Disclaimer: I don't know these people and this never happened. I don't know what aftershave Orlando Bloom wears or if Sean Astin can dance; nor do I know if Liv Tyler likes slash (though I would like to think she does). Also, none of the excerpts are true excerpts; I made them all up, so any resemblance to any actual fic, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Warnings: Some cussing, but only as much as necessary to write twenty-something boys (and Billy) hanging out.

Author's Notes: Special thanks to my Scottish beta Kira for helping my Billy sound that extra bit more authentic. All Scottish slang inaccuracies are now my own.

Dedications: As that one song was "for the children," this fic is for the slash fans, especially those with a weakness for NC-17 fics.

Liv lay back on the couch, the lopsided cushions closing in on her with an uncomfortably coffin-like proximity. "I still hate this couch, Marie," she griped, shoving the stifling pillows from her face. She glanced at her friend who sat at the computer, eyes scanning the screen diligently while her tongue worried at her teeth in frustration.

"Crap. Where is it? I know I had it bookmarked," Marie muttered, not listening.

"Why can't you get a new couch?"

"I knew it. Here it is!"

"What if I bought you a new one?"

"I'd just sell it to feed my terrible drug habit, now come over here." Marie stood from the desk. "This is what I wanted to show you. I found it when I was Googling you."

"That sounds pornographic."

"Well, considering what I found, that has a certain symmetry to it."

Liv sat up, the living dead, and walked over to claim Marie's vacated seat, her gaze falling curiously to the computer screen. Words covered the faintly glowing monitor, blue letters against a field of black. "What is this? A story?"

With a few clicks of the mouse, Marie scrolled down, her mysterious eagerness palpable. "Just read."

Turning her attention fully to the screen, Liv did.

They rounded the edge of the trailer, and the moment they were out of sight, Viggo threw Orli against it, pressing his body to Orli's slender form, attacking his lips with his own, feeling them yield, soft and pliant, beneath his. His hands dove beneath Orli's tunic, moving over his costume breeches to cup his straining erection.

"Oh, my god! What is this?"

Marie laughed. "I knew you hadn't seen any of it."

"Seen any of what? Is this a story?"

"It's a story about Viggo and Orlando."

"And they're...kissing?" Liv stared dumbstruck at the screen. "Why are they kissing - and groping?"

"Because they wanted to, apparently. There's whole sites of this stuff."

"Of stories about Viggo and Orli?"

Marie watched as Liv's blue eyes began to study the screen, reading more. "Viggo and Orli, Elijah and Sean, even you and Miranda," she answered. "Pretty much everyone from your movie, in every combination you can imagine, and some you can't imagine and a couple that you just wouldn't want to, or at least, I didn't want to."

"Me and Miranda? There're stories about me kissing Miranda?"

"Kissing - and groping," Marie replied with a wink.

Liv's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding me. Why would people write that?"

"I don't know," Marie answered, reaching for the mouse. "But I thought you'd get a kick out of it."

Liv watched as the arrow on the screen drifted purposefully toward the X at the top of the black and blue page. "Wait." She set her hand on Marie's to stop her, claiming the mouse for herself. "I want to read it."

"You sure? I didn't exactly start you off on the tamest of stories. Let me find you one with a lower rating."

"Don't worry about it," Liv said. "I'm not going to read a whole bunch; I just want to know what they're like."

"All right, then." Marie stood up straight, relinquishing control of the mouse. "But I warned you."

"Whatever." Liv looked from the screen long enough to teasingly roll her eyes at her friend.

"Have fun. I'm going to go enjoy my fabulous couch." Marie walked from the computer and flopped down onto the sofa, immediately disappearing beneath the cushions.

"Um...out of curiosity," Liv began, her voice punctuated by timid clicks on the mouse, "what rating is this?"

Marie grinned against the fabric covering her. "NC-17."

"Oh, good god," Liv laughed. "I hope Viggo and Orli never find out."

Marie tossed the cushion from her face and grabbed a magazine to keep herself occupied. Liv read for several minutes, silent save for the embarrassed giggles that occasionally slipped past her lips. Then, she suddenly laughed aloud.

"That's hysterical. Listen to this," she said. "'Viggo glanced at him disapprovingly. "Don't say fuck, Orlando. It's crass."' Ha. Whatever. Viggo cusses like a..." Her voice trailed off as the words on the screen reclaimed her attention.

"Chimney?"

"Oh, man," Liv said, oblivious, "Orli would've gotten into so much trouble if he'd done that with his Elf-ears."

Marie looked back to her magazine as Liv continued to read - which she continued to do far longer than Marie had anticipated.

"Orli is such a slut!"

"He is?" Marie inquired eagerly.

"Yes! Well, no, not in real life," Liv amended. "I don't think so anyway."

"That's too bad."

"I think he's a prostitute."

"This is in the story again?"

"Yeah."

"That's a shame."

"He's not doing well, though." Liv clicked her screen down a few more lines.

"That's how you know it's fiction," Marie reasoned, turning the page in her book. "If Orli were really turning tricks, it'd take him about one night to make more than they're paying him for that pirate movie."

"For a while, it was sounding like he was a virgin."

"Now, that would be a tragedy."

"Oh, come on!" Liv exclaimed.

"What?" Marie peered over the magazine at her friend.

"'Sean gripped Orlando's head,'" Liv read, "'guiding his mouth in a steady rhythm up and down his saliva-slick member, fingers stroking smooth scalp through the dark silken locks.'" She turned to Marie, a look of pure disbelief on her face.

"Yeah?"

"If this takes place when they said it does, then Orli had a mohawk, so there wouldn't be any silken locks to stroke."

Marie stared at her. "You're reading about Orli going down on Sean and the only part you have a problem with is that they got his hairstyle wrong?"

Liv blushed suddenly, rose-colored blooms breaking out across her cheeks, and always to her consternation, her nose as well. "Well...good point. But it's not too much to ask that they do a little research. I mean, Orli doesn't even eat meat -"

Marie was pretty sure she could hear Liv's blush spreading. "He's a vegan," Liv explained quietly, "and earlier he and Viggo were eating steak...Nevermind." She turned back to the screen. After a few minutes, she declared, "All right. I'm done. So, did you want to order something for dinner- Oo! Here's one with Dom and Billy!"

They didn't order something for dinner; instead, Liv continued to read. She continued to read as Marie finished one magazine and had to locate another -

"Oh, come on now. I can't imagine Bill saying that; he's being such a girl."

