Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Elvis tinkles around on the piano for the umpteenth time, starting a tune and then stopping again before it gets to the chorus. His girlfriend frowns at him from her position reclining languorously on the little sofa. Dorothy knows that something is bothering him, but for whatever reason he won't come out and say it. She picks at her nail polish, then lights a cigarette. The smell seems to snap Elvis out of his reverie and he sits up and closes the piano lid with a clunk.

“I think we haveta break up with her.”

“Why's that?” She asks, blowing out a steady plume of smoke and then leaning forward to offer him the cigarette.

He takes it with a sigh, inhaling deeply and savouring the nicotine hit before responding.

“She’s so needy, Dodo. So clingy. Everywhere I went, she popped up. We gotta… she’s too much, baby.”

“Hmmm.” Dorothy gestures for the return of the cigarette. “Are you sure this isn't just nerves?”

He almost pouts in response. “Nerves?”

“I know this is a lot for you, baby. This whole, Elvis special thingy. She seems the same to me, she’s always been a little needy. Thought you liked it, actually.”

She indulges in another couple of drags before passing the cigarette back. Elvis pauses to think about just quite how needy this girl had been in the past and exactly how much he’d enjoyed it. “I did, baby. But the uh… the fat man was askin’ about her.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he inhales deeply. “So she’s gotta go really. It wasn’t so bad when I was jus’ doin’ the movies and she could play with you when I was on set. He barely saw her then. But now… it’s not worth the risk.”

Dorothy sighs. The Colonel is such a pain in the ass. She can’t understand why Elvis won’t ditch him, especially since his great idea for a TV special involves crooning a bunch of Christmas songs, but she knows better than to bring that up again, right now.

“I guess you’re right.”

Moving from the piano stool to sit next to Dorothy on the sofa, he returns the cigarette for the last time. She finishes it and stubs it out in the large porcelain ashtray next to her. Elvis watches her lovingly, then takes the opportunity to scoot even closer, fixing her with his best puppy-dog eyes.

“So… you’ve always been so good with her… I jus’ thought, maybe, Dodo…” His head is resting on her chest now, arm around her waist.

She looks down at him. She knows he’s under a lot of pressure with this special, but it’s not as if this is the first time she’s had to be the bearer of bad news. In fact, the only time Elvis had ever broken up with the other girl was in a fit of rage, which he then tended to send Dorothy to fix for him, once he’d calmed down.

“You want me to break up with her?” Her arms wrap around him automatically and he nuzzles into her body.

“Well you’re just so empathetic, baby, and kind and… she’d take it better comin’ from you, don’tcha think?”

Dorothy can’t stop the groan of frustration that comes out of her mouth. “You say this every time, El.”

“Only ‘cause it’s true, Dodo,” he coos, taking her thumb and putting it in his mouth. Completing the look of a totally helpless infant lying in her arms.

She feels soft for what she's about to say, but it's difficult to be hard when he looks like this. And he knows it.

“Alright. But on one condition.”

“Anything, baby. You name it.”

“I get to pick the next one. On my own.”

Elvis sucks her thumb and reflects. He doesn’t like the idea of giving up control over something so important, but then again he really doesn’t want to have to tell this girl she’s too needy and he doesn’t want to see her anymore. And Dorothy has good taste. They’ve been together for a long time and he trusts her.

“Okay.”

Dorothy feels a rush of excitement. She hadn’t been sure he’d agree to her choosing on her own, he was always a bit of a control freak with the girls, but now that he has she’s excited. Finally she can pick someone a little more to her liking. Someone she might have to babysit a little less.

“Great. Well, I guess I better do it now then. Pull the band-aid off.”

Elvis sits up, moving her thumb and cupping her cheek with his hand, pressing his lips against hers.

“I love you.”

She tries not to laugh at his obviously transactional declaration of love.

“I love you too El. See you later.”

She picks her way out of the dressing room and through the guys who are all sitting around on chairs outside. Spotting a couple of faces she doesn't recognise, she makes a mental note to ask Jerry about them tomorrow. Hopefully by the time she's back they'll all have gone home. It's late already, and the fact that they're still here irritates her a little. Wandering across the set she finds the girl she's looking for and suggests they go out someplace for a drink.

***

The conversation goes about as well as Dorothy had expected it to. There’s a lot of crying and asking why. She tries to be as comforting as she can, but it’s not easy. It’s absolutely draining, if she’s honest, and she can see why Elvis doesn’t want to do it. She stands there, hugging the girl and stroking her hair, and thinks that the next one definitely needs to be a little more emotionally robust than this. Sure, it’s a shame that Elvis Presley and his girlfriend have broken up with you, but at least you had some fun for a while. It’s more than most 20 year olds can say.

Eventually untangling herself from the mess of limbs and tears, she sends the other girl away in a cab and gets back into her own car, driving back to the studio. To her relief the guys have gone home, although they've left the chairs haphazardly outside. She rolls her eyes, rearranging them so it's actually possible to get into the dressing room. It’s dark when she opens the door, aside from a trail of candles that leads through the first room and into the back one. She can't help cracking a smile at Elvis’ attempt at a romantic apology, though she's convinced it must be a fire hazard. She finds him, looking very pleased with himself, sitting in the middle of the bed wearing nothing but a silken robe.

“Dodo.”

“El, you're going to burn the studio down,” she tells him with a little tut.

He pouts. “Jus’ tryna say thank you.”

Humming, she puts a lamp on, carefully blowing the candles out.

“How'd it go?” He calls to her, as she finally blows out the last one, on the top of the baby grand.

“Ugh. Well, she cried, she begged, I hugged her, sent her home in a cab with a little cash.” Dorothy doesn’t especially like the last bit, but she’s been persuaded of the merits of breaking up with girls and leaving them with no reason to go to the press.

“I’m sorry, honey.” He genuinely is sorry. He hates the fact that she has to break up with these girls, but he doesn't see another option.

She wanders back into the room and can't help smirking at him now she's no longer concerned about an imminent blaze. His hair is all tousled and his robe is half way up his thighs. Okay, so maybe having to be the one to do the dirty work is worth it sometimes.

Kicking her shoes off, she undoes her dress and removes that too, so she’s just standing in her underwear and stockings, looking down at him. Warmth spreads between her legs and she's sure she can see the outline of his excitement too.

“Open your robe,” she instructs, biting her lower lip. “I wanna see you.”

Elvis blushes. “Oh, uh… honey…”

“C’mon now, no need to be bashful with me. I’ve seen it before.”

Even after seven years together, he still feels exposed when he's naked and she's just looking at him. But after what she’s done for him today, he does feel like he owes her. So he undoes the robe and lets it fall open, exposing his already half-hard dick.

“Mmmmm.” Even after seven years together, Dorothy still reacts the same way to his dick as she did the first time she saw it. It always makes her mouth water.

His eyes flick down to her stockinged feet and she notices, knowing exactly what he wants. Sitting on the bed by his hips, she moves her foot so that it presses against his balls. He makes a little noise of approval and she presses a little more. His dick gets noticeably harder.

“Missed you,” he mumbles.

He has missed spending time with her like this. The other girls had a habit of getting in the way, since they were always around. That’s probably his fault, but he can’t help it. He loves company, hates to be alone. Sometimes he forgets that he and Dorothy are not the same and assumes she wants someone by her side 24/7 as well.

She smiles. “What d’you want, pumpkin?”

His blush deepens at the pet name. He hasn’t heard it for a while and he’s missed being called it too.

“Sooties,” he mumbles again.

She giggles and shifts so that she's lying beside him, kissing him as her fingers find their way into his hair. He pulls her close, enjoying the skin on skin contact. As she slides her leg between his he starts to roll his hips against her, the friction building a little pleasure already.

“You can rub yourself on my sooties, but no cumming until you’ve made mama cum, hm?” She tells him, as they pull apart.

He nods quickly, scooting down her body to settle between her legs, adjusting one so that her foot fits just under his dick, her toes against his balls. He’s so intent on getting her foot where he wants it that he completely fails to notice she’s still got her panties on.

“Goddamnit.”

She giggles again. “You can tear them.”

They’re thin and gauzy and it takes him all of ten seconds to rip them off her. She groans a little at the show of dominance and then groans a little more as he dives into her, tongue licking a stripe up her pussy before settling to draw circles around her clit.

“Mmmmm, pumpkin.”

She writhes against his mouth, pushing her hips up against him, hands running over her belly, then her breasts, grabbing one as she closes her eyes and savours the pleasure rushing through her body. His hands press her thighs a little further apart as he rolls his hips against the bed, rubbing his dick against her foot, moving the foreskin back and forth. He moans into her pussy at the feeling, his tongue deep inside her now as his nose nudges her clit. The sound vibrates inside her and she squeals with pleasure. Elvis loves it when she squeals. She’s very vocal in bed generally but a squeal is a sign of him doing something very good indeed, and so he keeps rubbing and moaning and pushing his tongue further inside her until her hands are on his head, holding him there as she bucks up against his face.

“Yes. Fuck, fuck… oh I’m so close pumpkin.”

He can barely breathe at this point, but he can grunt and groan and he keeps doing that until he hears a tell-tale squeal accompanied by her fist slamming into the mattress.

“Oh, yes! Good boy. Fuuuuck.”

She lets his head go and he gasps for air, but wastes no time chasing his own high; kneeling now, holding her foot against him as he uses his other hand to jack himself off, grunting and groaning.

“Mmmm yes, that's a good boy, cum for me,” Dorothy coos again. She's still breathing hard from her orgasm but her eyes are bright and she's as excited as she always is to see him cum.

She shifts to put her other foot up on his thigh and he shoves his dick between the two of them, delighting in the way her feet squeeze it.

“Ah…shit…I'm gonna cum…”

He groans again as his release spurts all over her pretty little feet. Letting them go, his head tips back as he moans softly, pleasure buzzing through his veins. Dorothy giggles and shuffles her feet up and down on his thighs.

“C'mon pumpkin. Lick ‘em clean.”

Prising his eyes open he picks up first one foot and then the other, carefully licking the cum off them and then pressing kisses all over the tops and the soles, reverently.

“Mmm. Thank you, mama.” Lying down next to her in the bed, one arm casually thrown over her belly. “Sorry ‘bout the panties.”

She turns and nuzzles his nose with hers. “S’ok baby, I know you'll buy me more.”

“Course I will.”

They lie there for a while, enjoying the post-coital bliss and the feeling of one another's bodies so close. Dorothy’s mind drifts to the next day.

“What're you doing tomorrow?”

Pressing a series of lazy kisses to her neck, he tries to force his mind to remember tomorrow's itinerary.

“Rehearsing somethin’ or other. Dance routine or somethin’...” he trails off, going back to his kisses.

Dorothy smiles. “Sounds like a fun watch.”

“Mmmm.”

“You want me to stay, don't you?” She asks, suddenly.

He looks up, surprised. “Of course I do, baby. Wanna know what ya think.”

She nods, reassured. “I can't wait to see you up there. Doing what you're supposed to be doing.”

He smiles. Dorothy's faith in him is half the reason he's doing this special in the first place. People might think the other half is because the Colonel wants him doing it, but it's really because of Steve Binder. There's something about his honesty and the seriousness with which he's taken this whole thing which fills Elvis with hope - a feeling that's been sadly lacking from this decade so far. He thinks back to the moment when he decided Steve was someone he could trust - he'd asked where his career was and Steve had just said “in the toilet”. It had been refreshing to hear something so candid. Dorothy could be candid from time to time, but the guys certainly couldn't. As he pulls the covers over the pair of them and turns the light off, he hopes desperately in the dark. Hopes for rebirth, recognition, revelation. Hopes against hope that this special will finally get him back on track.

☆☆☆

Chapter Text

Dorothy eventually surfaces even later than Elvis, exhausted from staying up until the early hours of the morning and struggling to sleep in the unfamiliar environment of the NBC dressing room. She sits next to Jerry, hands wrapped around a coffee mug like it's a lifeline. Elvis is, indeed, practicing some kind of choreography or other and doing a lot of cussing about it. Jerry hands her a croissant and she leans her head on his shoulder, heavily.

“Fuck me, I'm tired.”

Jerry laughs. Although she tries to keep herself prim and proper, a lot of the time Elvis’ girlfriend has a real potty mouth. His friend finds this very funny, especially when Elvis calls everyone he ever meets “sir” and “ma'am”. The contrast is hilarious.

“You up late last night? I saw you go out.”

“Mmm. El wanted me to ditch our girl.”

“Ah. Noticed she wasn't around this morning.”

“She was getting in the way, apparently.”

Dorothy moves her head and pulls the end of the croissant off, popping it into her mouth and chewing. The coffee cup has made its way to the floor.

“You ok?”

She sighs. “I guess so. I did like her, y’know, Jer. But she wasn't subtle enough. Or smart enough.”

Jerry looks at her quizzically. She takes another bite of croissant.

“The fat man.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He puts a comforting arm around her. “I'm sorry.”

“Thanks. Just wish Elvis would do the breaking up for a change. Why it always gotta be me, Jer?!” She asks, in a silly, fake New York accent.

Jerry laughs. “Because we are all just his subjects,” he teases, in his own silly version of an English accent, pulling the other end off the croissant and eating it. She puts the rest in her mouth and licks the crumbs off her fingers, chuckling at the all-too-accurate description of their position in relation to the King, Elvis Presley.

“Seriously, though,” he continues, after a swig of his own coffee to wash down the pastry, “you should put yourself first, sometimes. You're always doing things for him.”

“Mmm. I guess you're right. Easier said than done, though.”

Drinking the rest of her coffee in several large gulps, she reflects that she's feeling better already. Although it was probably more to do with the company than the caffeine, yet.

“Who's that over there?” She waves her empty cup in the direction of a man walking quickly around with a clipboard. “Saw him outside the room last night.”

“Oh that's Steve Binder. He's directing this whole thing.”

“Oh! The fabled Steve.”

The man comes a little closer and she gets a slightly better look at him. Shorter and stockier than Elvis but not bad-looking. Fashionable hair and a ruggedness to his features that she doesn’t mind at all.

Jerry snorts. “Yeah. The only man to have stood up to the Colonel and won. So far.”

Dorothy has heard a lot about Steve. Elvis gushed about him when they first met, and then gushed even more after the recording sessions with him. Everything recently has been Steve this and Steve that. “Sounds like you want to marry Steve,” she'd teased him at one point, making him blush.

“Yeah I've heard plenty about him from Elvis. Nice to finally put a face to the name.” She pauses to brush crumbs off her skirt. “What d'you think of him?”

“Seems like a good guy. Knows a lot about the business. Doesn't take any shit from you know who.”

She nods, settling her head back onto Jerry’s shoulder. At least she'll have someone different to talk to this evening.

***

Elvis stands behind Dorothy with his arms wrapped around her waist and his chin on the top of her head.

“Good day?” She asks, looking from the inner part of the dressing room through to the outer part, where the guys are already assembled, singing and laughing and messing around.

“Mmm. Tirin’ but good. You ok?”

She nods. They stand there for a little longer and then he speaks again.

“You think my hair’s too black, Dodo?”

She turns around in his arms to look at him and sees his serious expression. Someone must've been joking with him about it but he's obviously hurt. Worried that people think he looks silly.

“I think it looks perfect, El,” she tells him, reaching a hand up to touch his cheek. “You're perfect.”

He smiles and blushes and his tongue pokes out over his lips cheekily.

“You think?”

“I know.”

Bowed up by the affirmation, he kisses her quickly before pushing the door open, making an entrance as usual. Grabbing her by one hand he spins her around in front of him, manoeuvring her to the side so that they can walk in together. The rest of the guys whoop and cheer, asking him where he's been, how his day was, what he wants to do. Dorothy settles down on the sofa and he flops beside her, an arm casually thrown over her shoulders. Steve has been watching them since they first came into the room, and as they start their cigarette ritual, he has to admit to being fascinated. Elvis’ girlfriend is petite and striking, with thick black hair and bangs. Her eyes are large and flick around the room, taking everyone in without comment. They meet his briefly, and then she's stretching out her arm for the cigarette and bringing it to her lips when she receives it. She and Elvis seem to communicate without talking, all little looks and gestures, and once he's stubbed out the cigarette it’s like that portion of the evening is over, and things move on to the usual talking and laughing. Charlie passes Elvis a guitar and he starts to strum, he strikes up a tune and people sing.

Dorothy ruffles Elvis’ hair affectionately as she stands up, making her way over to the drinks cabinet and pouring herself a scotch. When she turns back, she sees her seat is now occupied by Alan and makes her way to another chair between Steve and Joe.

“You got a light?” She asks Joe, as she brings another cigarette to her lips. As if her mirror, Elvis grips a cigarillo between his teeth and lit matches appear around him instantly.

Joe is too far away to join in, and anyway he's captivated by Dorothy’s cleavage, something she's well aware of as she leans towards him deliberately. He flicks the wheel on his lighter and a flame kisses the end of the cigarette. She inhales.

“Thanks, doll.”

Joe laughs and blushes a little. “Shouldn’t it be me calling you doll, not the other way around?”

“Sure,” she replies, then turns to Steve. “Hi. I hear you're Steve. I'm Dorothy.”

Joe sighs quietly at her giving him the cold shoulder, as she does so often once she’s got what she wants.

“You heard right. Nice to meet you.” Steve proffers a hand and she takes it, giving him a firmer handshake than he'd anticipated.

“How're you enjoying hanging out with these reprobates?” She asks, waving her hand around the room and producing a cloud of smoke in its wake.

Steve smiles. “Well, they're kinda fun.” He pauses to look around as Elvis moves to the piano and the other men flock around him. Dorothy gestures to the now empty sofa, and they move there to better observe the group. “How do you enjoy hanging out with them?”

Dorothy takes a long drag on her cigarette as she contemplates his question. He's a little more direct than she's used to, but she decides to play along.

“Joe likes my tits, Alan and Charlie like being told what to do, and Lamar likes whatever's left.”

She looks at Steve, eyebrow arched, ready for however he decides to respond. He feels a little spark of excitement in his belly. She's fun.

“Sounds like you have them all worked out.”

She shrugs. “I guess so. I've been around for a while.” Another drag on the cigarette. “How'd you like dealing with the Colonel, then?”

Steve laughs. She's not beating around the bush, that's for sure.

“I don't,” he replies, honestly. “How do you like it?”

That earns him his first proper laugh, her head is thrown back and her eyes are merry. “I don't either. Annoying little shit. Big shit, actually.”

“You really don't like him?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, I'll let you in on a little secret.” She leans close to him so she can speak more quietly, even though the amount of noise the guys are all making singing she's sure she could shout and they wouldn't hear. “Joe’s his dirty little spy. So don't tell him anything you don't want the fat man to know.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You trust me with all this? You've only just met me.”

“Ah, I've only just met you, but I've been hearing about you from El for weeks now.” She takes a sip of her scotch. “And you're not some kinda hick, which helps.”

Steve laughs again. They carry on sitting and chatting, Dorothy telling him more about the guys and him taking it in. After a while he realises she hasn't mentioned Jerry, who's standing up somewhere near the back and trying not to sing too loudly, having been told about his tunelessness in the past.

“What about Jerry?”

She blinks. “What about him?”

“Well you mentioned everyone else.”

“Jerry is a sweetheart,” she replies, entirely without irony. “He wants to get into the business. You know, movies, music, whatever.” She waves her hand about. “You should give him some advice.”

Steve is just trying to swallow being given such a direct order by a girl he's only just met when she stands up, finishing off the end of her drink and clearly signalling the end of the conversation.

“Nice to meet you.”

He takes her hand and kisses the back of it this time, telling her how nice it was to talk to her and that he'll go and chat to Jerry. She smiles, pleased with both the kiss and the fact he's agreed to follow instructions, and then turns towards Elvis and the piano. It takes her mere moments to insinuate herself into the middle of the group and between Elvis’ legs on the piano stool.

Her boyfriend greets her with an enthusiastic kiss to the neck and then asks what she wants to play. Moving towards Jerry, Steve is surprised that the next thing that comes out of the piano is a duet, and that Dorothy can play very well indeed. He shakes hands with the other man and strikes up conversation, first about the industry and then about Dorothy, finding himself oddly fascinated by her.

“She's a good girl,” Jerry enthuses, with a smile. “Good for E. Keeps him sane.”

Steve nods, wondering about the mutual admiration that Jerry and Dorothy seem to have for each other. He's surprised that Elvis would be so relaxed about their relationship, but now he comes to think of it, he's sure he saw them together earlier that day. Jerry with his arm around her too. He doesn't seem to fall into the category of the other guys, who she treats largely with disdain and orders around as if they were her lackeys, not Elvis’. Then he wonders about her telling him to go and talk to Jerry, and getting up to leave so quickly. Which category does he fit in, exactly? Friend or foe?

***

It's the early hours of the morning when Jerry finally persuades the rest of the guys to go home. Steve had left around the same time as Charlie, Alan and Lamar, but Joe stuck around for a frustratingly long time. Jerry knows he's a snitch, but surely even the Colonel has given up on trying to get rid of Dorothy at this stage. There are a couple of other hangers-on too, but once Jerry manages to persuade Joe that it's bedtime they don't stick around. It doesn't hurt that he's filling out his t-shirt nowadays, and at 6ft cuts an imposing figure.

“Thanks, Jer.” Dorothy puts her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek.

“Yeah, thanks man. Thought they were never gonna go.” Elvis sighs.

“I better go myself or Joe'll be back in here assuming I'm saying something I don't want him to hear.”

Elvis hums. “I bet it was him shopped our girl to the fat man.”

“You ever think of demoting him?”

Elvis shakes his head. “Nah. Better he's not sure if I know. Also better I have him where I can keep an eye on the bastard.”

He doesn't like the fact that Joe snitches on him to the Colonel, but he still enjoys the other man's company, even if he knows Dorothy thinks he's a letch. He likes all the guys, despite their shortcomings.

Jerry nods. “Fair ‘nough. You know best, EP.”

Elvis laughs. “I think you'll find it's Dodo who knows best.”

He pulls her to his side with one arm and she smiles up at him, her hand reaching up to dig into his hair.

“She sure does,” Jerry replies, looking at them for a moment, lost in one another's eyes. He's amazed they're still like this after so long. That a girl has managed to keep Elvis’ attention for so long. And that someone could keep Dorothy’s. He supposes they are ideally suited, though he worries a little about her. She has a hard exterior but he can't help thinking that breaking up with so many girls must be doing her some damage and he hopes Elvis realises. Though his boss has had enough problems of his own recently, so the change in Dorothy over the years might have gone unnoticed.

“Anyway, I'll head off. See y'all tomorrow.”

Elvis and Dorothy bid him goodbye and go to bed themselves. Elvis is tired anyway, but he swallows his usual handful of pills and relaxes into the mattress. He never could persuade Dorothy to join him with the tablets. She's never said anything, but he has the distinct feeling she disapproves. She's always slept like a log though, so he doesn't think she understands what it's like to have insomnia. He slowly traces the contours of her face with the backs of his fingers as he waits for the drugs to kick in.

“You're so pretty,” he drawls.

She smiles, sweetly. “You're so pretty.” Her hand catches his and she brings his fingers to her lips, peppering them with kisses.

He snuggles into her, nuzzling her neck. “You'll always be here for me, wontcha, Dodo?” It's only been a few minutes, but his words already sound slurry to her.

“Always, pumpkin.”

He mumbles something else she can't quite hear into her hair and then his breathing deepens and he lets out a little snore.

“And you'll always be there for me, won't you?” She whispers back to him, knowing there won't be a reply. She strokes his hair and traces the contours of his face with her fingers, just like he had been doing minutes ago to her. “I hope you will,” she whispers again, into the dark, closing her eyes. “I really hope you will.”

☆☆☆

Chapter Text

The days pass, with Elvis rehearsing and Dorothy wandering around, bored. She's not used to being on set without someone else to spend time with, and much as the sneaking around was tiring and the girls were needy, she had at least never been bored. She looks out of the window onto the busy street and sighs loudly at it.

Steve calls a break and makes his way out of the engineering room. Everyone seems a little tired and Elvis has been making a few mistakes, which isn’t like him. Steve is making his way towards the coffee when he spots Dorothy, almost leaning out of one of the windows. Immediately changing course, he walks towards her, eager to find out what amusing little anecdote she has for him today. They’ve spent a lot of the past few evenings talking and he’s loved every minute of her company. She’s quick and funny and she has endless stories about the guys that she seems to have been waiting for an outsider to tell. It’s only when he gets up close that he realises she looks sort of sad, and he idly wonders what’s wrong.

“Hey.”

Dorothy almost jumps at the sound of Steve’s voice but she steadies herself, turning around slowly with a smile and a “hi there.”

She's wearing a mini dress and go-go boots, with a thick woollen cardigan. It might be the middle of summer in LA outside, but the AC is turned right up in the studio and she likes being cosy. She fumbles about in the pocket of the cardigan for a cigarette, and is delighted when Steve lights it for her without her saying a word. He’s relieved to see her face light up with a proper smile again too.

“How’re you doing?”

She blows out a stream of smoke from one side of her mouth. “Bored. I usually have… more to distract me on set.”

“Like what?” He asks, innocently.

She looks quickly around the room and then back to him. Everyone else seems to be busy, and crucially, too far away to hear their conversation. “Can I trust you?”

Her dark brown eyes scrutinise him as he considers her question. “I think you can.” He pauses, thoughtful. “Can’t think of a reason why you wouldn’t. I’m on Elvis’ side here, doing this TV show, and just Elvis’ side. I don’t want anything to do with Parker if I can help it, and all the other guys involved here…” he sighs. “I’m just not interested in all their petty politics, if I’m honest. I’m interested in getting this show recorded and it being good, really good. Good enough to show everyone that Elvis is still relevant. Well, more than relevant. One of the greatest performers who’s ever lived. So…” he pauses again to run a slightly harried hand through his hair. He hadn’t really been expecting to make a little speech about how much this show meant to him, but he’s almost all the way through it now, so he can’t really stop. “What I’m trying to say is that you can trust me, because I’ve got Elvis’ interests at heart. Not anyone else’s.”

Dorothy takes a deep drag on her cigarette. She hadn’t been expecting that, exactly. The emotion in Steve’s voice, the fact he felt the need to say all that to her, about Elvis… she tries for the second time to compose herself. She doesn’t want him to know how any of that affected her, but it’s made her determined to tell him.

“Yeah but, this is something no-one knows. Well, not many people. Y'know, a secret.”

Steve blinks a few times, trying to process that this is her answer to everything he just said. He decides to just go with it. Maybe it’s best for both of them to pretend that he didn’t just say all that.

“Promise I won't tell.”

She nods. She was always going to tell him, really. She’s enjoyed their little chats over the past few nights, and the devil on her shoulder likes the idea of unbalancing people. It’s probably why she’s lasted in that group of men for so long.

“Elvis and I… we've been dating other women, as a couple, for a while now.” She looks intently at him to gauge his reaction. He tries to look nonplussed, though he's anything but.

“Okay.” He can't think of what else to say but he knows there has to be something or she'll know she shocked him. “Can I, uh, bum one of those?” Gesturing to her cigarette.

She giggles. “Of course.” He looks unbalanced already and she can’t help enjoying herself watching it. She gets out a cigarette and hands it to him. Before he has a chance to get out his lighter, she leans close enough to light it with the end of her own. His eyes flick to hers and he realises for the first time that she has a tiny smattering of freckles on the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

She moves away again and he inhales deeply, gaining a little courage from it. “How does that work, then?”

She grins. “Well we have to keep it secret. Only Jerry knows. We pick a girl we both like…” she looks directly into Steve's eyes now, “and sometimes we play all together and sometimes it's just me and her.” Steve blushes, feeling his heart race at the description. “That's how it works. I mean, I can tell you in more detail, if you want?” She tilts her head to one side, knowing she's teasing. Knowing she certainly now has the upper hand.

They’ve both been so engrossed in their conversation that neither notice Elvis walking towards them, and at that moment he arrives right behind Steve, his voice booming out, “What d’you think would happen if I went outside?” He’s curious about their body language and what their conversation might’ve been about, but he’s mostly fixated on the question he's been asking for the past three days.

Steve collects himself, turning to face the other man, and answers in exactly the same way as he has the last three times he was asked. “Nothing, man.”

Elvis knew that would be the answer, and for some reason today feels like the day. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears as he says, “well then let's do it. Let's go out there now.”

“Sure,” Steve replies, evenly, stubbing out his cigarette and moving towards the elevator. “Let's go.” He’s been hoping Elvis would agree to go outside and see that he was right about it being safe, but the pressure from the guys and Parker not too had been unbelievable. So he thinks he had better take the opportunity now, before it disappears again.

The rest of the guys rise en masse from where they'd been sitting around, waiting for something to do, and move to go with Elvis. He waves his hand. “No, no. Y'all stay here. I'll go with Steve.”

His heart beats out of his chest as he follows the shorter man into the elevator and then back out again when they reach the ground floor. As the door to outside opens the sights and sounds of the street rush towards him. It's loud and colourful and the smell of onions from hotdog vendors fills the sticky summer air. He stands there, on the sidewalk, just waiting. Waiting for the hoards of people that the Colonel had told him would tear him apart. Waiting for the screams, the tears. Waiting to be recognised. But there’s nothing. Everyone just carries on as if he's not even there - a couple even basically walk into him and he jumps, staring and expectant, but even then there's nothing. His hands ball into fists and his jaw clenches and relaxes over and over, eyes staring accusitorally at the passers-by, foot tapping, whole leg jiggling.

“Hello! Hello? Hello?!” He shouts at pedestrians and passengers in cars as they pass. “HELLO?” People respond politely, but there isn't a single flicker of recognition.

Looking up at the window where Dorothy and the guys are congregated, watching him, he thinks about how they’re no doubt ribbing him amongst themselves for the fact that no-one even knows who he is anymore. Steve was right - his career is in the toilet, and someone's flushed already, he's a has-been, a nobody, just some guy on the street in LA that everyone has forgotten. Fuck.

“C'mon man, it’s getting hot,” Steve shakes his shirt collar in an attempt to get some breeze between the garment and his skin. “Let's go back inside.”

Elvis is silent on the way back. He just keeps thinking about how the Colonel made him believe he couldn't even leave the house without being mobbed. The guys all start trying to crack jokes as soon as they see him but he gives them an angry stare and grabs Dorothy’s hand, pulling her with him back into his dressing room. He collapses down onto the bed in the back room with a loud sigh. She lays her head on his chest.

“No-one knows who the fuck I am anymore, Dodo. No-one cares about Elvis Presley.”

She runs her fingers over the silken fabric of his shirt. “They will baby, they will.”

He hums, wanting to believe her but still wrapped up in the same thoughts as before. She’d watched the scene out of the window with interest, but not quite in the way Elvis thought she did. Her mind was still full of her conversation with Steve, and how it’d been interrupted just when it was getting good. She’d watched Elvis desperately trying to get the attention of passers-by with a lump in her throat, but something about Steve’s steady presence by his side had made her feel better. She kept running that sweet little speech he’d made about her boyfriend through her mind over and over. He did have Elvis’ best interests at heart, the incident on the street had proved that. She had been right to trust him with their secret.

“I told Steve about our girls,” she says, after a while, a little smile playing on her lips.

The revelation jolts Elvis out of his thoughts. “Ya what?”

She giggles. “I told him about the girls.”

“You little minx,” he chuckles, his attention suddenly just on her.

“I said sometimes we all play together and sometimes it's just me and her.” She arches a brow as she looks at him.

“Well what did he say ta that?”

“Not much,” she smiles, thinking back at the memory. “He just blushed a lot.”

“Yer naughty, aintcha?” Her antics make his mouth curl into a smile and he forgets all about the incident on the street earlier.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she coos in response. “You need to punish me?”

“Think I do,” he replies, his arms wrapping around her as he rolls on top. He growls into her neck and she giggles again.

“EP! Boss!” Joe shouts from the outer room and both of them groan.

“What?”

“You're wanted back on set!”

Elvis presses a quick kiss to her lips and rolls back off her again. “Later, baby.”

She sighs, sitting up as he leaves and Joe remains, staring at her unabashedly.

“I better go too,” she says, in the hopes of making him leave. He's usually so stuck to Elvis’ side she wonders if he's broken or something.

“You can always stay and I'll keep you company,” Joe suggests.

“That's okay, doll,” she replies, with as much emphasis on the last word as possible, getting up and out of the room as quickly as she can. Damn creep.

Joe watches her go with a little sadness. He keeps hoping eventually she'll relent and give him something more than a quick flash of her cleavage now and then. She flirts sometimes, surely that means something? He sighs and walks out of the dressing room now too, looking around quickly for Elvis. That stunt on the street earlier would have to be relayed to Parker quick-smart. He decides now is as good a time as any, seeing his boss back to intense choreography practice. He probably can't get up to anything much worth noting doing that.

