Deep Cold

by Vivi

Billy had never been able to sleep in a strange bed. The mattress was always too soft, too firm, too lumpy, not lumpy enough; something from the list always applied. This particular mattress seemed to be, in no particular order, all of the above.

It didn't help that Dom didn't seem to be having the same trouble. He was snoring away next to him, drooling on the communal pillow. Gingerly, Billy rolled over again, trying to avoid the wet patch. Fuck method acting; next time they got trapped out on a set, he was bunking with Elijah.

He finally gave up and scooted out of the bed. Maybe a cup of something warm to drink would help. Hissing, he hopped on the icy floor barefooted as he skinned into his jeans. Fucking New Zealand with its fucking cold floors and fucking blizzards that kept them on this fucking mountain. A coat, boots, and two hats later, he was ready to go

As quietly as he could, Billy crept out of the trailer and headed toward the canteen. The snow-crusted landscape was eerily silent and outside the halo of lights surrounded the camp, was the blackest night Billy had ever had the displeasure of seeing. It made him nervous and the sickly sort of hyperaware that made you feel all of twelve.

The temptation to just hie on back to the trailer was overwhelming, but he could just imagine the abuse the other hobbits would heap on him if he dashed inside all wild-haired and terrified. He'd never hear the end of it.

It was dark inside the canteen, but not so bad that he couldn't see, and he shuffled through the maze of tables, intent on the microwave he knew was on the far side of the tent.

The hand that shot out of the dark to snatch his wrist startled him so much Billy couldn't make a sound, not even one of the girly-screams that Dom taunted him about. By the time he'd recovered enough breath to scream, another hand was clamped over his mouth.

He struggled blindly, every childhood terror he'd ever had driving him but his captor was fucking strong, and weeks of filming with dozens of hideous monsters were helpfully providing his imagination with new scenarios that the child he had been never would have managed to dream. Fresh terror driving him, Billy managed to kick out, his foot connected sharply with what felt like a shin. He got a startled grunt in reply and then a voice, whispering to him harshly.

"Billy?"

A soft, familiar voice and Billy went limp with shock. "Sean?"

Those steel bands that Sean called arms relaxed and Billy dropped back to the floor, jarring hard enough his teeth clicked painfully. He rubbed his arms ruefully, trying to encourage the blood flow to continue.

"Sean?" he whispered again, the tent so oddly quiet he couldn't bring himself to speak any louder.

"Yeah."

One word, clipped hard and Billy frowned and squinted, trying to see Sean clearly. Something wasn't right here: Sean's hand had been freezing, an arctic shock on Billy's already chilled face so he had to have been out here for a while now. Sean had sagged down to the ground after letting go, and Billy crouched down next to him. The smell of whiskey was as strong as if Billy'd had a shot himself and he reeled back a little, wobbling and falling back to sit on the cold ground.

"Careful," Sean murmured, reaching out and steadying him. Embarrassing that a man as drunk as Sean smelled was more graceful than him.

"Thanks," Billy said, awkwardly. "Sean, are you all right?"

In answer, Sean grabbed the front of Billy's coat and yanked him forward, into his lap. Swallowing a squawk of surprise, Billy went because it would be just his fucking luck someone would hear and come in and catch them looking like this. He had enough rumors about him and Dom making the rounds without adding this one in. Even tight knit groups had leaks and a rumor was nothing compared to a visual.

"The ground is cold," Sean said by way of explanation, and Billy nodded in uncomfortable agreement, not bothering to point out that Sean was sitting on the ground himself. He sat, still and fearful as Sean pressed his cold face against his neck, his breath a disconcerting rush of warmth. "You're such a little thing," Sean murmured. "Hardly seems they'd need camera tricks to make you smaller."

"Sean," he started, weakly, and this was beyond weird and working it's way into creepy as hell.

"Small, just like Pippin, and you smell all warm and clean," Sean continued, apparently ignoring him. "I almost wish you were Pippin."

"Pippin's a character," Billy hissed. He tried to scoot backwards and out of Sean's lap but Sean caught him around the waist and held on. "What's the matter with you?!"

"Do you think Pippin would let me do this?" Sean breathed, and something in his words, his tone, sent a shard of real fear into Billy's stomach.

"Sean, let me go," he tried, and his mouth was dry and tasted sour.

"Pippin would let me do this," Sean continued, and his hands were slipping under Billy's coat, smoothing up his back, fucking COLD and Billy squealed without meaning to, the sound buried instantly underneath Sean's mouth, fucking KISSING him, and fuck, this was wrong, wrong, wrong!

"Stop!" Billy rasped, tearing his mouth away when Sean shifted to lower him to the ground, on his back and there was no way in hell he was going to let that happen, he wasn't that stupid or naïve. "Sean, stop it, you're drunk! You're...ah..!" He choked on his words as a hand slid between his legs and groped him, rough and clever, and his fear could only have helped, adrenaline pushing the blood to his cock that much faster.

"Be Pippin for me," Sean coaxed, and Billy thought dizzily that this must be what that fucking ring was all about, even knowing it was wrong, just fucked up, he was so faintly tempted. "Have you done this before? I don't mind playing cherry picker."