"So more of a Billy Girld, then?" Marie said, knowing full well Liv wouldn't hear her.

She continued to read as Marie finally had to give up all hope of a well-prepared meal and make them sandwiches herself -

"Wow. If the boys were really getting laid this much, I don't think we would've been able to finish one movie, let alone three."

- as Marie made them uninspired sundaes for dessert -

"'Chocolate eyes?' I guess his eyes kinda are chocolate-colored, but that makes them sound like some sort of creepy candy."

- as Marie washed their dishes -

"No way. That costume had, like, eight layers. There's no way he could just 'snake' his hands up in there."

- as Marie, having exhausted her supply of magazines, cracked open The Forsyte Saga, which she'd been meaning to start for months -

"Good lord; Peter would have killed them if they'd done that on Treebeard."

Finally, Marie had to give up on the night altogether. She offered to let Liv sleep in the bed, but as the only reply she received was clearly not directed at her ("You're Sultan Bean; just order him to kiss you!"), she decided Liv should have to suffer with the couch and went sleep.

When she awoke several hours later at nearly three a.m., she heard a distinct sniffling coming from the study. Climbing out of bed, she went to investigate, and upon walking into the darkened room, she saw Liv still sitting at the computer, the latest story on the screen illuminating the tears lining her eyes in a faint blue.

"Liv? Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Liv replied, dabbing at her nose with a tissue and smiling convincingly. "It's just this fic."

"Fic?"

"Yeah. Orlando got kidnapped by the Russian Mafia because they thought he had this really rare jewel and Viggo's trying save him, but he doesn't know where the jewel or Orlando is and now he just got beaten up by Guatemalan fruit vendors because he wouldn't work on their farm for free - and I think Ian might be schizophrenic." She wiped at her eyes. "I don't want to read it anymore, but I need closure."

"Okay, yeah, I'm going back to bed." Marie turned for the door.

"I'll be going to sleep as soon as I finish this story," Liv replied, breathing in deeply to quiet her tears, "I promise."

But she lied. She didn't go to sleep once she'd read of Orlando's joyous return to Viggo's arms and the subsequent incarceration of the violent fruit vendors. Instead, she continued to read.

She couldn't have explained if she'd tried, but she felt an undeniable desire to keep reading, to find out the next outlandish scenario, the next bizarre pairing. She wanted to see if the next fic would paint Elijah as a child-like beauty or an impish sex kitten, if it would get Dom and Billy's fantastic comic timing right, if it would use one of Viggo's paintings as a plot point, or if Orlando's latest conquest would maintain his senses in bed long enough to say something besides "beautiful..."

In short, she was fascinated. At first it had been because of the wonderful sense of superiority; after all, she truly knew these people and she knew that Billy didn't like chocolate with Malt Whiskey, that Orlando was actually a klutz, and that Viggo was quite capable of smiling - from time to time. She knew more than the authors ever could and it was entertaining to see how wrong they got it. ("Dom backing down from an argument? Whatever!" "Why on earth would they think Astin can't dance?" "Since when is John not sexy? Have they ever heard him recite poetry?") It was only when she tried to read the stories involving her that she realized what had truly captured her attention.

She hadn't been bothered by her own simplified, Arwen-like depiction, or even by the implication that all it would take to swing her sexual preference was one kiss from a woman, but the stories had been missing something; something intangible at first. It wasn't necessarily sex appeal; even as a straight woman, Liv could admit that Miranda was hot; but their stories lacked the fire that so embodied the boys'. They lacked the heat, the aggression, the raw, almost animalistic passion.

They lacked the men. But Liv had an uncomfortable feeling that a well-written Miranda Otto/Viggo Mortensen story wasn't what she was looking for.

Though she couldn't admit it, even in her own mind, she liked reading the stories about the boys, reading phrases like "Elijah's soft fingers curled around the hard column of flesh" and "Orli gasped at the feeling of hard heat against hard heat," she liked imagining Billy stroking Dom, or Sean taking Viggo into his mouth. The words, and the mental pictures they created, made her feel shivery and excited; they were stimulating in a way she hadn't even known existed, and bit by bit, line by line, the hunger increased.

Each time she tried to close the screen to talk to Marie, or go to bed, or anything else, she felt an unfamiliar, but very specific craving start in the pit of her stomach: She craved the next fictional bar-hop that would land Dom and Elijah in bed and the next fictitious script reading that would help Sean and Billy put an end to their sexual tension. Her appetite was voracious, insatiable. She wanted to read - she needed to read.

Leaving behind the image of her and Cate making out on the beach in a part of New Zealand with no beaches, Liv let the arrow on the screen simply drift where it would, undirected by her just as the pointer on a Ouija board is undirected by the teenage girls surrounding it. Without her influence, it drifted toward the Orlando Bloom/Elijah Wood section, the choice completely willed by the chance of an off-center rolling ball in the mouse and not because those stories had become a favorite of hers. And for the same reason, the mouse chose a story with an NC-17 rating.

Orli watched 'Lij exhale the smoke, watched it drifting from his parted lips in exaggerated calligraphy strokes, all curls and curves and trailing wisps. He stepped closer, edging his worn shoes toward 'Lij's, seeing the reflective strips catch the light from the fading bonfire. The sand sank beneath his feet as if it wouldn't let him move now that he'd taken this first step.

Inhaling clean air, 'Lij swallowed, tasting nicotine, but aware of nothing but the closeness of Orli's legs, Orli's hips, Orli's eyes, chocolate brown and accented by delicate cheekbones and a smooth brow, both reddened from hours in the ocean under the sun. He could make out the faint shade of the nipples on Orli's chest, visible and pebbled through his still damp t-shirt; 'Lij felt a sudden rush of gratitude for cotton, water and the cold New Zealand nights all at once. Orli leaned in and 'Lij readily raised his chin, anxiously awaiting that first touch. But instead, he felt the prickling touch of sparse stubble against his cheek as Orli neared his ear.

"'Lij," Orli breathed, and it was no longer just a name, it was a breath, a statement, a goddamned spiritual movement. Shivers slid through 'Lij's skin and he absently licked his lips.

Unconsciously, Liv licked hers

- and continued reading.

Marie awoke the next morning to find Liv face down on the keyboard, a story on the screen and the mouse still in her hand. It took a good half hour for the contour of the shift key to fade from her forehead.

Weeks later, she stood in the back hallway of a dingy bar with Elijah and Orlando kindly using her as an armrest, their arms flung about her shoulders. Her single night of reading had been forgotten. Whatever insanity had struck that night had fled, or perhaps, more accurately, had been exorcised. It had been a moment's fleeting madness, a sudden and incomprehensible fancy of which she was now completely cured.

