Falsetto

by Vivianedesblanc

"What do you think?"

Elijah was sprawled across the bed, more than a little sleepy and less than a little naked, and he looked up from his book, half-gagging on his sucker when he automatically swallowed. Folding down the corner of the page he was on, he tossed the book aside before propping his chin on his hand and studying the person in front of him.

"I think a wig would help," he drawled, propping his chin on his hand. "You aren't as pretty a girl as I am."

Orlando poked his tongue out from between crimson-slicked lips and stepped towards him with the careful, mincing steps of someone who wasn't used to heels, and Elijah idly wondered where he'd gotten the clothes. Mail order, maybe, clothes that looked cheap and cost a fucking fortune, a patchwork of shiny lycra and pleather formed into a dress that ended just below the tops of his thighs. Luckily, the boots he was wearing went up almost that high.

He didn't look anything like a girl, not even like a guy in drag, but he certainly looked like something, a pretty boy in makeup and skimpy clothes, and Orli seemed to figure things out pretty quickly, walking with more confidence and less coltishly awkward, and a soft sway of the hips came into his walk. Still didn't really resemble a woman, but that was a bit closer.

"I wear a wig often enough," Orli told him loftily, frowned, and then softened his voice. "You were always whining you hadn't fucked a girl. Thought I'd try and help you out with that."

Elijah darted a glance at Viggo, who was sitting across the room, his bare feet propped on the coffee table. Looking completely engrossed in a book of his own, he hadn't even glanced their way, "Orli, I've fucked you, and unless you've had a crucial bit of surgery since yesterday, you aren't a girl."

Soft laughter, huskier and sweeter than Orli's usual voice, and he moved closer, sliding onto the bed easily, something in his posture, the lithe roll of his hips, slim and smooth, made him look more girlish. Dark rimmed eyes peeked at Elijah and his mouth felt suddenly dry as he watched Orli wet his lips, his tongue small and garishly pink against the glossy scarlet of his lips.

Startlingly pretty and yet not, sluttish and sexy as he reclined against the pillows, the long length of his legs suddenly at Lij's eyelevel. The skin of Orli's thighs was bleached white by the darkness of his garters, creamy-gold and ice cream smooth. He'd shaved his legs, Lijah realized, the lacy tops of Orlando's stockings peeking out from tops of his boots covered nothing but velvety skin.

Orli shifted a little, parting his legs and Lijah couldn't resist a peek, and yeah, those panties weren't covering anything girlish but they were the same shade as Orli's lipstick, brilliant red and lacy, and it made Lijah wonder what else he'd shaved.

"Don't you want me like this?" Coquettishly, and Orli trailed a lacquered nail down Elijah's bare thigh and lower. "You don't seem to mind it, anyway."

"I..." he swallowed, glancing at Viggo again, oddly nervous and Viggo was watching them this time, eyes dark and hot. He nodded slightly, flicking a glance at Orlando. Unspoken permission but not an order, and Elijah wavered, tempted but he wasn't quite sure he wanted to play Orli's game. They sometimes had unforeseen consequences, like a weeks worth of teasing looks and words. At least Viggo was straightforward in his games; Orli's usually had all kinds of unspoken rules and it would only be after things began that Lijah found them out.

Orlando lowered his head, pressing soft kisses against Lijah's inner thighs and leaving little kiss-shaped blemishes on his skin. "Don't you think I'm pretty at all?" Soft breath caressed him, delicate in a way that Orli never was.

"You aren't pretty," Lijah rasped, lying and they both knew it, yet Orli pouted anyway, lashes lowered and trembling against his cheeks. He was pretty, fucking pretty boy, sweet and slim and he smelled like some kind of cheap perfume with more alcohol than scent and when Elijah moved suddenly, pinning Orli beneath him, he went with only the faintest struggle, his wrists pinned in both of Lijah's hands.

"Oh!" High and startled, not even close to Orlando's voice and his feeble struggle was ridiculous, "Oh, please, don't!" It was wrong how those words seemed to go straight to Lijah's dick, suddenly, painfully hard and he pushed Orlando's legs apart with his knees, slick leather boots and nylon scraping friction as he fell between them.

Orlando's skirt was riding up, leaving his thighs bare and soft against Elijah's as he squirmed and resisted, that soft, high voice pleading with him, sweetly begging, "No, no, please don't."

"Shut up, you little slut," Elijah hissed, and he kissed Orli hard to enforce it, smearing red over both their mouths, thick and greasy, bitter as something poisonous. He caught both of Orlando's wrists in one hand with some difficulty, scrabbling between them with his freed hand and those panties tore away in his grasp, the harsh sound of Velcro, and such a fucking slut, begging for him to stop even as his hips canted upward, shifting and letting his legs slide over Lijah's shoulders.

Cool leather against his back, warming quickly as Lijah lined up and pushed inside, suddenly brutal and wanting Orli to beg him again, to fuck that hot little hole until Orli cried, wanted to hurt him, for the first time, more than he wanted to be hurt. So much easier than he'd thought it would be, ramming in again and again and listening to Orlando keen and sob.

"Please! Stop! Don't do this to me," Sobbed out into his ear, Orli twisting his hips eagerly into Elijah's, whorishly willing, and Elijah hammered into him, letting go of Orli's wrists to reach down and spread his asscheeks so he could push deeper, gritting his teeth against the friction and there was a note of real pain in Orli's next moan.

"Little fucking slut," Lijah breathed, pounding in, wanting to see that pretty face wince, red smeared lips tightening and lashes tacky with tears and mascara. Orlando was easy beneath him, sweat streaming out from beneath his clothes and he felt it when Orli came, wet and hot, splashing a creamy line up to clash against his dress.

Lijah groaned, guttural and deep in his throat as Orli went pliant against him, loose as a doll, and he bit his lip when he came, tasting bitter lipstick as he pulsed and shook and pulled out quickly, spilling his come across Orli's dress and wetting his face. Pearly soft over Orli's lips, eclipsing the crimson briefly before Orli licked it away, delicately.

"Better not try that with a real girl," Orlando said, his real voice as he peeked at Elijah blearily from beneath his lashes.

"A real girl wouldn't like it the way you do," Elijah retorted, trying to sit up, trapped by the sudden clasp of Orli's thighs.

"Elijah." From behind them, a sharp warning in Viggo's voice and Elijah sighed deliberately, sliding lower to lap away the lines of come on Orli's face, tasting salt and mascara and cheap perfume. "When you're done, I want you to come here. I suggest you do that quickly."

"He liked that," Orli whispered to him surreptitiously and winced when Viggo spoke again.

"I want you to stay there, Orlando." His voice was darkly amused. "I think Elijah wanted to hear you beg."

"But I was only..."

"I know what you were doing, and I believe that's my job. Cunt, come over here and let's listen to the pretty little slut beg. I think after a few hours of watching, he'll be ready."

"But, Viggo..."

"Orlando, just shut up! For now..."

-finis-

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