***

Rehearsals carry on for the next few days, and one evening Steve decides to volunteer to get the food for a change. Elvis’ dressing room is host to the usual jam session and people are starting to get hungry, and Steve is starting to feel the need for some fresh air, or at least some time out of the oppressive atmosphere of the room. As soon as Dorothy hears him mention Chinese food she offers to go with him. She doesn’t need to see Elvis’ face to know that he’ll want something else, and she wants to escape for a while too. She’s bored, and she’s fed up with being near Elvis but never getting any proper alone time with him. Any time they might’ve had is gone as soon as he takes his usual cocktail of pills, and she finds herself awake, watching him sleep and calling that a relationship. She probably wouldn’t have volunteered to go out though, if it wasn’t Steve who was getting the food. The conversation they hadn’t really finished is still playing on her mind, and she wants to see where it goes.

Steve on the other hand feels like he's getting a bit too much Elvis. Ever since the sidewalk incident, Elvis has treated him like the Oracle of Delphi, asking him for his opinion on every little thing possible. It's getting exhausting. He loves the man, and it's very flattering to be taken so seriously by him, but he needs a break. And it's a bonus to have Dorothy as company. He can't think of anyone else he'd rather talk to.

“Ugh. I am so glad to get out of there!” She declares, jumping into the front seat.

Steve laughs. “Me too. I was looking for an excuse, really.”

“Sick of hearing the same four songs over and over?”

He shrugs. “I guess. I don’t mind that so much as hearing the same in-jokes. And…” he pauses, a little unsure of himself as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road.

“And?”

“Well… they’re sycophants, aren’t they? They all suck up to him.” Steve keeps his eyes on the road while he says it, a little afraid that she might take it as a slight on Elvis that he would choose to surround himself with yes men all the time.

“That’s why he likes you,” she replies. “You don’t suck up to him. Think he finds it refreshing.” She watches Steve’s face as he seems to be struggling with an emotion. Grinning, she decides she knows what it is. “He’s bugging you, isn’t he? You didn’t think Elvis Presley could bug you, but he’s getting on your nerves.”

Steve laughs with relief. “Yeah. He is a bit. Yeah.”

“It’s okay. He bugs me too.”

Steve sneaks a look over at her. “He does?”

“Yeah. Maybe I preferred it when we had the girls, even if they were needy. At least I had someone else to talk to when he wasn’t around.”

“How long have you been…?” He trails off, unsure of the right words to use.

“Since we moved into the dressing room. We had to ditch her. She was making it too obvious.”

It's a beat before Steve catches on. She must mean obvious to Joe, or Parker.

“You don't want Parker knowing?”

“Fuck no. He's bad enough with me as it is.” She rolls her eyes. “If he knew we were fucking around with other girls he'd lose his goddamn mind.”

He nods, accelerating down the interstate. He thinks Parker must be upset enough that Elvis is so obviously living with a girl out of wedlock, that she’s right about the possibility of him losing his mind if he found out something entirely more hippie free-love-like was going on.

“So d’you think you’ll wait until filming is over until you find someone else? Parker is around all the time. And Joe too.”

“Ugh. I dunno. Joe is around all the time anyway. We used to manage. I just need to find someone more subtle. You know anyone?”

He glances over at her, chin resting on her fist, expression thoroughly fed up. He looks back at the road. “Not really.”

She sighs. Just as Steve starts to steer them off the interstate a wicked idea floats to the top of her mind. For some reason she can't stop herself from saying it.

“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

Steve narrowly avoids just stomping on the brake with the shock of her question, feeling a rush of adrenalin at the same time as his face colours and his heart starts beating at what seems like a million beats a minute.

“N-no, I’m not,” he stammers, trying to steady his breathing as he drives down the road a little way and then turns into the bay outside of the restaurant.

Dorothy bites her lip. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Do you want to join us?”

Steve turns the engine off and stares at her with a slightly wild look on his face. “Are you crazy?” He asks, heart beating like a jackhammer in his chest.

Her mouth curls into a smile again. “I don't think so. But most crazy people think they're sane, don't they?”

He shakes his head quickly, opening the car door and getting out without saying another word. His head is spinning and he decides that right now it would be best to concentrate on getting the food he’d promised. Dorothy's face falls at the lack of rejoiner, and she gets out of her side of the car and walks into the burger joint next door to the Chinese. She orders Elvis’ burger and fries and sits, waiting for it and wondering why she had to open her big mouth and say something so stupid. She’s still wondering when she sits down on a plastic chair next to Steve, swinging her legs back and forth and looking down at her feet in the patent leather sandals she'd put on this morning. But she doesn’t feel like she can take it back, either, so when she finally breaks the awkward silence they’re both sitting in, it’s to mutter, “you're not into me, then?” at the floor.

Steve almost jumps at the intrusion into the thoughts he’d been trying very hard not to have ever since she’d popped the question in the car. He starts blushing all over again.

“I'm into you,” he states, matter-of-fact. “I'd have to be crazy not to be into you.” He looks at her properly for the first time since she said she wasn’t crazy. “Have you seen you?”

Dorothy looks up with a genuine smile. “Yeah I have actually. I'm a stone-cold fox.”

Steve bursts out laughing and she laughs too. It’s a relief to finally break the awful tension. But he still has questions. “What about Elvis? I can't… would he want to do this?”

“Well he promised I could pick who was next.”

“Did he think you'd pick a guy when he promised that, though?”

“Probably not. Definitely not. Fuck. I dunno. I just…” she pauses, trying to work out exactly what she wants to say, how much she should tell. “I think it'd be fun, you know… to play with two guys at once. To…” she's cut off mid-flow by the announcement that the food is ready, catching both of them off-guard. They take the bags and go back to the car, and Dorothy waits until Steve has backed out of the space and is back on the interstate before carrying on.

“So anyway…” she begins, looking at his profile as he drives. “...I uh… I think it'd be fun for me. Two guys. You know.”

Steve can feel himself getting red again. Trying not to let his mind just become one big porno.

“Is that what you'd want, then? Sex?”

“Sure. That's the fun part, isn't it?”

He nods, his hands gripping the wheel as Dorothy in a million different positions runs through his mind.

“And you think Elvis…?”

“Could be persuaded.”

☆☆☆

Chapter Text

It seems more difficult than usual to get everyone out of the dressing room at the end of the night, and strangely, Steve finds himself being one of the last people there. He spent a lot of the evening talking to Jerry, who he finds the least objectionable of the Mafia, and probably too much time watching Dorothy’s interactions with both Elvis and the rest of the guys. As he’d noticed when he first met her, she flirts to get her way and she always seems to be successful. Everything she does appears to be a calculated technique to unbalance whoever she’s talking to, whether it’s saying something outrageous (he can tell when she’s done that by the expression on their face) or exposing some kind of body part she knows they’ll be interested in. As he carries on his conversation with Jerry, he thinks about her doing the same thing to him. Telling him about the girls, coming way too close to him to light that cigarette, suggesting he get involved in their relationship and making him almost crash the car… And now does she have what she wants? He almost sighs out loud right in the middle of whatever Jerry is currently saying. This whole thing is frying his brain.

Jerry and Steve are the last people to leave, and as usual Dorothy thanks Jerry for clearing everyone else out with a kiss on the cheek. Elvis is mumbling something about tomorrow’s press conference when she turns and does the same thing to Steve, her soft lips pressing against his slightly stubbly cheek.

“Night, Steve.”

Poor Steve can’t stop himself from blushing for what seems like the hundredth time today, blood rushing to his face as he thinks about her doing this in front of Elvis, when he doesn’t know what she’s been promising. His blood starts to rush somewhere else, too, thinking about her and Elvis going to bed now, not helped by the other man grabbing his girlfriend around the waist and squeezing her to his side. Fuck. Where did that come from? Steve swallows hard, wishing everyone a good night’s sleep and trying to say something enthusiastic about the press conference, although he has no idea if the words come out in the right order. He’s relieved when he walks through the door with Jerry and knows he’s going back to his car and his house, away from this madness for a few hours.

“What’ve ya been doin’ to poor old Steve, Dodo?” Elvis asks her, still squeezing her tightly. “He was beet red back there. Ya been teasin’ him again? I need him, y’know, functioning and e’erythin’ fer this press thing tomorrow.”

Dorothy smirks. “Yeah, maybe a little.”

“Well cut it out, baby. I need him.”

Elvis’ tone is a little sharp and she doesn’t like her chances with what she’s about to say next.

“About Steve…”

“Mmhmm.”

She moves in front of him, her hands on his chest, looking up into his face. She’s so small in her flats that she has to crane her neck to do it, but she has his full attention now.

“Remember you told me I could choose our next additional… person?”

He frowns, and she can almost see his brain working, trying to figure out what this has to do with Steve. “Sure.”

“What if… um… what if it was Steve?”

He stares at her for a good minute without saying anything. The silence is so long, and his gaze is so intense, that she starts to feel a little afraid. His hands press into her back, holding her so tightly she thinks she might have bruises in the morning.

“What the fuck?” Is his eventual response, said so coldly that her fear spreads and she starts to wonder if she should try and weasel her way out of this. Maybe she’s underestimated just how easy it would be to persuade him.

“I just thought, that maybe…” she starts, uncertainly.

He cuts her off. “You want to fuck Steve. You want to fuck all my friends, or just him?”

She doesn’t know how to respond. Obviously she doesn’t want to fuck the rest of the Mafia. The thought turns her stomach. But she’s not convinced that anything she says right now is going to help.

Elvis obviously isn’t happy with her silence, one of his hands moving to grip her jaw. “Hm? You want to fuck them all or just him? Answer me, ya little slut.”

Dorothy’s temper flares immediately at the use of the word slut, and she twists her body out of his grip, throwing her head back like a flighty horse to get his hand off her face. Then she slaps him. The sound echoes around the little room.

“Don’t you fucking calling me a slut!” She rages. “What about all the girls you’ve been with?”

“You’ve been with them all too!” He thunders back, trying to grab her again and missing.

“Not fucking Ann-Margaret!”

“Don’t you bring her up again! You stupid fucking…” he stops himself calling her a bitch, breath coming in pants now, adrenalin coursing through his veins. This is how they used to fight, when he fucked girls behind her back, before they came to their agreement.

They stare at one another, both panting, both angry, both turned on. It’s seconds before they’re kissing, hands everywhere, bodies pressed together. Elvis grabs her ass, picking her up easily and plonking her down on the lid of the piano, pushing up her dress and tearing at her panties. Another pair ruined.

“I’m gonna make ya forget all about Steve,” he growls into her ear, as he enters her, roughly. “Fuck ya til ya forget his damn name.”

She whimpers, her head falling back as he starts to fuck her, her back pressing uncomfortably against the hard wood of the piano. She can barely remember the last time he was inside her, never mind the last time he had her like this. Her fingers dig into his hair as he nips at her neck, his teeth grazing her skin, then getting hungrier, biting her and making her yelp.

Around the time they’d started fighting, Steve had realised he’d forgotten his wallet. He sighs at his own stupidity, and wearily makes his way back into the building. It’s so goddamn late, all he wants to do is sleep, but he shouldn’t really drive without his license. He gets to the door of the dressing room and pauses. The light is still on, and there’s the unmistakable sound of… fucking?

“Who do ya belong to?” Elvis growls again, loud enough so that Steve, standing outside and somehow completely paralysed, can hear every word.

“You,” Dorothy moans in response as he pounds her against the piano.

“Who’s fucking pussy is this?”

“Yours.”

“Yours, who?”

She lets out a pornographic moan as a slight change in angle has his dick hitting her g-spot over and over again.

“Yours, Daddy. Only yours. Oh FUCK.”

Steve still can’t move. He knows he should turn away and go back to his car but the way her voice sounds, cracking with pleasure, and the strangled, desperate moans that accompany it… he just can’t tear himself away.

Eventually the orgasm building inside her hits its crescendo, and she’s squealing and flailing her arms around desperately. Her pussy squeezes Elvis’ dick like a vice and he moans too, their pleasured noises mingling with the sound of skin slapping together as he reaches his high, cumming deep inside her.

They’re both quiet as Elvis buries his head in the crook of her neck and she strokes his hair gently. Something about the silence makes Steve realise just what he’s doing, and he decides he’d better go. Wallet be damned. He walks away slowly, thinking of the words he’d heard them say to one another over and over again. Embarrassingly, he has to adjust himself as he gets into the car, his hard-on pressing against his jeans. He shouldn’t have stayed there for so long, and he mentally berates himself for being whatever the listening version of a peeping Tom is. Some kind of pervert, anyway.

None the wiser, Elvis and Dorothy gradually untangle themselves and silently shower and get ready for bed, communicating through their usual little glances and touches. As they get under the sheets she clings to him, kissing his chest and running her fingers through the little patch of hair there.

“I love you,” she whispers.

Elvis runs a hand up her back. “I love you too, Dodo.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She looks up. “El?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I never told you I had a thing about two guys, did I?”

Elvis huffs out a sigh. He should’ve known the Steve subject wouldn’t be closed, but he’s still frustrated.

“No. Ya didn’t.”

“Thought you’d be jealous.”

“I am.”

She groans, rubbing her head against his chest like a cat. “But I love you, El. I just want to try this. And you love Steve.” She looks up at him, frowning. “It’s not as if I’m asking you to share me with Lamar.”

Elvis can’t help smirking a little. He tries to force the corners of his mouth back down again, but her mock-serious expression is making it very hard not to laugh.

“If ya ever ask me that,” he replies, poking the end of her nose with his finger as he tries and fails to stay serious, “I’ll tan yer hide lil girl, an’ not in a way you’ll enjoy.”

They look at one another for a beat and then both burst out laughing. She snuggles into him somehow even more.

“So… is that a yes then?”

Elvis groans. “How do ya do it? How do ya always get whatever ya want?”

It’s her turn to poke the end of his nose now. “Takes one to know one.”

***

Elvis is excited about the press conference. He prods Steve in the side on their way into the room. “Come on, these are always fun,” he declares, before bounding through the door.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and Steve pushes all thoughts of what he’d heard in the dressing room last night to the back of his mind. He’s wearing the ascot Elvis had bought him and Bones Howe as gifts, and he’s pleased with how it looks. The conference goes well - Elvis has plenty to say, and he alternates between being serious about the show and giving funny, teasing answers. Every time he’s about to give one of the latter he kicks Steve under the table, and it’s all the other man can do not to laugh out loud.

Elvis isn’t quite sure how he managed to get into such an excellent mood, but he thinks it has to do with the excellent sex he had last night and the fact that Dorothy has been virtually clinging to him ever since. Part of him is wondering if he did actually fuck her hard enough to make her forget about Steve, although he does remember somehow agreeing to let her have some fun with both of them. When he’s not thinking about a way to answer a question that will amuse him and hopefully make the man next to him laugh inappropriately, he’s thinking about Dorothy’s pussy. Of course he’s been intimately acquainted with it for years, but since the girls had been around he tended to fuck them more than her. It’s something he’s starting to regret now, missing out on so much good pussy just for the sake of variety.

He’d taken an upper before the conference, just to make sure he was on form, but it only kicks in properly afterwards, when they’re all celebrating how well everything had gone. Dorothy is sitting on his lap as he talks rapidly at Steve about his chances of persuading the Colonel to let them film in the dressing room.

“Doubt ya’ll get him ta but y’know it’s worth a try. I mean if anyone can, you can Steve, you’re like a wizard with the fat man or somethin’.”

Steve laughs at being described as a wizard, and is just about to reply when Joe interrupts. “We’re knackered, boss. Think we’re gonna head off, if that’s alright with you?”

Elvis looks up to see the assembled crowd of guys on their feet, shuffling back and forth somewhat awkwardly. They do look beat. His first instinct is to insist that they stay, but then he thinks about how he’d really like to spend a bit more time with Dorothy, and that the guys did tend to get in the way.

“Sure. Hell, why don’tcha all have tomorrow off too?”

Joe's eyebrows shoot up and he looks around, wondering if this is some kind of joke he's not in on.

“Uh, sure, EP.”

Elvis nods quickly and grins. “Sure y'all can think of somethin’ to do for a day in LA.” He looks over at Dorothy with lust in his eyes and has to bite his tongue not to tell everyone exactly what, or who, he intends to do all day in LA tomorrow.

“Sure thing, boss,” Joe replies, quickly shepherding the rest of the guys out of the door before Elvis changes his mind.

Steve looks around the room and suddenly realises it’s only the three of them left. Panic rising in his throat he starts babbling about going too.

“You probably want some time alone, I-I’ll just um… I should go…” He finds himself thinking of their alone time the night before and his face starts to colour.

Dorothy puts a hand on his arm. “I’d like it if you stayed. You’d… we’d like it if you stayed, wouldn’t we, El?” She tips her head back to look at her boyfriend.

Elvis nods, silently, although he doesn’t know if he would like it. He wants Dorothy to himself, and the atmosphere in the room is starting to seem charged and a little strange.

“Oh… okay,” Steve mumbles.

Dorothy’s thumb strokes his arm and he tries to get his breathing under control. What the fuck is she planning?

Dorothy sees the look of panic on his face and at the same time feels the irritation radiating off Elvis, underneath her. She has to do something to get this situation back under control. Her control. Make it less weird and more fun. It helps that she’s several drinks in already, and it doesn’t take long for her to think of something, getting up and starting to look around the room for a deck of cards, so that they can play poker. Strip-poker, to be precise. She giggles to herself.

“What’re ya doin’, Dodo?” Elvis sounds annoyed, and it’s probably not helped by the pills he took earlier. His eyes flick around the room at high speed, trying to figure her out, as his heart beats quickly and sweat beads at his temples.

“Looking for… aha!” She spins around, deck of cards in hand. “These!”

“What on earth for, baby?” He asks, confused. It’s not as if she’s ever been a great lover of card games.

She grins, wickedly.

“Strip poker.”

☆☆☆

Chapter Text

Steve’s eyes go wide at Dorothy’s suggestion and he immediately looks to Elvis for some kind of help. The other man is frowning and Dorothy can tell he’s about to come up with some sort of reason not to do what she wants. So she carries on talking.

“And I’m already at a disadvantage. Look.” She gestures at her clothes. “I’ve got far less on than you two. I mean, to make it fair I think Steve should take off his shoes at least. But even then… you boys have a good chance of getting me naked.”

Elvis starts to do the calculations in his head quickly. She's got underwear, a dress and stockings on. Five items. And he has… shirt, pants, socks, scarf and shoes. Seven. A quick appraisal of Steve suggests Dorothy is right to tell him to take his shoes off. He's wearing some kind of cardigan and presumably underwear, which would take him to nine with shoes too. Far too much of an advantage.

“Yeah, take your shoes off, Steve.”

Steve blinks, unsure how he's got into this situation. He'd kind of assumed Elvis would put a stop to it, but Dorothy’s powers of persuasion seem to be almost unstoppable. He slips his shoes off and then joins the other two on the carpeted floor.

Dorothy starts to reel off rules at a rate of knots as she shuffles the deck, ending with the declaration that folding doesn't count as losing, but “you can't avoid taking your clothes off by folding every hand, hm? Got it, boys?”

She feels giddy as they both nod their assent and look seriously at the cards she's just dealt them. It seems like things are back on track.

The first few hands are fairly evenly matched - Dorothy loses her stockings, Elvis his shoes and Steve his socks. They all start to relax a little, laughing and chatting as they play. Dorothy wins a few hands and is pleased to get the boys down to three items of clothing left each, making them all completely even.

“C'mon baby, let's see ‘em.”

Dorothy lays down a ten-high straight, smiling to herself as she does it. Surely he's not going to beat this.

“Full house, baby!” Elvis almost cackles, laying the cards down in front of him. “Let's get that dress off.”

“I think you'll find it's my choice which item of clothing I take off…” She teases in response, making Elvis’ and Steve's eyes go like saucers at the implication.

Unclasping her bra underneath her dress, she wiggles until she can pull it triumphantly out from under one arm.

“Well goddamn,” Elvis mutters as he shuffles the deck. “Thought ya were gonna take off your panties.” He looks up at Steve for confirmation that he wasn't the only one tricked by her phrasing, and finds him openly staring at her nipples as they peek through the thin fabric of her mini-dress. “Hey! Binder! Eyes up.”

Steve blushes and quickly looks at her face instead, finding her smirking back at him. He's grateful when Elvis deals and he can go back to the safety of staring at the cards. This whole thing is turning into a horny nightmare.

Dorothy escapes the next two rounds unscathed, and as Steve begins to deal the two men are down to just their pants, and, in Steve’s case, his underwear. Dorothy supposes he doesn't know about Elvis’ propensity for going commando, and doesn't realise his advantage. Then he beats her with a royal flush to her straight, and she takes her dress off.

Steve's eyes almost pop out of his head, looking at her sitting there in just her lacey panties. Elvis is pretty distracted too, his hard on pressing against his leg as he watches her shuffle and deal the next round. He's going to have to fold unless he gets something amazing this time around. He can't lose and end up naked when Steve has his pants on still.

“What happens if you lose now?” Steve suddenly asks, having just thought of something. “I mean, will you be out of the game? Or uh… could you carry on and forfeit something if you lose again?”

Dorothy giggles. “Why just me? What about El?”

“He'd have to lose twice to…” Steve trails off before the end of his sentence as Dorothy shakes her head slowly. “He… what?” Is all he manages as he finds his eyes drawn to the bulge in the other man's pants. Is Elvis really not wearing underwear?

Elvis has gone scarlet by this point and is wriggling about, trying and failing to make himself look decent under Steve's intense gaze.

“What kind of forfeit?” He asks, quickly, trying to somehow draw attention away from his crotch.

Steve is still blushing too hard to come up with a coherent thought, so Dorothy answers.

“How about, if you lose and you've run out of clothes, the winner can kiss you wherever they like?”

Both men start babbling at once about how they don't want to kiss each other anywhere, Elvis ending with a particularly indignant “what the fuck, Dodo?”

Dorothy smirks as she looks at them both, obviously aroused, red-faced and unable to stop themselves from furtively glancing at each other.

She shrugs. "Okay, you don't like that.” Barely suppressing another giggle, she continues, “winner decides the forfeit then?”

“Only if there's no fucking funny business,” Elvis replies.

“Define ‘funny business’.”

“I ain't kissin’ him. And he ain't kissin’ me. Alright?”

Dorothy tries very hard to keep a straight face. “Alright. No funny business. You happy with that, Steve?”

Steve stares blankly at her for a moment before answering. “Y-yeah. Sure. Yeah.”

“Great. Let's go!”

They all pick up their cards and look at them. After approximately five seconds, Elvis gathers his back together again with a sigh.

“Fold,” he says, throwing them down onto the floor.

Dorothy raises an eyebrow but decides now isn't the time to debate with him whether he really needed to fold or not.

“I'm in,” she says, waiting for Steve.

Steve stares at his hand in shock. “Me too.”

“Alright, let's see them.”

“Four of a kind, darling.” He lays out four Jacks.

“Oh!”

“Did I win?” Steve looks at her sheepishly. She nods and puts her cards down too. Only a full house - threes over sixes.

“Think that means you have to take your panties off.”

Both men's eyes are glued to her as she bites her lip deliberately and then hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. She looks from one to the other teasingly, before slowly starting to shimmy them down her legs and off. Steve tries his best not to moan out loud. Noticing the look on his face, Dorothy picks the panties up off the floor next to her and throws them into his lap. He fails to suppress the moan this time.

“Dodo!” Elvis chides, giving her a look. She shrugs and gives him her best innocent little girl look.

Steve stares at the panties in his lap. Specifically at the damp patch on the crotch. His dick is positively aching and he’s starting to doubt his ability to remember which hand beats which as Elvis starts to deal. The dark-haired man folds immediately again, rousing Dorothy’s suspicion. This time she wins the hand and Steve is reduced to his underpants. She can’t resist having a good look at what he’s packing, now there’s very little in the way, and she likes what she sees. Now to just get those underpants off too…

The third time Elvis tries to fold Dorothy decides he can’t be allowed to get away with it.

“No you don’t. This isn’t a game of me versus Steve, you’re supposed to be involved.”

“I can’t help it if my hand is shit.”

“I bet it isn’t.”

“It fucking is.”

Dorothy launches herself towards the turned over cards and grabs them, but Elvis moves quickly too, gripping one of her wrists and twisting it until she squeals and lets go. She launches herself on top of him, briefly pinning his hands down on either side of his head.

“Hey! You wouldn’t need to do that if it was shit, would you?”

Elvis is slightly inhibited about wrestling a naked woman, but only enough to have given her the initial advantage. He doesn’t stay pinned down for long, flipping her onto her back and holding her down easily.

“You’ve lost. Ya don’t get ta fight me about my strategy.”

She shakes her head, pursing her lips as she smiles up at him. “You were cheating.”

“Ah do not cheat!” He shakes his head resolutely and then looks over at Steve, who is watching the whole thing a bit like a live action porno. “Ya don’t think I was cheatin’, do ya Stevie?”

Elvis has never called Steve Stevie before, and something about the endearment makes blood rush to his face and then shortly after, his dick. He squeezes the bridge of his nose to try and bring himself back to reality. Or, back somewhere.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t cheat.”

“There,” Elvis declares, looking down at Dorothy again. “Steve says I didn’t cheat so ah didn’t cheat.”

“Ooooh, Steeeeeve says,” Dorothy starts, in a silly sing-song voice guaranteed to wind Elvis up.

“That’s it,” he declares. “Yer goin’ over my knee, little girl.”

She squeals with delight and he shakes his head again, in something akin to resignation. “Gimme a hand, will ya?” He nods to Steve.

“Uh… sure.”

Elvis sits up and drags a wriggling Dorothy into his lap. “C’mon. I need a bit more enthusiasm than that,” he continues, looking at Steve over his girlfriend’s shoulder as he holds her tightly against him. “Look at her. She’s gorgeous.”

Steve does look. Even though he can only see the back of her, he has to agree that she’s gorgeous. Her body is petite and her ass is perfectly round, with just the right amount of jiggle when Elvis gives it an exploratory slap. She giggles into his neck, suddenly feeling just how naked she is now she’s lost a little of her control over the situation.

“El…”

“Oh, don’t pretend this isn’t exactly what ya wanted, little girl,” he growls into her ear, loud enough that Steve can hear. “Bein’ naughty so me and Stevie could teach ya a lesson.”

“She is gorgeous,” Steve says, suddenly remembering that he was supposed to say something a while ago.

Elvis chuckles, his eyes full of mirth. “Back with us again now, Stevie?” He teases. “C’mon, let’s get this naughty little girl to bed.”

Without waiting for a response he stands up and Dorothy’s legs wrap around his waist automatically. He starts to walk into the bedroom and Steve follows them both, his heart beating with anticipation.

“On yer knees.”

She does as she’s told, getting on all fours, facing away from them. Elvis gestures to Steve to get onto the other side of the bed, and they sit on either side of her.

“Go on,” he mouths.

Steve hasn’t really done a lot of spanking, maybe the odd cheeky slap here and there, but nothing like this. He’s not sure how hard or how much, but he is sure he wants to touch that perfectly round ass, so that’s what he does first, running his palm over it and appreciating just how smooth it is. Then he draws his hand back and gives her a little slap.

“Harder ‘an that.”

He tries again, and the sound of his hand meeting her skin is louder this time, and she jolts a little.

“Harder.”

Another slap, another jolt.

“Aw come on. Put yer back into it.”

Something about Elvis’ tone makes Steve lose all of his previous inhibitions and he really hits her ass with his palm this time. She squeals, feeling arousal between her legs.

“That’s better.”

Steve finds himself grinning, actually enjoying spanking her, drawing his hand back again and again. She squeals and wriggles and tries half-heartedly to escape. Then Elvis joins in, spanking her other ass cheek until it’s bright red. Wetness runs down her leg, giving her away even as she tries to tell them to stop.

“Looks like yer enjoyin’ it, honey.”

“El! Please!”

He laughs. “You think she’s had enough Steve?”

“She might’ve, but I haven’t,” he teases, following up with three quick slaps in a row.

“Steve!” Dorothy squeaks, wondering at this dark side that seemed to be showing itself all of a sudden.

He chuckles, looking quickly over at Elvis before pressing his lips to her hot, red skin. She moans uncontrollably at the sensation. The other man watches for a moment before joining in too, pressing soft kisses to her ass cheek and then pushing his face into her pussy. For a second, the two men’s heads are almost touching, and then Steve moves out of the way, watching Elvis pushing her ass cheeks apart as he starts to eat her. She whimpers, and then Steve feels her hand on his thigh. He looks at her face, flushed and somehow prettier than ever.

“Come here,” she instructs, “let me take care of you.”

He moves towards her eagerly, pulling his underpants off as he goes. Her hand wraps around his chubby length and she starts to stroke him, collecting precum from where it’s beaded at the head and using it to lubricate her movements. Remembering what it’s like to be with a guy who’s cut for a change. Her eyes flutter closed every so often with pleasure, enjoying what Elvis is doing but not quite getting there. After a while of slowly stroking Steve she makes a suggestion.

“Why don’t you swap?”

Elvis moves his head and looks down at her. She can tell he’s a little hurt that she hasn’t finished and now she’s suggesting replacing him.

“Let Steve have a turn,” she pouts and he sighs and acquiesces, moving to the other side of her and lying down. She flips onto her back to be more comfortable, and shuffles him up the bed a bit so she can get her mouth on him once she’s got rid of his pants. Long, languid licking and sucking that makes him moan loudly and tangle his fingers in her hair.

Steve moves between her legs and immediately slides two fingers inside, making her gasp. She reaches down to hold his head where she wants it as soon as he starts feverishly licking her there, her movements on Elvis’ dick getting more erratic as she gets closer to finishing.

“Ohhhh,” she moans, giving up on Elvis entirely for a moment as pleasure starts to rush through her. “Shit. Fuck. Don’t stop.”

Elvis watches her as she cums, listening to her tell-tale squeal and feeling jealous that he wasn’t the one who caused it. Steve stares, tongue still flicking over her clit as fast as he can, loving the feeling of her pussy squeezing his fingers as she cums all over them. As he feels her relax he moves his head and pulls his fingers out. She lets out a shuddering moan and then rolls towards Elvis instinctively, wrapping her legs around him and nuzzling his neck. Her hands roam his back, knit into his hair. He holds her and hums against her softly.

“Good girl.”

Steve sits up slowly, unsure of his place in this whole situation now. Should he just… go? He watches them together for a while, still feeling turned on but also a bit like a creep, not for the first time. Then Dorothy slowly untangles herself and sits up.

“That was lovely,” she announces, beaming at Steve, before her eyes find their way to his red, hard dick. Then to Elvis’ red, hard dick. Another idea begins to form.

“Lie down, boys.”

They both do as she says, almost without thinking. Sitting up on her haunches between them, she puts a hand on each of their thighs.

“Let’s see who can come first!” She declares, before grabbing a dick in each hand.

“What does the winner get?” Steve finds himself asking.

She starts to move her hands rapidly as she shrugs. “Bragging rights?”

They both breathe heavily, and any thoughts either of them might’ve had about continuing the conversation are almost immediately gone along with all of the other thoughts in their heads. Dorothy looks from one to the other and tries to judge who is going to win, but it looks like a very closely run race. And anyway, she can’t tell with Steve, not like she can with Elvis. She sees and hears him so obviously close, and then she looks at the other man, whose eyes are screwed shut as his breaths come in harsh quick pants. She finds herself spoiled for choice - she loves to watch Elvis lose control, but Steve is new and interesting and she wants to know what makes him tick. Her hands work just that little bit faster, as she flicks her wrist at the end of every stroke, both men rewarding her with a groan. They cum almost at the same time, Elvis just a little sooner, but both buck their hips into her hand just the same. Steve just moans, but she can hear Elvis calling her mama, trying hard not to say it too loudly. When she’s stroked them both through their orgasms, she gets up and walks to the bathroom, washing her hands and bringing back a washcloth too. Steve looks up at her, drunk on his orgasm and amazed that she’s carefully wiping him clean. He’s overwhelmed with a want to call her some pet name or other, but he’s not sure what. It seems like Dodo is something only Elvis calls her, and he doesn’t want to intrude on that. He’s not from the South, so he’s never called a woman honey or baby in his life, and when he called her darling before it felt weird.

“Thanks, babe,” he tries, then immediately blushes and wonders if it was the wrong thing.

Her eyes go a little wide and he struggles to read the expression on her face for a moment. Then she smiles. No-one has ever called her babe before. It seems almost exotic.

“That’s okay,” she murmurs, her eyes lingering on his face for a little longer than strictly necessary. Then she starts cleaning up Elvis, who up until that moment still had his eyes closed.