Billy hung up the phone too forcefully for the news to have been good, and he and Dom walked back over to their waiting friends. "They're all booked, too," Billy informed.

"No fucking way," Elijah said. "How can every hotel in the city be full?" He was starting to become desperate and Liv understood why: Providence had somehow managed to bring three Hobbits and two Elves together in the same non-New Zealand city for one night; none of them wanted to let the opportunity go.

"The cute girl on the phone said there's a baseball game," Dom answered, glancing at the woman who claimed the phone booth after them; her shirt, hat and backpack were all emblazoned with the same sports logo. "It's a big rivalry."

"Look at them all making such a fuss," Billy said. "You'd think it was football or something."

Dom nodded, agreeing, and casually threw his arm around Billy's shoulder; Liv felt and ignored a faint stirring of memory. "So, what are we going to do then?"

"Let's just go to another pub," Orlando suggested.

Elijah shook his head. "Nah, it'll close at three, too."

"There's gotta be a hostel or something where we can all crash."

"A room would be nicer."

"Yeah," Liv said, "but you can have your slumber party-"

"Would you quit calling it that?" Elijah laughed.

"Sorry. You can have your totally-not-a-slumber-party party anywhere, right?"

"Maybe we can buy a room off some tourist." Billy observed the passing travelers, his eyes narrowed.

"How much cash would we need, 'Lijah?" Dom asked. "If we start hooking now we might be able to make enough by three a.m. Orli, you take that corner."

"Are you daft? You don't want to waste Orli on that corner; there's naebody there." Billy jokingly smacked Dom across the back of the head. "Put him on that corner right there and Elijah on the one across the street. We'll have the money by three and you and I won't have to do anything."

Liv laughed. "You might be on to something. My friend thinks Orli would make more money as a prostitute than as an actor."

The boys chuckled, but even as he laughed with them, Orlando turned to her, puzzled. "Why were you and your friend talking me being a male prostitute?"

"Because...I don't remember, actually."

"Because they were being nice; otherwise they would've made you a female prostitute," Billy intercepted. "So, anyone got any other brilliant ideas?"

"You've been in town for a few days, right?" Elijah turned to her, his brow creased in thought.

"Yeah," Liv answered hesitantly.

"Well, where're you staying?"

Abruptly, all four sets of eyes turned expectantly to her. She shifted slightly on her feet. "Okay! I'm staying at a hotel down the block, but seriously, guys, I need sleep tonight. I have a script reading early tomorrow and I can't have you keeping me up."

"We'll be quiet," Dom insisted.

"You can't be quiet."

"Aye," Billy agreed. "We need the practice, then."

"Please?" Elijah begged melodramatically, his hands clasped in front of him. "Please, please, please?"

"Please?" Dom moved to stand beside Elijah, mimicking the same supplicant pose. Billy fell in line with them. When Dom kneeled, Elijah and Billy quickly followed suit. "Please?" a trio of voices pleaded.

"C'mon, Liv. What's more important to you: your career or your friends?" Orlando asked, a glimmer in his eyes.

"Do they have to be in direct competition?"

Orlando dropped to his knees beside Billy, his hands clasped. All four surrounded her, their bright eyes looking up, their mouths turned down in exaggerated frowns. "Please?" they said in unison.

Liv sighed angrily, trying her hardest to keep the smile off her face. "All right," she sighed. "Just stand up; this floor is filthy."

All four leapt to their feet, encompassing her in a massive hug that came from every side at once. She was sandwiched in four bodies, embraced by eight arms and at least one leg, trapped by the vicious, manipulative entity of Elijah, Dom, Billy and Orlando.

"Thank you, Liv!" "You're the best, sweetheart!" "We'll be as quiet as quiet things, you'll see." "She'll have to see because she won't be able to hear us." A muddle of voices expressed their appreciation as Liv fished her room key out of her handbag. With the way Elijah and Dom kept trying to shove one another into puddles on the way there, she was certain she'd made the wrong choice, but she kept walking down the street, toward her hotel with three hobbits, an Elf and four extremely rowdy boys in her wake.

They were, however, true to their word: Liv had barely heard their laughter over the sound of the running water as she brushed her teeth. When she emerged from the room's posh bathroom, they only grew louder because it was difficult to whisper the sort of catcalls they gave upon seeing her in the worn t-shirt and shorts she called her "pajamas."

"That's a sight I could get used to," Orlando mused. Dom and Billy looked up from the bag of nuts they were trying to tear into.

"Are those from the mini-bar?"

Billy and Dom exchanged innocent looks. "I'm telling you, Liv: Elijah and Orli turning tricks -" Dom snapped his fingers. "We'll be able to pay you back in no time."

Elijah rummaged through the mini-bar, grabbing out a few of the tiny and incredibly expensive bottles of liquor. "Why is it always me and Orli?"

"Look at this mug," Dom said, grabbing Billy by the chin just as he had a cashew half-way to his mouth. "No one's going to pay a quid for this."

"Aye, but we're on foreign soil," Billy countered in his charming Scottish brogue. He pulled his face from Dom's grip and chewed on the cashew. "The girls'll pay loads for the accent alone."

"We weren't planning to sell you to the girls." The four voices became a quagmire of insults and laughter, and Liv pulled back the bed covers to climb beneath. The boys were scattered across the room: Dom had claimed the one armchair, Billy sat on the desk, Elijah knelt by the mini-fridge, and Orlando stretched out across the carpet; there was literally no room left to walk. Liv noticed with only slight dismay that her suitcase had been shoved, albeit carefully, into a corner to make room for them.

Munching on over-priced snacks and sipping from the tiny bottles, the boys fell into quiet conversation. Occasionally, their laughter would spike into the air, but that forgivable sin aside, they were perfect houseguests; Liv actually enjoyed having the familiar hum of their voices in the background. She settled into her pillows, set her script on her raised knees and started reading, a slight smile stuck on her lips.

It felt strangely comfortable and homey having Orlando, Elijah, Dom and Billy in the room; she had spent the last three nights alone in the hotel and having company - however silly - was not to be frowned at. The rainstorm started about two-thirty and the patter of raindrops against the window only added to the warm, cozy sensation in the room.

Not long after the storm started, Elijah climbed up on the sill and opened the window. Dashes of rain blew in, spotting the wooden sill and spitting at Orlando on the floor. "Fuck, Elijah! What are you doing?" Orlando sat up, wiping the water from his face, his reaction time a bit slowed by the small quantities liquor they'd been passing back and forth.

