unautremonde | "Fixed" - orlijah, PG (Reply)

Pairing: Orlijah
Rating: PG
Summary: dictionaries can give you paper cuts...
Disclaimer: the dictionary is mine but that's it. And the dictionary says... fiction noun 1 a product of the imagination. 2 an invented story. 3 a class of literatures containing such stories. What the dictionary says applies to this story.
Author's Note: for abundantlyqueer because she rocks, and because she's not happy right now. I'm hoping this will distract you. *smooch* Also, the definitions all come from The Oxford Paperback Dictionary.

Fixed

Treat your mind like a bad neighborhood - don't go there alone.

When Elijah sucks on a cigarette—the filter moist and spit-stained held with two fingers in between puffs—Orlando grabs a dictionary and looks up words and expressions. He learns nothing new, though, merely confirms what he already knows.

fixation noun […] 2 an abnormal emotional attachment to a person or thing. 3 concentration on one idea, an obsession.

Elijah peers over Orlando’s shoulder and laughs, smoke circling around Orlando’s head and making him feel dizzy.

“Seriously, Orli, I do not have an oral fixation, dude. What’s it with you and Sean and your weird Freudian explanations for everything? I just like the taste. It keeps me occupied, too.”

Orlando doesn’t answer, simply watches and follows Elijah’s hand back to his mouth, cigarette burned down almost to the last, fingers dirty and raw. When Elijah doesn’t smoke, he nibbles on the nails and the skin of his fingers, turning his hands into strangely alluring sculptures that draw Orlando in as much as Elijah’s lips pursed together to blow out smoke do. Elijah refuses to admit the nail-biting and the cloves are related, though Orlando doesn’t care much as long as Elijah keeps doing both.

The cigarette drops to the floor but Orlando’s eyes don’t follow, his gaze clinging to Elijah’s red red lips and the hint of tongue pushing a bit of tobacco onto a teasing thumb. Elijah spits the offending crumb before sticking his thumbnail back against his lips and tongue.

Orlando clutches the dictionary tighter, pages wrinkling and cutting. He feels the sting just as Elijah puts a wet finger on his hand, concern in his voice.

“Watch it! You cut yourself, man, that’s gotta sting. You even stained the page. Here…”

Orlando watches mesmerized as his finger disappears between Elijah’s lips, the flick and swirl of Elijah’s tongue around the small cut sending a chill deep inside Orlando’s bones. There’s a soft pop of sound as Elijah finally releases Orlando’s digit with one last lewd swipe of his tongue.

“My mom always said you shouldn’t kiss a cut better, it’s best to lick it. Something about saliva having cleansing properties or something. And I hope this teaches you a lesson: I’m not the one with an oral fixation, ok?”

Elijah smirks, winks and turns around, a new cigarette already snug against the corner of his smile. Orlando blinks at his spit-shiny finger, his gaze dropping from the small bead of blood tingeing the tip to the blood-stained page open in his lap. It’s not so much a stain, though, as a small dot of emphasis just above the definition of the word fixation.

fix noun […] 3 (slang) an addict’s dose of a narcotic drug…

FIN