“Who won?” He asks.

“You, pu– uh-baby.” She tries not to screw up her face too much at the accidental almost-reveal of her pet name for him.

He looks worried for a second and then decides to grin back at her. Hopefully Steve wouldn’t wonder what that was. “What do I win again?”

She can’t help grinning back at him, like a lovesick puppy. “How about a kiss?”

“Mmmm.”

Steve watches them for a second, then sits up and starts to look around for his clothes.

“I should go.”

“Oh. Well, I guess so. Will you come back tomorrow?” Dorothy asks, simply.

“Yeah. I was thinking about that - haven’t you forgotten something?” They both look at him blankly, so he continues. “Parker’s birthday?”

Elvis claps a hand across his forehead and groans. “Shit. Goddamn. Shouldna given the guys the day off.”

Steve shrugs. “Reckon they’ll have missed you so much tonight they’ll turn up tomorrow morning anyway.”

Dorothy bursts out laughing. “Stevie! You’re funnier than I thought.”

“Aw shucks Miss, real kind a ya ta say so,” he replies, in his best fake southern accent.

Elvis frowns, sitting up and wrapping his arms around his girlfriend. “Hope that wasn’t yer impression a me.”

“El!” Dorothy slaps his thigh lightly. “Stevie’s being funny. Not everything’s about you.”

“Hmmm.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” She nods her head at Steve.

“Oh. Well I’ll be back tomorrow morning as well.”

“On account a missin’ me?” Elvis teases, through gritted teeth.

“Course. I’ll be thinking about you all night.”

Steve gets up and runs for the door half way through his sentence, knowing he’s pushing his luck, but something about the attention Dorothy is giving him is making him want to keep making her laugh. And he can hear her giggle now, as he slips through the door and into the other room, gathering up his clothes and putting them on. He can also hear Elvis cussing him out, calling him all sorts of names including a fairy.

Dorothy pulls on a robe and walks into the other room, just in time to see Steve picking up his ascot and putting it back on.

“Thanks for staying and playing poker.” Her hands snake around his neck and her scantily clad body presses against his.

“Thanks for inviting me.” His hands find her hips and pull her even closer.

Elvis stands and looks out of the little window between the two rooms, watching as they kiss. The pang of jealousy he feels is worse than anything from the rest of the evening. Somehow the kiss seems more intimate, harder to get away from even than another man’s tongue in his girlfriend’s pussy. His heart aches. Can he really keep letting her do this?

☆☆☆

Chapter Text

The next day is a whirlwind. Scotty and DJ arrive and in between jam sessions and long conversations, the Colonel’s birthday celebrations are in full swing too. There’s plenty of cake and Elvis serenades Parker with a hilarious version of Hurt. Well, the Colonel doesn’t think it’s that hilarious, Steve can tell from the look on his face, but everyone else in the room seems to. Just after the burst of applause and the ceremonial cake-cutting, Steve finds himself cornered by Elvis’ manager, who tells him once again in no uncertain terms that “the boy needs to sing a Christmas song, Bindle. It’s Christmas time, after all.” Steve has no idea how he manages to get through the conversation without telling him firstly that it’s the middle of June, and secondly that that is not his fucking name, but he has learned not to give ammunition to the Snowman. He’s definitely sweating when he eventually escapes and ends up next to Elvis, who is midway through gobbling down his third slice of cake.

“Have you ever thought of getting a different manager?” Steve doesn’t mean to be quite so direct, but he’s hot and frustrated.

Elvis’ eyebrows rise as he finishes his mouthful. “Colonel’s done a lot for me.”

“Not lately.”

There’s the ghost of a smile on Elvis’ lips as he replies. “I guess not.” He gestures around the room then, with his half-eaten piece of cake. “He’s doing this.”

“Is he? From where I’m standing he’s doing his best to sabotage this.”

“Look, I… I don’t know who else I could trust, Steve. He’s done a lot for me. He’s… who else is there?”

Steve shrugs his shoulders. “Jerry?” He’s had a few conversations with Jerry since Dorothy first suggested it, and he started to think that the younger man might actually be a decent manager. Maybe he wouldn’t have quite enough experience to manage Elvis right away, but he’s certainly trustworthy enough.

“Jerry’s just a kid,” Elvis scoffs, licking his fingers. “I know ya mean well Steve, but Parker is all I’ve got.”

Steve hums and debates carrying on the debate, but in the end decides to change the subject. One of the first things he learned about Elvis was that if he didn’t want to do something, it wasn’t happening. He absolutely loved to dig his heels in. But there might be a more subtle way of persuading him.

***

“You know those girls you told me about?” Steve asks, much later, sitting on the couch with Dorothy’s legs in his lap.

“Hmmmm?” She lights a cigarette and blows out a plume of smoke.

“You ever get jealous of them? When they were with him?” He hasn’t stopped with the direct questions, something in his personality but right now also something in the several drinks he’s had and the fact that Dorothy is all over him. No-one else really pays much attention as she’s flirtatious with everyone, but she keeps the fact that she’s holding his hand hidden behind her thigh.

“I mean I guess so. A little. But nothing like we used to be before the girls.”

“What d’you mean?”

She fiddles with his fingers, pushing hers between and pulling them back out again, absent-mindedly. “He used to have affairs anyway… Ann-Margaret was the worst… and we used to fight about it a lot.” She pauses, looking up at him with a smile playing on her lips. “And then we used to fuck. Good sex. Terrible relationship. That’s why we agreed on the girls.”

Steve feels the familiar blush rising on his cheeks and rubs one thoughtfully. “You didn’t? Have affairs I mean.”

She shakes her head. “No. I mean… he’d have killed me.” She laughs a little. “Unless it was a girl. Then he’d have wanted to join in.”

“What did he say when you told him about me?” He’s getting braver, although he’s scared to hear the answer based on what he’d eavesdropped.

She takes hold of his hand properly now. “He um… he didn’t like it much.” Worrying her lower lip for a moment, she tries to decide exactly how much to reveal. “We fought about it.” A pause. “We fucked about it.”

He finishes the drink he’s been nursing and then puts the glass down, moving his mouth near her ear. “I know. I heard.”

Electricity runs up Dorothy’s spine as she barely suppresses a little gasp. Steve gets more and more interesting by the day. She takes a big drag of her cigarette to steady herself before she looks at him properly.

“You were listening?”

“W-well… I um… I forgot my wallet and I came back for it and um… I heard.”

She wriggles a little, thinking back to the words Elvis said loud enough for someone outside to hear. To the things she’d said in return, the noises she’d made. Another rush of adrenalin hits her and she feels a little tingling between her legs. Thinking about Steve listening to her having sex makes her suddenly really want him and she wonders how exactly she can get him.

“Did you stay long?”

“Long enough.”

Squeezing his hand tightly she looks up at him through her lashes. “Oh you are fun.”

He laughs and lays his head down on her shoulder. “What I am is drunk.”

Elvis has been watching them on the couch for a little while, off and on, but when he sees their heads getting closer he gets up from his seat amongst the guys and walks over. He’s not sure what for exactly, to stop them from cosying up together like this? To find out what they’re talking about?

When he gets there he clears his throat.

Steve almost jumps, but Dorothy just moves her head slowly to look at him, and then grins, hopping off the couch and throwing her arms around his neck. She’s taken her shoes off so she’s tiny compared to him again, and Steve can’t help noticing the size difference. They look at one another for a while without talking and then Dorothy pouts.

“Can we go?”

“There’s still a lot of people, Dodo.”

She pulls a face. “But I want us to go. The three of us.”

He leans his head down to press his forehead against hers. “Again?”

“Oh c’mon. You liked it the last time.” She wiggles her hips from side to side, rubbing herself against him.

They’re talking so quietly Steve can’t hear a word, he can only guess at the content of their conversation from the body language.

Elvis smiles. He can’t help it. He did like it the last time, even if he felt jealous for a while. Afterwards she’d been so sweet to him it had made it all worth it. And anyway, it was kind of fun having someone else to help control her a little. She did seem to get her own way pretty often for someone so dainty.

“Okay, okay. Gimme half an hour. Tell Steve to go to one of the other rooms for a bit and then come in later.”

She lets go of him and clicks her heels together, giving him a little mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”

They both giggle as he makes his way back to the guys to try and hint that they should be getting going. Early start for filming the next day and all that. It takes longer than half an hour, but he manages it eventually, and collects Dorothy to take her back to the dressing room without the usual crowd of guys.

***

Somehow or other Dorothy finds herself lying on her side on the bed with Steve behind her, kissing her neck, and Elvis facing her, kissing her mouth. They’re both wriggling against her, Steve especially, and she feels like she’s trapped in the best possible way. Elvis pulls away for just long enough to get her dress off and then goes back to kissing, his hands playing with her breasts. She moves her leg so it’s between his, and he rolls his hips against it, enjoying the friction. Steve’s hand is on her ass but his fingers are rubbing her pussy through her panties, and he’s rubbing himself against her too, mumbled moans into her skin at the sensations. They stay like that for a while, kissing and rubbing, in a kind of pleasured daydream. They’d barely spoken when Steve had snuck into the room, somehow there just seemed to be an understanding between them about what they all wanted.

Eventually Elvis finds himself wanting more, moving one of his hands to rub Dorothy’s clit through her panties. She can feel two hands on her pussy now, and the combination of that and the hard-ons pressing against her make her cum quickly, with a little yelp. Steve moves his hand away but Elvis dips his into her panties. She squeaks.

“C’mon baby. You can do it,” he breathes into her ear as she tries to move away, oversensitive.

“Mmm El…”

“C’mon.”

His finger is working overtime on her puffy clit, grateful for Steve’s hand on her hip, helping to hold her in place.

“My good girl can cum again f’me…”

She whines, feeling like it’s too much and not enough at the same time, and then all of a sudden a wave of pleasure hits her and the squeal is louder this time as she squirts all over Elvis’ hand and her panties.

“Mmm. Told ya ya could, baby.”

She leans her head heavily against his chest. “Ohhh fuck,” she mumbles, dizzy and overwhelmed.

“Soaked yer panties though, didn’t ya?”

He slides them off her legs and then throws them at Steve. “Souvenir.”

Steve groans at the sodden panties and continues kissing the bits of her body he can reach. The feeling of her coming undone against him had been intoxicating, and he feels like this is a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. He rolls his hips against her ass, hands unclasping her bra and helping her out of it so he can hold her breasts.

Once again, Elvis is the one who decides the next move, quickly removing the rest of his clothes. Steve does the same, watching almost open-mouthed as the other man draws Dorothy’s leg over his hip and then starts to push himself inside. They hold her between them as Elvis starts to slowly fuck her and Steve lets his dick slide between her ass cheeks.

Dorothy has been in a lot of filthy situations. She’s had a lot of threesomes, and she’s not shy about pleasuring other people or receiving pleasure herself. But something about this, the way Elvis is moaning as he thrusts inside her and Steve is whimpering into her hair as he ruts against her from behind, is another level. She likes the way their bodies feel against hers - bigger, stronger, more powerful. Like they could do whatever they wanted with her. It thrills her, makes her tremble as she hears Elvis’ breathing speed up as he gets close. But there’s something deeply protective about it too, like the way she feels sometimes, wrapped up in Elvis’ arms but almost twice as good. They could do anything to her that they wanted, and that barely restrained violence is making her hot. She feels Steve’s fingers dig into her hip as his breathing starts to get erratic, and she thinks it can’t be long for him either. A soft moan and Elvis’ lips just beneath her jaw and she knows he’s finished.

“Shit,” Steve mumbles, desperate for his release now.

He looks over at Elvis through half-open eyes, seeing him flopping against Dorothy in ecstasy and then her leg moving back, her ass cheeks closing around him tightly and suddenly spinning him up to what feels like heaven. He groans and keeps pumping his hips as he cums, his eyes drawn to Elvis’ dick as it slides out of Dorothy, slick with her arousal. Burying his face in her hair, he finally stops moving and then tries to get the image of what he’d just seen out of his mind.

Dorothy lies there, thinking about how much she likes being between the two men, as they lean against her and try to recover. And then, as much as she likes it, she decides she had better get up and shower.

Steve and Elvis lie on their backs companionably, listening to the sound of the water. Steve doesn’t want to move, but he knows he has to. Sitting up to pull on his underwear, he thinks about Elvis and Dorothy and their relationship.

“Hey man,” he says, quietly, looking over at Elvis.

The other man glances at him and then at himself and quickly pulls the covers over his lower half. As if Steve hadn’t already seen it all and wasn’t still struggling to get it out of his head.

“You going?”

“Thought I should.”

“Early start tomorrow.”

Steve nods, licking his lips thoughtfully. There’s a long pause before he speaks again, wondering if he should say what he wants to, and how the other man will react.

“Listen, uh… is this thing ok with you?” He gestures vaguely around the room with one hand. “I mean… I know Dorothy can be persuasive…”

Elvis snorts. “I do what I want, man.”

“Oh yeah, of course...” Not when it comes to Parker, you don’t, he thinks. “I just wanted you to know that I’d back off, y’know. If you wanted me to.”

Elvis softens slightly. “Thanks. Uh… I appreciate that. But it’s fine. Good ta have an extra pair a hands ta hold ‘er down sometimes.”

Steve laughs. But it’s not the sort of laughter the guys do when he makes a joke. That awful kind of guffawing, amid basically tugging their forelocks and saying “yessir”, that fake bullshit he hates but he has to put up with. He misses the days when people laughed at something he said because he was being genuinely funny, and not just because he was paying them. Even though Elvis isn’t convinced Steve really found his joke funny, there’s something more genuine about the way he laughs at it. As if he’s laughing because he wants to find it funny. But maybe that’s just because he wants to fuck Dorothy, and he has to keep Elvis sweet. Everyone wants something from him. There’s no-one that’s genuine with him nowadays, apart from his little lady.

His thoughts must show on his face, because the next thing he knows there’s a hand on his bare shoulder.

“You’ve got a good thing going with Dorothy.”

“Yeah. I have.”

They look at one another for a little longer than strictly necessary, and then Elvis breaks eye contact to look at Dorothy, fresh from the shower in just a little pink towel.

“What are you two scheming about?” She teases.

“How we’re gonna control such a wayward little girl,” Elvis responds, sitting up and displacing Steve’s hand, which he’d somehow forgotten to move.

“Any good ideas yet?”

Steve stands up and presses a kiss to her cheek. “That’d be telling.”

***

Chapter Text

Elvis wakes up early after not that much sleep, rolling over to look at Dorothy’s sleeping form. She looks so angelic in sleep that he can’t believe how devilish she can be when she’s awake. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulls his body against hers and kisses her neck.

“Mmmm. Steve.”

His heart sinks and he selfishly pokes her in the side to rouse her properly. “No, not Steve. Elvis. Yer goddamn boyfriend.”

Her stomach lurches with being forced into consciousness so quickly, and also with the news that she’d accidentally called out Steve’s name in her sleep. Probably what comes of having such a vivid sex dream about him. She rubs her thighs together and thinks it was probably a bit of a wet dream too. Rolling over, she wraps her arms around Elvis.

“Sorry, pumpkin.”

“Don’t pumpkin me.” He pouts, looking sulky and petulant with a trace of anger too.

“Sorry, El,” she tries, instead. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was asleep.”

“Dreamin’ of him now too?”

She can’t help the little smile that plays on her lips. It’s not like she means to hurt Elvis’ feelings, but it had been a very sexy dream and she did think it was going to sustain her through the rest of what would probably be a very tiring day.

“You were!” He declares, indignantly.

“I can’t help what I dream about.”

“Hmph.”

“Aw, baby.”

“What’s he got that I don’t, ay? Ya like his dick better than mine?”

“Of course not,” she replies quickly. “You know I think Little Elvis is perfect.”

“What is it, then?”

“You’re being very jealous, you know that? I didn’t ask you what you liked about the other girls.”

“That’s because you liked them too.”

“Oh and you don’t like Steve? All I heard from you for weeks was Steve this and Steve that, Steve thinks I should do such and such a thing, Steve is honest with me…”

Elvis narrows his eyes at her. “That’s not the same thing,” he replies, blushing a little despite himself. “I don’t wanna fuck Steve.”

“You sure about that?”

“Dodo!”

“What? Steve’s cute.”

“I’m not a fucking faggot, Dodo.”

Dorothy’s eyes go wide at his use of the word. “Elvis.”

He sighs deeply and sits up, reaching for a cigarette and silently lighting it. She sits up next to him and gestures for it but he shakes his head.

“Get yer own.”

Frowning at him, she gets up instead, walking into the bathroom to shower. Standing under the shower head she wonders if she’s taken this whole thing too far. Having been into women as well as men for as long as she can remember being into anyone, she doesn’t see the big deal about Elvis having the odd stray feeling for Steve. She’d noticed their curiosity about one another’s bodies during strip poker, and the way Steve’s hand was on Elvis’ bare shoulder when she’d got out of the shower last night. What harm would there be in them getting a little closer? She rinses the soap off her body and thinks that probably the harm would be any of the guys finding out about it. However badly Elvis had reacted to the suggestion just now is absolutely nothing in comparison to the reaction of someone like Red West. She steps back out of the shower again. Probably best to leave it alone. Concentrate on being there for Elvis on the first proper day of filming.

***

Elvis tries not to spend the whole of the morning’s filming thinking about Dorothy’s question, which is particularly difficult considering the fact that when he’s not seeing Steve every five minutes, directing and making suggestions, he’s hearing his voice booming out over the tannoy asking for more takes. The worst part is when his jeans split and he has to get everyone to stop the scene and wait for new ones. Dorothy doesn’t help at all by yelling about it to Steve, making him blush heavily under his make up. Steve grins, calling cut and asking wardrobe to bring another pair.

“You really went for it that time, huh?” He remarks, amused.

Elvis just hums and says something about going to wardrobe himself. Steve is about to contradict him when he remembers the fact that he’d learned at strip poker about the other man’s tendency to go without underwear. He finds himself watching Elvis scamper towards wardrobe, trying to see whether today was another no-underwear day.

***

Even though it’s long, the day passes quickly. Once the filming is over, there’s a full rehearsal of the improv section, Elvis sitting with Scotty and DJ and some of the other guys, banging out songs like they’re sitting in the dressing room. Steve is happy with the way that’s going, but he’s spent the day decidedly unhappy about the fact that the Colonel has failed to give away the tickets like he promised. He’s furious about it, actually, but he tries to keep a lid on it and just find a way to fix it. He doesn’t tell Elvis, who is starting to look a little on edge as the recording time gets closer, the studio rearranged properly to take an audience. He doesn’t tell Dorothy either, although he’s more tempted by that. No, this is the time to be professional and get the job done.

***

Elvis is sitting on a chair in his dressing room, leaning so far forward his head is almost between his knees, staring at the floor. One of his feet is tapping impatient time and his thumb and forefinger are pressed into his temples. What if I freeze up? What if I forget the lyrics? What if I don’t know what to say? The questions keep shuttling through his mind at a million miles a minute. He can feel himself sweating already in his damn leather suit. His mouth is dry. What if I try to speak, and nothing comes out?

“Elvis, they’re ready for you.” Steve’s voice is gentle but commanding. He expects Elvis to get up, any minute now, and walk out there in front of all those people.

“Elvis?” He tries again, when there’s no response.

“St-st-st-steve ah c-can’t. Ah can’t go out there. I-I-I… what if I freeze up? Ah can’t remember anythin’ ya told me to say between songs… ah…”

Elvis looks distraught. Steve spends about a second feeling terrible for him and then leaps into action.

“Alright, look, this is uh… this is roughly the setlist…” He grabs a pen and hurriedly starts to scribble down songs as he thinks of them. “And some of the things we said you could talk about…” desperately trying to remember himself, he scribbles down some notes about Elvis wiggling his little finger and the early days where they just had a guitar and a double bass. “Here.” He pushes the paper into Elvis’ hand. “Take it with you.”

Elvis stares at the words uncomprehendingly. He knows they mean something, but he can’t figure out what. “What if I freeze up Steve? W-what if ah go out there and can’t do a-a thing?”

Steve swallows, hard. There’s a big part of him that wants to comfort the other man, to tell him it’s going to be okay, to put his arms around those big strong shoulders and kiss his temple and… he has to pull himself together. The sensible part of him that knows that isn’t what will bring him out onto the stage takes over, and he looks right into the other man’s eyes.

“If you freeze up, you just come right back to the dressing room.” He pauses, making sure he has Elvis’ full attention before he says the last part. “But you’re going out there.”

He turns on his heel and walks out of the room, not looking back once. Tough love. That’s what Elvis needs right now. Tough love. Or maybe this is going to fuck up horribly and he won’t come out of the room and all of the people who he’s managed to get here last minute are going to be disappointed… he looks up at the ceiling and briefly considers praying, and then his eyes move back to centre and land directly on Dorothy.

“He’s afraid to go on,” he tells her, simply, after she takes one look at Steve’s harried face and asks what’s wrong.

She just nods, wordlessly, and carries on past him into the dressing room. He tries not to hold his breath waiting. If anyone could persuade Elvis to do something, it’s Dorothy.

She finds him still on the chair, the piece of paper Steve had given him held tightly in his fist as he stares down at it.

“El?”

He looks up, and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Dodo.”

“Steve says you don’t wanna go on?”

He shakes his head. “I’m gonna freeze up. Ah…”

She moves to stand between his legs, her hands gently on either side of his face. “You are not going to freeze up. You’re Elvis Fucking Presley and you were born to be on that stage. You’re gonna go out there and kill it, and all those girls watching you are going to scream and faint and cry like they used to in the fifties.” She leans down and kisses his lips softly. “Go out and show them all who you are. Show me too. I’ll be waiting.”

Without realising, she does exactly the same as Steve, turning and walking out of the room, not waiting for a reply. She can hear him stuttering behind her but she just keeps walking until she finds her seat, a way back so she’s not too distracting, but close enough that he can see her still. She holds her breath until he finally walks out onto the little stage in that leather suit, looking around him with a smile playing on his lips, nodding. He sits down and says a few words and then starts to play. She looks over at Steve and she can tell he’s just exhaled the same enormous breath that she has. Thank God he came out. And he didn’t freeze up. Thank God.

***

Dorothy spends the next 20 minutes in awe. Of course she knew he was Elvis Fucking Presley, she’d told him as much. And she knew that he was good, she’d been around enough jam sessions to know he could play the guitar better than most people thought, and of course his singing voice was divine. But she’s never seen him in front of an audience like this, and she sees immediately how much it gives him life. She can’t take her eyes off him in that outfit, he’s somehow more beautiful than he’s ever looked before, and he keeps smiling, such a genuine gorgeous smile that it almost knocks the wind out of her. He’s laughing and joking and then singing with such wild abandon she thinks she could cum just from watching him.

There’s a half an hour break between sets where she tries to have a breather, getting up and looking for a drink to calm herself. He’s surrounded by people back in the dressing room and for a change she doesn’t try to get herself into the middle of them, standing outside instead, nursing a scotch. Seeing her standing there alone, Steve decides he has a couple of spare minutes and walks over.

“Want one?” He asks, holding out a pack of cigarettes.

She nods gratefully, guiding one between her lips and leaning forward to let Steve light it for her. “Thanks. Feels like I’m having this after round one, getting ready for round two.”

Her smirk makes Steve blush, realising what she means. “Yeah it was intense, wasn’t it?”

Another nod, as she lets out a plume of smoke from between her lips. “You can say that again.”

Taking another drag, she purses her lips and then opens them with a pop, managing quite a wobbly smoke ring. “Used to be able to do those, you know.” Letting the rest of the breath go with a giggle, her eyes meet Steve’s again. “Phew! I didn’t know he could be that sexy and I have sex with him!”

They both crack up, her leaning back against the door and him grinning at her like a fool.

“Thanks, by the way. Whatever you said to him, it worked.”

She shrugs. “Teamwork. I saw him clutching that piece of paper. I don’t think it was all me.”

***

By the time he’s half way through the second sit-down show, Elvis has hit his stride. He’s laughing and joking, telling stories, making the audience laugh and swoon. He’s also sweating like nobody’s business, it's running down his face as he loses himself singing and playing again. He’d been afraid to leave the dressing room, but when he finally did and saw all those people waiting for him… it all came flooding back. The thrill of performing. Being able to see the whites of people’s eyes. Losing himself completely in the music.

He’s so lost, actually, that he barely realises he’s bucking his hips up into his guitar, dick straining against the leather pants he’s wearing. The intensity of the feeling of being onstage, coupled with the tightness of the pants is causing a delicious friction that he can’t help trying to get a little more of, even in front of all these people. It had happened during the first sit-down show, he found his legs even more out of control than usual as he scrunched his face up in ecstasy. But he hadn’t quite got there, and they’d moved on to Memories and he’d calmed down. This time, though, he’s got Scotty’s guitar and one foot on a chair, growling into the mic about praying for one night with you, hips rolling into the back of the guitar in a way that’s anything but subtle but seems to be driving the crowd wild anyway. He fumbles the lyrics again, going back to the old censored version, the things I did and I saw would make the earth stand still… he catches a glimpse of Steve looking at him as he sings those words, and something about the look on the other man’s face makes adrenaline course through his veins even faster, whipping the guitar back and forth so quickly the lead comes out.

Somebody pulled the plug… he sings, jokingly, hair falling down into his face as sweat pools on his chest. He fumbles the plug back in again and insists on another round, he’s not finished yet. One night with you… why can’t he stop himself looking for Steve again, pleasure amping up for the third or fourth time that evening, screams from the crowd, and then suddenly those brown eyes staring at him like he’s the only thing on earth and Elvis can’t help himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he bares his teeth, shaking the guitar to within an inch of its life. Been too lonely too long… his limbs are out of control for just a second as the little extra bit of friction brings sweet release and his orgasm explodes inside him. Warmth fills his body as he finishes the song, more gentle than before now the immediate need is over, but the final line is still passionate …would make my dreams come true… He smirks as he finishes, sitting back down again and starting something gentler, chatting to the audience, joking around with Scotty who still very clearly wants his guitar back.

***

Dorothy is desperately trying to get Elvis out of the leather suit, but he’d sweated so much during that performance it seems like it’s glued to him. She gets him out of the top half with the help of some baby powder, but all she can do with the pants is unzip them and then finally manage to push them down over his ass.

That’s when she notices the stain.

“Pumpkin?” She asks, biting her lip.

Elvis is still high after the performance, and his eyes are shining when he looks at her. “Yeah?”

“Have you been naughty?” She nods down at the inside of his pants.

He looks down too, and then giggles. “Yes, mama.” He’s giddy and carefree and almost completely free of embarrassment.

Dorothy giggles too, sliding her hands onto his ass cheeks. “You need mama to punish you?”

He’s just about to tell her yes, he really does want her to punish him, or do whatever fun thing she might have in mind, he doesn’t care he’s so full of joy right now, when they both hear a shout from outside.

“Hey! Wardrobe need the suit to clean before tomorrow!”

Still giggling, Elvis turns around slightly and tries to cover himself with his hands.

“Uh, it’s a bit stuck, Steve,” Dorothy shouts back.

Without waiting to be asked, Steve storms in. There really isn’t much time for the suit to be cleaned and he thinks maybe someone a bit stronger than Dorothy needs to help with getting it off. Of course he’s completely forgotten the underwear thing again, and so he half-jumps when he sees the state of undress Elvis is in.

“Oh, uh… sorry. But they really need it.”

Dorothy giggles. “Yeah, it really does need cleaning,” she replies.

Steve frowns. ‘What do you…oh…” he stops midway through his sentence as he sees the stain she’s referring to. “Oh.”

He hastily tries to compartmentalise, now is not the time to think about the whens and whys of Elvis cumming on stage, now is the time to figure out how to get these pants off his legs. He leans down, tugging at one leg as Dorothy tries again with the other. Keeping his hands where they are, trying to somehow protect his modesty even though he was in bed with both of the people hauling on his pants just last night, Elvis tries not to think about how near Steve’s head is to his dick right now.

“Did you glue these on?” Steve asks, frustrated as the pants stay resolutely where they were.

“Try some of this,” Dorothy suggests, putting some baby powder on the leg she’s working on and then passing it to him.

Steve sighs, but it does actually help a little, and they carry on struggling until finally both legs are down to Elvis’ knees. Telling him to sit down, they grab an end each, sitting down on the floor and pulling. They pull so much they’re almost dizzy with effort and both start laughing like lunatics.

“Goddamnit,” Elvis mutters, looking down at the ridiculous scene in front of him. “Didn’t ya think ta get another pair made?”

“No,” Steve replies, finally getting one leg off and collapsing sideways with the effort. “Won’t make that mistake again.”

Dorothy is still giggling and eventually has to have help from Steve as she’s too insensible to keep pulling. At last Elvis is free from the suit, sitting there buck naked on the chair as it’s gathered up around him and a still heavily breathing Steve gives him a quick nod.

“That was unbelievable. Can’t wait for tomorrow.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Dorothy and Elvis alone for all of about two minutes, until Joe is knocking on the door and shouting something about gospel. Getting up a little wearily, Elvis throws on some clothes, shouting back about being a few minutes as he does it.

“C’mon Dodo,” he says, with a grin. “Ya might have ta punish me later.”

Chapter Text

The next night Elvis reaches for his pills as usual and then finds Dorothy’s hand over his. He looks at her questioningly.

“Can we just lie here for a bit? Before you turn into a zombie?”

He nods and puts the handful of pills on the bedside table, settling back down as she puts her head on his chest, her fingers playing with the hair there.

“You okay, Dodo?”

“Mmm. Yeah. Just missing you.”

“I’m right here, baby.”

“But you were busy all day.”

“You had the guys to talk to. Jerry.”

She sighs against him. “Yeah I know. But I wanted you.”

“I gotta do this filmin’, baby. Ya know that.”

He strokes her hair gently and wonders about her strange clinginess. She’s always been independent, as long as he’s known her. He found it a little off-putting at first, and used to wonder if she really liked him. But he’s got used to it now, and found ways to get his share of clinginess elsewhere.

“I know,” she murmurs back.

“Hmmm. Listen. After this is done, why don’t we go back ta the house an’ have a long weekend, jus’ the two of us.”

Dorothy perks up. “Really?”

“Sure. Why not? Quality time together.”

She runs her hand over his chest again. “That would be nice.”

They’re both silent for a while, and then Elvis finds his mind drifting back to the events of the night before.

“Never thanked ya properly fer what ya said ta me,” he mumbles, a little awkwardly.

“Hm? When?”

“When I was strugglin’ ta go on. You and Steve. Ya saved my bacon.”

She smiles against his skin. “You just needed reminding who you are, that’s all.”

“Yeah but ya did it for me, Dodo. Made me believe I could do it.”

Kissing his chest, she snuggles into him a little more, humming with pleasure. When she doesn’t say anything else, Elvis finds himself continuing.

“Had a good time up there. Forgot jus’ how much I enjoyed performin’.”

She smirks, thinking about just how much he had enjoyed it, all over the inside of his leather pants, but she just hums again and carries on tracing patterns on his skin with her fingertips.

“Enjoyed it a bit too much…” he mumbles, feeling himself colour at the memory. Not just of the event itself, but of his girlfriend and Steve both seeing the stain and knowing what had happened. He’d spent the whole of the day trying not to look the other man in the eye.

“You’re just passionate about the music,” Dorothy replies, not for a moment suspecting it’s anything else.

“Ahhmmm.” Elvis starts to tell her there was another reason for his excitement, and then stops himself. But why is he stopping himself, he wonders. After all, it was Dorothy who’d brought up the whole him and Steve idea in the first place. “I uh… S-Steve was lookin’ at me…” he mumbles, and then stops.

“Oh yeah?”

He clears his throat awkwardly and then just replies, “yeah.”

Dorothy deliberately stays quiet. She thinks there’s something that her boyfriend wants to tell her, and sometimes when he’s in two minds it’s best for her to just wait. Prodding him tended to make him clam up.

“He was jus’ lookin’ at me… an’ I…” he pauses for a moment and then closes his eyes and lets the rest of the sentence out in a rush. “I was nearly fuckin’ there anyway an’ the way he looked at me jus’ made me bust a nut…” he cringes inwardly at his own phrasing. But there it is. The truth. Steve Binder had looked at him so intensely it had made him cum in his pants while he was being filmed for a TV show. Jesus.

“Well, you were looking good enough to eat,” Dorothy remarks, smiling to herself at his little admission, as well as the memory of how good he really had looked on that stage.

Elvis lets out a little breath and opens his eyes again. “Ya think it’s weird?” He asks.

“What, pumpkin?”

“Thought I was inta girls.”

Still idly swirling her fingertips around on his chest, she thinks for a moment about how exactly to phrase it. He’d been so upset the day before when she’d suggested he might have a thing for Steve that she doesn’t want to set him off again.