"Sorry, mate. It's a disgusting habit, I know," Elijah replied, lighting a cigarette.

"Isn't this a non-smoking room?" Billy asked.

"That's why I opened the window." Elijah grinned at them, exhaling a cloud of smoke that managed to lazily drift out the window against the pounding rain. To Liv, he gave an apologetic smile coupled with an offer in his bright eyes to stub the cigarette out in a heartbeat if she asked him to. She didn't.

Rubbing his wet face against his sleeve, Orlando sat back against the sill at Elijah's feet, protected from the storm. Elijah wrapped the plastic-lined curtain around his shoulders, letting it take the beating from the driving rain while he remained perfectly dry. Liv remained contentedly silent and reading until she caught two snatches of conversation from the foot of her bed: "Pass the chocolate," and "We could play Truth or Dare."

"Truth or Dare?" she asked, lowering her script to look at them. "You're eating chocolate and playing Truth or Dare? I hate to break it to you, but you're having a slumber party; this is a slumber party. I've got some nail polish if you want to make the whole thing official."

"This is not what girls do at slumber parties, Liv," Billy said very seriously.

"Right," Dom agreed, and his face was the picture of innocence, like a child trying to hold on to the reality of Santa Claus. "At slumber parties, girls take bubble baths together and teach each other to French kiss."

"Naked pillow fights," Elijah added from the window.

"Aye, and then there's wrestling," Billy said resolutely. "Sometimes in mud, other times in Jell-O. It depends on the reason for the party."

"Jell-O is strictly a 'condolences party' treat." Dom looked at Liv with believable seriousness.

Elijah stubbed out his cigarette, tossed it into the nearby trashcan and hopped down from the sill, thereby removing Orlando's only protection from the open window; a sheet of rain splattered against him, wetting his dark hair.

"So, you see, this can't be a slumber party because there hasn't been any wrestling." No sooner had Billy come to that final conclusion than Orlando launched himself at Elijah and tackled him to the ground. Elijah let out a startled yelp before laughing hysterically as he fought off Orlando's attack. Dom glanced only momentarily at Billy before diving into the fray. Billy shrugged at Liv, then, he, too, joined the tangle, trying to wrench Dom off Orlando.

"For the Shire!"

"Who just quoted the movie? Dom? Three quid penalty; pay up!"

Liv laughed out loud at the uncoordinated, mildly drunken lump roiling around on the carpet. "I'll get the nailpolish, girls!" she called to them. Orlando responded with an "Ooof!" as Dom pulled him backwards and his head collided against the chair. Billy renewed his efforts against Dom, putting all his weight to force him to let go of Orlando, and it worked, sort of: Dom turned and pounced on Billy. The two separate masses grappled on the floor, occasionally colliding against one another in their individual, intoxicated struggles.

"You carcinogenic fuckwit!" Orlando laughed, grabbing Elijah by the waist and flinging him back to the ground.

"That's a good one, Orli," Dom complimented, locking his arm around Billy's neck and smashing his face into the carpet.

"I'm just impressed you can pronounce that," Elijah said as he twisted himself around in Orlando's grasp and fastened onto one leg, which he proceeded to pull as far out of a natural angle as he could. Orlando responded by twisting one arm around behind Elijah's back, and flipping him to the ground face first.

And that was when Liv stopped laughing.

Elijah lay flat on his stomach, and setting a knee on either side of his hips, Orlando sat on him to hold him down. The curve of Orlando's backside rested flush against Elijah's, his arms out straight to keep Elijah's hands captured by the wrists. The beside lamp cast a faint yellow hue across them, accenting both the fine lines of Elijah's shoulder blades as, laughing, he struggled against his captor and the taught muscles of Orlando's arms as he held him fast. Beside them, Billy and Dom struggled against one another as Dom held Billy tight in a headlock. Their legs were a tangle; Dom's leg hooked over Billy's thigh; and one free hand gripped Billy's hip, the pinky inadvertently threaded through a belt loop on his jeans.

Liv's moment of madness came flooding back, along with all the images. Only these images weren't created by glowing letters on a computer screen; they were carved in flesh and sinew. And right in front of her.

Orlando leaned over, the planes of his body bending, his thighs tightening on the shifting hips beneath him, and he vigorously rubbed the wet strands of his hair against Elijah's shoulders, soaking the t-shirt to smooth skin. Billy attempted to pull away from his captor, causing Dom's hand to slide his jeans lower on his hips, exposing catches of skin.

Liv swallowed against the dryness in her throat, and without her permission, her imagination made up the rest:

His movements slowing, Orlando opened his mouth and gently swiped his tongue across the back of Elijah's neck. Elijah stopped struggling. Instead, a shiver swept through his limbs. Relaxing his hold on Elijah's wrists, Orlando moved his thumbs against the thin t-shirt, stroking the skin, and trailed his tongue lower, dipping beneath the cotton, rustling against the bothersome tag. Biting his bottom lip, Elijah sighed.

Beside them, Dom inched his hand from Billy's hip and slipped it beneath his shirt. His fingers slid along the smooth skin, higher until his fingertips found the rough, russet skin of Billy's nipple. His mouth open slightly, wet tongue just visible against his teeth, Dom pinched lightly, just enough to make Billy suppress a groan and pull Dom's knee higher, gripping the firm thigh with a tense hand.

Orlando released his hold on Elijah's arms, but his captive made move to escape as hands began to knead the tight muscles of his shoulders. Elijah sighed, but his serenity didn't last long. Leaning back, his weight shifting, Orlando dipped one hand between Elijah's thighs, rubbing skin through denim. Elijah let out a low moan, his eyelids fluttering closed.

Dom removed his arm from Billy's neck and Billy slid to his back, immediately accepting Dom's weight on top of him. Both exhaled sharply at the first touch of aching flesh to flesh, even through layers of fabric. Dom rolled his hips gently, renewing the contact and both groaned. Eyes dark with lust, Dom pressed his lips to Billy's, knotting his fingers through his hair.

Shifting his weight to one knee, Orlando allowed Elijah to turn over onto his back, but quickly reestablished his dominion, closing his knees around Elijah's hips once more. This time, however, his backside rested firmly against the attentive hardness trapped beneath Elijah's jeans. Orlando ground himself down, hips swiveling, and Elijah moaned, his hands flying to Orlando's waist. As Orlando bent over for a kiss, Elijah flicked his tongue across Orlando's top lip before slipping it readily into his mouth. Their mouths touched only feather-light before Orlando sat back, his lips gleaming wetly. Elijah laughed in frustration, casting a melting glare and grinding out a guttural "Asshole" as he fumbled at the button of Orlando's jeans, desperate for contact.

