabby in his old age," John said. Dom just smiled.
"Nice costume, by the way," said Ian, eyeing Dom's ensemble. "Glass of wine?"
"No, thank you. I don't drink – wine." Dom replied to the feeder line in a perfect Bela
Lugosi voice. He ran his tongue over his fangs and poured himself a glass of red anyway.
It had been a toss up between Frankenstein's Monster and Dracula. He had chosen wisely.
Something had caught the attention of the crowd over by the staircase, and Dom rose just
in time to see a veritable whirlwind descending the stairs head over heels in a blur of black
and white. Someone had fallen all the way from the top to the bottom.
Dom heard a sickening thud, then the gasps of the partygoers turned to cries of dismay.
Without being sure why, he pushed through and found himself at the foot of the staircase
looking down at a slight figure lying deathly still on the red carpet.
"Someone get help, quick!" a voice cried; it was the starlet who had been writhing around
on the dance floor, now stricken and horrified.
Dom stood, arms crossed, and waited. After a few seconds, the figure moved, uncurling
from its foetal position to sit upright on the carpet. It was Charlie Chaplin, his hat wedged
firmly on his black curly hair.
The crowd began to laugh, more with relief that anything else. No need for medical
attention after all. The little tramp rose gracefully to his feet and bent to recover his cane
from where it had landed, between the legs of a particularly beautiful and arrogant looking
blonde. The blonde gave Charlie a withering glance until she realised with a start just who
she was looking at.
"Oh my god!" she giggled, and the tramp gave a bashful smile, coyly rocking to and fro on
his oversized black boots. He rubbed one boot to polish it against the shabby, baggy suit
trousers, and then fluttered his sooty black eyelashes at the girl.
"Bravo, Elijah!" cried Jimmy, coming forward to embrace the young actor. Elijah grinned
and gave several exaggerated bows to the crowd, who clapped and cheered. It was soon
over, the partygoers off to find fresh booze and other delights, Jimmy to rescue his
boyfriend from a lecherous producer in one of the alcoves.
"You are going to really damage yourself one day," said Dom quietly, but he was smiling.
"Well, if I do, you can kiss me better," came the reply. Elijah brushed down his too-tight
jacket and waddled in exquisite Chaplinesque style to the bar, his cane swinging in perfect
time. Dom, watching him go, marvelled how someone so slight and delicate in appearance
could be so damned tough. He really was a bendy boy.
Dominic waited just long enough to allow Elijah into the hotel room before slamming him hard against the woodwork. The too-small bowler hat raised itself comically from Elijah's head, levered upwards by the door. With a growl, Dom snatched it off, ripping away the curly wig at the same time, and threw it away across the room. He lowered his mouth to Elijah's pale neck, ripping off the buttons from the tight jacket.
"This has to go back, you know..." Elijah panted, but he made no move to stop the onslaught. Dom's fangs brushed the soft skin, the plastic scraping and eliciting a guttural sob from the smaller man, who frantically tried to get in a better position. With a frustrated cry, Dom removed the fangs and they went the way of the hat – he needed his own teeth on that skin, nipping and tasting. Elijah's legs opened and Dom thrust in, grinding against the baggy trousers.
Abruptly, Dominic pulled away and yanked Elijah with him. For a moment it appeared the two were about to jive, as Dom allowed Elijah to move along the length of his outstretched arm, and then spun him around and onto the bed.
"Ouch!" Elijah had landed squarely on the discarded hat. He giggled and reached beneath him to remove it. Dominic had patience enough to allow that, then he was on top of him, pressing down, his mouth on Elijah's. The black greasepaint Chaplin moustache smudged beneath Dom's insistent and hungry mouth.
"Oh fuck…" Elijah moaned, thrusting upwards into Dom's weight.
Dom paused long enough to rip his cape from his shoulders, then renewed his attack.
"Me – on top – now!" cried Elijah, struggling to get out from beneath his lover. "Later..." Dom had moved his attention to the baggy pants, loosing the belt and pulling the offending trousers down over Elijah's buttocks and thighs. He paused to savour, as he always had to, the smooth skin revealed. Elijah reached up pitifully to catch Dom for more kissing, but Dom had moved on. He unceremoniously flipped him over onto his stomach and peeled down Elijah's boxers.
"Oh fuck, man," Dom sighed. Elijah was sporting a blue black bruise on his tender white butt. "Didn't you feel that?" Sometimes he felt utter exasperation with Elijah, with his total lack of regard for his own welfare.
"Well, yeah, it hurt I guess, but it was a laugh, Dom!" Elijah explained, though his face was half buried in the pillow.
Dom leaned down and kissed the blemish tenderly. Elijah squirmed, then lay still. Dom kissed the bruise again, gently sucking up the marred flesh in his hot, wet mouth. The licking expanded away from the crash site to other points of interest, taking in Elijah's other buttock and the base of his spine.
"Fuckfuck..." Dom wasn't sure what the exact words were, but he grasped the meaning. His tongue found the cleft of Elijah's ass and then moved down between the mounds, his fingers spreading the flesh as his tongue explored. Elijah squealed as Dom juiced up the joyjoy as only Dom knew how.
"Give… now… please..." Elijah struggled to raise himself up, to offer himself fully. Dom opened up his black tuxedo pants and freed his cock. Take them off fully or go for it? Go for it.
"Love you, Charlie..." Dom panted, then he was in.
In the corridor, they could hear partygoers making their drunken way to rooms; doors opened and closed. Dom thrust. Elijah grasped the pillow and stuffed a corner into his mouth – not to muffle any telltale noises, who gave a fuck? – but more to have something to do with his mouth. He usually liked being on his back when Dom fucked him, or straddling Dom's thighs. But this was so damned good... the fabric of the costume pants rode up and down on Elijah's naked thighs, the tiny sizzle of polyester sending electric shivers up and down his leg. Still Dom thrust.
Elijah pushed his ass up against his lover to give clearance between his aching cock and the mattress. His hand curled around his shaft, stroking, trying to get into the same rhythm as Dom, but failing.
"Dom!" The shout was accompanied by a loud banging at the door. Dom paused, cursing beneath his breath.
"Billy just rang me! He rang me, man. He says he wants to see me, sort stuff out... thanks man, I know you put in a good word for me. I love you, Dom!" Orlando's muffled but ecstatic cries from the other side of the timber were followed by more banging.
"That's really nice, Orli. Now fuck off!" Dom snarled. His hips betrayed him, taking him inside Elijah against his will, and then it was too late. He collapsed on top of his lover, vaguely aware that Elijah, too, was climaxing beneath him.
"Oh, sorry mate! I'll leave you two guys alone. See you at breakfast maybe?" Orli sounded sheepish but so damned happy that Dom couldn't help laughing.
"Yeah," he shouted, "see you in the morning, but not too early..."
Elijah rolled to lay on his side, spooned against Dom's chest.
"That was very nice," he said, sleepily.
"Just nice?" Dom asked, huskily.
"Better than nice, ridiculously better than nice."
"Good. Next time you can do all the work." Dom nuzzled Elijah's neck. "Though I have to tell you, Lij, that you definitely have a gift for prat falls. But no more big staircases? Yeah?"
Elijah, just beginning to snore softly, muttered "Maybe just little stoops and stepladders, then?"
"Yeah, whatever…"
The End