“I don’t think it’s weird. You can be into both. I am.”

He huffs a little. “It’s not as if… it’s not like I want his dick in my ass…” he replies, gruffly.

I didn’t ask if you did, she thinks to herself. Also, interesting that you’ve thought about it that way around…

“You think he’s cute, though?”

He grumbles in response, thinking about Steve’s face and whether it could be described as cute. “I dunno. He’s a guy. How do I know if a guy is cute?”

“Hmm. Okay then. You like him as a friend?”

“Sure. Yeah. He’s a decent guy. Tells me… things I need ta hear.”

“And you like the way he treats you?”

Elvis hums and thinks for a moment. “Yeah I guess so. He respects me. He uh… I never feel like he’s doing things just to make me feel better. He’s not like the rest of the guys.”

“So you just might like to spend a bit more time with him?”

“What d’ya mean?” Elvis asks, suspiciously.

Dorothy finally moves her head to look at him. “Just what I said. You like him, maybe you might want to get to know him better. Not just professionally.”

She watches as he examines her face for evidence of her mocking him in some way, and then sighs softly when he finds none.

“I guess.”

She shuffles up his body to kiss his lips gently. “He’s a good kisser too, just in case you were ever tempted.”

“Dodo!”

His hand finds the side of her face as he scowls at her, starting off furious but finding himself unable to stop a smile after a few moments of her amused face looking back at him.

“I’m just saying. He’s a good kisser, you’re a good kisser…”

“Sure he don’t wanna kiss me, Dodo.”

There’s a touch of bashfulness to his reply that makes her heart swell. She strokes his cheek.

“Everyone wants to kiss you, pumpkin.”

***

The rest of the days go by in a similar blur of filming, jamming, singing and dancing. Elvis flirts outrageously with Susan, one of the dancers, and Dorothy is almost a little sad that there’s no opportunity to have a little fun with her. She’s giving as good as she’s getting, and doesn’t seem like the sort of girl to just roll over. But there’s no time to spend with Steve, so there’s certainly no time to spend with someone new. The evenings are so full of the usual nonsense and Elvis refuses to let there be a moment where he isn’t surrounded by people. Dorothy is about to lose her mind, and probably would have by the final night, if it weren’t for the promise of a whole weekend together without the rest of them. The wrap party is long and tiring and she starts to wish for some of Elvis’ uppers to help keep her awake. Finally people are drifting away and he seems to sense that the end is near.

“Alright, see y’all tomorrow. Me an’ Dodo’ll go ta bed.”

She pokes him lightly in the side and when he looks down, tilts her head to one side and makes her eyes big. He suddenly remembers his promise.

“Actually, forget it. See you guys Tuesday.”

Joe blinks at him in disbelief. “Tuesday, boss?”

“We’re gonna have a long weekend together,” he explains, squeezing his girlfriend to his side. “Alone.”

Dorothy can tell Joe doesn’t like the sound of this at all, but he can’t really demand to be in their house. It’s not as if they’re overrun with spare rooms, and Joe has his own place anyway.

“Sure thing. Well, see you both Tuesday.”

Elvis waves him and the other guys out, and then sits down on the sofa with a sigh. “Thought he was gonna demand ta get in bed with us or somethin’.”

Dorothy rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Just as she’s starting to relax, there’s a knock at the door. Elvis frowns. Surely everyone had gone?

“Yeah?”

“Uh, it’s Steve.”

“Come in!” Dorothy shouts, before Elvis can say anything else. She watches him blush and sit up awkwardly straight, his legs jiggling about nervously.

The door opens and Steve appears. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Dorothy replies, smiling and walking over to him, her arms going around his neck as she tilts her face up for a kiss.

Steve can’t help his hands creeping to rest on her hips as he presses a chaste kiss to her lips. He’s not sure why he hung around until he saw the rest of the guys leave and then knocked on their door. Well, he is sure, he wanted to see them. Both of them. He couldn’t let them leave without… well, without what exactly? His brain is a whir of thoughts and emotions and he doesn’t quite know where to start sorting them out.

“Hi,” Elvis says, quietly.

“I uh… I thought you might’ve left,” Steve begins, untangling himself from Dorothy to stand in front of the other man.

“Tomorrow.” Elvis isn’t really sure why he didn’t just get the guys to drive him home with them. Why they are both still in the empty studio sleeping in the dressing room.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t miss you.”

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. But despite that, all three of them are exhausted so Dorothy just says the most straightforward thing she can think of.

“I dunno about you two, but I’m beat. I need sleep.”

Steve tries to swallow his disappointment. Apparently he’d wanted one last tryst with Dorothy, at least.

“Yeah, um… okay. I’ll be seeing you then.”

She shakes her head quickly and laughs. “No, you don’t have to go. I mean there’s no space for you in the bed, but I’m sure we could make something up for you on the floor. If you want to stay.”

Steve looks a little awkwardly from her to Elvis, who is currently studying the carpet like it’s the answer to all of his troubles.

“Well um… only if you’re sure?”

“We’re sure,” she replies, and then gives Elvis’ foot a little kick with her toe. “Aren’t we, El?”

“Uh… yeah. Sure. Be nice ta, um… have a coffee with ya in the mornin’.”

Steve decides to take that at face value and agrees enthusiastically, helping Dorothy dig out blankets and pillows and an extra comforter. It’s not the most comfortable place to sleep, but there’s something unexpectedly nice about being included in their bed time routine. Even though the floor is pretty hard and once he drops off Elvis snores pretty loudly, Steve finds himself smiling in the darkness. Not many people get to be this close to him, or Dorothy. There’s something more intimate about this than the things they’d done with their clothes off.

***

Early the next afternoon, when all three of them are awake, Dorothy persuades Steve into the bed and he lies behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist. She has on shorts and a cropped pyjama top, so his hand is warm against her bare belly. He breathes in her smell and finds himself smiling again, relaxing into being with her on a morning where they have no plans.

Elvis looks at them together through sleepy eyes. He can’t help the pang of jealousy he feels that there’s another man touching her so intimately.

“What’re ya doin’? Today?” He asks.

Steve shrugs. “No plans. Go back to the condo and eat some decent food for a change. And tonight try and get some sleep. I’ll be editing on Monday.”

Elvis’ eyes light up at the mention of editing. “Really? How long d’ya think it’ll take? When will I be able to see it?”

His enthusiasm is catching, and Dorothy can feel Steve shift behind her to become more alert and awake, moving his hand to gesture as he explains everything they’ll need to do and how long it will probably take. “So by August, we should have a rough cut you could see.”

“August,” Elvis repeats, thinking about what exactly he’s likely to be doing by then. Probably still filming. “Have ta see if I can get away from the movie set for a bit.”

“What’s the movie this time?”

“I think this one is gonna be good Steve, it’s a western an’ there’s a proper plot an’ I have ta grow a beard…” he pauses to stroke his chin. “Gotta get started on that this weekend. And there’s proper, uh… lovin’ scenes, y’know…” he blushes a little at the thought of being filmed making love, eyes darting away from Steve’s face. “Proper grown up movie this time.”

Steve is still kind of amazed that Elvis Presley gets so shy talking about sex, and that he calls it “lovin’”, but the mention of the lovin’ scenes has the older man a little red too. And has him moving against Dorothy, almost without thinking.

“Sounds good. Sounds better than the usual stuff the Colonel has you doing, anyway.”

Elvis sighs. “Yeah, I sure hope so.”

The pause in conversation makes Dorothy wonder if something else might be on the cards, so she wiggles back against Steve a bit and moves one of her legs to try and get some contact with Elvis.

Her boyfriend laughs, then looks over her shoulder at Steve. “Think she wants somethin’?”

Feeling his heart race, Steve replies, “think she nearly always wants something.”

“Hey!” Dorothy cries out, mostly pretending to be offended, and Elvis cracks up laughing.

“She does, doesn’t she? So demandin’. Always tryina have her own way.”

“I am here, you…” Dorothy starts, and then finds the end of her sentence completely muffled by a hand over her mouth. Steve’s hand.

His eyes flick to Elvis’ for reassurance and the other man grins. “‘Bout time someone shut her up.”

Steve grins back, as Dorothy struggles a little, feeling adrenaline course through her veins and warmth spread between her legs. Wondering what they might do to her together has her unbelievably turned on.

“What d’you wanna do with her?” Steve asks.

“Why don’tcha lay her down?” Elvis suggests. “I’ll let ya fill ‘er up, since you’ve been such a good friend. An’ I’ll find a way to keep her quiet.” He smirks as he says it, thinking about how much he enjoys the feeling of her mouth around him.

The excitement of the moment has obviously made Elvis a little more lewd, but he still doesn’t actually say the word pussy, and Steve is briefly concerned about misinterpreting him. He feels like the relationship is always one wrong move away from Elvis having enough. But when he gets Dorothy on her back and slips off her shorts, he realises he must be right because the other man is busying himself at her head, and after a little while of licking and fingering, he hears Elvis tell him that he can “fuck her if ya want ta, Steve. She’s a good little ride.”

Steve groans as he slowly pushes himself into her tight pussy. He can’t hear her reaction at all, as Elvis has moved from kneeling to the side of her head to straddling it, his legs pinning her arms down and his dick all the way down her throat. The younger man can’t remember the last time he fucked her mouth like this, something about the end of filming has got him over-excited and he feels like he’s lost his head a little. As Steve starts to pick up the pace, he finds his eyes drawn to the ass in front of him. He shouldn’t be looking at it quite this intently, but it’s so perfectly round and it’s right in his eyeline and… fuck… before he can think any more about it he feels the rush of his orgasm coming towards him like a train.

“Uh… I’m uh…” he forces out.

“S’ok,” Elvis pants in response, feeling himself close too. “Y’won’t knock her up.”

Good job, Steve thinks as he cums, tumbling into ecstasy. There was absolutely no way he was pulling out in time.

Elvis follows a few seconds later, making Dorothy cough a little and her eyes water. They both flop down on either side of her as she tries to get her breath back. The overwhelming feeling of being the plaything of two big strong men has her head spinning. And she still hasn’t cum. She whines a little, looking over at Elvis with big puppy dog eyes. He chuckles.

“Reckon we should let her cum, Steve?”

The other man grins. “She was pretty good…”

“Alright then. We’ll let her.”

He slides two fingers between her legs, curling them expertly and rubbing the spot inside her that he knows will make her squeal. His other hand caresses her face, looking down at her and telling her what a good girl she’s been. He glances briefly over at Steve, and then when the other man doesn’t make any kind of move, removes his fingers and grabs Steve’s hand, a mess of arousal on both of them as he encourages the older man to rub her clit. Replacing his fingers, he leans down and kisses Dorothy’s neck, listening to her breathing as it speeds up. Steve rubs firmly as he starts to kiss her belly, watching the muscles there start to tighten as she hurtles towards her orgasm now too.

She squeals as everything turns white, blinding pleasure that makes her back arch off the bed and her palm slam into the mattress. Lips press against her skin as she writhes in ecstasy, tenderly kissing her through it. When she eventually comes to, she opens her eyes again and looks up into Elvis’ face.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Kissing the side of her face and then her temple, he smiles. “Think ya should thank Daddy Steve, too.”

She turns quickly, looking over at the other man. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Steve somehow manages to blush and kisses her other cheek. “That’s okay, babe.”

“So troublesome ya need two Daddies ta keep ya in line,” Elvis mumbles into her neck.

Dorothy grins and reaches up to dig her fingers into the hair of each man. She can’t help feeling like rather than the end, maybe this is just the beginning of her little experiment…

***

Chapter Text

The weekend Elvis and Dorothy spend together before they travel to Arizona for filming is just what they both need. They read, sing and play piano, and even talk a little about their hopes for the future now the Special is done with. Dorothy cooks and Elvis watches her making her way around the kitchen, humming to herself. He feels so lucky to have her in these moments. Steve had said something about being amazed Elvis wanted to share her, another tiny check-in that he only really noticed afterwards. He was amazed that he wanted to share her too, but the conversation had made him think that it had somehow brought him closer to her. He’d never felt jealous of the girls, they didn’t seem like a threat to him, but Steve did. Steve with his sensible opinions and his sensible job and none of the complex trappings of fame. Steve, who could easily just go out for a meal or take her shopping without having to do it in the middle of the night to avoid the crowds. Steve who didn’t need bodyguards. His fear that she might realise how different her life could be and decide to run off with Steve has made him cling to her, ask her what she wants to listen to or play, let her get whatever food she wants from the store, even share a glass or two of scotch with her.

Cooking salmon, which she would normally have been forbidden to do at all costs because of the smell, Dorothy is thinking about Steve too. More specifically, about the way he’d checked if she was okay once Elvis had gone to shower. “If I’m your Daddy, I should be taking care of you, shouldn’t I?” He’d asked, looking at her intently as she’d passed him a cup of coffee. It would be unfair to say that Elvis was uncaring, he was one of the gentlest and sweetest men she’d ever met. But he’d still sort of forgotten to ask if she was okay, not mentioning it until much later, as though he was a little ashamed of what he’d done in the heat of the moment and would rather not give it too much thought. The idea of Steve taking care of her is still making her all shivery, and she keeps running the words through her mind. She wonders if Elvis can tell what she’s thinking. He’s been very attentive all weekend, and the fact that he’s about to even try a taste of a piece of fish makes it seem like something is on his mind.

As usual, he doesn’t get round to saying anything until they’ve switched the lights off in the bedroom and he has pills in his hand. Always useful to have them there in case he doesn’t like the way things go, that way he can duck out of the conversation at any time.

“Ya still like me, Dodo?”

She’s on her back and he’s curled around her, his breath tickling her neck.

“Huh? Of course I do.”

“Hmmm. ‘Cause I can’t give ya a normal life, y’know. We can’t go out ta restaurants or bars, I can’t take ya shoppin’ unless they close the store first…”

We probably could have gone out in LA, she thinks. Considering the reaction you got on the street. But she doesn’t say that. Instead she tries her best to be reassuring.

“I don’t want a normal life, El. I’d be bored.”

“Ya sure? Sure ya don’t wanna, y’know, marry Steve.”

Dorothy lets out a girlish giggle, which slightly gives away how giddy the idea of marrying Steve makes her, but also how silly she thinks Elvis’ concerns are.

“I like you both,” she explains. “But I’m not going to leave you for him. I like different things about you. I want to keep both of you, really.”

Elvis humphs. “That’s kinda greedy Dodo.”

She gives him a little push on the chest as she laughs. “Says you! Mr. Starved For Affection. Mr. Wants Kisses and Cuddles All The Time.”

He growls now, pulling her closer and nuzzling her neck, entirely proving her point.

“I liked it better when we had the girls,” he grumbles.

Eyes merry, she kisses him on the top of the head. “I don’t think you did, you know, pumpkin. I really don’t think you did.”

***

Elvis quickly finds out that the movie is not the one he signed up for. Parker, being displeased with the idea of his boy becoming too adult, had the script gutted and it now barely makes sense. There’s certainly no adult scenes - even his co-star has to get out of the bath in her nightie. Of course, none of this puts him in a very good mood. As he waits on set for make-up to sort him out, his mind drifts back to filming Girl Happy. One of the last movies he’d made that he’d sort of enjoyed. Having Shelley as a co-star was always fun, and even the musical numbers had been alright. Dorothy had found them a real firecracker, a little redhead, and she’d been very enthusiastic when set to work learning how best to please another woman. He remembers sitting there in his robe, watching them licking each other out, edging himself until they’d both cum. It was good at the time, but somehow afterwards it seemed very empty. Hollow. Like two women putting on a show for him. He’d pulled them both close to him afterwards, but the redhead hadn’t wanted to cuddle. It became clear by the end of the production that she only wanted Dorothy, she’d had some kind of sexual awakening and now she had no interest in dick whatsoever. Elvis had been stung and demanded that Dorothy break up with her. He can still see his girlfriend’s face in that moment, conflicted, as though she knew it was the right thing but she still wanted this girl. Still wanted the excitement, the attention, the love even. But he wouldn’t let her have it.

***

“He’s upset. The movie script is a mess. The fat man took all the interesting bits out.”

Dorothy is in the hotel suite, on the phone to Steve. Her feet are bare and resting on a cushion as she leans back in the armchair in the middle of the room. She plays with the phone chord idly as she waits for a response.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit is right.”

“You okay?”

“Bored. How’s the film coming along?”

“Really good. Won’t be long now. Think this is one movie he’ll be happy with…”

***

Elvis has been moody all evening. It’s getting close to a break in filming and Dorothy is relieved to say the least. She’s fed up with spending most of the day on her own and then the evening with all of the guys, all of whom are on cheering-Elvis-up duty. It’s getting obnoxious. It’s also been difficult for her not to mention the Steve thing to Jerry. He keeps asking whether they’ll get any other girls and what’s up with her generally, and she tries to be as honest as she can without actually giving anything away. She loves Jerry, but she’s not sure what his reaction will be. Jealousy? She’s often thought there might be something there, but much as she loves him, it’s more as a best friend than anything more. Their closeness in age brought them together in the first place really. She’s also afraid of how any of the guys will react to Steve and Elvis getting so close. There’s always a chance that even Jerry will have something negative to say about it.

“Alright, enough.”

Those two words are all it takes for the room to clear, leaving Dorothy and Elvis alone. He waves her over and she settles on his lap, lighting a cigarette. She takes a deep drag and then the phone interrupts.

“Goddamnit,” Elvis snaps, getting up and dislodging her. “Who the hell is callin’ now?”

He picks up the receiver as Dorothy hands him the cigarette. “Hello?”

“Hi, Elvis.”

Elvis brightens immediately at the voice on the other end of the line, feeling the earlier irritation slipping away. “Steve!”

Steve laughs a little. “Oh good. The way you answered the phone I thought you were about to put it right back down again.”

“Didn’t know it was you,” Elvis responds, a little sheepishly.

Dorothy smiles to herself as she rests the cigarette back out of his hand again. She’d thought Elvis would feel better if he spoke to Steve, but he never wanted to call when she suggested it.

“It is me. And I’m calling with good news.”

“Oh yeah? About the show? Have ya finished it?”

Elvis’ excitement is palpable and, as usual, catching. “Rough cut will be ready in a couple of days. It’s uh… I’m really proud of it, man. I really can’t wait for you to see it.”

Quickly gesturing for the cigarette, Elvis sits down on the armchair and starts to ask a series of rapid-fire questions about the different parts, how much of each has made the edit, does he look good? Sound good? How is the crowd? Do the dance numbers work?

Instead of being overwhelmed, like a lot of people are when Elvis gets like this, Steve is just even more enthused. He’d lit his own cigarette whilst the other man was speaking, and as he responds to each question in mind-numbing detail he waves it around to illustrate his points, despite the fact that no-one can see him doing it.

Dorothy can’t stop smiling. They talk for almost half an hour about the contents of the cut, when Elvis will have free time to return to LA, and the best dates for a showing for him and the Mafia. By the end of it, her boyfriend is back to himself again, eyes flashing, fingers drumming impatiently on the table, telling her repeatedly that this is it, this is his comeback. Steve has done it, he’s absolutely sure of it.

***

The first showing is wonderful. Steve had been nervous, over-thinking all of his editing decisions to within an inch of their lives for most of the two days before Elvis arrived. But as soon as it starts, and he sees the look on the other man’s face, he knows it’s good. He can’t help still holding his breath a little until the end, but the cheer that goes up makes him realise that there was really nothing to worry about.

“Alright. I wanna watch it again, just me an’ Steve,” Elvis announces, shooing everyone else out of the room.

Dorothy is surprised not to be allowed to stay too, but she doesn’t question it, chatting excitedly with Jerry on their way out. Elvis had been right. Steve has done it.

Steve asks for the tape to be run again from the beginning, and as it starts the operator shouts down that they’ll be back in 40 minutes. The two men are alone in the room as the show starts again from the beginning, with a close up of Elvis singing Trouble.

“I love this. I love the way you’ve shot it,” Elvis begins, excitedly, and he continues in the same way as it goes on, nudging Steve and pointing and exclaiming.

Grinning back, Steve points out little camera tricks and bits that he thinks he’s going to tweak in the final edit. He didn’t use the standing version of Trying To Get To You in the rough cut, but watching the sit down parts is bringing back feelings anyway, for both of them. The raw, animalistic passion that Elvis shows in his live performances takes Steve’s breath away, especially when the man is sitting right next to him, unable to remain still, looking for all the world like the same caged tiger. Elvis' hand is on his shoulder, his breath on his ear as he tells him excitedly that this is it, this is his career back on track and it’s all down to Steve. He turns his head to look at that stunningly beautiful face, rendered ruggedly handsome by the beard he’s grown for his current role, and suddenly they are too close to one another. Too close, and the atmosphere is too electric, the music, the singing, the growl from the Elvis on the screen. Their eyes flick across one another’s faces, searching for something, and then Elvis finds himself leaning in, tilting his head slightly as he closes the gap between them.

The kiss is soft and gentle, a question which receives an immediate answer, a desperate reply from the other man. Their lips crash together as they kiss again, and they both grip the other’s face with their hands, tongues pushing past unresisting lips. Steve’s eyes flutter open for a moment to look at the other man this close up, and then he lets them close again as he sighs into the kiss, one of his hands slowly detaching from Elvis’ cheek to rest on his shoulder. The music changes to the gospel scene and the spell is broken, they pull apart and look at one another breathlessly.

“I uh… shoulda sung this live, shouldn’t I?” Elvis asks, still staring at Steve.

Biting his lip, the other man nods. “Would’ve looked better,” he mumbles, barely thinking of the words, his head full of the feeling of the kiss.

Clearing his throat, Elvis runs a hand over his bearded chin and reluctantly tears his gaze away from Steve, looking back at the screen as his heart beats furiously. They spend the rest of the film like that, watching and passing comments back and forth to distract them from what had just happened. Elvis’ hand rests on Steve’s thigh with the other man’s hand on top of it until they hear the operator returning from his coffee break and return their hands to their own laps.

Trying to continue to talk normally, they both get up and move towards the door.

“Let’s go for a drive!” Elvis exclaims, when they’re back with everyone else. “Ya wanna go for a drive?”

His bright blue eyes are completely irresistible, and Steve nods enthusiastically, finding himself riding shotgun with Elvis Presley down the boulevard, and this time girls are waving a whooping at him, and he’s laughing and joking back and suddenly Steve realises what a star he really is, and what this show could really do for him. For a moment the feeling is so intense that he has to fight back tears, and he finds himself profoundly grateful that it’s still sunny so he can hide behind his shades. He thinks it would be hard to explain to Elvis why he’s crying.

***

Chapter Text

Steve goes off for beer and pizza with some of the crew, while Elvis and Dorothy settle into one of the usual evenings at home surrounded by the guys. Elvis is positively jubilant, re-enacting the entire Special for everyone in the room, along with his own running commentary, until he’s actually booed into silence. He’s not put off though, lying giggling on the sofa, singing snatches of songs until Dorothy joins in with him (anything to annoy the guys, plus she can’t help being excited too) and after a few minutes they are both on their feet, singing Trouble at such volume that one of the neighbours actually knocks on the door to complain. Soon pacified by Elvis’ smile, his autograph and a photo or two, they go away quite happy but the moment has passed. Jerry starts making grumblings about going to bed and the others follow. The Colonel will be seeing the edit the next day, and Elvis expects him to complain about the lack of festive numbers. But that’s tomorrow. Tonight, things are still wonderful.

“Dodo!” He exclaims, practically jumping into her lap.

She giggles, wrapping her arms around him. “Hi there, Elvis Presley, king of rock ‘n’ roll.”

He shakes his head, forehead pressed against hers. “I ain’t the King, sugar. But I am back.” Sitting up again, he spreads his arms wide. “And I am never gonna do a goddamn thing I don’t believe in ever again. This is it. This is fucking it. I AM BACK!”

Dorothy can’t stop her gleeful laughter, overwhelmed with joy at seeing her boyfriend so happy and finally believing in himself again. His head presses against hers again as he grins wickedly.

“An’ I got somethin’ ta tell ya.” His mouth makes its way to her ear. “A secret.”

“Oooh, I love secrets!”

“It’s a real big one.”

“Promise I won’t tell. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

His head is on her shoulder now, and he’s giggling like a naughty schoolboy.

“Dodo.”

“Yes.”

“I kissed Steve!”

“You did?” She almost squeals, grabbing his head in both of her hands to manoeuvre his face in front of hers. He’s still giggling like a fool.

“Yeah. Like this.” He kisses her gently, and then launches into a full-on make out session, his hands on her face. Then he pulls back and looks at her, waiting for her response.

Dorothy’s head spins. She had no clue he’d been even thinking of kissing Steve, never mind doing it where she hadn’t been able to see. And that was no little peck on the lips, that was passionate. She’s panting for breath from the force of it.

“Wow,” she manages. For once in her life, she might be lost for words.

Elvis wobbles slightly. “Are you okay? Should I… I shouldna done it…”

“N-no, no… I’m just… you took me by surprise is all. I um… what made you do it? He kissed you back?”

“We were watchin’ the show again, and uh…” he gets off her lap and sits next to her, his leg pressing against hers. “...like this. We were sittin’ like this. An’ the music was just… I dunno. I-I felt so full a love, Dodo. I uh… I told him he’d got my career back on track and he looked at me and…” he gently turns his girlfriend’s face towards him. “...the way he looked at me Dodo I couldn’t not kiss him…” He repeats the kiss from earlier, in the same position as he’d been with Steve, and then pulls back and puts his hand on Dorothy’s leg. “And he put his hand on mine,” he nods at her and she places a little hand on top of his. “For… for the whole of the rest of it. Dodo.” He looks at her fiercely for a second, and then his little boy smile is back. “I kissed him. He kissed me back.”

The sting of jealousy that Dorothy feels is entirely unexpected. The pang that Elvis is never going to feel like this about kissing her, this teenage giddiness. But behind it is still a swell of love, thinking that part of him believed Steve wouldn’t kiss him back, would reject him in some way, despite all the evidence to the contrary. She turns her body towards his and smiles.

“That’s so cute,” she tells him. “You gonna invite him round while we’re here?”

Elvis immediately turns bashful. “Oh… uh… I dunno, ya think I should?”

Resting her head on her arm, Dorothy looks up at him with a smile. “Well if you’re gonna kiss him, I think you ought to invite him round for dinner,” she teases.

“Ya think he wants to come for dinner?”

“You have to ask him. I bet he’s home by now. Why don’t you call?”

Elvis colours and starts to jiggle about like he’s sitting on top of a washing machine. “Oh… uh… ya really think so? Now?”

“You getting shy? You want me to call?”

“N-no, I-I-I’ll do it.”

Dororthy smiles to herself, jealousy fading away as she watches her 33 year old boyfriend reduced to a teenage boy, asking out his crush. Of course Steve says yes, suggesting that he’ll bring a bottle of wine, which turns Elvis into a confused mess afterwards, repeatedly asking Dorothy which colour wine goes with what food, and if he has to drink wine, will Steve think it’s rude if he doesn’t? It’s her turn to climb into his lap, combing his unruly hair back off his face and telling him that Steve won’t care what happens to the wine, and not to worry his pretty little head about it. Elvis pouts about being called pretty and she tells him he shouldn’t dress so much like a pretty little doll if he doesn’t want to be thought of like one. The evening ends with them tumbling into bed, her calling him pumpkin as she teases him about all the things he wants Steve to do to him, making him cum with a rare finger in his ass as she strokes him.

***

Steve doesn’t get much sleep that night. Part of it is the amount of celebratory beer he’d drunk, which results in multiple trips to the bathroom. The other part is his brain, which despite all of the beer is still rushing through the events of the day and night, trying to make sense of them. Elvis had kissed him. He had kissed Elvis. And probably the most important part of it - he had liked it. He plays the moment over and over again in his mind, touching his lips in the darkness, imagining he can still feel the aftershocks of that kiss on his skin. The force of it had been slightly bruising, and despite all of the alcohol he’s sure his lips are still tender when he presses his fingers there. How did they get here? Two straight men, making out in a darkened room in the middle of LA. The question seems to answer itself though, as his mind helpfully provides a flipbook of little moments between them, which when looked at together make the kiss seem inevitable. It hadn’t felt inevitable, though. If you’d asked him at any point whether he wanted to kiss Elvis Presley he’d have looked at you like you had two heads. But does he want to kiss him again now? Fuck, yes.

***

Dorothy watches Elvis open the door to Steve with her heart in her mouth. Her boyfriend (well, one of them. Was Steve her boyfriend too?) had spent the best part of two hours getting ready, if you could call putting on and taking off five different shirts whilst loudly cussing getting ready, and he had still been fussing over his hair until a few seconds ago. Eventually he’d decided that wearing all black was the best option, and he’d unbuttoned his silken shirt halfway, exposing the dark hairs on his chest. Gold jewellery flashes around his neck and on his fingers, and he’s put on one of those ascots he loved to wear during filming so much. It’s clear Steve had similar ideas, and although he’s wearing jeans, his shirt and ascot combo look like a mirror image of Elvis’.

“Stevie!” Elvis declares, pulling him into a hug.

“Hey man,” Steve replies, one arm around the other man as the other holds out the promised bottle of wine to Dorothy. “Good to see you again.”

Good to see you again. The understatement of the century. Steve is relieved when Dorothy takes the wine as his palms are so sweaty he’s been worried about dropping it. He swallows a few times to try and wet his dry throat, feeling a blush rise on his cheeks as they pull apart and look at one another.

“I’ll get some glasses,” Dorothy announces, breaking the spell and making Elvis step back, mumbling something about the food.

Steve watches them move around the kitchen together, Elvis mostly getting in Dorothy’s way, and suddenly realises that she must know. What does she think? Surely whatever it is can’t be that bad, or she wouldn’t have let Elvis invite him. Unless they’ve called him round to break up with him. She didn’t kiss him hello. She always kisses him hello. Is this the break-up dinner? Maybe this is the break-up dinner. He sits down heavily on a chair and tries to stop his overthinking brain with conversation.

“What um… what’s for dinner?” Break-up dinner.

Dorothy smiles, wiping her hands on a dishcloth and walking round the table towards him. “Spaghetti,” she replies, with a giggle. “El got in a panic about what colour wine you’d bring, so I told him spaghetti goes with both.” Standing right next to him now, she gives him a quick kiss and he tries not to sigh out loud with relief.

“What's with the spaghetti?” He asks, innocently.

“Meatballs!” Dorothy declares, eyes merry. “I heard you like them.”

Steve blushes properly now that it seems like she definitely knows and she’s teasing him about it.

“I like them,” he replies, with a knowing smirk. And then, “didn’t know Elvis liked them.”

Dorothy shrieks with delight, spinning around to look over at her boyfriend who has just got the cork out of the wine and has to put the bottle down from laughing so hard.

“Goddamn son of gun,” he declares, feeling all of the tension leave his body with the relief of laughter. “Seems like we all like meatballs nowadays, don’t it?”

***

Dinner is full of gossip and laughter. It’s a relief to all three of them to be able to talk freely without having to wonder who might walk in, and they cover all sorts of topics, including the Colonel and his predicted response to the Special, Christmas songs are what the fans want, Bindle. Not your fancy hippy nonsense, the next movie Elvis is due to film after Charro! somethin’ about a chautauqua Steve, I ain't got a clue but the girl they got ta co-star with me sure is cute, and when he plans to go back to live shows, connectin’ with audiences is what I miss. I gotta get back to it. I told Parker it’s gotta be next year, latest. Somehow they manage to get away from Elvis and talk about Steve’s plans too, and as they get up to stack the plates and put them in the dishwasher, the older man asks Dorothy what she’s going to get up to next.

She turns and laughs. “What am I doing? Whatever he’s doing.”

Elvis slides his arms around Dorothy’s waist, his chin resting on the top of her head. “She’s got a full time job lookin’ after me.”

“What would you do if you had time?” Steve asks.

She pauses, her hands on the counter top, fidgeting with the cutlery. “Oh, I don’t know. I like looking after him. I wouldn’t know how to do anything else.”

Steve bites his tongue to stop himself from carrying on. He finds it odd that she doesn’t have any ambitions past mobile housewife, without the being married part, when she seems so headstrong and independent otherwise.

“Ya wanna watch a movie?” Elvis asks, once the dishes are on.

“Sure.”

They move to the living room, and Elvis immediately becomes like a small child in the face of having to set up the projector. “Ah Dodo, I hate this thing. Can ya do it for me? Please?”

He’s pouting down at her, when to his surprise two strong hands land on his hips and carefully move him out of the way.

“I’ll do it.”