Grinning, eyes shining in the half-light, Orlando pushed Elijah's hands away. He sat still a moment, his shirt hiked up from his waist by Elijah's hands. Short catches of breath pulsed from between Elijah's parted lips and his wide blue eyes, devoid of any innocence they had ever shown the camera, fought over which sight was more alluring: the high cheekbones framing Orlando's eyes, now filled with a wicked, predatory gleam, or the small V formed by the loose top button of Orlando's jeans, now open and inviting. Orlando seemed determined to make the choice as difficult as possible.

Leaning further back, forcing his body agonizingly hard against Elijah's, he put all of his weight on one arm, the back of his thighs coming to rest on his heels. Then, smiling wickedly, he slid his free hand across the flexed muscles of his stomach, and one by one, his fingers disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. His legs unconsciously opened wider to grant him better access and Orlando's breath caught in his throat at the first touch of his own fingers, but it was drowned out by the subtle, primal moan that broke from Elijah at the sight. He made his decision: his eyes focused solely on the bulge in the denim and the stark motion of Orlando's hand sliding up and down as he stroked himself harder, Elijah slid his own fingers quickly up Orlando's thigh before he -

"Dude, I don't think a person can even be carcinogenic." Elijah fussed with shoulders of his t-shirt, the cotton damp from Orlando's act of retaliation.

"But you will admit you're a fuckwit?" Orlando ran a hand through his wet curls. Beside him, Dom tossed Billy another package of over-priced cashews. Billy pressed the refrigerated package to the faint rug burn on his forehead.

Sweat pricked along Liv's spine and her long hair felt oppressively thick against the humid skin of her neck. Those stories had ruined everything, she realized. She touched a cool hand to her flushed cheek. They had corrupted her thoughts; because of them the playful antics of her friends had ceased to be cute, endearing and heart-warming and had just become...hot.

It was wrong. These boys were like her brothers, but - her mind quickly pointed out - none of them were. Not one of them shared even half a chromosome with her, so maybe that made it all right. No! she thought quickly. No, no, no. It wasn't all right.

"You tell me, Orli; the best judge of a fuckwit is a fuckwit, so how do I rate?"

"Sounds like he's begging for a rematch," Dom said in his best announcer's voice. Orlando grinned and lunged at Elijah.

"I'm going to sleep now!" Liv squeaked. "Good night!" Flipping off the bedside lamp, she threw herself face first into the pillows.

But sleep didn't come easily. Even after she had finally convinced the boys that she was simply tired and not ill, she remained horribly awake, listening to their whispering voices and hushed laughs. Orlando had sweetly pulled the blankets high on her shoulders, making sure she was warm, so she laid prone and stifling, sweat dampening her pajamas and wetting her hair. And all the while, the images filled her head, turning the laughter and jokes into something far more lascivious; turning it into dirty talk.

"Don't make me beat it out of you, Dom."

"What is your obsession with nuts, Billy?"

"Shit, Orli; I'm all wet now."

"Hey, 'Lijah, you ever tried an Absolut Royal Fuck?"

It was only by plugging her ears and humming discreetly into her pillow that Liv was finally able to fall asleep. But the images followed her.

She awoke two hours later. The room was still and dim, illuminated only by the alternating amber and blue of the neon sign across the street. Rain pattered steadily outside, sounding more distant than the earlier deluge, and the curtains billowed softly in the chill breeze blowing through the open window. The heater chugged loudly as it fought furiously against the cold.

Throwing off her covers, Liv shivered and darted into the bathroom. With a flip of the switch, white light flooded the room, painful in its brilliance. Through squinted lids, she peered at her washed-out reflection; to her eyes, she looked normal - if tired and a bit tousled from restlessness. But even as her feet were chilled to the bone by the frigid tile, heat spread through her face and her dreams slowly trickled into her consciousness, undiluted, all bare skin against skin, throaty moans and searching tongues, masculine hands stroking muscled chests...

The water from the faucet was cool against her wrists and she splashed it brusquely against her face. Despite the white-wash of the harsh light, her cheeks and nose looked bright red seemingly because all the warmth in her body, all the warmth in the room, had collected in her face, and between her legs.

She could ignore this; she would ignore this, she told herself. The images remained, yes, but they weren't a turn-on. She was not turned on. Mind over matter, mind over matter.

"Mind over matter," she sighed, her shoulders falling as the water dripped idly from her chin. "I'm losing my mind." Mind over matter wasn't working and she was incredibly grateful she was a woman because if she'd been a man, everyone would have been able to see that for themselves.

Is this how it is for the people who write those stories? she wondered. Do these images flood their minds whenever they watch the boys hug at a premiere or tease one another at an awards show? It is always there, corrupting everything they see and hear, finding raw sexuality in innocent boyishness?

She pressed her face into a towel. Her limbs felt shaky and fatigued. Her mind was a restless circle spinning round and round and round again like Billy's tongue around Dom's navel in her mind; she needed sleep, and badly. But she knew she wasn't likely to get it, not when she felt so confused and restive, and though she didn't want to admit it, aroused.

With sleepy resolve, she emerged from the bathroom, determined to fall immediately and deeply asleep to honest, heterosexual dreams, but a cold wind blew against her, piercing through her clothing and icing her skin. She moved to close the window, but her path was blocked by boys strewn wildly across the floor.

Orlando lay with his head underneath the desk, his body stretched diagonally across the carpet; Elijah rested flush against the wall, his head toward the window; Billy slept with his feet toward the window and his head wedged neatly beneath the bed; Dom dozed perpendicular to Billy, using his shoes as a pillow. Liv smiled, mildly comforted; they looked cute, endearing and heart-warming just as they should.

She was about to return to bed, content that the sequel to her moment of madness had passed, when she noticed that Dom's bare foot rested gently against Billy's thigh and that, with every sleeping exhalation, Orlando's breath stirred the hair across Elijah's forehead. And once she'd noticed that, their seemingly innocent states of undress became staggering.