"What about your wife?" he managed, and Sean froze. He lifted his head and met Billy's eyes, hardly more than a wet glimmer in the dimness.

"I don't have a wife," Sean whispered, coldly. His hands turned rougher, little slices of cold against Billy's skin as he stripped pieces of clothing away, jerking aside any barrier.

"Don't," Billy started, another punishing kiss silencing him and he was lost in his terror now, struggling uselessly but Sean was bigger than him, heavier and his weight alone was enough to keep Billy pinned.

The cold ground against his bare arse makes him jerk, rubbing his crotch accidentally against Sean's and earning a startled moan.

"Yes, like that," Sean groaned, "Please, let me? Let me..." He wasn't waiting for Billy's agreement, slithering a hand between them. Billy choked out a cry as Sean wrapped a hand around his cock, and yeah, he was half-hard. Didn't want to be, hated himself for feeling it, but it was just stress. Just stress, just afraid and he didn't really like it, the way Sean's hand slid up and down, his thumb sliding over the tip and stroking out a bead of fluid.

Sean shuddered above him, pulling his hand back and licking away that drop of wetness. He raised up a little and scrabbled at the fly of his pants, freeing his own dick and Billy watched, stunned into stillness. Too surreal, he could barely believe this was happening, and maybe it wasn't. Maybe in the really real world he was just getting his tea from the microwave, sipping at the bland warmth and when he was done he'd toss the cup into the trash and walk back to the trailer, oblivious to Sean and him, the other Billy, the dream-Billy, struggling on the ground together not three meters away. Sean was pushing Billy's knees up and his hopes of escape vanished in a puff of chilled air.

His scream was muffled by Sean's mouth, the tearing pain making him gag as Sean just lined up and pushed inside, mounting him like a fucking horse, and he felt as big as one, just a gigantic cock filling up every crook and bend in his fucking body.

"Ohhhhhhhhh," Sean moaned into his mouth, "So fucking tight...so GOOD....Pippin...."

I'm not Pippin, Billy wanted to scream, I'm just me and fuck, it hurts, it hurts, HURTS.

"So tight, you're so fucking good," Sean chanted, another slice of surrealness, words he'd said himself back in that real world, him or the other Billy, the real one who didn't have Sean sliding his hands beneath his arse and lifting him up so he could push deeper and this had to be killing him, no pain like this could exist that wasn't fatal.

Billy scrabbled at the ground beneath him, trying to cling to something that wasn't Sean and only getting handfuls of cold earth. Sean was moving now, pulling out and sliding back in, long slow agonizing thrusts, and Billy choked on a sob, utterly humiliated.

"Shhhh," crooned against his lips, Sean's hands petting his head and shoulders. "It hurts, I know, that pretty little virgin arse of yours. Like a girl's." Another insult to sizzle on the shreds of his dignity, not a fucking girl, and Billy squirmed in renewed determination, trying to get away.

More humiliation as Sean seemed to take that as a sign of arousal, and he pushed in harder, sending sparks of fresh pain through Billy's arse. Worse yet, he was still hard, and how could he be, how could this hurt so much and his dick still ignore that, must be stress, adrenaline and stress but it didn't ease his shame when Sean touched him again, jerking him off with quick, clever little tugs.

It seemed to go on for a fucking eternity, Sean gasping and moving over him, in him, almost struggling, and yeah, Billy'd been there before, caught in the nasty knot of whiskey dick, orgasm like a carrot on a string, and fuck, this could go on forever. The taste of salt was heavy in Billy's mouth, and that the pain was easing only made it worse, almost feeling good, the rub of Sean's cock inside him doing something brilliant and the shame burned within him.

"Yeah...yeah, ohhh, I need this..." Sean slurred, his hips snapping up hard against Billy's arse and filling him with sharp tingling pain/pleasure. "So fucking good.... don't need her, I need...oh, oh, oh, oh!"

Sean shuddered against him, jerking and coming, and his hand went tight, pumping Billy's cock furiously, and with a final sob Billy gave up, come as hot as blood spurting across his bare belly, warming him.

Hot wetness on his cheeks was no surprise; he'd been crying for what seemed like forever now, but that it was falling in droplets was. He opened his eyes, aching and sore, and he sobbed again when Sean pulled out and slumped down on him. Sean was still shaking, harder even, and Billy realized distantly that he was crying, fucking bawling like a kid with a skinned knee.

"I don't need her," Sean wept, rubbing his face against Billy's shoulder, leaving trails of tears and probably snot, and Billy couldn't move, could barely breathe. "I don't....I don't..."

His arse was throbbing with dull pain and he could feel come and maybe even blood leaking down the back of his thighs, and even with that, Billy found himself patting the back of Sean's head awkwardly, crooning soft nonsense words and hoping that any time now Sean would fucking well let him GO, and then he could go find the other Billy, the real Billy in the real world where this never happened, and he would never have to think of this again, not even in his worst monster dreams about Orcs and blood.

Billy intended to do that, right on down the list, and he'd put a mental check next to each one. Just as soon as Sean stopped crying and he could breath again. Just as soon as Sean let him go.

-finis-

Email comments to mailto:vivianedesblanc@gmail.com