Something about the touch makes goosebumps break out all over Elvis’ skin, and he mumbles “yessir” and goes to sit down like an obedient child now rather than a whiny one. Dorothy watches the little interaction with obvious amusement, then sits beside him, her hand on his thigh. Once Steve has sorted the projector and the movie is playing, he dims the lights and sits on the other side of Elvis, hand on his other thigh. His eyes flick over to Dorothy and she looks back and smiles. Any last doubts he had about this are gone, and he settles back to watch the movie. Midway through Elvis puts an arm around both of them, revelling in the feeling of two people snuggling against him. It’s happened before, it used to happen regularly with the girls, though this seems different somehow.

***

When the movie finishes they all stretch and yawn a little, and then Dorothy makes an announcement.

“I’m going to go to bed and read. Give you two a little space.”

Elvis frowns. “Are ya sure, honey?”

She nods. “Yeah. You come up when you’re ready.”

“Alright then.”

She kisses them both goodnight and heads up the stairs. She wants to give them the opportunity to explore without her sitting there, watching, or needing attention herself. It’s a lot for both of them, and she doesn’t want to make it any more difficult. It’s a little harder than she thought it would be, walking up the stairs away from them, but it’s the right thing. There will be more opportunities for them all to be together after tonight, especially once filming is finished. They plan to come back to Palm Springs and spend most of the next month here, so there’s no shortage of time. She sits in bed and opens the novel she’s already half-way through. At least it should take her mind off what might be going on downstairs.

***

Nervousness bubbles in the pit of Elvis’ stomach as soon as Dorothy leaves the room, so he gets up to put a record on to take his mind off it. Steve watches him go from his position on the sofa, unashamedly taking him in, the way he walks, how he holds himself, the way his clothes cling to him. Elvis puts the needle down on the record and music fills the room. He sits back down again, trying to play it cool. Like he’s always hanging out alone with men he wants to kiss in his living room. They chat idly about the music and the sorts of things they both like to listen to, and then Steve shifts a little, propping his head up on an elbow to look at Elvis properly.

“You wanna dance?”

Elvis stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “Ta this? Now? With you?” Each question goes up more at the end, making him sound more and more incredulous.

The needle clicks off the record as the first side finishes.

“Well you should probably turn it over,” Steve teases.

Almost in a trance, Elvis gets up and flips the record, finding Steve standing in front of him when he turns back around again.

“Yer serious?”

Dancing absolutely had not crossed Elvis’ mind when he’d chosen John Lee Hooker. It seems far too dirty to be dancing to, and he doesn’t really dance with people anyway. Proper dancing always sort of freaks him out.

“C’mere,” Steve holds his arms open. “Nothing fancy. Long as you don’t mind me leading.”

Elvis finds himself shrugging and accepting the offer, the first track on the B side is energetic enough and he lets Steve lead, enjoying being spun around and giggling as they stand on each other’s toes. They’re both a little out of breath by the end, and glad that the next song is slower, falling against one another as it starts, foreheads pressed together. Elvis’ hips start to move of their own accord to the beat as it lumbers along, his hand on Steve’s waist encouraging him to do the same…baby, I’ll be your little puppy baby… they both giggle a little the first time they hear the lyrics, but the beat starts to take over and Elvis finds himself straddling one of Steve’s legs as they press their torsos together now…you pop your finger, I’ll come runnin’... Steve’s arm around his lower back holding him in place as he lets his body flop backwards, grinding against the other man’s thigh like the couples he’d seen in blues clubs as a youth, his hand on the back of Steve’s neck, both of them groaning now …you whistle, I’ll come to you… faces so close they can feel one another’s breath and then they’re kissing again, long languorous kisses to match the music, tongues exploring one’s mouths lazily as they continue to grind against one another slowly.

The song ends and they pull apart, Elvis tugging Steve back over to the sofa again. They’re both giggling a little as they sit down, Steve on Elvis’ lap, noses rubbing together between kisses.

“When did ya first know ya wanted to kiss me?” Elvis asks, lips brushing against Steve’s cheek.

Steve’s mouth curls into a smile. He doesn’t know the actual answer but he knows what he wants to say, his lips finding Elvis’ ear.

“At the press conference,” he replies, teeth pulling at the lobe. He hears Elvis’ breath catch in his throat. “Wanted to do it in front of everyone,” he continues, hand raking through the other man’s hair as he starts to kiss his neck.

“Fuck,” Elvis mumbles, his fingers finding the ascot around Steve’s neck and using it to pull his head so their lips crash together again, his hand on the side of Steve’s face now. “In front a e’ryone?” He repeats, almost in a daze.

The other man lets out a low growl as his lips slide over Elvis’ chin, hot open-mouthed kisses making their way down his throat, over his collarbone and then finally coming to rest at his sternum. Elvis’ head is tipped back against the sofa, his chest heaving.

“Yeah. Show them all you’re mine,” Steve finally replies, retracing his kisses all the way back up to Elvis’ mouth as he listens to the dark-haired man whimper softly. He’s not usually this possessive, but something about the reaction he’s getting is encouraging him. That, and the ache between his legs that just seems to be getting worse and worse. He kisses and nips through the thick stubble on the other man’s jaw, positioning his mouth just below an ear and biting there lightly. Elvis moans.

“God. Please.”

Another experimental bite, another moan. “You want me to? You want me to mark you?”

“Shit,” Elvis mutters.

Steve moves his head and looks the other man in the eye, laughing a little. “I probably shouldn’t. You’ve gotta go back on set.”

A big hand finds its way onto his cheek and a panting, overstimulated Elvis just shakes his head. “Make-up can fix it.”

Steve kisses him fiercely. “Are you sure?”

“Sure. Please.”

He doesn’t need telling twice. He’s enjoyed giving girls love bites in the past, way beyond being a teenager when everyone else seemed to be doing it. Maybe part of him has always been a little possessive, and he leans into it now, sucking skin through his teeth and nipping hard until he leaves bruises all the way down that long, beautiful neck.

Elvis has no idea what noises are coming out of his mouth at this point. He’s not sure he’s ever been this thoroughly bitten, and definitely not somewhere this visible. His dick strains against the fabric of his pants as Steve’s teeth reach his collarbone and then he feels the wetness of his tongue licking all the way back up to his ear. Then he hears a little giggle.

“Think I might’ve had a bit too much wine.”

Steve has the look of a man who’s got a little carried away, leaning his head against Elvis’ again and briefly closing his eyes. Sighing at the feeling of being so close to him. Elvis chuckles back, running his hands up the other man’s back.

“I ain’t got no excuse,” he replies.

“They’re gonna need a lot of make-up.”

“Oh God. I’ll haveta blame Dodo.”

Their shoulders shake as they laugh again, kissing and teasing and knitting their fingers into each other’s hair.

“Can I touch ya?” Elvis asks after a while.

Sitting up, Steve takes one of his hands and guides it to the obvious bulge in his jeans. “Please.”

Elvis nibbles his lower lip as he squeezes there. This seems like a step he can’t un-take. Once he touches another man’s dick for real he won’t be able to go back. He’ll always be a man who did something gay. He’ll always be a bit of a sinner.

He must be looking kind of shell-shocked because he suddenly finds Steve’s hand on top of his.

“You okay?”

He lets out a heavy breath. “Have ya done this before? With a guy?”

Steve shakes his head. “Never.”

“Ya think it’s wrong?”

It’s Steve’s turn to worry his lower lip now. It’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed his mind that this is perverted and he shouldn’t want to do it. But he does want to. And that seems to be the most important thing, right now.

“Don’t think it can be,” he replies, after a little thought. “Wanting to make someone else feel good.”

Elvis nods slowly.

“But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Steve pauses for a moment, and then continues, unable to help himself. “Though, um, I’ll have to sort myself out because uh… these are stiff jeans.”

The tension dissolves as they both giggle again.

“Well I can’t let ya sit there like that all uncomfortable, can I?” Elvis begins, his hands moving to Steve’s belt. “Have ta help a friend out.”

Steve’s heart races as he nods and shifts to help the other man undo his jeans and free his aching dick, quickly taking Elvis’ hand and spitting in the palm before guiding it to where he wants it.

“Shit,” he mutters, as he feels a strong, experienced hand start to work him. “Can I… uh… return the favour? If you’re… uncomfortable too?” He moans out.

Elvis nods and Steve’s fingers make light work of the buttons on the younger man’s pants. It’s seconds before they’re both moaning, hands on each other, starting to move faster and faster as they both rush towards orgasm. Eyes flicking over one another’s faces before they both squeeze them shut in the seconds before they explode, cum shooting everywhere, unable to tell afterwards which one of them had cum first. Leaning against one another, they pant and sigh, reveling in the pleasure that fills them both.

When they eventually move, Elvis starts giggling first.

“Oh fuck.”

Steve opens his eyes and is immediately confronted by the other man’s once black shirt, now dapped with white. Feeling something wet on his face, he moves his hand to it and wipes it, and then he’s laughing uncontrollably.

“How did it get here?” Elvis asks, finding a bit in Steve’s hair.

“It’s fucking everywhere,” Steve replies as he wipes at Elvis’ shoulder ineffectually. “I have to go home like this, you know. I don’t have a change of clothes.”

“Yer stayin’ tonight though?” Elvis asks, worriedly. “Sure Dodo knows how ta wash things.”

“I’m too drunk and covered in cum to go home,” Steve replies, and they both fall about laughing again. “Sure we could work out how to wash clothes though. Give poor Dodo a break.”

***

Chapter Text

Elvis is glad when filming is finally finished and he and Dorothy can travel back to Palm Springs. He’s been antsy, spending his time missing Steve, something Dorothy finds very cute. She’d been a little shocked at the love bites on his neck when he’d come to bed that night, but she’d definitely enjoyed Elvis’ blow-by-blow account of being wooed. She supposes it can’t have happened to him much, but part of her is a little sad that Steve hasn’t done anything that romantic for her. She pushes the feeling down though. Elvis is happy, and that’s the important thing. And she’s fine, really. People preferring Elvis is nothing she hasn’t had to deal with before.

After they’ve been back in LA for a few days they invite Jerry and his new girlfriend, Sandy, round for a barbeque, along with Steve. Sitting out in the back garden, Steve is chatting to her about his work and finds out that she’s an actress, which is how she and Jerry met. They spend a while deep in conversation about the film industry as Dorothy sits, shades on, smoking. Her eyes flick over to Elvis and Jerry at the barbeque, flipping burgers. She’s not sure either of them should be cooking, even if it is only hamburgers, but they’d both insisted that they had some kind of instinct when it came to fires.

“And what do you do?” Sandy’s voice, obviously directing a question towards her, brings Dorothy back from her vague concerns.

She looks over at the other woman and blows out a long thin plume of smoke. “Just looking after him,” she replies, tilting her head towards Elvis. “It’s a full-time job.”

They chat back and forth a little and then Sandy goes back to her conversation with Steve. Bored, Dorothy stands up and walks over to the barbeque. Steve watches her go. He tries not to make his fascination with her obvious, eyes flicking over every so often as he carries on talking to Jerry’s girlfriend. He notices as she insinuates herself between Jerry and Elvis, and then starts talking animatedly to them both. Her hand is on Jerry’s arm and then he’s gently removing it. Steve can tell she doesn’t like it, and as they continue to talk she keeps trying to be her usual tactile self, and he keeps rebuffing her. Steve isn’t sure exactly what the trigger is, but all of a sudden she’s storming back into the house, one hand held up to keep Jerry away from her as he obviously tries to ask if she’s okay, or apologise. Steve waits a beat and then makes his excuses, getting up and following her into the house. Something’s wrong and for whatever reason Elvis seems not to have noticed. Or to have decided he doesn’t need to follow her.

“Dorothy?” He calls out, softly.

He hears something that sounds suspiciously like a snuffle, coming from under the stairs, and is shocked to find her there, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Babe. What’s wrong?” He coos as he gets down on the floor beside her, pulling her into his arms.

“Jerry doesn’t love me anymore,” she sobs.

“Oh darling. Jerry still loves you.”

“Why does he keep pushing me away then?” She demands, her hand clinging to his shirt as she stares into his eyes with her tear-filled ones.

Steve gently strokes her face with one hand, his thumb wiping ineffectually at her tears. He can’t help but feel that she seems a little lost.

“He’s got Sandy now. He’s trying to be respectful.”

She lets out a loud sigh and buries her face in Steve’s denim shirt, aware she’s probably smearing it with mascara as she does it.

“No-one loves me anymore,” she sniffs, feeling particularly sorry for herself.

“Elvis loves you, you silly little girl,” he teases.

“Elvis loves you,” she replies, sullenly, then feels a firm finger lifting her chin up.

“He might like me, but he hasn’t stopped loving you. You know that, right?”

Dorothy’s face crumples again. “He misses you. He talks about you constantly. He tells me all about it all the time.”

Steve pulls her into his lap, suddenly realising quite how vulnerable she is underneath her tough exterior. The things she’s saying about the way Elvis feels about him are making his stomach flip, but he doesn’t need to think about that right now. She’s his concern.

“I’ve seen the way you are together. You talk without saying anything. You know each other inside out. He’s in love with you. He loves all sorts of people but it’s obvious you’re top of the list.” He rubs her back reassuringly. “C’mon. You must know that?”

She grumbles. “I know but I… what if he ends up liking you more than me?”

Steve smiles, knowingly. “Need a lot of loving, don’t you? I thought he was the needy one. You just hide it better than he does.”

She looks at him a little taken aback. No-one has ever noticed that before. Everyone always thinks she’s strong and independent and needs nothing from anyone. His words have made her feel better though, and her tears have started to subside so she sniffs a little and tries to pull herself back together again.

“I don’t know what that says about you then, getting involved with both of us,” she tells him, a wicked glint in her still-watery eyes. “You must be needy too.”

Steve laughs, surprised by the revelation but unable to fault her logic. “Yeah I guess so.”

Laughing a little too, she puts her arms around him and cuddles him close. “Thanks,” she finally whispers, after a few minutes sitting like that.

“What for, babe?”

“Coming after me.”

“Can’t have you sitting crying on your own,” he replies, kissing the top of your head. “Not when you've got two daddies who can take care of you.”

Dorothy smiles against his chest, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her. It feels good to be held for a change.

***

The rest of the evening passes uneventfully, and Dorothy even manages to make tentative movements towards friendship with Sandy. She’s happier after talking to Steve, and a good cry always makes her feel better, but it’s still hard for her to stay away from Jerry. Every time she says something to him she has to stop herself touching his arm or playfully prodding him in the side. When he and Sandy decide to go home (Steve makes his excuses about staying over or getting a cab a little later) Dorothy shakes his hand as he leaves, and then almost flops from the exhaustion of holding back all evening.

Standing behind her, Steve wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her neck lovingly, once he’s sure that the other two are out of sight. She almost purrs at the attention, leaning her head back against his chest and grinning up at him.

“Little lovebug,” he murmurs, kissing her ear.

She giggles.

“What’s at?” Elvis asks, suddenly interested in what they’re up to without him.

Steve laughs. “You’re one too.”

“What?”

“A lovebug.”

Elvis immediately blushes. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

He grumbles, looking back into Steve’s eyes as they sparkle with amusement. Then the other man goes back to kissing his girlfriend’s neck, big dramatic smacks that make her laugh and swat at him, stomping her feet.

Elvis isn’t quite sure what to do in the face of this silliness, feeling like there’s a joke he’s somehow missed out on. “Y’want a scotch, Stevie?” He asks, after a while.

“Sure, lovebug.”

His blush deepens and he walks over to the countertop to grab the bottle and three glasses. He doesn’t drink often but sometimes he joins Dorothy in her favourite tipple, and tonight feels like one of those nights. Something about Steve calling him by that cute pet name is making him embarrassed and turned on all at the same time. Almost like when Dorothy calls him pumpkin. He walks over to the sofa, where she and Steve are already sitting, still giggling and teasing each other.

“Here ya go,” he says, putting everything on the table and sitting down himself.

Dorothy giggles as she grabs the bottle and starts to pour large measures for them all, despite Elvis’ protests that he doesn’t want much. He winces as he takes a sip and wonders why he keeps doing this. He doesn’t like the taste but he keeps going back.

“Thanks lovebug,” Steve says, then looks from one to the other of them and giggles. “Lovebugs.”

“I don’t know how ya drink this, Dodo,” Elvis complains, pulling a face after another sip.

“You don’t like it?” Steve asks, innocently.

“Ugh.”

“Ever thought of putting a sugar lump in it?”

Elvis frowns and before he can reply the other man is getting up and going in search of one, coming back and dropping it into Elvis’ glass and stirring with a teaspoon.

“See if that’s any better.”

A cautious Elvis tips the glass slowly to let a tiny drop touch his tongue. He’s surprised when it actually tastes considerably sweeter and is almost enjoyable. Taking a bigger mouthful, he finds he quite likes it. It still burns the back of his throat but the initial taste is kinda nice.

“Mmmm. That’s actually alright. Thanks, sugar.”

It’s the other man’s turn to blush at such a sweet pet name, in both senses of the word.

“You two are so cute!” Dorothy exclaims, picking up her glass and taking a swig.

“Cute name, lovebug.”

“Sure is, sugar.”

They both giggle as they drink a little more and their hands find each other, being openly affectionate for what’s really the first time in front of Dorothy. They’d given each other the odd peck on the lips, but anything more than that had waited until she’d made herself scarce, understanding their need for privacy. But the hour and the slight inebriation is making them both lose their inhibitions, and Dorothy finds herself sitting watching a close up of them making out right in front of her. She bites her lip as she finishes her drink and feels warmth spreading between her legs. Sliding her hands up each of their thighs, she carries on watching, thinking how pretty they look with their eyes closed and their lips pressed so tightly together.

“Bed?” She asks, quietly, when they finally come up for air.

Panting, Elvis gives her a little nod and they all walk upstairs together. It’s the first time they’ve all been together since that morning in the studio at the end of filming, but it’s obvious the dynamic has changed since then. Steve is on top of Elvis on the bed as Dorothy sits close by, watching. He kisses the other man’s chest as he unbuttons his shirt, his lips finally reaching his belly button and then the trail of hair below it. They haven’t done anything past touching each other, neither of them wanted to rush into trying other things but it’s been a while and Steve knows he wants to now. Mouthing Elvis through his pants he hears the other man moan. Dorothy moves closer, leaning down to kiss her boyfriend as he tugs her dress off her shoulders, one hand moving to caress her breasts.

Steve undoes Elvis’ belt and unzips his pants, carefully taking his hard dick in hand and stroking it a few times before pressing kisses all along the length. Dorothy feels the moan in her mouth and pulls away from the kiss so she can see what the other man is doing.

“Hey,” she says quietly, her hand finding Steve’s thigh. “You want me to tell you what he likes?”

Looking up at her from his position with his mouth around one of Elvis’ balls, he mumbles a yes and tries to stop himself from blushing. It’s ridiculous to blush right now. They’ve all seen each other naked plenty of times. What is there left to be embarrassed about?

Dorothy smiles. “Come here,” she instructs, taking his hand in hers and wrapping it back around Elvis’ dick. “Slide it back, like that. Yeah, that’s good. And then lick right around the head.”

Steve does as he’s told and is rewarded with a loud moan and Elvis’ entire back arching off the bed. Dorothy lets go of Steve’s hand with a grin. “Told you he’d like it.”

Steve finds himself grinning a little too, repeating the movement a few times, until Elvis is writhing about helplessly. Then he slides his mouth over the head and starts to slowly pump with his hand. The moans increase in volume, and then he finds the other man’s hips bucking up towards him, forcing more of the dick he thought he had some sort of control over further into his mouth. He coughs a little and struggles not to gag repeatedly, immediately feeling a wave of sympathy for all of his past girlfriends. This is not as easy as it looks.

“Don’t worry about that,” Dorothy murmurs in his ear as he tries to pull back again. “Relax your throat. And don’t worry if you gag. It’s sexy. Sure you love to hear a girl gagging on your dick.”

He pulls off completely, saliva pouring from his mouth as he tries to wipe it with the back of his hand. Keeping his other hand moving, he looks at her and gives a low whistle. “Don’t think I’m cut out for that.”

“Mmmmm. It was very nice, sugar. Don’t do yerself down,” Elvis chimes in, languidly. His eyes are half-closed but he’s looking down at both of them.

“Hold his hips down,” Dorothy suggests. “That way he can’t make you take more than you’re comfortable with.”

“Wasn’t tryin’ ta,” Elvis mumbles.

“I know you weren’t, pumpkin.”

The word is out of her mouth before she can stop it, but she tries to play it cool by pretending it’s the most normal thing ever.

“Pumpkin?” Steve asks, holding Elvis’ hip down with one strong hand.

Elvis grumbles and is about to say something when he’s silenced by a warm wet mouth around him again, and a hand working him too. All he manages in response is “Nghhhh.”

“Just my little pet name for him,” Dorothy explains, kissing from Elvis’ hipbone all the way up his side until she reaches his armpit. Probably not the time for tickling, especially after that slip up. She kisses and sucks his nipple instead and he rewards her with more noises, his hand tangling in her hair.

Steve’s hand starts to move faster, spurred on by the noises and the way Elvis’ body is trying to move underneath him, his breathing getting harder and faster as he gets closer to release.

“Sugar, I’m gonna…” he just about manages and then he’s squirting down the back of Steve’s throat, making him gag and saliva pool messily around the base. “Ah fuck.” He moans as he feels two pairs of lips kiss him all over whilst he spins dizzily, floating with the force of his orgasm and helped along a little by the scotch earlier.

Steve lets himself flop down on the bed as Dorothy carefully removes the rest of Elvis’ clothes. A big hand lands on his cheek, turning his head towards the other man.

“Mmm that was s’good.”

Steve laughs. “Harder than it looks.”

Dorothy giggles manically at the double-entendre, but Elvis doesn’t seem to have noticed. He’s still floating along on a cloud of pure bliss.

“Y’can keep practising that as much as ya want…”

His hand slides to the back of Steve’s neck and he pulls the other man closer so he can kiss him. Their tongues tangle as they kiss deeply and slowly and Steve suddenly becomes painfully aware of his hard on.

“You want a go?” He asks, as they pull apart.

Elvis doesn’t have to be asked twice, following a similar route of kissing down Steve’s body and freeing him from his pants and underwear quickly. He kisses and licks enthusiastically, and the sight of it makes Dorothy audibly moan.

“Baby, you want a hand?” He asks, his words buzzing against Steve’s skin.

She shakes her head. “Concentrate on Stevie. I can sort myself out.”

“Sure?” His lips slide over the head of Steve’s dick and he’s rewarded with a soft moan.

“Sure, pumpkin.”

It turns out that Elvis has no gag reflex to speak of, and he easily takes Steve’s dick all the way down his throat, the older man’s public hair tickling his nose. Steve can’t remember the last time someone did this for him, and his hand immediately knits into Elvis’ hair to keep his head where it is as he slowly starts to move his hips.

Steve fucking Elvis’ mouth has Dorothy’s hand in her panties immediately. She’s already soaked and she’s pretty sure she isn’t going to have to touch herself much to get there. She moans softly as her finger circles her clit, still staring at the scene unfolding in front of her. Steve’s hips are bucking with relentless speed and force as he groans, fingers deep in the other man’s hair, so obviously near to release.

“Ohmygod,” he mumbles, eyes rolling heavenward, as his orgasm crashes into him, his hips shaking and then juddering to a halt as he sighs deeply.

The sight of him cumming in Elvis’ mouth tips Dorothy over the edge too, and she squeals as pleasure fills her body, slowly lying down before crawling over to the two men. The three of them lie together, breathing hard and absent-mindedly stroking patches of each other’s skin. Shrugging off their remaining clothes, they cuddle up for a while before Steve eventually slips off to the spare bedroom to get some actual sleep. He leans down to kiss them both on the forehead before he goes; Dorothy is half-asleep and Elvis is already all the way there.

“Night night, lovebugs,” he says, softly, pausing to look at them both before he turns to leave. “Sleep tight.”

***

Chapter Text

Elvis, Dorothy and Steve spend a blissful couple of weeks together. And then Steve has to go back to work.

“Can’t ya jus’ stay here?” Elvis grumbles, between kisses. He’s on Steve’s lap hoping that he can prevent him from going to work by sitting on him.

Steve puts a hand on either side of the other man’s face and looks at him seriously for a moment. “I have to go to work. I’m already late for rehearsals.”

Elvis pouts. “Don’t see why ya haveta do that. Ya can work f’me.”

The older man shakes his head. “I have a job, Elvis. A career.”

“But I can pay ya, y’don’t need it.”

Steve huffs, fed up with the back and forth discussion that’s been going on since Saturday night, when he’d broken the news to both of them. Of course Dorothy had asked him about his latest project and listened with interest as he explained, and Elvis had started this annoying line of questioning and complaining. Like a petulant child having his favourite toy taken away.

“Oh so what am I now, exactly? Some kind of rent boy?” Steve asks, exasperated, trying to move Elvis off his lap so he can get up.

“N-no, Stevie, don’t be like that.”

“Get off,” Steve snaps.

The harsh tone makes Elvis move, and he stands sadly by the side of the sofa as Steve gets up and finishes getting his things together.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, eventually.

Steve rolls his eyes. He’s tired. Elvis had also insisted they all share the bed last night and it was just as comfortable as he’d imagined it would be.

“Elvis, I’m just going to work,” he replies, mustering every single ounce of patience left in his body. “I’m not leaving you. And I’m not going to leave you.” His tone softens slightly as he says the next part. “You don’t have to pay me to get me to stay.”

Elvis turns towards him with tear-filled eyes. If he was honest, that was what he thought was going to happen. Steve would go back to the real world and decide he wasn’t interested in living this crazy existence anymore. And then probably Dorothy would go too, preferring Steve and his normal life as well.

“O-okay.”

Steve’s heart breaks just a little seeing him look so forlorn. He wants to be fed up with him and his little boy routine but he is Elvis Presley, and his charisma is overwhelming at the best of times. He sighs softly.

“C’mere, lovebug.”

Elvis cuts quite the pathetic figure, shuffling towards the other man with his head down, sniffing. Wrapped up in Steve’s arms again he lets out a little sigh himself.

“I’ll miss ya,” he mumbles into Steve’s shirt.

“I’ll miss you too. But I’ll see you later. Dorothy will take care of you today.”

Elvis nods silently and then moves back, pouting a little for a kiss. Steve can’t help laughing at how ridiculous he’s being, and how easily he himself is taken in by it, pressing a kiss to those big soft lips and telling him he’ll call him at lunchtime. This is madness. How has he ended up in this situation?

***

Although Elvis doesn’t like Steve being at work when he wants to spend time with him, he finds other things to do with the rest of the Mafia, and gradually adjusts again. Plus there’s about enough in trying to sneak Steve places to keep him entertained, so for a while he isn’t bored. And then he is, so he decides to take Dorothy back to Memphis, and spends the next week and a half attending the Memphian every day and talking to Steve on the phone every night. He and Dorothy return to Palm Springs midway through October to get ready for filming his next movie. They stay in a trailer on set and return to the house on the weekends, when generally they try to see Steve. One evening after a particularly long day’s filming Elvis is lying with his head in Dorothy’s lap, staring at the ceiling. She thinks he looks particularly good for this movie and is enjoying watching him on set, even if he hates most of it. He groans.

“How much longer, Dodo? Thought I was gonna do what I wanted fer a change.”

She strokes his forehead gently. “Only one more movie after this one. But you need to talk to Parker soon. He’s supposed to be getting you on stage again.”

Elvis huffs out a “yeah,” and then there’s silence again.

“El?”

“Hm?”

“Steve was talking about taking me out to dinner…”

Elvis’ eyes move from the ceiling to her face, considering her quietly. “Without me?” He asks, voice small.

“Um… yeah. The two of you have had a lot of alone time and um… we have a lot of alone time… but Steve and I are never on our own.”

Elvis makes a small hmphing noise and then returns to his silent contemplation of the ceiling.

“You could help me pick out an outfit?” She suggests, running her fingers through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp a little.

“I could help ya make yerself irresistible for Steve. So ya can run off together without me.”

“Oh yeah right, we’re running off without you. Uh-huh.” Dorothy is a little irritated with Elvis making these sorts of comments now. He seems to be convinced that one or both of them are going to leave him and it’s really getting to be draining.

Elvis’ eyes flick back down to her face and he feels guilty. He has spent a lot of time telling her she’d probably prefer to be with Steve and to be honest he’s been pushing Steve away too. Not prone to introspection, he hasn’t really wondered why until just now, when his long-suffering girlfriend is giving him a look of peak annoyance. Like any minute now she is going to slap him across the face and turf him off her lap.

“Sorry, Dodo,” he mumbles. He’s not really one for apologies either, although she gets more of them than anyone else in his life. “Bad mood.”

Dorothy’s nails scratch at his scalp again and his eyes close in pleasure. “C’mon. Tell mama,” she encourages.

“Sick of this movie. Thought things were gonna change but I still ain’t got a single concert booked.”

“So what you’re saying is, instead of being angry with the fat man you’re angry with me and Steve?”

Elvis lets out a loud sigh and opens his eyes again. “‘Spose so.”

“Do you think you could maybe speak to him about it then?”

“Mmmm.”

“Elvis?”

His eyes have glazed over, thinking about the conversation with the Colonel which will inevitably not go the way he wants it to, and it takes him a minute to remember where he is.

“Oh. Sorry honey. Yeah I guess so.”

“And I can go for dinner with Steve?”

“Yeah.” He reaches up to curl a piece of hair behind her ear, smiling now. “Yeah. Of course ya can, baby.”

***

That Saturday Elvis takes Dorothy shopping in some of the fancy LA boutiques. He’d got the guys to phone ahead and close the stores for him, but there’s still quite a throng of people outside that he carefully manoeuvres his way through, signing autographs and kissing cheeks. Inside they both rifle through racks of dresses, occasionally pulling one out and frowning at it, only to return it to the rack again. Dorothy is in an indecisive mood, and everything she looks at seems too plain or too dressy, too boring or too extravagant. It doesn't help that Steve refuses to tell her where he's booked, so she keeps worrying that whatever she chooses won't be right. Elvis is just always this picky. He wants the girl on his arm to look right, he always has. She represents him, so she has to look good - fashionable, up-to-date, sophisticated with just the right amount of racy. And this is no different, even if she's not going to be on his arm when she wears it.

Finally he sees it - a silver number, long and slinky, low cut with just the right amount of slit up one side.

“Dodo!” He calls from across the room.

She looks up from the rack of dresses she’d been listlessly moving about and sees him waving something sparkly at her. She smiles as she looks at it, and smiles even more when she’s got it on.

“Oooh, I love it!” She declares, loud enough for him to hear from outside of the changing room.

“Lemme see, baby.”

Pulling the curtain back, she stands there posing with one hand on her hip. His breath catches in his throat, suddenly overwhelmed by how beautiful she looks, her eyes glittering almost as much as the dress.

“You like it?” She asks, when he hasn’t said anything for a full minute.

“Like it? Baby ya look incredible.”

She grins like the cat that’s got the cream. “You think Steve will like it?”

“If he don’t he’ll haveta go get his eyes tested.”

“Well I’m going to get it, then. You think I need new shoes?”

Elvis always thinks she needs new shoes, and he takes time picking out some spiked heels and a new clutch too. Then he pulls her, giggling, into the lingerie store on the other side of the mall, hoping his trip there wouldn’t make the news tomorrow morning, but guessing that it probably will.

“Haveta get ya some pretty panties,” he mumbles into her ear, fingers deftly making their way through the rack until he finds what he wants. “Know how much he likes ‘em. Sure he’s run off with at least a couple a pairs.”

Dorothy giggles too, enjoying him holding her so close and the way he keeps pressing kisses to her cheek and temple as he pulls out panties to examine and replaces them carefully.

“How about these?”

He holds up a bright red lacey pair for her to examine. There’s a matching bra, although Dorothy is so small and the dress is so complicated she thinks she’ll probably do without, as well as suspenders.

“Those are a bit racy for you,” she teases, pressing her nose into his cheek.

Elvis humphs. “They’re not. But they’re not for me, anyway. Y’know he’ll have these too.”

She giggles, her arm going around his waist to squeeze him. “Maybe you should start buying me multipacks.”

He cracks up, belly-laughing and kissing the top of her head in delight. But Elvis isn’t one for buying in bulk, he likes the finer things, so he selects a few more pretty pairs and a couple of suspender belts, and asks the assistant to ring them up for him. Dorothy watches his face flush buying lingerie, listens to his little stutter as he replies to the sales assistant asking if he wants it wrapped, and wonders how many other people know what an adorable little boy he can be.