Orlando's shirt lay crumpled atop the desk; Elijah's jeans were wedged against the wall behind him; Billy's slacks hung on the back of the chair; Dom's shirt was heaped on the windowsill while his trousers were nowhere to be seen. The amber light colored Orlando's bare skin golden and drew fine lines of shade along ridges of muscle, and highlighted the elegant curve of his collarbone. The raindrops slid down the windowpane, casting phantom rivulets that drifted lazily across his flesh like shadows of sweat. The blue light shone against the handsome paleness of Elijah and Billy's legs, making them look carved from marble, the lines and tendons curving smoothly; and all of Dom's compact form bathed in the hue, toned and lean.

All around her, Liv saw skin; warm, virile, male skin. Fantasy was to be tolerated, even expected, Liv reasoned, sweat beading along her forehead, though it seemed to turn instantly to ice in the freezing breeze. It would have been natural to fantasize about setting her hands to Orlando's trim waist as he slid lower to taste her skin, or to fantasize about wrapping her arms around Dom's broad shoulders as he licked at the pulse in her throat.

But instead, she imagined Orlando wrapping his arms around Dom's broad shoulders; Dom licking at Orlando's neck; one of Dom's hands tangled in his Orlando's hair while the other worked at the zipper on his jeans and Orlando's elegant fingers distracted him by teasing a darkened nipple. Swallowing thickly, her thighs feeling almost on fire, she decided that couldn't be a normal fantasy.

With a crack, the heater, which had been chugging away so diligently, suddenly fell silent, leaving the room eerily so. Billy stirred in his sleep and Liv leapt into bed, afraid that he would see her watching them and somehow be able to read her thoughts as clearly as if the images were painted in vivid brushstrokes across her forehead. Throwing the covers over herself, she clamped her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep even as her heart thundered and her breath flew in and out of her lungs at an alarming speed.

Moments later, she heard a sleepily mumbled, "Holy shit," followed by a second voice's "Oh, fuck." In seconds, she was able to distinguish the individual curses of each of the four slumber partiers.

"What the hell?" Orlando breathed. "It's fucking freezing in here."

"What happened to the heater?" Elijah asked.

Dom stood and stepped over to the failed contraption to administer some percussive maintenance. When it hadn't started after a vigorous beating, he declared it dead. "And for fuck's sake, 'Lij, you had to go and leave the window open."

"Yeah, well, I'm cold, too, so we're all suffering."

"I'm getting in with Liv," Billy announced and then jumped up to do just that. Liv had little time to react before she had a half-naked Scotsman under the covers with her. The other three immediately followed his example; Elijah piled in behind Billy, while Orlando and Dom leapt in on the other side of her. Liv lay deathly still, gripping her blanket with whitened knuckles.

Arguing sleepily, the boys yanked the covers back and forth until they were all properly enclosed, sandwiching Liv between them. "Ooo!" Billy said as his legs brushed against hers. "Fantastic legs, Liv."

"Really? Let me feel." Elijah shifted to smooth his leg against hers. "Nice." The hair on his calves tickled her knee, but all she could think about was the fact that to get to her legs, his must be tangled with Billy's beneath the covers.

"It is okay if we bunk with you, right?" Dom asked, leaning over Orlando to look at her. Liv absently nodded her head yes, her mind fixed on the fact that, with Orlando's jeans hidden beneath the blankets and most of Dom hidden behind Orlando, they looked convincingly naked.

"Fancy an orgy?" Orlando asked with a sly wink.

On second thought, Liv responded with a jokingly scornful "Ha" because her first thought had been, "Hell yes! As long as you let me watch." Orlando curled in beside her, his arm over her stomach, resting lightly against Billy's arm as he did the same. The enveloping warmth felt wonderful on her chilled feet, but terrible on her already fevered imagination.

"Scoot in," Elijah said. "My ass is ice, man."

"Yeah," Dom agreed. "You, too, Orli; I'm barely on the bed."

Simultaneously, both Billy and Orlando nudged in closer, tucking their heads against her shoulders. She felt their bodies press toward her again as both Elijah and Dom nudged closer to them, tucking the blankets in about their necks. Cursing idly at one another, they didn't hear the soft, pathetic whimper that escaped Liv's throat, as their skin slid against hers.

"Much better," Billy sighed.

"Get your elbow out of my back, Dom."

"Sorry."

"Thanks, Liv."

"Yeah, thanks, Liv. You're the best."

Then, they fell silent, their breaths slowing to the subtle in and out of sleep. Liv lamented soundlessly, her throat dry and every muscle in her body tense. The images returned, this time with the reinforcement of first-hand sensory information because now she knew that Billy's breath smelled of toothpaste and traces of Whiskey and that faint, blond stubble graced his cheeks; that Orlando's skin smelled like warmth and Drakkar Noir aftershave and that when he spoke softly, the sound vibrated through his chest like the purring of a cat.

Even as they unconsciously nuzzled in closer to one another for warmth, falling deeper and deeper into sleep, Liv stared at the ceiling, watching the amber and blue light alternate on the white plaster - amber, blue, amber, blue. Even as her imagination transformed dreaming sighs into heavy pants tinged with moans, she stared at the ceiling - amber, blue, amber, blue.

Orlando and Billy's tongues slipping from between parted lips to stroke against one another.

Amber, blue amber, blue.

Dom's hand sliding teasingly down Elijah's stomach.

Amber, blue, amber, blue.

Elijah licking his way across Billy's chest before lightly biting at a dusky nipple.

Amber, blue, amber, blue...

The lights continued their lazy interchange before her eyes, mixing with the images from behind them even as Liv's eyelids grew heavy and she slowly fell into an unsettled sleep filled with the sort of nightmare scenarios some would call fantasies.

When she awoke, Orlando and Billy had moved to their stomachs and no longer lay with her as their pillow. Calling upon the remnants of Arwen's stealth hidden somewhere inside her, she carefully extracted herself from the blankets to crawl down the length of the bed and onto the floor.

Standing, she looked back to see the boys still sleeping comfortably, unaware they had lost a bedmate. Cold air wrapped around her and she slowly slid the window shut, faintly annoyed that in all their swearing, none of them had thought to do so already. She shivered, hugging herself for warmth, and grabbed Orlando's discarded shirt from the desk. She slipped it on over her head and sat down in the armchair, pulling her bent legs to her chest, hoarding her own body heat. For a moment, she considered nabbing Billy's trousers to cover her legs, but decided against it.

Tucked in the cushions of the armchair, she stared across the dim room at the bed, bathed in the continuing amber and blue lights. With her gone, the blanket fell to conform around the bodies it still enclosed, leaving a Liv-sized chasm between Orlando and Billy. Dom lay on his side facing Orlando, his forehead nearly resting on his friend's shoulder while Elijah had curled into the fetal position, the curve of his back nestled against Billy's side.

