Drabble series: Catch-22, Orlijah, PG

This series has already been posted in Az's LJ, but I wanted to keep it here as well. Thanks to azrhiaz for sharing the voyage and to delore for having the birthday that prompted it.

Title: Catch-22
Authors: Ainigma and Azrhiaz
Pairing: Orlijah
Rating: PG
Archive: Only in my LJ (and Az's), please.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction in every respect.
Author's note:

Cast of Characters

Elijah ............ Azrhiaz
Orlando ............ Ainigma

I

Elijah had everything he wanted.

His friends gathered around, spilling into the backyard—the night of his twenty-second birthday warm enough to sit on the chilled grass and look up at the stars, bright flickering made harder to focus on by a great quantity of sweet wine.

Easier to pick out Orion than to look overlong at Orli, however. Seated nearby, but not too near, his voice carried across the distance like soft constellation light as he spoke to Liv.

Elijah took another long pull from the Tokay—Bean’s gift—and laid back, letting starshine and desire roll over him.

II

Orlando had enough, for the moment.

The air was warm with congeniality, good spirits of all natures assembled to bring happiness, wrap Elijah in satisfaction and contentment. Celebrating him was easy. Even the night sky was taking part, scattering star-candles overhead, ones that couldn't be blown out.

Orlando was careful to stay on the periphery. Safer to chat with Bean, simpler to sit with Liv. He tried not to study Elijah, quiet and ethereal in his own orbit.

Drawn in despite himself, Orlando leaned over, arm outstretched, eyebrows raised questioningly, small smile-curl. His hand moved toward Elijah's on the bottle.

III

Cool glass below, warm hand above. Elijah startled when Orli leaned over, closing up the vacuum of space with his outstretched arm and his fingers covering Elijah’s, splayed long paeans to the architecture of flesh. Orli eased the bottle away, sliding up towards the neck, and Elijah let it go, gave in easily to the music-warm smile, relinquishing the golden fire that twisted inside now, hisscrackling at the longed-for contact and its sudden loss.

He wondered for a moment if Orli had lingered a bit longer than was strictly necessary. Dismissed the idea as wishful thinking, a winedream. If only.

IV

Orlando knew it was a mistake as soon as Elijah twitched, but by then it was too late. Knew he shouldn't have given in. The skin he'd brushed over wasn't waiting for him. He'd encountered no contrived resistance that would have prolonged the contact. Stupid of him to have hoped. He'd had to pull back before it looked like his desire had been for anything else.

Wine of kings, this was. Orlando felt no better than a pauper, having nothing more to bring to his lips than glass. Grimly, he resigned himself to tasting the only sweetness he'd be allowed.

V

Elijah shifted, vaguely aware that he was dreaming.

Bits of the party replayed in his drugged brain—Liv tripping over the hose, laughing—but reason and reality warped, Escher-like. Dom was there, too, and he hadn’t been. He whispered something to Elijah about stars and there wasn’t time to decipher, Orli’s fingers were on his again, but this time Elijah held the bottle tightly. Pulled, bringing Orli in, gravitational.

Easy, now, to kiss him, to share amber heat with tongues. Elijah opened his eyes when Orli arched above him, the wine forgotten. Orli’s perfect silhouette blotted out the night sky.

VI

Orlando unknowingly kicked at the blanket over him.

He was back at the party, but somehow Viggo was there, not fitting in with the déjà vu. He drew Orlando aside, murmured something to him about the king's hunter, then pushed him in Elijah's direction. Orlando stumbled slightly, looked back in confusion, then Elijah was below him.

So easy, to fall into alignment. No effort, to drift with the heaven beneath. Until his hand held nothing but smooth glass and his opened eyes only found Elijah staring at him, his head cocked quizzically. Orlando fell back, pierced by the king's arrows.