***

The adorable little boy doesn’t want her to go to dinner with Steve, and is trying very hard not to tell her. The feeling that his life is spinning out of control again hits him and he wants to lock the doors and switch the lights off and pretend neither of them are at home. He still hasn’t spoken to the Colonel, and he’s starting to wonder if he even knows how to. Things were simpler before the TV special. Worse, but simpler. His career was slowly going down the drain, but at least he knew that. Now there’s a chance that this is a new, fresh start for him, and there’s also a chance that he’ll blow it. He doesn’t want Dorothy to go out tonight, dressed in those pretty clothes he bought her, and be wined and dined by a man who has a steady income and a sensible head on his shoulders. He stands there on his own, in the doorway, sweating and biting his nails as the two of them drive away. So he calls Joe, and asks him to bring some girls round. Maybe the company will take his mind off it.

***

The restaurant seems fancy, fancier than anywhere she’s ever been before, and Dorothy bites her lip as the waiter arrives with the menus. She’s still not sure if this outfit is right, although the look that Steve had given her when she’d shrugged off her coat earlier suggested that he at least likes it. She moves to take a menu and finds that somehow there are none on the table anymore. Steve has both food menus in one hand and is flicking through the wine menu with the other.

“Anything you don’t like to eat?” He asks, not looking up.

“Uh… um… shrimp cocktail? I hate mayonnaise,” she replies, puzzled.

Steve looks up with a smile. “Don’t think you have to worry about that here, babe. It’s a little nicer than shrimp cocktail.”

“Well I don’t know, do I?” She replies, folding her arms defensively. “You’ve got the menus.”

The smile grows to a grin. “Yes I do. Thought you might like someone to take care of you for a change.”

Dorothy stares back at him, confused, and is about to ask what on earth he means when the waiter returns, asking about drinks. Steve orders champagne and her mouth hangs open for a moment, before she realises and closes it.

“And are you ready to order food or shall I let you have a few more minutes?”

“W-” Dorothy starts, but is immediately cut off by Steve, who has somehow opened a food menu and scanned it in the amount of time it took the waiter to ask the question, and is now confidently telling him what they both want.

“Great. I’ll be back with your drinks now.”

“I-I don’t get a choice?” She squeaks, once the waiter has left again.

“You really want one? I thought I’d be nicer for you to not have to make so many decisions this evening. You’re always worrying about Elvis, let someone worry about you for a change.”

Steve watches as a number of competing emotions appear and disappear on her face. He smiles, warmly, and takes her hand across the table.

The feeling of his hand wrapped around hers snaps her out of her thoughts and she smiles back. “I hope whatever it is you’ve ordered is nice!”

“Well if it’s not I’ll have more to go on next time.”

She giggles. “Sometimes you’re nothing like him, and then sometimes the two of you are so similar…”

“How’s that?”

“If Elvis wants burgers, we have burgers. If he wants meatloaf, it’s meatloaf for everyone. There’s no choice in the Presley world, either.”

Steve considers this for a moment, fiddling with the rings on her fingers. They’re all gold, and he’s certain they must be from Elvis, but the bands are thin and delicate and they’re not ostentatious at all. She must get her own way sometimes.

“I didn’t order you the same as me,” he replies, looking deeply into her eyes now. “I ordered what I thought you’d like.”

As if on cue, the waiter reappears with the champagne. As he pours it, Dorothy remembers some time over the past few months where she’d been sitting next to Steve on the couch, complaining that there was no champagne, ever, even if there was a celebration like the rough cut of the special being so good. And that there probably wouldn’t even be any if they ever got married. “The curse of the southern family,” she’d muttered, under her breath so Elvis wouldn’t hear her, but Steve certainly had. And squirrelled the information away until now, when he’d ordered an expensive bottle.

“Okay so you got me with the champagne. Let’s see how you do with the food,” she says, raising her glass to clink against his.

***

The two girls that Joe brings round to the house are decent company, particularly the smaller one with dark features and a wicked grin. As they all watch a film on the projector together she sits on one of his thighs, her back leaning against his chest. He likes the smell of her, the way her little body feels against his. Finds his hands on her hips, rocking her back and forth until she sighs softly, leaving a damp spot on his pants. He kisses her temple as she flops there, her body limp, eyes dewy with pleasure. He smiles and calls her his little girl, wrapping his arms around her waist as his eyes return to the screen. It’s nice to have a warm body here with him, nice to please someone.

***

Dorothy finds herself relaxing, enjoying Steve’s company and no longer worrying if she fits in to this fancy place. The scallops that Steve has ordered for her are delicious, and she realises that he might know her a little better than she first thought. She’s never eaten one before but he knows she doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to eat seafood, and once again she’s amazed by how much he’s paid attention to her.

She’s midway through the main course (beef Wellington, which she’d never heard of before but is also delicious) when Steve asks her a question that makes her stop chewing mid-mouthful.

“What would you do if you weren’t with Elvis?”

Finishing her mouthful and swallowing purposefully, she replies, “he won’t like it if he thinks you’re trying to get me for yourself, you know.”

Steve laughs. “I’m not crazy. I can’t compete with Elvis Presley. And I don’t want to, anyway. I just want to know what you would do if you had more spare time. I know you play the piano, I know you can sing…” he trails off, hoping she’ll catch his drift.

“Oh,” she says, quietly. Hobbies. “Well I used to write a bit…” she starts, uncertainly.

“Yeah?”

Steve’s face is open and he looks interested and it feels weird.

“Poems and stories and things…” She takes another mouthful of food to stall, but the beef is too melt-in-the-mouth so it doesn’t last long. “But I um… well I wanted to write scripts… when I met Elvis it was on set, one of his movies… just running about doing errands you know… and anyway then we got together and that was that.”

She takes another mouthful and looks hopefully across the table. Surely that’s enough? But all she gets in response is a nod, and it’s clear he thinks she’s going to go on.

“I really like the theatre,” she finds herself saying. “But um… I never go. Not because Elvis wouldn’t want to, but because of the guys. You know, they’d look at him like he was a fairy…” she pauses, realises the irony of what she’s just said and then bursts out laughing.

Steve laughs too, although in that moment something starts to dawn on him about the nature of his relationship with Elvis and just how well that would be received if it ever got out.

“I like the theatre too. Who do you like?”

“Well you know there’s the main man, Shakespeare…” she starts, not sure where exactly she should go with this. Does he really like the theatre?

“Goes without saying.”

“Um… and I like Harold Pinter…”

“The Birthday Party?”

“Yes!”

“I also really like Samuel Beckett, although I know his stuff is quite opaque…”

Steve is leaning forward across the table now, looking completely fascinated. They talk back and forth about different plays and she suddenly realises that he’s not just humouring her. She thinks she might faint on the spot when he suggests he’ll take her to see a play on their next date, asking does she like Tennessee Williams?

***

Elvis asks the girl whose name he’s already forgotten if she wants to stay the night and is relieved when she says yes. He gives her a pair of pyjamas to change into and goes into the bathroom to put on his own pair. Somehow while getting changed he realises he’s half hard and starts stroking himself, leaning against the tiled wall and closing his eyes. Thinking of Steve behind him, his lips on his neck, pressing kisses there as his strong hands hold Elvis’ hips. His hand speeds up as he thinks about the other man whispering sweet nothings to him, telling him he’ll be gentle as he eases his dick inside. Turning around, Elvis presses his forehead to the cold tiles, one hand against the wall too as he spreads his legs as if Steve is really there, really fucking him in the bathroom. His breathing starts to get erratic as he fucks his fist faster and faster, feeling his release in his balls, squeezing his eyes shut and thinking of nothing but Steve and being impaled on his dick, being forced against the wall, being fucked until he can’t stand anymore. He cums hard and messily, gritting his teeth to stop himself making any noise. Cleaning up afterwards, he only briefly acknowledges the fantasy as he pulls on his pyjama pants and walks back into the bedroom.

***

Dorothy and Steve run giddily back to his car. The combination of the champagne bubbles, the rich food and the deep conversation have made them desperate to get back to his house, though they get distracted for a while, making out in the car like teenagers. Eventually a slightly inebriated Steve pulls away and starts to reverse the car out of the lot. They get home slowly but safely, and then they’re in one another’s arms again, kissing and giggling as Steve opens the front door and then picks her up, carrying her over the threshold and setting off another round of hysterical laughter.

“So did Elvis pick out your panties, too?” He asks, pressing her up against the wall. She’d told him about the shopping trip earlier but neglected to mention her underwear.

“Oh yeah he did. He thought you’d like them, since you’re always stealing them!” She teases.

“I’m not one to turn down a free gift,” he replies, eyes scanning her face and then running down her body.

“I guess you’ll want these ones too…” She raises an eyebrow as she looks at him. “What do you do with them, anyway?”

Steve laughs, finding himself blushing a little. “I think you can guess.”

“I can guess, but I want to hear you say it,” she replies between kisses as they start to move through the house towards the bedroom.

“Oh. Dirty little girl,” he teases. She grins back. “Okay. I smell them. When I’m… y’know.” She looks at him again, head to one side, daring him to spell it out. “Okay, okay. They help me think about you when you’re not here and I want to get off.”

“You smell my panties when you’re beating your meat!”

Steve shakes his head, grinning despite himself. “Sure I do. Now why don't you get that pair off and give them to me?”

***

Chapter Text

Dorothy wakes up early, turning over in bed and smiling at Steve’s sleeping form. Last night had been a lot of fun. The rest of her clothes had quickly followed her panties onto the floor and Steve’s hadn’t stayed on long either. She’d teased him about his silly little ascot, so he’d put it around her neck instead and used it to pull her to him whenever he wanted. He’d started off gently, her on her back and him slowly pushing inside, long slow movements that made her cry out with frustration, desperate for more. Speeding up and slowing down again, he’d kept her dancing on the edge of ecstasy for what seemed like hours, their sweaty bodies pressed tightly together as they kissed deeply, her hips bucking up, matching his movements thrust for thrust. When she finally came, her on top, hands on either side of his head as she rolled her hips again and again, mewling as she completely lost herself to the pursuit of her high, Steve pulled and twisted the ascot hard enough to make her see stars as she lost the ability to breathe for a few seconds and her orgasm hit her all the harder for it.

As they’d lain there panting afterwards, she’d thought about the ascot thing and wondered how much of a difference it had made. It had felt good. They fell into a deep sleep not that long after, and now here she is awake again, thinking about it. And thinking about the sound he’d made as he came too, finally letting go after holding back all this time, waiting for her to cum first like a gentleman holding open a door.

She scoots closer to him under the covers, pressing herself against his back and putting an arm over him. He stirs at the feeling, hand instinctively going over hers as he grumbles himself awake.

“Hi,” she whispers in his ear.

A smile slowly spreads across his face at the memory of the night before and the realisation that Dorothy is in his bed.

“Well hello there.”

She giggles into his shoulder, softly singing, “it’s been a long, long time.”

“How’m I doin’?” He half sings the next line and half says it as he turns around to face her.

“How are you doing?” She asks.

“I am doing very very good.” He pulls her close, kissing her thoroughly and making her head spin a little. “How are you doing, babe?”

“Also very very good.”

“Last night was fun, huh?”

“Really fun. Especially the bit at the end.” She bites her lip and looks at him with a slightly naughty expression.

“The bit where you came?”

That makes her giggle. “Well obviously that but I mean when you choked me a little. I didn’t know I liked that.”

“I choked you?”

“Yeah you pulled on that scarf thing and twisted it so I couldn’t breathe… I thought you did it deliberately?”

Steve is caught in a sudden moment of panic. He’s never choked anyone before, deliberately or accidentally and it seems like it could be really quite dangerous.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to.” He strokes her cheek, face a picture of concern.

“No but I liked it.”

“Seems like something I shouldn’t have done by accident…”

“Okay well next time do it on purpose?”

“Alright,” Steve concedes. She had obviously liked it, after all. “But I don’t want to hurt you, we’ll have to be careful.”

Dorothy knows she should appreciate the fact that he cares so much about her, but the cautiousness is making her irritable. It had been fun, it had felt good. Couldn’t they just get carried away in the moment? Elvis was always getting carried away. The memory of him hits her then and she wants to get back to him, thinking of him all alone in the house and in that bed. She’s not sure if she can remember a single night when he’s slept alone since she met him.

“We should get back to the house and see Elvis,” she announces. “Make him some breakfast in bed.”

Steve smiles at the idea, and they get up, getting dressed and making their way to the house via the grocery store. Dorothy is in Steve’s clothes, which are far too big for her but still probably better than the dress she was wearing the night before. He even lent her some of his underpants, which she promised to give back smelling of her. Steve is in the kitchen, unpacking the groceries as Dorothy goes to look for Elvis. It’s still the morning, so she’s pretty sure he’s going to be fast asleep in bed, and she doesn’t like the idea of waking him so she’s just contemplating sitting there and looking at him for a while as she pushes the bedroom door open. The blood-curdling scream that comes out of her mouth when she looks in the room makes Steve jump and almost drop the box of eggs.

A thousand thoughts go through his head as he runs towards the noise, but none of them are what he’s presented with when he gets there, standing behind Dorothy and looking into the bedroom. There’s another girl in bed with Elvis, a carbon-copy of Dorothy if she were several years younger, and she’s sitting up and looking in complete shock as the original Dorothy yells at her to get out of their house. Elvis is moving like he’s wading through molasses, he looks like he can barely focus on his girlfriend and is just repeating “Dodo, please,” over and over again.

“C’mon,” Steve grabs her around the waist and moves her back out of the doorway. “Why don’t we let this, um… young lady get her things together. You and Elvis can talk when she’s gone.”

“I can’t believe you’d do this,” she shouts, as he picks her up, literally kicking and screaming and carries her down the stairs. “You can’t even spend one night on your own!”

Exhausted by the time he gets to the ground floor, he lets her go and she runs to the couch, punching the cushions in frustration. She manages to have the self-control to stop while the girl leaves, awkwardly and pretty much silently, but she goes right back to it as soon as she sees Elvis make his way down the stairs.

“Fuck!” She shouts.

“Don’t see what yer complain’ about,” Elvis growls. “Yer out with him anyway, all night, fuckin’ him. Why don’t I get anythin’?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dorothy rounds on him, and Steve starts to wonder if the cushion punching was just a warm up. “You get everything!”

“I get everything. Why’s my woman out all night with another man then?”

“Hey-” Steve starts, but he’s immediately drowned out by another round of Dorothy screaming.

“You fucking agreed to it!”

“Hey, I-”

“And you know what,” Dorothy continues, suddenly deciding she doesn’t want to let Elvis respond. “I loved it. It was fucking fantastic. He satisfied me better than you ever could!”

Steve’s eyebrows have almost reached the ceiling at this point, and he opens his mouth to try for the third time to say something, when Elvis yells back, “well why don’tcha leave me fer him then?”

“Maybe I will!”

“HEY!” The sound that comes out of Steve’s mouth is deep and loud and mildly terrifying. It stops Dorothy and Elvis in their tracks, her poised to punch him in the chest and him looming ominously over her.

“Both of you shut the fuck up and sit down.”

Dorothy’s eyes go wide at both the tone and the content of the sentence, and she immediately does as she’s told, sitting on one end of the now quite chaotic-looking sofa. Steve had always been so mild-mannered and sweet. She trembles a little as she looks up at him, clearly absolutely furious and looking a bit like he might back-hand them both into next week. Elvis is slower to move, mainly due to the sheer amount of benzos in his system, but he doesn’t argue back either, slowly lowering himself onto the other end of the couch with a grunt.

“Dorothy.” Steve addresses her first, since he has fewer issues with her, though he’s still pretty mad about all the screaming. “Do you think this is the way to deal with the problem? Screaming? Making ridiculous statements to upset Elvis deliberately?”

She looks down at her feet, still in her shoes from the night before which had genuinely looked ridiculous with Steve’s jeans and t-shirt but had really been her only option.

“No,” she whispers.

“No, what?”

“No, Daddy.”

The fear starts to turn into excitement as she looks back up into his face. He’s standing in front of them with his hands on his hips, his expression determined, brooking no argument.

“Ah knew ya didn’t mean it about him satisfyin’ ya better than me,” Elvis mumbles, looking across at his girlfriend cautiously.

“Ay!” Steve snaps, like he’s reprimanding a dog for jumping up. “I haven’t even got to you yet.”

Elvis almost whimpers in response, eyes back on the carpet. “Yessir.”

“I don’t know what the hell you thought you were doing with that girl. Do you know what you’ve got here?” He gestures to Dorothy. “She’s completely devoted to you. She’s dedicated her whole life to you, in a way I don’t think is healthy, but that’s what she’s done. And you can’t let her have one night away from you? Don’t you think that’s pretty fucking selfish?” He pauses for a second, and then frustration gets the better of him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Elvis slowly looks up from the floor to Steve’s flushed face. “S-sorry,” he manages, feeling his throat close up with emotion. He shouldn’t have done it. She wasn’t Dodo. Nobody was.

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to her!”

Elvis slowly drags his eyes from Steve’s face to Dorothy’s, feeling worse and worse as he gets more and more awake. “‘M sorry, Dodo. Should’na done it. I hate bein’ on my own but I shoulda jus’ taken my pills and gone ta sleep. Yer.. yer precious ta me. More ‘an I realised. I’ve been takin’ ya for granted…” he trails off, feeling truly miserable now.

Dorothy starts to feel her resolve melting away. “Oh El. It’s okay…”

No, it isn’t, Steve thinks. Dorothy is one of the most incredible women he’s ever met, and she’s letting Elvis get away with treating her like this. A few mumbled apologies and a hang-dog look on his face and he could apparently get away with murder.

Elvis sniffs and smiles slightly in response. “I love ya Dodo, y’know I do…”

“I love you too, El.”

Steve looks from one to the other, seeing Elvis’ little boy lost expression and the way it brings out Dorothy’s motherly side, she’s already reaching over to cup his cheek and smiling sweetly at him. His jaw clenches and he grinds his teeth. He moves directly in front of Elvis.

“Stand up.”

Elvis blinks in surprise, his attention had been so fully on Dorothy that he’d forgotten there was anyone else in the room.

“Huh?”

“C’mon. She might’ve forgiven you but I haven’t.”

Stupefied, Elvis stands up slowly until he reaches his full height, his eyes staring uncomprehendingly into the other man’s. Steve puts one hand on Elvis’ face as the other moves to rest on his hip.

“She’s mine,” he begins, both hands gripping just a little tighter. “And I’m not giving her back to you until I’m sure you really appreciate her.”

Elvis’ heart starts to race, his drug-slowed brain trying to understand the implications of the words. “Ah-I…” he stutters slightly, abruptly brought to a halt by Steve’s thumb pressing against his lips.

“You’re mine too. So you’ll do as I say.”

He turns to Dorothy, who is positively dripping listening to this one-sided conversation, and tilts his head back slightly. “C’mon. Both of you, upstairs.” His thumb presses against Elvis’ lips a little harder. “You need to be taught a lesson.”

“Yessir,” Elvis mumbles breathlessly as the other man lets him go, turning to walk upstairs without waiting to see if either of them are going to follow him. His heart is beating quickly and he has to will his hands to unclench as he mounts the stairs. Dorothy had barely been able to talk about what she might’ve done with her life if Elvis wasn’t in it, and the unfairness of the situation stings Steve with a ferocity that surprises him.

He orders Elvis out of his pyjamas and into one of the chairs in the bedroom, getting Dorothy to help find handcuffs to keep his hands behind his back, and using ties from robes to secure his legs. He stands admiring their handiwork, his eyes skating over every inch of naked skin and lingering just a little longer on the other man’s dick. He finds himself smirking, thinking about what he’s going to do.

“Enjoying yourself already,” he teases, stepping forward to ghost the backs of his fingers over Elvis’ cheek as it burns with embarrassment at his obvious arousal. His dick, hard and shiny with precum, pressing against his belly.

“Yessir,” Elvis replies, feeling almost unable to say anything else.

Still smirking, Steve pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Good boy.”

He turns back to Dorothy and tells her to get undressed too, and to sit on the edge of the bed. Standing so that he’s sure Elvis has a good view, he unzips his fly and takes out his dick, already half-hard, pushing it slowly past Dorothy’s unresisting lips. He hears the other man whimper softly.

“You’re gonna watch me satisfy your woman.” His hand slides around the back of Dorothy’s head to hold it gently, encouraging her to move back and forth. “Watch me give her what she needs. What she deserves.”

Elvis whines. He doesn’t mean to make such a pathetic noise, but it comes out of him anyway, worrying his lower lip as he feels jealousy surge through his body. Steve’s dick gets harder, and he knows it's not just Dorothy’s pretty little mouth that’s doing it, though she’s doing a good job like always. He lets her keep going for a while longer then tugs at her hair, pulling her off him and instructing her onto her back in the middle of the bed as he strips off. When Elvis first sees his head dipping down between her legs he lets out a strangled moan. He’d been expecting to watch them fuck but he hadn’t been expecting to see her being eaten out by another man. Elvis had always prided himself on being an expert at eating, he loved going down on girls, their surprised reactions when his tongue licked them just so, the way they’d start off so stiff and awkward and end up thrusting their pussies into his face, closing their legs around his head. He keeps trying to remind himself that he’s seen Steve eat her before, he’s seen Steve fuck her, none of this is anything new… but as he watches her writhe in pleasure, calling the other man Daddy and then calling out his name when she cums, he can’t help but feel like he’s being stabbed in the chest.

“Good girl,” Steve coos, wiping his face before he kisses her, then slowly starting to push into her warm, wet pussy.

Dorothy moans, her hands already grabbing at the bedsheets before he’s fully inside, feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed. Steve pushes her legs back against her chest and starts to fuck her slowly, his thrusts long, her breasts bouncing with each one. She whines, her breath coming in little pants as her eyes squeeze shut.

“I’m fucking your girl stupid.” Steve speeds up slightly as he thumbs her clit, watching her face for her reaction.

“Ohmygod, oh Daddy… I can’t…” she babbles, barely able to string a sentence together.

“You like seeing the mess I’m making of her?” Steve’s eyes flick back up to Elvis’ face for a moment.

The other man can feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes, his dick is so hard now and there’s no way to get any kind of relief. And Dorothy looks so damn good like this, so beautiful, so insanely perfect that he doesn’t know what to do. So he just does as he’s told.

“Yessir. I love it.”

“Good.” Steve looks back down at Dorothy. “Cum again for Daddy. You can do it, babe.”

Dorothy has lost the ability to string a thought together at this point, everything is just feeling and the feelings are so overwhelming that she’s just making noises, fingers digging into the sheets, grasping, twisting, moaning and yelping until finally she’s cumming again, a blinding whiteness making her scream rather than squeal, her whole body arching with the force of it.

Steve fucks her through it until she begs him for relief and he pulls out with a little smile.

“Here. Scooch down a bit.”

She shifts until his knees are on either side of her torso, then closes her eyes again, floating in bliss. Steve looks up into Elvis’ flushed face as he takes his dick in hand and starts to stroke it, building up speed. Suddenly becoming aware of what’s about to happen, Elvis pulls against his restraints, desperate to be involved, to no longer just be a spectator sitting on the sidelines. The realisation that he wants that salty release on his tongue hits him as soon as Dorothy’s face is painted with it, and he groans loudly in frustration.

Steve lets himself have one thoroughly blissed out moment from his orgasm and then gets up off the bed, grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom and giving it to Dorothy before moving to stand between Elvis’ spread legs. The other man is gasping for air, staring up at him with a wild expression.

“You enjoy that?”

“Yessir.” Elvis’ eyes go to the floor. “Wish I didn’t have ta jus’ watch,” he mumbles, disconsolately.

Steve’s finger under his chin returns his gaze to the other man. “You wanna cum?”

“Yessir. So bad.”

Steve’s hand wraps around Elvis’ dick and the younger man lets out another desperate noise. “Good boys get to cum,” Steve explains, and Elvis nods hurriedly, mumbling about being good and being sorry. Steve smiles, starting to move his hand up and down slowly.

“Dorothy is going to keep going on dates with me, and she’s going to stay over and I’m going to satisfy her like she deserves.”

Elvis’ lower lip wobbles. “Yessir.” The hand on his dick speeds up.

“You’re gonna show her how much you appreciate her. Cook her dinner. Take her places. Listen to her.”

Dorothy is sitting up by this point, and has to stifle a giggle at the idea of Elvis cooking. But she’s interested, even more so when she hears the swift “yessir” in response.

“You’re gonna worship that girl, is that clear?” Steve’s voice is firm and Elvis feels himself melting further and further into obedience.

“Yessir. Anythin’ fer Dodo. Anythin’ for you…” his heart is pounding as he feels himself achingly close to release, Steve’s hand moving faster and faster on his dick.

“Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“Look after Dodo. Cook fer her, take her out, do whatever she wants me ta…” Elvis groans, he’s so close now. “Help her look as good as possible for ya, stay here on my own thinkin’ about how good yer fuckin’ her…”

Dorothy’s eyes go wide as she listens to him, he’s definitely going off script now, his body taut and straining against the ties and the cuffs.

“That’s a good boy,” Steve coos. “Cum for Daddy.”

Elvis throws his head back as he lets himself go, dimly aware that he’s making some kind of noise as he cums, harder than the night before in the bathroom, still cumming and it seems like it goes on forever but he can’t see because his eyes are screwed shut, waves and waves of pleasure overwhelming him.

When he finally stops, Steve has to hold back giggling at the mess he’s made. There’s a lot of cum absolutely everywhere. He leans down and kisses the cherry red lips that seem like they’re perfectly parted just for him, extracting another soft moan from the other man.

“Washcloth,” he says to Dodo, who tosses it to him before standing up to help get Elvis out of his restraints.

Once he’s cleaned up, they all get into the bed with Elvis in the middle. He lets himself be held by Steve and Dorothy at the same time, humming with satisfaction as they kiss and caress him.

“I really am gonna take proper care a ya, Dodo,” he says, after they’ve been sitting there for a while. “Wasn’t jus’ sayin’ it.”

Pausing in her ministrations, she smiles up at him. “You want to start now?”

Surprised, he almost says no, then manages to collect himself. “Sure.”

“Have we got any frozen peas?”

“Peas?”

“Yeah. My pussy’s really sore, Steve really pummelled it last night and this morning…” She keeps a straight face for a few seconds and then bursts into peels of laughter.

“Dodo!” Elvis exclaims as redness creeps up his neck again. Just when his face had almost gone back to a normal colour.

“I guess maybe a hot water bottle would be better… don’t want to give myself freezer burn!”

Elvis shakes his head, a little smile playing on his lips. “Stop teasin’.”

“Sorry.” She giggles. They stare wordlessly at one another for a while, and then she continues. “Maybe we should put Steve in the middle now.”

Elvis nods. “Good idea.”

Something indefinable had passed between them, happening in a way that Steve wonders if he will ever understand. As he settles himself in the middle, one of them on each side, he sees them look at each other again, communicating without words like he’d watched a million times before with not a little jealousy.

“We’ve got something to ask you.” Dorothy rummages about in the bedside cabinet drawer until she finds what she’s looking for.

“Oh?” Steve watches her light a cigarette, take a drag and then hand it to Elvis.

He takes a deep drag too, letting it out in a long slow stream as his stomach flips. “Will you be our boyfriend?” His hand brushes the back of Steve’s as he hands him the cigarette.

The intimacy of being included in the ritual makes Steve’s mouth dry and his heart beat fast in a way that everything that had just happened somehow hadn’t. And the idea of this being somehow official… he swallows, trying to get some kind of lubrication in his mouth before he speaks.

“I’d love to.” He takes a drag and hopes they don’t notice the way his hand is shaking.

Dorothy rescues the cigarette with a little squeal of delight and takes another hit of nicotine.

“Yay! Because we need you. We’re awful on our own.”

Elvis chuckles, resting the cigarette from between her fingers. “That’s not the way we should be sellin’ it Dodo. He don’t want no hopeless cases.” He takes a drag and lets it back out again quickly. “We’re a catch.”

Steve is laughing now too, his hand reaching for the cigarette. “You are a catch.” He kisses Elvis’ cheek and makes him grin. “Both of you.” Kissing Dorothy too. “I’m lucky to have you both.”

***

Chapter Text

Some time in 1964…

“I promise ya, she means nothin’ ta me.”

Dorothy throws herself back into the chair dramatically at his words. She knows that’s not true. Of all the girls she knows about (and there were bound to be plenty more she didn’t) Ann-Margaret is the one who sparks fear in her heart. All the other girls had been quiet and nice and speak-when-you’re-spoken-to little dolls, but Ann is spunky. Ann has opinions and Ann has a career and Ann is a direct and credible threat to the relationship. And worst of all, Elvis is lying about it.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Dorothy snarls, hands gripping the arm rests.

“Wash your damn mouth out, little girl.”

“Not until you wash your dick!”

The anger that had been bubbling inside Elvis ever since this conversation had started, this impossible stupid conversation that he didn’t want to have, didn’t want to even think about, suddenly spills over into pure unbridled rage.

“Don’t ya fuckin’ speak ta me like that,” he roars, grabbing her by the throat and pulling her out of the chair.

Dorothy is briefly terrified and then snaps back to fury, grabbing his wrist and digging her nails in as she thrashes from side to side until he lets go. He yelps and slaps her across the face and she stares at him for a moment, wide-eyed like a frightened horse, and then slaps him back. There’s a few seconds where they just look at one another, trying to comprehend the situation that they’ve got into and aren’t sure how to get back out of again, and then at the same time they remember the way they usually get out of it, and Elvis is kissing her and pushing her bodily against the wall, and she’s got her legs up around his waist, her fingers tugging his hair.

He rolls his hips into her, crushing her against the wall, making her feel how hard he is. How much he wants her. She moans into the kiss, legs starting to flail in the air, needing him inside her. He stops pressing her into the wall just enough so that she can reach between them, legs wrapping around again so she doesn’t fall. Her fingers scramble to undo his belt and she’s desperately trying to get her hands on his dick, washed or unwashed, when he slaps her hands away.

“That’s enough,” he growls, roughly pulling her panties to one side as he takes his dick in hand. “You’re gonna wanna hold on.” He looks into her eyes with an intensity that makes her stomach flip.

He’s not wrong, she thinks a few seconds later when he’s already pounding her remorselessly into the wall, his usually perfectly coiffed hair gradually falling down into his eyes with every movement, grunts of exertion falling from his lips.

“Is this how you fuck her?” She can’t help it. Already knowing she won’t be able to walk tomorrow, she can’t help pushing it further.

A big hand grabs her face and pushes it to the side, her cheek pressed uncomfortably against the cold plaster.

“Don’t need… ta fuck her… like this…” he pants, eyes glinting with something dangerous, “she’s not a fucking… bad girl like you…”

White hot jealousy sears through Dorothy’s body at the reference to fucking her, at the admission that he has and by implication, that he enjoyed himself.

“You like her… better than me?” The pleasure and pain centred on her pussy is making it hard to speak, but she’s determined to ask now she feels like he’s finally talking.

“Fuck… baby… no…” Elvis lets go of her face and looks into her eyes. Things with Ann had got messy. And messy is not something that Elvis likes when it comes to his relationships. There had been a time when he’d thought that maybe he liked her more, maybe she was the one and Dorothy was a little too much, not quite demure enough and wouldn’t ever be proper wife material. But Ann’s career had started to concern him, and he thought that even though Dodo might need more taming, at least she wasn’t a threat to him. And then everything had started coming out in the press, the Colonel had been furious and so had he, how Ann could have said something like that to the papers was beyond him…

“No?” Dorothy whispers, her throat closing with emotion.

“No. Don’t ever ask me that again.” His jaw clenches as he keeps thrusting, feeling his release heavy in his balls. “Don’t ever…” he mumbles again, knowing it’s too close and this is too much of a risk.

He pulls out without warning and she moans, suddenly empty. Sliding down onto his knees he presses her firmly against the wall, hands spreading her legs as he buries his face in her pussy worshipfully. The sudden contact on her aching, untouched clit almost tips her over the edge immediately, her hands bury themselves in his hair, holding him against her as she cries out.

“Elvis! Elvis! Oh God, yes!”

And then her legs are shaking as her orgasm hits her, cumming all over his face, his tongue licking until she pushes him off, oversensitive and gasping.

“Knees, baby.”

He stands again and she does as she’s told, shakily getting onto her knees and looking up at him, his swollen dick in one hand as he pushes her hair from her face with the other.

“I don’t fuck her like that, I don’t lick her like that, I don’t cum on her like I’m gonna cum on ya now…” he’s rambling, the closeness of his orgasm making the words flow out, making him somehow want to make Dodo understand what she means to him. “Fuckin’ nice girl, they’re all nice fuckin’ girls…” stroking himself furiously, he screws his eyes shut as he wills himself to finish before he says anything else. “Yer nasty, yer bad, yer everythin’ I’m not s’posed ta want…” the rush of pleasure peaks and he moans loudly, unable to control himself, cum shooting out of his dick and splattering all over his girlfriend's face, her shoulders, the pretty dress she’s wearing. “But I never wanted someone s’much in my life.”