The sleep she had gotten had not been the soothing kind; instead it had been the sort that allowed all thoughts and concerns to come rushing back as soon as her eyes opened. She couldn't imagine it was normal to be sitting across the room, enjoying, even preferring the sight of her friends in bed together without her.

It was those stories; it all came back to those stories. That is where this madness had begun; she never would have thought of it otherwise. But then, that wasn't entirely true, she had to admit, at least to herself if to no one else - ever. Even in New Zealand, it had been a discreet pleasure to see the boys dancing drunkenly at parties, their arms around one another, or to watch them hug each other tightly, reticent to part for the months until the next reshoot. Even then, it had never been entirely innocent, entirely without its heated charms. She just hadn't let herself accept it.

She sighed, pulling the sleeves of Orlando's shirt down over her hands. Maybe the stories hadn't begun the madness; maybe they had just awakened it. Maybe those authors had simply allowed her to see their view of it and that view turned out to be too similar to her own. Whatever the case, this madness was now a force to be reckoned with. It wasn't a shiftless fancy or an indolent whim; it was a driving passion that couldn't and wouldn't be pushed aside when she wanted. The images came to mind and stayed there, like squatters on government land. All she could do was accept them, shamefully enjoy them, and hope that no one would ever find out. Desperately wishing she had another option, she rested her head on her crossed arms and fell back to sleep.

In the morning, her neck stretched painfully as she raised her head from its lolled position. She grimaced, kneading the sore muscles. Looking around, she found the bed unmade and the room deserted, save for Billy sitting on the desk with a cup of coffee and an expectant smile. "Morning," he greeted.

"Morning." She yawned, stretching. "Where're the others?"

"They went down to grab us some breakfast and I stayed here to tell you that."

"Why didn't you guys wake me?"

"Since we crowded you out of your own bed, we thought we should let you sleep a wee bit longer."

"You didn't crowd me out," she said. "That's not why I came over here."

"Really? So why was that then?"

Liv extended her legs, rubbing sensation back into them with her shirt-covered hands. "Oh, shoot! I have Orli's shirt. What did he wear?"

"Dom's jacket."

"Without a shirt?"

"He was going to borrow one of yours, but they all had girly things on 'em," Billy explained. "So, yeah, he's wearing Dom's jacket without a shirt. He looks like a porn star. Well, not star..."

Liv laughed, but a yawn cut it short. She glanced apologetically at Billy over the hand covering her gaping mouth. "Sorry."

"How'd you sleep?"

"Oh, fine. Just fine."

"Aye right, and I might even have believed you if I hadnae been sleeping next to you for about twenty minutes," he countered. "You nervous about the script reading?"

"No. Well, yeah, sorta." The truth being, of course, that she'd only remembered the script reading at that moment. "I just have a lot on my mind, I guess."

"And watching us sleep helps?"

Liv's yawn hitched in her throat. "What?" she coughed.

Billy grinned knowingly. "Nevermind. Just trying to figure out why you shifted."

"It wasn't to watch anything!" Liv knew she was protesting too much. "The bed was just too...hot."

"I'll bet." Billy took another sip of his coffee, inspecting her over edge of the mug. She watched him silently; he was going to say something else, she knew it and so she waited, nervousness edging along her stomach. He took his time, slowly swallowing and licking his lips before saying, "You haven't been reading anything on the Internet about us, have you?"

Her heart clattered against her ribcage. "What!? No, of course not!"

"You have! I knew it; you've been reading those stories."

"What stories?"

"Away, Liv; we're all pals here. Those stories on the web, those dash stories or whatever they're called. The stories where the whole lot of us are waxing tossels."

Even though she didn't know what he'd said, she felt certain it was embarrassing and so most of the blood in her body rose to her face. "Of course not. Why would I?"

"Doesn't matter. How long you been reading 'em?"

"I'm not! I don't," she defended, but Billy pursed his lips, looking at her with impatient disbelief. Liv sighed, defeated. "My friend showed them to me and I read a couple one night. But that's all. That was over a month ago and I haven't even seen any since then, so it's not like I go looking for them or anything."

"I knew you'd seen them. Talking about Orli being a prostitute is a pretty standard conversation, but for someone who spent over a year with us, you were a little too distracted by us knocking each other about. But, hey, if you're into it, make sure Dom knows: He's shite at remembering birthdays and he'd be happy to snog the guy of your choice to get out of buying a present." Unbidden, Liv's mind created the delightful image of Dom giving Orlando a good, long kiss - and apparently, her face showed it.

"You really are into it!" Billy said. He laughed, shaking his head. "You have to do it. Next birthday, you have to ask Dom to kiss some guy for you - and I have to be there to see his face when you ask. That's pure dead brilliant."

"I'm not going to ask him to do that," Liv said, her blush deepening.

"No sweat. I'll ask for ye."

"Have you...read some of the stories, too?"

"A few," Billy replied, "but they mess with your head. I read a really long one once and for about three hours I thought I had thing for Elijah." He then rattled off something incredibly Scottish-sounding and Liv didn't catch a word of it.

"And did you like it? The story, I mean, not having a thing for Elijah."

"I didn't have a thing for 'Lijah," he corrected. "I just thought I did."

"Right, sorry."

"They're okay, I guess. I'm always with Dom, like I don't know him well enough as it is without having sex with him. I like the ones about you and Miranda better."

"Yeah, those were okay," Liv agreed, smiling lightly when Billy winked at her, "but I don't know. I didn't like them as much."

"How many did you read?"

If a shade of red existed deeper and brighter than the one already gracing Liv's cheeks, her face would have turned that color. "A couple. A few...a lot."

"Didn't all the factual errors drive you mad?"

"Like Viggo being on set when you and Dom were filming Treebeard?"

"Or like every single one of us being gay?"

"Oh, yeah, that stuff bothered me at first."

"I'm Pippin in blue-jeans in half of them."

"Yeah, they didn't really get you guys right most of the time, but..." Liv searched her mind for the words. "I guess I liked what they did get right."

"How's that?"

"Well, they - the best ones, anyway - they made you guys into characters, like in a book," she said. "They would pick up on one part of your personality and just write. Everything else they'd say was dead wrong, because they don't know you, but they got that one tiny bit right and then, they'd figure out how that contrasted with the one tiny thing they got right about one of the other guys."

Billy listened intently, clearly trying to follow. "I'm still not seeing the appeal of reading about Viggo and Orli having sex on the Fangorn set."