When he’s done he collapses back to his knees, and then they both slump against the wall together. Usually fastidious about cleanliness, Dorothy is shocked when Elvis turns her face towards him and kisses her, she can taste herself on him and then she’s even more shocked to find him experimentally licking the cum off her face and not seeming to hate it. Seeing her expression he suddenly comes to and starts to giggle, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Ya make me get carried away,” he whispers.

She pulls herself into his lap, covering his face in little kisses. “I love you, Elvis.”

“I love ya too, Dodo.”

“I don’t mind sharing you,” she says, quietly, after a while.

“Ah, baby, I’m not…” he starts with the usual line of excuses and she puts her finger to his lips.

“I really don’t mind. But I don’t want you to go off with anyone else. So if you want to fuck other girls, lets do it together.”

***

November 1968

“Ya don’t have ta come with me, y’know,” Elvis mumbles nervously.

Looking around quickly to check for prying eyes, Steve slides the palm of his hand onto the other man’s lower back.

“I do,” he replies, matter-of-factly. “If I don’t, you’ll come out of there with something you don’t want.”

Elvis sighs. Steve is right. He always goes into these conversations with the Colonel thinking he knows exactly what he’s going to say, and somehow it all gets turned upside down and he comes out with barely half of what he wanted. He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door, feeling the hand on his back rub him gently and then move away again.

“Come!”

The Colonel is sitting behind his big oak desk, which is festooned with knick knacks and piles of important-looking documents. Although he tries not to show it, Steve sees the look of irritation on his face when he registers the older man with Elvis, and he knows this is going to be just about as much fun as every other encounter he’s had with Parker.

“Ah! You’ve brought Mr Bindle with you, I see.”

“Uh, Binder, yessir, Steve,” Elvis replies, and Steve watches his body language change. He’d been nervous outside but this was a whole different ball game. His hands are held clasped together in front of his privates like a little schoolboy and his head is slightly bowed.

“Steeeeve.” Parker elongates the middle vowel as he looks up at the other man.

Steve gives him a perfunctory nod, looking right into his sunken little eyes. “Parker.”

His face twists slightly and then returns to normal, a slow smile creeping across his lips in its place. “And uh what, exactly, are you doing here, Steeeeeeve?”

Steve shrugs. “Supporting a friend.”

“Supporting? Elvis Presley needs your support?” He replies, squinting a little as if he’s trying to see something impossibly small. “Interesting.”

Another shrug. “Don’t mind me. You just carry on with your meeting.”

The Colonel’s beady eyes flick over to his client, his artist, his cash cow. “Well. It was Elvis here who asked to see me. So it is Elvis who needs to tell me what exactly he wants.”

No shit, Steve thinks. For once the fat man is absolutely spot on. It’s up to Elvis.

“Wellum, sir, I was hopin’ for an update on the live dates.” Elvis is addressing the carpet and it takes all of Steve’s strength not to reach over and hook a finger under his chin to make him look at who he’s talking to. Instead he takes the opportunity to try his damnedest to bore holes in the Colonel’s head with his eyes. He might not want to look you in the eye, but I damn well will.

“Oh, my boy, it is all in hand!” Parker declares, waving his hands around dramatically. “It will be sorted in no time. You’ll see.”

Elvis slowly raises his head, looking up meekly. “I thought it might be, uh…” he pauses, struggling to think of how to continue. “Well I thought y’might’ve had somethin’ by now.”

“Look!” The response is too loud, the hands are waving too dramatically, his big face is too red. If he were a poker player, Steve thinks, I’d say he was bluffing. “You are to look after the music, isn’t that so?” Elvis nods, slowly. “And I will look after the business. And have I not always done what is best for you, my boy?”

“Y-yessir…” Elvis’ eyes return to the carpet and Steve can’t contain his frustration any longer. He knew he should’ve role-played this conversation and not just believed Elvis when he’d said he’d ask for what he wanted and not back down.

“What about all those shitty movies you put him in?”

Tom Parker’s head whips round to look at Steve at a speed the other man wouldn’t have believed possible had he not just seen it with his own eyes.

“Mr Bindle,” he replies, coldly. “I thought that you were just here to observe.”

“Support,” Steve spits.

“Ah, that’s right. Support. Mr Presley does not need your support, Mr Bindle, and I do not need your interference. Kindly leave my office.”

Hands on hips, Steve shakes his head slightly, his mouth turning down as he speaks. “No. I don’t think I will.”

Elvis’ eyes had been slowly creeping up from the carpet to observe the back and forth as soon as Steve had mentioned the movies, and now he finds himself staring at the other man in slack-jawed awe. He’s never heard anyone say no to the Colonel before.

“Mr Bindle!” The Colonel is on his feet now and reaching for his cane.

“It’s Binder, you prick.” Steve is not backing down. “You know it’s Binder. Your mind games won’t work on me.”

“Mind games! Mind games!” The other man is laughing now, gesturing at Steve and looking from him to Elvis, who finds himself with his hands on his hips now too. “What are these mind games? I think you are paranoid, Mr Binder.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “And I think you’re an out of touch old man who needs to pull something out of the bag right now or make way for someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Having got hold of the cane whilst Steve was speaking, Parker now bangs it loudly on the floor in ill-disguised fury.

“Get out!” He yells. “I won’t be insulted in my own office!”

“Where do you want me to do it then?”

Suddenly seeing the potential for an actual fist fight, Elvis takes a step towards Steve and puts his hand on the other man’s arm.

“Hey. It’s okay.”

The touch makes the older man visibly relax, and he shrugs his shoulders one last time, stepping away from the desk.

Elvis swallows, and then looks over at his manager, who is even more red-faced than before, eyes bulging, teeth bared.

“Steve’s right,” he says, quietly. “Some of the things you’ve done recently haven’t been… I mean…” He trails off, still somehow unable to directly criticise his manager, after everything the other man had done for him.

“Spit it out, boy.”

“I want you to arrange a tour for me next year. And I want to know the details before Christmas. And if you can’t do it…” he pauses, thinking of the way he’d rehearsed this speech in his head over and over instead of sleeping last night, watching his hands tremble. “Then maybe I need to look for someone else.”

***

“Such a good boy,” Steve purrs into Elvis’ ear as they sit on the couch, his hand moving to rub little Elvis through the other man’s pants. “Standing up for yourself like that.”

Elvis whines, feeling himself harden at the praise and the touch. The rest of the conversation with the Colonel hadn’t been easy, but he had come out with a promise of another meeting in a fortnight’s time. A meeting to discuss the tour. His heart had been racing when they’d left the office together, throat dry, almost dizzy with adrenaline. And now they were sitting waiting for Dorothy to come back with takeout, and Steve hadn’t stopped with the little praises and proud looks.

“Th-thanks.”

“Think you deserve a reward.”

The hand that had been rubbing now starts palming him properly, and he finds himself arching into the touch. “Yes please.”

Steve grins, making short work of pulling Elvis’ pants off and spreading his legs, getting on his knees on the floor between them.

“Close your eyes and enjoy yourself.”

Elvis is happy to comply. He sighs at the feeling of the other man’s tongue running up and down his shaft, and then moans when he switches to licking around the sensitive head in the way Dorothy had shown him before. Warm wetness surrounds one ball and then the other, as a hand starts to work him.

“Stevie…” he groans, wanting to open his eyes to see the other man’s face but also wanting to do as he’d been told.

Steve licks him like a lollipop a few more times and then lets his mouth trail lower. He’s never done this before, not even with a girl, but he wants to for Elvis. As his tongue traces the outside of the younger man’s asshole, instructions are forgotten and Elvis’ eyes spring open as he gasps in surprise.

“Oh! Steve… ya… oh!”

He wants to tell the other man to stop, that he has no business being there with his tongue, but he finds he can’t. Then his ass cheeks are suddenly firmly spread apart and that face he’s definitely decided now is very cute indeed is buried between them, licking and sucking and drawing noises from him almost against his will.

Steve presses his tongue against Elvis’ entrance, his nose nudging at the seam of his balls. It takes a few attempts but he eventually starts to push inside, and if the noises the other man is making are anything to go by, he’s doing a good job. Aware that he doesn’t have a spare hand to stroke Little Elvis anymore, he moves his head quickly to let Elvis know he can do it himself.

“Oh fuck, don’t stop,” Elvis finds himself saying in response, grabbing his dick and starting to tug on it. “Please.”

Steve grins, gratified, and goes back to work, thumbs massaging that pretty pink little asshole before he sticks his tongue right in there again. “Good boy,” he tries to say, and the vibrations the words send through Elvis’ body make him almost cum there and then.

“Goddamn.” He pumps himself faster, alternating between closing his eyes and feeling the sensations Steve’s tongue is causing and opening them and savouring the debauched scene in front of him. Conscious that Dorothy could come back at any moment, he concentrates on cumming, and keeps his eyes open.

Steve feels his body contract and looks up, watching with awe as Elvis cums all over his belly. His tongue slips out and he kisses where it’s just been, continuing to press kisses over the younger man’s now-sensitive dick and balls, then his belly, licking the cum up on the way. He skips over the rest of his chest, which is covered with his shirt, and is about to kiss those big soft lips when a hand stops him in his tracks.

“Where has yer tongue jus’ been?” Elvis slurs, drunk on his orgasm.

“Right up your perfect little asshole.” Steve is drunk on Elvis’ orgasm too.

Elvis’ eyes go wide at the description and then he giggles. “Perfect?”

“Uh-huh. Now lemme kiss you, lovebug.”

“But I don’t wanna-” he begins, but Steve cuts him off.

“Lemme kiss you. Taste yourself.”

Steve grabs both of Elvis’ wrists and holds them away from his body, pressing his lips against the other man’s. Elvis tries to keep his mouth closed but the older man’s tongue is persistent and he finds himself giving in, moaning into the kiss despite himself.

They’re both so occupied neither of them hear the key in the door.

Dorothy looks over at the scene on the sofa and giggles to herself, setting the takeout on the side before kicking off her shoes and walking towards them as quietly as she can in her stockinged feet.

“Looks like you boys have been having some fun without me…”

***

Chapter Text

“Joe.” The Colonel sounds annoyed, and Joe wishes he hadn’t picked up the phone.

“Colonel! How’s it going?”

“How is it going?” Comes the incredulous reply. “How is it going? It is not going well, Joe. I thought I asked you to keep me informed on the comings and goings? I’ve heard nothing from you in weeks… and now I find Steve Binder in my office with Elvis.”

Joe pulls a face, grateful to not be having this conversation in person. “Oh.” Is all he manages, and in response is treated to another earful about why Parker hasn’t been kept in the loop about this budding friendship. Elvis had been telling him for a while now that he wanted to spend his weekends with Dorothy, and the guys actually hadn’t seen a lot of either of them when they weren’t on set. He’d seen Steve once or twice maybe, but hadn’t thought it worth mentioning to Parker. Things had seemed to be going better in general - none of that spiritual nonsense, the success of the special and the latest movie being wrapped up, along with a two week residency in Vegas sorted for the new year. Joe hadn’t really thought it was necessary to report back on every last tiny thing. But the conversation persuades him otherwise, and he starts to make plans to call in on Graceland a little more often over the festive period. This is just one of the things he has to do if he wants to remain in charge.

And he does want to remain in charge.

***

It’s two days after Christmas, and Elvis is pacing around the living room of the mansion. His movements are giving Dorothy a headache, and she lies down on the huge sofa, closing her eyes to try and make them go away. She’s told him repeatedly that Steve will like his house, everyone likes his damn house, but he won’t listen. So she’s given up.

Elvis isn’t really anxious about Graceland, he’s anxious about his Daddy and Dodger meeting Steve, and how he’s going to keep his feelings for the man secret. He’d begged Steve to come and stay over Christmas, and the other man had agreed that he’d travel after the big day, which he was spending with his parents and sister, and make it a proper little vacation. As soon as he’d got what he wanted, Elvis had started to panic about it. The house is always full, the way he likes it, but that means no cuddling and kissing, no sweet nothings, no messing about. And not just for him, for Dodo too. And it also means sneaking about in the middle of the night, which seems a bit much when it’s his house.

He sighs for the umpteenth time, and then hears the sound of a car pulling up outside. He’d sent Jerry to fetch Steve, which in retrospect he’s not sure was the greatest idea. The three of them had decided that Jerry was the person to let in on their little secret, since he used to know about the girls. But his reaction hadn’t been what Elvis had hoped at all, and it just added to his stress levels. The usually laid back, gentle man had looked at him as though he’d just found out he was a leper, saying something about not knowing he was a goddamn fag. Elvis had just awkwardly cleared his throat and started to backtrack, telling him it wasn’t serious, they’d just fooled around a bit and really it was Dodo who was interested in Steve. Jerry had said nothing. And that had sent Elvis off down a spiral of guilt and worry. After all, if Jerry couldn’t accept it, there was absolutely no hope of the rest of his friendship group of backward rednecks. Dorothy had stroked his hair and told him not to worry, one step at a time, maybe once Jerry had time to think about it he’d change his mind. She was hurt too, but she didn’t think being honest about that was going to help Elvis any. Elvis wasn’t so sure about Jerry changing his mind, but he’s always been happy to block difficult things out, so that’s what he’d done. So successfully, in fact, that he’d forgotten that maybe sending Jerry to pick up Steve was a stupid idea.

Jerry pulls up to the mansion, bringing the car to a careful stop. He’d barely spoken to Steve the whole way, his mind full of other things, but now they’ve arrived and he’s helping him with his bags, he finds himself assessing the older man. He doesn’t look like a faggot. He just looks like an ordinary guy. Jerry wonders what Dorothy sees in this ordinary guy that she never saw in him. Not that he’d ever asked her for anything, or done anything with her past kissing her cheek or holding her hand. But he’d had thoughts. What sane man wouldn’t have thoughts? She was stunning, and funny and… he sighs out loud as he reaches the front door and knocks.

“Jerry! Stevie!” Elvis envelopes them one after the other into one of his big, friendly hugs, and they both find themselves smiling afterwards. Steve had wondered about the atmosphere in the car on the way, knowing that Jerry hadn’t exactly been kind to Elvis about their relationship. He’d had a similar experience with his sister, who he’d always thought of as pretty progressive, but who apparently wasn’t interested in hearing about his experimentation. He hadn’t mentioned Elvis, just that he was spending time with a couple, and the expression on his sister’s face had been very similar to the one Elvis described on Jerry’s. Like you’ve just seen something disgusting on the sole of your shoe and you really want to get it off. It had put a bit of a downer on Christmas for him, if he was being honest, but he hopes that being with Elvis and Dodo in Memphis will change all that.

Boy is he not ready for the rest of the household…

“Steve!” Dodo squeals, delightedly, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek.

“Hey, Steve, how’s it going?” Charlie, wandering over, Danish pastry in hand.

“You want some eggnog?” That’s Joe, who seems to have a huge jug of the stuff on the go and is wandering about with it.

“You must be Mr Binder, I’ve heard a lot about you from Elvis, he speaks very highly of you.” Vernon, squinting at him almost shiftily, as a glass of eggnog is thrust into his hand whether he likes it or not.

“Elvis has said a lot of very kind things about you,” Dodger chips in, from her position sitting at the head of the dining table.

Steve tries desperately to open his mouth and say something in return but then he finds it filled with a piece of chocolate that Elvis shoves in there, on his way past talking about gifts and snowmobiles. He chews quickly, but not fast enough to stop another four people passing him and asking him how he is without waiting for a response, followed by Vernon and then Dodger telling Elvis off for not showing him to his room. Dorothy sees her opportunity and swoops in.

“I’ll show him, Dodge. C’mon Steve, follow me.”

He smiles, gratefully, and does his best to follow her through the hallway and up the stairs as toy cars zoom past his feet and yet more people appear with bowls and plates of various foods and jugs of drinks. Once they’re upstairs, it’s much quieter and he can feel himself start to relax.

“You okay?” Dorothy asks, with a little giggle, as she shows him to one of the spare rooms.

He puts his case down on the floor and turns towards her with a slightly harried expression. “Is it always like this?”

She nods. “Worse at Christmas, but yeah. He likes a lot of company. You were spoiled in LA!”

“How do you put up with it?” Steve flops onto the bed.

Dorothy closes the door and lies down next to him, her head on his chest. “Sometimes in the middle of the day I go outside and lay in the snow.”

He looks down at her and sees her smile and then they both crack up.

“You get used to it, kinda,” she continues. “And you can always just make an excuse and go lie down for an hour. That’s what I actually do.”

He puts an arm around her. “It’s good to see you, babe.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” She pauses for a moment and then looks up at him again. “The Glass Menagerie is playing in town…”

“I would love to go with you.”

Dorothy smiles, snuggling up to him, grateful that he knew exactly what she wanted without her having to ask.

“We should go back downstairs, face the masses,” she says, after a few minutes of lying there in blissful silence.

“You’re right,” Steve concedes. “Will we have time to do gifts later? In private?”

She giggles. “What naughty things have you bought us?”

“That would be telling. But do we? Will we have alone time?”

“I think so. If not this evening, you can just come into our bedroom in the middle of the night. No-one will find you then!”

Steve shakes his head, laughing to himself. Gifts in the middle of the night, chaos in the daytime. That was life with Elvis, alright…

***

It doesn’t take long for Steve to get into the swing of the general hubbub of the mansion - once the initial excitement of his arrival dies down he finds himself spending a lot of time talking to Minne Mae, so much time in fact that he turns down Elvis’ offer of snowmobiling and even starts chatting to her again after dinner. Dodger likes Steve a lot, he’s a young, polite man and he tells her all sorts of interesting stories about life in LA. She bugs him about why he doesn’t have a wife and kids yet, but he wins her round by bringing her hot chocolate and flirting outrageously. Elvis tries not to be upset that Steve is eschewing time with him for time with his grandma, but he knows he’s not succeeding when he starts talking more and more loudly with the rest of the guys after dinner, stealing glances at the older man to see if he has his attention yet. He’s on his feet, acting out his moves for his Vegas residency when Steve eventually caves and wanders over to watch with everyone else. He can’t help admiring the younger man’s physique, especially in the tight black pants and shirt he’s wearing.

Earlier, when he was still trying his best to talk to Dodger despite Elvis’ ever-increasing volume, he’d heard a very exaggerated version of the story of the singer confronting the Colonel, where Steve noted that his role had been considerably reduced to that of bystander. He doesn’t mind that though - Elvis showing off about standing up to Parker seems like a good thing. He had kept an eye on Joe throughout, having not forgotten Dorothy telling him about the other man’s role as “a dirty little spy.” This was bound to get back to the fat man, and for a moment as Elvis finishes his routine Steve wonders what will come of it, but he’s soon distracted by Dorothy banging away on the piano as Elvis leads a round of guitar playing and singing, with Charlie harmonising.

It’s the early hours of the morning when people start to drift home, or to their beds at Graceland. Eventually only Dorothy, Elvis, Steve and Jerry are left, and Elvis keeps wondering when Jerry will leave. Unusually for him, he’s had what might be considered to be one too many eggnogs and he keeps catching himself just openly staring at Steve’s mouth. It’s so bad that Dorothy elbows him on a couple of occasions and he jumps. Jerry doesn’t seem to have noticed though, Jerry doesn’t seem to be noticing much of anything. They’ve been playing cards for the past hour and he seems very distracted to Elvis, which is saying something. Elvis and Dorothy communicate without words for a few moments, and then she gives him a little nod of understanding.

“Jer,” she begins, moving to sit next to Jerry on the sofa. “You don’t seem yourself. No Christmas cheer. What’s up?”

Jerry sighs, folding his hand and putting the cards face down on the arm of the sofa. “Things with Sandi ain’t great.”

Things with Sandi were terrible. They’d had a big fight just before Christmas, gone their separate ways and he hadn’t heard from her since.

Seeing an opportunity, Dorothy slides her hand into his. “I’m sorry. That sucks. You want to talk about it?”

Jerry shakes his head no, his big hand closing around hers gratefully.

“You want a cuddle?”

Jerry had really missed touching Dorothy. Sandi had made it very clear that she didn’t approve of their friendship and he had made a big effort to act as though it wasn’t as tactile as it had been. But it had seemed unnatural to him not to hold her hand and have her head on his shoulder.

“I’d love one.”

Elvis and Steve watch Dorothy’s face light up at the prospect of getting close to Jerry again, and they both smile. Not wanting to do things by halves, she climbs onto his lap and wraps her arms around his torso. The sigh that eases out of him this time is contented, as his arms go around her too and his chin rests on the top of her head.

Elvis can’t resist sneaking his hand into Steve’s as they sit together on the floor. He thinks he’s being subtle, but Jerry notices immediately. His stomach flips and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen two men together like that before, although it’s not as if there’s anything inherently bad about men holding hands. It’s just the other things he doesn’t like the thought of. He looks around for his drink and realises it’s empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone need anything?”

“Whatever you’re drinking would be great.” Steve’s hand untangles from Elvis’ as he holds up his empty glass.

Jerry nods curtly and starts to make his way back up to the kitchen.

As soon as he’s gone Elvis turns to Steve and grabs his face in both hands, kissing him deeply. The older man feels his face flush, the passion of the kiss almost embarrassing him. Dorothy gets down on the floor wanting a kiss from Steve too, even though she’d snuck a secret one in his room when he first arrived.

“Missed ya,” Elvis mumbles as he pulls away again. He looks at the way Steve is blushing and it suddenly gives him confidence. “Give Dodo some sugar, sugar.”

Dorothy giggles and within seconds she’s on Steve’s lap, her tongue half-way down his throat. He’d been expecting them both to be a little excited, after all he certainly was, but this seemed transgressive. Kissing in the middle of the night, with a house full of people who didn’t know anything about them and the one person who did and definitely didn’t approve about to come back at any moment.

“I wish we could all kiss at once,” Elvis announces, as they pull apart again.

“Let’s try!” Dorothy is giddy with the excitement of the three of them being together again.

Jerry walks back into the doorway and stands there for a while, watching the three of them try to kiss all at once, then all start giggling like teenagers.

“I missed you both.” Steve puts one hand on Elvis’ cheek and the other on Dorothy’s. “I wish we could’ve spent Christmas Day together.”

“We missed you too.” Dorothy pouts. “Mostly I just missed going to bed at a sensible time.”

Steve laughs. When they’d been together in LA he’d insisted that Elvis couldn’t stay up past 1am and he had to sometimes see the right side of midday. Elvis’ big blue eyes stare at him, giving him the full puppy dog treatment.

“Sorry ah stayed up too late…” He bites his lip. He kind of wants to ask to be punished, but then Steve spots Jerry standing there, out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey man.”

Dorothy and Elvis both look briefly terrified, drunkenly trying to work out if they’ve said anything out loud that Jerry shouldn’t hear, and then wondering just how long he’d been standing there.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Jerry’s reply is quiet and he walks back into the room and hands Steve his drink as Dorothy tumbles off him and tries to get herself back onto the sofa in double time.

Jerry feels a wave of sadness hit him as he sits back on the other end of the sofa. He misses Sandi. He misses having someone look at him like that, talk to him in that loving tone, tell him he’s wanted.

“Don’t be silly, man,” Elvis replies, gruffly.

“You probably wanna be alone.”

Dorothy looks over at Jerry and sees him close to tears. Throwing herself across the sofa and nearly upsetting his drink in the process, she gives him a big wet kiss on the cheek.

“I’m really sorry about Sandi.” She snuggles into him. “We all are.”

“Thanks honey.” He puts his arm around her again. Something about her is so deeply comforting to him he stops wanting to cry quite so much.

“She seemed like a nice girl.”

Jerry sighs again. Another sad one. “Yeah. Listen, can we talk about something else? If you’re serious about me staying here for a bit.”

“Sure, man.” Elvis pulls himself up into an armchair to help him resist the temptation to continue touching Steve.

The older man smiles to himself and leans against the chair, his shoulder against Elvis’ leg. “Did you hear his story about Parker, earlier?” He feels Elvis jolt, knowing he’s been caught in a lie. Or, at least, a big exaggeration.

Jerry nods. “Yeah, told him where to go, didn’t ya E?”

Elvis blushes. “Uh, well… I uh…”

Steve laughs at his obvious discomfort, giving his calf a playful nudge. “Why don’t you tell Jerry the real story?”

Jerry raises an eyebrow. He had been a bit surprised by Elvis’ description of the meeting, but the other man had been very convincing.

“Alright.” Elvis rubs his forehead anxiously. “I’d have completely folded if Steve hadn’ta been there.”

“Probably true,” Steve reflects. “You did better at the one a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yeah, but we got what we wanted by then.”

“You got what you wanted,” Steve replies. “It’s not about me, lo-uh-Elvis.” He stumbles, the pet name almost coming out in front of Jerry.

Dragging his hand down his face, Elvis briefly closes his eyes, wondering what on earth Jerry makes of this whole thing. When he opens them again, he’s surprised to see the other man smiling the most genuine smile he’s seen since he arrived.

“You two are actually adorable,” Jerry finds himself saying, despite the feelings of almost visceral disgust that still seem to be hanging around when he thinks of what Elvis and Steve might do together in the bedroom.

“W-what?” Elvis stutters, somehow getting even redder.

Steve smiles, leaning his head against Elvis’ thigh as he rubs the inside of his calf with his palm.

“I’m uh… I’m sorry about how I reacted when ya told me, EP,” Jerry continues. “This whole Sandi thing has put me in a real bad mood, but… well seeing ya together I think I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, but ya seem to be makin’ my two best friends real happy, Steve.”

“Aww, Jer!” Dorothy squeals, sitting up to kiss his cheek again, her arms around his neck. He positively beams at the interaction, and Steve briefly wonders if Dorothy and Jerry's reaction to her is what caused the problems in the younger man's relationship, as he gets up to shake hands.

“Appreciate it, Jer.”

Elvis thanks Jerry enthusiastically too, relief flooding through his body. They chat for a while longer, and then Steve yawns loudly, exhaustion finally catching up with him. They all head to bed, Jerry peeling off to his room as the other three go to Elvis’ room to exchange gifts. Sitting on the bed, Steve finds himself overwhelmed with packages and boxes, almost too many to count.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

Elvis shakes his head. “I did. I uh… I like buyin’ things fer people I love.” The word is out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he suddenly looks as guilty as a kid caught with his hand in the candy jar.

“Me too.” Steve smiles. “I just don’t have your resources.”

Elvis’ heart is pounding in his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible. Did Steve hear him saying he loved him? He must have, he said “me too.” Was that me too, I like buying things or me too I love you?

“Uh… uh… well um… open ‘em then…” Elvis stumbles about, searching for words and barely finding any.

Dorothy has been watching the little interaction with growing excitement, and then decides she can’t just leave them doing whatever this is, so she interjects.

“You two not going to tell me you love me as well?”

Elvis’ stutter takes on a life of its own as he tries to respond, umming and ahhing and eventually giving up completely. “W-w-w-well uh… uh… ah… ah… y-y-y-a… fuck…”

Steve finds himself almost as nervous, now he’s been put on the spot. “I… I love you both,” he whispers, before unexpectedly putting both hands to his face and giggling uncontrollably.

Dorothy leans forward and kisses the backs of his hands, her hands circling his wrists. “I love you too, Steve!” She declares, unabashedly.

“Me too,” Elvis mumbles.

She elbows him. “That’s cheating. You have to say it properly. We both said it properly, pumpkin.”

He looks at her for a while, trying to draw some kind of strength from the comfort of her, and then slowly drags his eyes over to Steve’s face. “Ah… ah love ya, Stevie.”

The declarations of love cause absolute chaos on the bed, as they all try to kiss each other at once, and end up rolling around amongst the gifts, knocking things onto the floor left and right. Eventually Steve comes up for air and audibly groans at the enormous wave of tiredness that hits him.

“Can we do these in the morning?” He waves his hand around at the general mess. “I can’t stay awake another minute, I have to go back to my room.”

Dorothy and Elvis both whine and try to keep him in the bed, but eventually they relent and let him go, kissing him goodnight.

As they lie there together, drifting off to sleep, Dorothy wonders something out loud.

“Didn’t plan to tell him, did you?”

“Naw,.” Elvis turns his head towards her and nuzzles her neck. “Jus’ came out.”

She opens her eyes a crack to look at him. “You still love me?”

Despite the tiredness and drugs almost physically weighing him down, Elvis props himself up on one elbow to look down at her through heavy lids.

“Course I do, Dodo. How could ya even ask?”

“Just checking.” She tries to sound light and carefree and feels anything but.

He leans down and kisses her on the lips. “Love ya more than anythin’ ya silly little girl.” He rubs his nose against hers. “Don’t ever ask me that again, baby. I’m not ever gon’ stop.”

***

Chapter Text

Christmas at Graceland continues in the same vein for the next week or so, with gifts and games and general frivolity. Elvis, Steve and Dorothy snatch precious moments together where they can, with Jerry there to help them. They have a few near misses with Joe, who is keeping his eye on Steve and trying his best to eavesdrop on as many conversations as possible, but he doesn’t seem to suspect anything in particular.

As soon as the festive season is over Elvis’ year starts to get busy again. Another supposedly serious movie, which he is cautiously optimistic about, and recording material for a couple of new albums, which he’s genuinely excited about. But the highlight of the year, the thing that occupies his mind even as he gets his teeth into the recording sessions, are the Vegas shows that the Colonel has finally secured for him. Okay, so it’s not a world tour. Or any kind of tour. But the idea of a residency as a way of getting back into playing live really appeals to him. So it will more than do for now.

Once filming is over, he signs the contract with the International and starts to really get into planning the shows. Steve has never seen him so animated, not even when he was watching the rough cut of the Special back on that fateful afternoon, and he thinks it’s wonderful. The younger man’s natural clinginess has started to abate a little as he concentrates on a project that he loves, and their relationship seems to be settling into some kind of routine. There’s still a lot of sneaking around, and a lot of furtive glances across rooms, but it seems calmer than before.

***

Dorothy sits outside of his bedroom door in the Vegas suite with Jerry, playing cards and drinking beer. To anyone who comes by to question her, Elvis is resting, he has a headache and he needs sleep. She’ll go and check on him in a few hours when she’s had enough of hanging out with her best friend, and really, no-one is to worry. It’s just a headache, but he isn’t to be disturbed. Of course, that’s not really what’s happening inside the room. Right now, Steve is sighing softly against Elvis’ skin, his hand on the other man’s belly as he listens to his breathing gradually come back to normal. Visiting to see how the rehearsals for the shows were going, the older man was overcome with lust and love watching the way Elvis moved onstage, the way he sang, the way he joked around one minute and had serious discussions with the band about song production the next. It seemed to take forever for Elvis to get rid of enough of the Mafia for them to have time to themselves, but once they’d hatched the headache plan between the four of them it wasn’t too difficult to sneak Steve in. He kisses the back of Elvis’ neck, damp with sweat. They’d kissed and rubbed themselves against one another, ending up naked with Steve behind Elvis, sliding his dick between the other man’s ass cheeks. He came messily with a grunt, white flecking skin and bedclothes, hitting Elvis’ hand around his own aching dick. His release followed quickly after, and now here they are, panting with exertion, eyes closed in bliss.

“El?”

“Mmm.”

Elvis’ hand slides on top of Steve’s, and the other man smiles.

“You like me being in charge?”

Smiling dopily, Elvis nods. “Sure do, Daddy.”

Steve giggles. He’s amazed at the ease with which Elvis calls him that, lately. It had embarrassed him to begin with, but now he seems to love it.

“And… of Dodo, too?”

“Mmhmm. You gotta keep her in line. Y’know how she is, otherwise.”

Steve kisses Elvis’ jaw. “So, really, you’re bottom of the pecking order…”

“Sure.” A blush starts to creep across Elvis’ face at the words.

Pressing a few more kisses to Elvis’ neck and shoulder, Steve continues to ponder.

“I satisfy her better than you ever could…”

Elvis’ blush deepens. “Uh-huh.”

“Kinda pathetic, really, aren’t you?”

Elvis whines, but his twitching dick gives him away. It’s taking some getting used to, but Steve has helped him reduce his reliance on the pills a little, and the result seems to be an unquenchable libido. He feels twenty one again.

He mumbles a hurried “yes, Daddy” and closes his eyes. Steve grins, continuing his kisses as his hand moves lower.

“Big old star Elvis Presley likes being humiliated?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Likes me fucking his girlfriend while he watches. Likes the idea of me fucking him, too.”

Another whimper, and his dick hardens in Steve’s hand.

“How ‘bout I tell everyone?”

Steve feels the other man jolt, and tugs his hair to pull his head back, exposing his throat.

“Or better still, how about I show everyone who you belong to?”

He kisses and nips his way from Elvis’ jaw down to his collarbone, and back again.