"Viggo and Orli! That's a perfect example. All the writers know that Viggo is an artist, right? And they've seen pictures of Orlando jumping out of airplanes, and so they write stories about the artist and the daredevil," Liv said. "I read one that was all about their spontaneity and how they admired it in one another, except Viggo's was a sort of 'let's go outside and make love under the moon while singing Gaelic hymns' sort of spontaneity and Orli's was the 'let's make out while jumping off a bridge' kind. They found those little links, so by the time it comes to it, I sort of...want them to, you know... do it."

"Make out while jumping off a bridge? I think you'd bust out a few teeth doing that."

"Probably, but that's not the point; do you see my point?"

"Yes," Billy laughed. "I see your point, but I still think it's a little off. The only bit I like about those stories is that in every single one, I am a great shag."

"Oh, jeez, Billy."

"They're always saying shite like 'it was the best sex of his life.' As long as they always write me as a great lay, they'll get no complaints from me. If they didn't have me ramming Dom and Elijah all the time, I'd say I envy my fake self; he sees more action than I do."

"You are so easy to please," Liv snickered, shaking her head.

"So are you, evidently. Put Elijah and Orlando in bed together and you're all blushing and warmed up."

"I don't know what it is," Liv moaned, full of shame. "I really don't, but it's - it's something. Just the idea..." An unwanted shiver of delight vibrated through her. "It's so wrong."

"It really bothers you that you like it?"

"Of course it does. How could it not?"

Billy opened his mouth to respond, but the door flew wide with a bang, interrupting him. "Shit, Orli," Dom said, entering with a large plateful of doughnuts. "Liv could've still been asleep."

Orlando smiled apologetically as he set down a huge plate of fruit. "Sorry."

"It's all right," she replied. "I should have been up a half hour ago. Thanks for letting me keep your shirt."

"You're welcome, but never again," Orlando declared as Elijah and Dom laughed hysterically behind him. He quickly sloughed off Dom's tan jacket, which, despite their height difference, hung loosely on Orlando's narrower shoulders.

Dom leaned on Elijah, laughing so hard he could barely stand. "He got propositioned three times in the lobby alone."

"They weren't propositioning me."

"The concierge really liked you."

"Shut up. Those old tourists thought you and Elijah were a couple," Orlando countered, chuckling.

Liv's eyes flashed to Billy, only to lower in embarrassment upon finding he was already watching her.

"Did they really?" Dom asked. "Ace. I got the pretty boy."

As the others exchanged insults, Liv leaned toward Billy. "Does Dom know about the stories?" she whispered.

"He does. Aye. He had a real bad time of it, too," Billy said. "First time we got together after, he kept feeling like we were going to be forced to have sex later. Now, he just thinks it's funny, but I'm telling you, Liv; it messes with your head. Soon enough, the others'll find out about it; even Orli'll find out someday." He sighed. "One by one, it'll destroy us all."

Grinning, Liv was about to say "Three quid penalty" when Billy handed her three pound notes. She accepted the folded bills. "You don't have to pay," she said. "It wasn't a direct quote, so it doesn't count."

"Nae hassle. It's Dom's money anyway."

Liv smiled, turning her attention back to Elijah, Dom, and the shirtless Orlando. The trio joked with one another as they set out the breakfast. "You hungry?" Elijah asked them.

"Yeah." Liv stretched, yawning. "Thanks for getting the food. When's the army getting here?"

"No worries," Orlando replied, claiming a banana from the fruit plate. "Elijah says he's starving."

"Dude, I can't eat a dozen doughnuts."

"Quitter."

At the bed, Dom began yanking the tangled covers off the mattress. "Hey, wait. Let's use the bed; we can have a picnic. Orli, bring the fruit over."

Orlando complied, grabbing the assortment of fruit and tucking his own unpeeled banana in his mouth for easy transport. At the edge of the bed, he intercepted Elijah with the plate of doughnuts and Dom with an armful of blankets. "Geouawah," he said past the banana clenched in his teeth.

"What did you say?" Dom asked.

Orlando repeated himself, this time nodding his head vigorously, but his words were even more mangled than before because he'd started laughing. His arms equally full with the plate of doughnuts, Elijah leaned forward and gripped Orlando's banana with his teeth, taking it from him. "I said, 'get out of the way.' And give me back my banana, you fucker." Orlando laughed, but he was easily overcome by the loud guffaws coming from Billy.

Through the whole exchange, he'd watched Liv as she blushed a deeper and deeper scarlet, her eyes riveted against her will. The passing of the banana had been her undoing; she buried her face in her hands.

Elijah and Orlando set the full plates on the mattress before joining Dom in staring in confusion at Liv who stood hiding her face and Billy who sat in a fit of laughter. "What's so funny?" Orlando asked, swiping his banana from Elijah's mouth.

Billy was laughing so hard he had to wipe at the tears in his eyes. "Nothing." He cleared his voice with a cough and suddenly feigned complete calm. "It's just this joke I heard when I was ten; I suddenly got it."

The other three broke out laughing. "Fucking nutter," Dom said, throwing an apple to Billy.

Certain the others were focused on their stomachs, Billy looked to Liv, snickering lightly at seeing her bright red ears, the only part of her face still visible. He slid an arm comfortingly around her shoulders. "I'd pay real money to see you and Miranda make a hot night of it, so it's not like you're bad just because it's boys."

Slowly, Liv lowered her hands, peering through her fingertips at the two Hobbits and an Elf jovially enjoying their breakfast, oblivious of the scrutiny. "This can't be normal."

"So what if it isn't? You like what you like," Billy reasoned. "And besides, now you know yourself better than you did. Two weeks ago, if someone had said, 'Why, Liv, would you like to see two boys shagging?' you might have said 'no' and think of what you'd been missing."

Liv laughed weakly. "Shut up."

"I have a point. Do you see my point?"

"No, what's your point?" she asked.

"My point is, as they say in Scotland: whits fur ye'll no gin by ye."

"I have no idea what you just said."

Billy smiled. "It means that what's meant for you will not pass you by." He nudged waggishly against her. "This is meant for you, so enjoy it."

"I'll try." Liv sighed, nodding. "But please, don't tell the others."

"Not a chance. It's too much fun for me being the only one." Billy grinned and slid off the desk. "Now, come on, let's get some food. Maybe we can get Orli and 'Lijah to eat more phallic fruit."

Smiling through the redness flushing her cheeks, Liv sat down with her friends for breakfast.