“Oh God. Please.”

“Please, what? Please mark me, Daddy?” His hand speeds up and Elvis’ hips buck automatically. “Please come to the press conference and announce to the world that I’m yours?”

“Yes. Yes. Oh fuck… please, Daddy. Mark me. Tell them all I’m yours.”

Elvis’ eyes are screwed shut as he chases his release, listening to Steve in his ear telling him over and over that he’ll let everyone know their dirty little secret. His last orgasm was so recent that when he does cum it’s more of a rush and less of a mess, but he moans long and loud anyway, so loudly in fact that Dorothy lets out an equally loud laugh to cover it, elbowing Jerry in the side to get him to join in.

“Shit.”

Steve chuckles to himself and shifts so he can pull the other man onto his back, looking down into his flushed face with equal parts lust and amusement. Elvis looks back, sheepishly.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.” The older man presses a gentle kiss to those plush lips.

Elvis’ hand moves to the back of Steve’s neck and he massages the skin there.

“Ya know just how ta wind me up.”

“Didn’t know if you’d have another in you.”

Elvis looks down, half-embarrassed and half-amazed by his own dick.

“Me either.” He looks up again, through his long lashes. “Fun to find out though.”

Steve kisses him again and they both giggle.

“Nice ta give up control sometimes too.” Elvis finds himself saying.

Steve props himself up on an elbow, interested that Elvis is volunteering his feelings like this. “You don’t really want me to tell everyone, though?”

There’s a pause while Elvis tries to work out what to say. Of course, practically-speaking, he doesn’t. He can’t. But in some ways, he really does.

“Sometimes yeah. Sometimes I don’t wanna be Elvis Presley no more. Sometimes I wanna go back to Memphis an’ drive a truck. Forget all this stuff. Forget that I have so many people to look after, y’know…”

Lying down half on top of him, Steve buries his face in the crook of Elvis’ neck, and cuddles close.

“You don’t have to do anything…”

“Mmm. I know. But so many people rely on me, Stevie. An’ I do love it, performin’... think it’s what I was made to do. Just sometimes, y’know.” He sighs. “Sometimes I wanna throw it all away.”

***

Elvis and Dorothy spend the weekend before his first Vegas shows back in Palm Springs. As usual, Elvis has invited all and sundry round to hang out and jam, and Dorothy is delighted because all and sundry includes Tom Jones, and she loves Tom Jones. There’s something particularly exotic about him, and she loves his big, booming Welsh-accented voice. Elvis loves him too, and enthusiastically introduces him to Steve. They’ve missed one another the last few times the Welshman has been over for a get together, and Elvis is sure they’ll get on. Tom doesn’t bullshit him much either, and it’s nice to have someone around who only laughs at his jokes when they’re funny.

Some time in the early hours of the morning, Steve and Tom find themselves deep in conversation. They do, in fact, have a lot in common and they get on easily just as Elvis had thought they would.

“You have a TV show?”

“Yeah, it started just this February. We’ve had all kinds of people on there - Sonny and Cher, Stevie Wonder, Jerry Lewis. It’s great fun. And a nice little earner, according to Gordon.”

“That sounds really good.”

“Never see ‘im on TV.” Tom cocks an eyebrow in Elvis’ direction. “Apart from when you put him there, of course.”

Steve grins. “Well I dunno if I put him there… but it’s funny that Parker isn’t more keen on the format. Seems to work alright for Johnny Cash too. But I don’t think he likes the idea of Elvis sharing a stage with anyone.”

“Funny fellow, isn’t he?” Not being a complete idiot, Tom gives the room a quick once over to see exactly where everyone is, and finding them all surrounding Elvis listening to him telling some story or other, continues in a slightly quieter voice. “Really obsessed with the films, even when they stopped bringing in the money. Really obsessed with the craps tables as well, so I’ve heard.”

“Is he?” Steve leans forward, dropping his voice to almost a whisper. “So he really needs the money then?”

Tom nods. “And you’d think, wouldn’t you, that if you really needed it then you’d diversify. Don’ put all your eggs in the one basket, like. But he only manages E?”

“Mm. He’s a one man kinda guy.”

They both laugh then, and quickly glance around the room for the second time. Their little chat is attracting the attention of Joe, and he’s starting to look dangerously like he’s going to come over.

“You play Vegas, don’t you?”

Before Tom can reply, Dorothy lands next to him on the sofa with a thump. She’d noticed Joe too and decided to take evasive action. Plus she hadn’t had much time with her favourite Welshman and she wants an excuse to cuddle up to him.

“Oh, hello sweetheart.”

“Hi, Tom.” She kisses his cheek and he smiles. Dorothy is certainly a perk of coming to visit Elvis. He would never be foolish enough to try anything while they were in the same room as her famously jealous boyfriend, but if the opportunity presented itself otherwise then he certainly wouldn’t say no.

“How are you?”

“I’m good! Excited about El’s first show!” She drops her voice then, although she’s not sure why. It’s not as if what she’s about to say is a secret. “And I’m going to film school in September!”

“Are you, now? Well that is very exciting.”

Dorothy beams. It had been Steve’s idea, and once she’d got past the initial terror and the feeling that she almost certainly wasn’t clever enough for it, she’d been so excited that Elvis had offered to pay without a second thought. His new project had made him so happy he wanted her to have one of her own, and that had overridden his usual fears of being abandoned. Plus, he had Steve. Steve would be there for him.

“Yeah. It’ll be nice to… have something of my own to do, for a change.”

“You think he’ll cope without you?”

She scrunches her nose up with amusement. “No!”

They’re both laughing when Joe arrives and pulls up a chair between Steve and Tom.

“This is cosy.”

Dorothy lets out a heavy sigh and starts to search about for her pack of cigarettes. Steve reaches in his pocket and offers her one of his. She takes it gratefully, looking up at Tom as he takes the opportunity to light it for her, cupping her cheek with one big hand. Not for the first time their eyes meet with a little mischief in them. She’s heard stories about the number of women he’s had. Lots of stories.

“Whatchu doin’ with my woman?” Elvis’ voice booms out across the room.

Tom moves his hand away, trying hard not to show the jolt of fear he just felt on his face.

“Nothing untoward, E. Just being a gentleman and lighting her cigarette for her.”

Elvis has made his way over to their end of the room now, and leans on the back of the sofa, looming down over Tom.

“Don’t think ya need ta hold her face while ya doin’ it.”

“Alright.” Tom puts both hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Elvis stares at him for a minute and then his face snaps back into an easy grin. “Jus’ kiddin’, man.”

The other man visibly deflates. “Oh, yeah. Haha.”

“Gotta be careful though.” He puts a hand on Tom’s shoulder and grips just a little too hard. “With your reputation.”

***

Deciding she was fed up with Joe, Dorothy had hatched a plan to get him that bit drunker than usual, with the addition of half of one of Elvis’ pills to one of his drinks, and it had worked like a dream. She decided it was best not to mention her little drugging incident to anyone else, but Jerry had kindly driven him home and somehow she had ended up with just Elvis, Steve and Tom left in the living room, smoking and talking about Vegas.

“It’s gonna be incredible man, I can’t wait. Yer coming, ain’t ya?”

Tom nods. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

Dorothy sprawls out on the floor on her back, looking at them all upside down and giggling to herself.

“Little girl. C’mon. We have guests.”

“Steve’s not a guest!” It comes out before she can stop it, and she makes it worse by clapping a hand over her mouth.

Elvis frowns, his hand gripping the bottle of water he’s been nursing for the past hour.

“Well he don’t live here!”

“Think you’re a little drunk, babe.” Steve takes hold of one of her arms and tries to manhandle her into a seated position.

Half up and half down, she turns her head and kisses his cheek. “Sometimes I kiss Steve.” She looks over to Tom. “I could kiss you, too, if you want?”

“Dodo!”

Elvis’ knuckles are white, his grip on the bottle even tighter.

She stands up, making her way over to him with a slight wobble. “Don’t be jealous. I’m always kissing you, pu-”

“DODO!”

She falls into his lap with a little giggle and then starts to kiss him. His body is stiff against hers at first, but he kisses her back, because how could he not? And then finds himself putting the bottle down to hold her hip, his other hand on her face. The excitement of the nearness of the show is making him a little horny and he sort of forgets the other people in the room for a minute.

Tom watches with interest. Perhaps the time of having some fun with Dorothy was nearer than he’d thought.

Steve looks on with interest too. He’d noted her flirting with Tom and the effect it had had on Elvis, and wonders that she still seems to be doing it. The little show is obviously for his benefit, and he’s curious how far she’ll go. He glances at the Welshman, who is completely enthralled by what’s going on at the other end of the sofa, and doesn’t seem to notice him there at all. So it’s working. What will she try next?

Eventually she comes up for air and lets out another giggle. Elvis shakes his head, eyeing her and trying to figure out exactly what she’s up to.

“C’mon Dodo, sure Tom doesn’t want to watch us makin’ out.”

The younger man shrugs. “I don’t mind.” The ghost of a smile plays around his lips. He’s aware he’s playing with fire but so is Dorothy and she seems to be having a lot of fun with it.

She turns her head and grins at him. “You want a closer look?” Gesturing to him to come nearer. “C’mon.”

“What are ya playin’ at?” Elvis tilts his head to the side.

“Tom likes girls. He just said he likes to watch.”

Before Elvis can open his mouth to speak again, she starts to kiss him, at the same time stretching her arm out to reach the other man. He lets her take his hand and use it to pull him nearer, until he’s close enough to rest it on her back. She puts her hand on his thigh and tries to work out how she can possibly get Steve on the other side of her without breaking the kiss. She settles for waving a hand vaguely in his direction.

Steve smirks, feeling like he finally has a handle on what she wants. He gets up, and kneeling on the floor beside her and Elvis, leans in to kiss her neck. Taking that as his cue, Tom starts kissing the other side.

Sensing the movements, Elvis opens his eyes, then opens them wider, and finally grabs Dorothy’s face with one hand and pushes her away. All of a sudden it seems like he’s surrounded by men.

“Hey. Ah did not tell you that ya could touch her.” His tone snaps Tom out of his reverie and he stops his kissing and moves his hand.

“Sorry, E. I thought… I’ll um… I’ll go.” He doesn’t much like the look on Elvis’ face and he’s worried the situation is about to turn weird.

“El!” Dorothy pouts, putting both of her hands on his chest. “Please.”

“Please, what?” Elvis’ eyes are narrowed and he’s looking at her like she’s gone completely insane.

“I thought we could all have a little fun together.”

Elvis lets out a heavy sigh. Two men aren’t even enough for her. She wants three now.

Steve puts a hand on Elvis’ arm and he almost jumps, his head whipping around to look incredulously at the older man.

“Think she needs a good seeing to. Sure we could use the help.”

Tom idly wonders whether this is a normal arrangement, it does seem like it. Interesting that Elvis would share his woman with Steve.

“We’re jus’ tellin’ him everythin’ about everythin’ now, are we?”

Dorothy opens her mouth and Steve claps his hand over it to stop her from talking. There’s no knowing what she might say at this point, and he’s not sure Tom needs to know everything.

“We do this sometimes. You can’t tell anyone, and it certainly can’t get back to Parker.”

The Welshman nods. “No problem. I’m the soul of discretion.”

“Good.” Elvis joins in, not sure he’s happy with Tom knowing this much but realising it’s pretty much too late anyway.

“And I won’t touch her again unless you tell me it’s okay.”

Elvis looks deeply into the brown eyes of the man opposite him on the sofa. At least he’s unlikely to want to try and take Dorothy away from him, he reasons with himself. The man’s had more women than… cups of tea… probably, so this will just be another fun conquest for him.

“Alright then. She always gets what she wants, anyway. Might as well just get on with it.”

Thinking that the imminent danger is probably over, Steve moves his hand just in time for Dorothy to laugh. “You’re talking like you don’t already have a massive hard-on.”

Blushing, Elvis shakes her a little. “Dodo!”

“Think you need a spanking for that.” Without warning, Steve grabs hold of her waist and lifts her easily off Elvis’ lap, before carrying her over to the other sofa and putting her down over the arm, so her ass is high in the air.

“Hey! No!” She squeaks, trying to escape.

“Give ‘im a hand, Tom.”

Tom doesn’t need to be told twice, striding across the room to grab hold of both of Dorothy’s arms and hold onto them firmly. Kneeling on her legs to stop her continuing to kick, Steve pulls her skirt up and her panties down, and lands a few hard slaps to each ass cheek.

“Ow! Steve!”

“Quiet, Dodo.” Elvis looks over from where he’s sitting, and palms himself through his pants. “Give her something to shut her up, Tom.”

Unzipping his own pants with a grin, Tom eases his dick out of his underwear and pumps it a few times with one hand. Dorothy’s eyes are like saucers. The rumours of him being hung really were true. Her body jolts with a few more well-placed slaps, and then she’s struggling to breathe with the sheer size of cock being forced into her mouth and down her throat.

“That’s better.” Elvis is stroking himself now, watching as Dorothy’s eyes stream and her ass gets redder and redder. He tries to ignore the feeling bubbling up inside him, the one caused by the unexpected hugeness of his friend’s dick, and concentrate on the scene unfolding in front of him. “You wanna fuck her, Stevie?”

“Sure.”

Dorothy groans at the feeling as he enters her, the pleasant stretch followed by the pleasure of his dick rubbing against her g-spot. His hands on her ass and hips, gripping her as he starts to slowly slide in and out. Elvis barely suppresses a moan, still watching as Tom gives his girlfriend’s cheek a light slap and thrusts into her mouth that bit faster.

Steve catches his eye and they stare at one another with barely disguised lust for a second or two.

“You should fuck her too. She’s your girl.”

He slides out and Elvis slides in instead, throwing his head back and moaning at the feeling of her pussy all around him.

“Goddamn.”

“You guys ever fuck her arse?”

Elvis feels Dorothy’s pussy clench around him at the words, knowing how much she enjoys being treated like a pretty sex object with no opinions of her own. Tom is fitting into this whole thing surprisingly well.

“Sure.”

Steve is kneeling by the side of the sofa, his mouth full of her breast and his fingers rubbing her clit when she unexpectedly starts to shake and moan around the dick still filling her mouth.

“Think she just came.”

Tom pulls out and looks down at her. “Did you just cum, sweetheart?”

Dorothy nods, dumbly, mascara all over her cheeks and saliva spilling out of her mouth.

“She might cum again if we all fill her up.”

She stares at Steve with a combination of lust and fear, but still can’t manage to speak.

“Do you think I could fuck her arse? I don’t suppose the opportunity is going to come up again, or I wouldn’t ask…”

Amused by both the politeness of the question and Tom’s apparent anal fixation, Steve nods. An idea is starting to form in his head of just where he’d like everyone to be.

“Grab the lube, will you?” He asks Elvis, starting to strip and telling Dorothy to take her clothes off too.

“Does it have to be him?” Dorothy squeaks, as Elvis makes his way to the bedroom, shedding clothes on the way. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”

Having picked her up so she’s sitting upright, Steve puts a hand around her face, grasping her chin.

“Don’t forget it’s you that wanted this. So you’ll get whatever you’re given.”

She continues to look mildly terrified, so he leans down to kiss her into submission. Tom watches them, quickly removing the rest of his clothes too. He’s done some dirty stuff in his time, but this would certainly make a great anecdote, if he was ever able to tell it.

Elvis returns with the lube, and Steve gives Dorothy one final, gentle kiss, and then lies on his back on the soft carpet.

“On top, babe. Then Elvis you come here and kneel in front of her face and she’ll suck you off.”

Dorothy straddles Steve, slowly sinking down onto his length. It feels good, but she’s still not convinced about Tom in her ass at the same time.

“Finger her first. Gently. Don’t break her.”

Tom nods, dimly aware that Steve seems to be completely in charge of this scenario and everyone else is doing as they’re told. Kneeling down behind Dorothy, he squeezes a generous amount of lube onto his finger before easing one and then two inside her. Her eyes roll back in her head and she tries to keep breathing, as Steve’s gentle voice reassures her that she can take all these men at once. Elvis idly strokes himself to stay hard, although it isn’t exactly difficult right now. The whole scene is completely debauched and he feels like he’s outside of his own body, watching everything. Watching Dorothy as she gets up on her hands, throwing her head back and whining at the feeling of Tom pressing against her asshole.

“Shhh. It’s okay. Push down. I know you can do it.”

The things Steve is saying do help, but she can’t help the feeling in the back of her mind that this isn’t going to end well. And then she feels a big hand push her hair back and stroke her cheek, and opening one eye sees it belongs to Elvis.

“Ya can take ‘im, Dodo. Jus’ relax.”

She looks up at him through watery eyes and nods. Relaxing isn’t easy, but she tries and Tom persists, more gently than he’s done with any other woman before, and eventually he’s balls deep inside her. Steve taps Elvis’ thigh and he straddles the other man’s head, kneeling up awkwardly to try and avoid sitting on his face. And then he feels two strong hands pulling him downwards, and that’s just what he’s doing. Pushing his dick past Dorothy’s unresisting lips, he feels her start to rock back and forth as Tom slowly thrusts. He moans a little, one hand in her hair, and then Steve’s hands spread his ass cheeks and his tongue starts to lick and probe and finally slide up inside.

“Ohhhhh.”

“Fuck,” Tom mumbles, overcome by the tightness all around him. “I’m not gonna last long.”

The tongue in his asshole pushes up even further and Elvis mutters “me either.”

Steve can’t speak, tongue being otherwise occupied, but no-one seems to notice and no-one cares what Dorothy thinks. She feels completely overwhelmed but utterly blissful. Elvis had been right, she could take Tom. She could take all of them at once, and not just could but she is, and a strange swell of pride fills her chest.

“We cumming on her or in her?”

Elvis desperately tries to recover the power of speech to answer the question.

“On. Sluts like being covered in it.”

Dorothy’s eyes widen at his use of the word, and then she feels sudden emptiness as Tom pulls out and cums all over her ass. And then it’s Elvis’ turn, as he grabs her hair to pull her off him, mumbling for her to close her eyes before he cums on her face. The force of his orgasm almost knocks him over, but he manages to have the presence of mind to get off Steve’s face, and the other man rolls her onto her back, fucking her hard and fast until he’s close, before pulling out and cumming on her belly. Communicating without words, he looks up at Elvis as he slides three fingers into her pussy. The other man immediately starts to rub her clit, both of them working together until they hear her tell-tale squeal and know she’s cum again too. And then the four of them collapse together on the floor, panting and sighing, savouring their highs.

“I have to shower.”

Steve’s head is on one of her shoulders, and Elvis’ is on the other, their hands on her belly and chest. Tom has half sat up, and is looking around hopelessly for his underpants. There are clothes scattered all over the living room and into the hallway, and it seems like an impossible task right now. The two men let her get up with a few grumbles, and then Elvis goes to look for some robes so that they can sit around looking less indecent. By the time he returns, Tom has located most of his clothes and is in the process of putting them on and talking about calling a cab.

“Ya don’t have to.” Elvis can’t seem to stop himself being hospitable, even when he knows it will get in the way of alone time with Steve.

“No, no. I feel like I should sleep in my own bed tonight. Or this morning. Or something.”

Elvis gestures towards the phone and sits on the other end of the sofa from Steve, trying not to make eye contact.

“On its way.” Tom sits down on the armchair opposite. “You two don’t have to sit like that, you know.”

Elvis feels the blood drain from his body as he tries desperately to figure out what to say.

“I might’ve been otherwise occupied, but I’m not blind. I saw.”

Elvis’ mouth opens and shuts like a goldfish. Steve blushes.

“It don’t bother me. None of my business. Like I said before, I’m the soul of discretion. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks.” It’s Steve who finally manages to get it together to speak, and to move across the sofa to sit beside Elvis, putting a hand on his knee. Elvis still looks white as a sheet.

“I’m not… It’s not…”

Dorothy returns, freshly showered and wrapped in a fluffy white towel, and surveys the seating arrangements.

“Hello, sweetheart. Elvis, would it be alright if I gave her a little kiss before I go? Say thank you?”

“Uh… um… sure, man. Sure.”

“C’mere, lovely.”

Closing the small gap between them as he stands up, Dorothy puts her arms around his neck and he kisses her gently but thoroughly.

Elvis’ jaw clenches, reflexively. He doesn’t want Tom knowing. Tom knowing seems far too dangerous. But there’s no way for him to un-know now. He watches in a daze as the Welshman says his goodbyes and heads out of the door, Dorothy waving him off before returning to the living room.

It doesn’t matter that Steve and Dorothy try to comfort him, the thought of another person knowing niggles at the back of his mind, and he resorts to a handful of pills to stop thinking about it. Dorothy watches him thrash about like he’s fighting an invisible enemy in his sleep, and has a fitful night’s sleep herself, waking up to check on him more than once, rolling him off his back when it sounds like he’s not breathing properly. She decides she needs to talk to Steve about it when they have some time alone. He’s the only person who has a chance of getting Elvis off this cocktail of drugs he’s insistent on taking, and she can’t help but feel like it needs to happen sooner rather than later.

***

Chapter Text

Dorothy sits on the floor, watching as Elvis runs through a medley of his songs from the fifties for the third time. He looks good, but she can’t help noting the sweat on his furrowed brow and the way he moves about, full of a little too much nervous energy. Bouncing from foot to foot as the medley finishes and he talks to James about the next few songs, his fingers drum on the mic stand and then grip it tightly when he begins to sing again. She’d talked to Steve a little about her concerns that morning, when Elvis was still sleeping. The older man had tried to comfort her, to tell her that he’s sure it’s just first show jitters, and that Elvis will be okay once he settles into a routine. But he hasn’t had to share a bed with their boyfriend for a while. He doesn’t know what it’s like. She nibbles the skin around her fingernails. Something is brewing. Something she doesn’t like the feel of.

“Dodo!” Her head snaps up and she sees him peering down at her with one hand shading his eyes. “Sound okay?”

“You sound great!”

Elvis nods, spinning around a full 360 degrees on the toes of one foot. He wishes Steve were here right now, too. But the other man had work to do, and could only promise to be there for the show itself. Not for the rehearsal. Or for the tense minutes and hours before, when he will have to persuade himself to get onstage again. The whole place seems so big, so intimidating. It seems like it’s been steadily expanding over these past few weeks and now it’s absolutely vast. He spins again, only 180 this time, and his eyes land on Ronnie, his drummer. And then they skip over to John, Larry, Jerry… to his right are the Sweets and the Imperials, and to his left his old faithful friend Charlie stands there with a towel and an acoustic guitar. He starts to smile, walking over and taking the towel, using it to wipe the sweat from his brow and running it over his head, making his hair stick up at funny angles. He sticks his tongue out and Charlie laughs. As he wheels around again and announces that he wants to run through Suspicious Minds, the stage feels a little smaller, a little cosier. He’ll be okay without Steve to help him with the inevitable stage fright. So long as he’s there to watch the triumph of his first real live show in almost ten years.

***

“I can write the lyrics, um, on a sheet of paper? Or on the back of the guitar? Or on my arm?” Charlie is becoming more and more anxious as Elvis paces around the dressing room and keeps saying things about forgetting all the words.

“Yer arm?!” The stupidity of the idea makes him stop his pacing and look up.

“Or on… a towel?”

Elvis opens his mouth to say he’s never heard anything so damn ridiculous in his life, but before he can get the words out the door opens and Myrna appears.

“Just came in to wish you luck!” She beams. “Not that you need it!”

Elvis’ whole demeanour changes. He loves the Sweets, but he has a special soft spot for Myrna. He’s pretty sure Jerry does too, and for once he might actually leave a woman alone and let his friend shoot his shot, tempting though she is. Dorothy would probably tell him off for being greedy and also for trying to involve yet another person in their love life, although he’s not completely sure she has a leg to stand on at this point.

“C’mere, honey.”

Myrna smiles even wider as she shimmies into the room and lets herself be kissed on both cheeks. Being near Elvis still makes her dizzy, he’s so unbelievably handsome and she can’t get over how much of a gentleman he is too.

“You’re gonna be great!”

He chuckles softly, enjoying her reaction.

“I’ll do my best. So long’s you girls are with me, I think I’ll be alright.”

Standing on tip-toe, Myrna presses a chaste kiss to his cheek and then makes her excuses again.

“Still have to finish getting my face done.”

“Looks plenty done to me.”

His eyes are crinkled up with amusement and she’s giggling too when he finally lets her hands go, unable to help herself looking back at him over her shoulder a few times as she walks out of the room. Letting out a shaky breath once she’s gone through the door, she shakes her head to try and clear it. Phew. Would it ever get easier being around him?

She's barely walked two steps when sees his girlfriend pacing back and forth with a cigarette, looking at the ceiling. What was her name again? She wrinkles her nose. She can’t remember. Elvis had been standing too close to her when he’d introduced them and everything had fallen right out of her head.

“Hey… um…”

Dorothy spins around and looks directly at her. One of Elvis’ backing singers… nope. She doesn’t know the name. Probably wasn’t paying attention when she was told.

“Hi.”

“He’s um… well I guess you know he’s in there.” She gestures behind her with a thumb.

“Mmm.”

Dorothy hasn’t been sure whether she should go in the dressing room, and she’s still not sure now. Elvis’ nervous energy seems to be catching and she’s not convinced that her pacing about near him smoking like a chimney will help.

“Well, okay.” Myrna isn’t sure what else to say. She’s not sure why she struck up the conversation in the first place, only that something about both of them made her think they ought to be together right now.

“He alright?”

A sunshine smile breaks over Myrna’s face as she thinks about Elvis. He certainly is alright. This girl, whatever her name actually is, doesn’t seem to know how lucky she is.

“A little nervous. But he’s good. Sure he’d like to see you.” Not based on anything he’d said. Just based on a funny feeling in my gut.

Dorothy’s smile in return is small and tight. “Hmmm. I’m a little nervous too.”

“You want a hug?”

The shorter woman blinks a few times, surprised by the offer. Women don’t usually like her, much less offer to hug her. But actually, she could do with one.

“Actually, yeah.”

They both laugh a little, ice broken, and as Myrna wraps her arms around Elvis’ girlfriend she decides to come clean about the name thing.

“I don’t remember your name, honey.”

Dorothy laughs, looking up. “I don’t remember yours either. I’m Dorothy.”

“Myrna.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

They both laugh again, peeling apart as Myrna makes her excuses to get back to her bandmates and Dorothy decides to take her advice and look in on Elvis. As she talks to him, relieved to see he’s not quite as terrified as he had been to take the stage last year, she thinks of Myrna’s unexpected act of kindness. She’s glad he decided to get so many other people on stage with him. Perhaps it will make things less lonely for her too.

***

Steve has to run to get there before the curtain goes up, but he makes it just in time, scrambling into the booth with Dorothy and Jerry.

“Ohmygod. I thought you weren’t coming!”

He puts what he hopes is a reassuring hand on her leg. “Sorry, babe. Got stuck at work. But I’m here now. He okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. He’s not so bad as he was the last time. And he’ll definitely be okay once he sees you here.” Dorothy decides not to mention how worried she’d been about his reaction if Steve hadn’t been there when the curtain went up. Part of her was genuinely convinced he might’ve just walked right back off the stage again.

“Not just me.”

She smiles a little at that, and as the music starts and the lights go down, he’s glad to have been able to give her that reassurance. Lately it seems like she thinks Elvis only needs him, but Steve knows Dorothy will always be number one in the other man’s eyes, however long this thing lasts.

***

The show is electric and everyone knows it. Elvis can’t wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, and he spends hours talking about it to anyone who wants to, and as the evening progresses, plenty of people who don’t anymore. Dorothy can feel herself wilting as time draws into the early hours of the morning, but he shows no signs of slowing down. He’s even starting to wear the Mafia out; as usual Charlie remains like a faithful pug, but Red and Marty made their excuses about half an hour ago and Joe is yawning his head off. Tom came for the show but left with three showgirls soon after, and after looking at Dorothy, her head on Steve’s shoulder and her eyes all but closed, Jerry takes on the unenviable task of getting Elvis to stop.

“Hey, uh, E… ya think maybe it’s time to wrap things up?”

Elvis turns quickly, a frown furrowing his brow. “Who died an’ put you in charge, Jer?”

“Uh… I- I jus’... look around, E. Think people are getting tired.”

Elvis does look around, and he’s not keen on what he sees. Yawning people sprawled on sofas with their eyes half-closed, a few girls making their way towards the door, others looking worryingly like they’re getting their things together to leave. It’s not that late. What’s wrong with everyone?

He brings his hands together in two loud claps, and then looks around at the surprised faces turned towards him.

“Come on. This party ain’t over. Jer, why don’tcha put somethin’ else on? This record’s too slow.”

Jerry pulls a face but starts to move towards the turntable anyway. Elvis is obviously not in a listening mood.

“People are tired. Think maybe we should call it a night.” Steve gets up, trying not to disturb Dorothy too much as he does it, now moving purposefully towards Elvis.

“We?” Elvis looks incredulous. “Didn’t see you up onstage tonight, Stevie. It’s my party, an’ I say when it’s over.”

The other man stops right in front of him, letting his eyes slowly flick over that gorgeous face. Elvis is hard to resist at the best of times, but after that performance it’s taking a supreme effort not to just cave and tell him he can do whatever he wants.

“C’mon.” Steve weedles, licking his lips deliberately. It doesn’t seem like it will be enough to give him the upper hand, but there are still people in the room and a lot of them are looking their way. He feels like this is the best he can do under the circumstances.

Elvis laughs and thumps a hand onto his chest as he goes to move past him, thinking he’ll put the record on himself since Jerry is being so slow about it. And then an arm bars his way for a few moments, and he hears Steve’s voice, low and sensual, murmuring in his ear.

“Daddy wants to go to bed.”

He stops completely in his tracks, a blush spreading across his face even as Steve’s arm falls back to his side.

“Actually, what the hell. Ya’ll look beat. See ya tomorrow night.”

The sudden about-face confuses a few people, but most are just relieved to be allowed to go to bed. Joe rubs his eyes, watery from exhaustion, and gets up to go with the rest of them. Idly wondering what had made Elvis change his mind, he looks back to see Steve standing very close to him, his hand on the other man’s arm. He frowns. Something about it looks odd, but he can’t quite work out what. He sighs and turns back, resolving to think about it in the morning. Right now, his bed is calling him.

***

“When I saw you up there, moving like that…” Steve mumbles between fevered kisses, now he and Elvis are safely in the bedroom. “...I knew I had to have you. I wanna do it. If you do.”

The other man’s chest is heaving from a combination of excitement and fear, but excitement wins out as he nods quickly, pushing a desperate “yeah” from his lips and pulling at Steve’s shirt, kissing the skin he exposes as the buttons either undo or pop off. The brunette grabs his head in both hands and makes him look up.

“Hey. I want you to say it.”

Drawing himself back up to his full height, he fixes Steve with the most sultry expression the other man thinks he’s ever seen, before replying.

“I want ya to fuck me, Daddy.”

Grabbing his face with both hands, Steve kisses him passionately as his head spins with the intensity of the moment.

“Mmm. But Daddy?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I want Dodo here too.”

Steve nods, suddenly thinking that’s exactly what he wants too, that Dorothy’s presence would make the whole thing better somehow. He opens the door and finds her lying on the sofa, looking half-asleep but luckily not actually comatose as he’d feared she might be.

“Lovebug.”

She looks up and smiles. “You okay, Daddy?”

Kneeling down by the side of the sofa, he gently runs a hand over her cheek.

“I’m good. I… we…” he swallows, wondering why this is so hard to say. “I’m gonna… uh… make love to Elvis. H- w-we want you there.”

Her eyes widen and she sits up, suddenly awake.

“Okay. Oh!” She grabs a hold of Steve’s hand tightly. “This is so exciting!”

As he helps her up to a standing position her enthusiasm seems infectious and he feels a little lighter, a little less overwhelmed.

“Yeah. It is. Are you…? Is this okay?”

Holding her gently in his arms, he looks down into her upturned face. She nods and smiles brightly.

“Yeah. Of course it is!”

“Hey.”

They both turn their heads to look in the direction of Elvis’ voice and see him standing in the doorway of the bedroom, his robe half-open and a pout on his face.

“Are ya comin’?”

“Oh. Now you want me in here it can’t happen fast enough, is that it?” Amusement dances in Steve’s eyes and in his voice too as he makes his way over to Elvis, grabbing him around the waist and moving him bodily into the bedroom. “Before you wanted the party, and now you want me in your bed. So demanding, my little lovebug.” He pushes them both onto the bed, half-wrestling Elvis into submission. Growling into the other man’s ear, Elvis throws his head back and laughs with the glee of a small child.

Dorothy can’t help but giggle too, enjoying watching him like this, so carefree. She pulls her dress over her head and sits down beside him.

“No panties, Dodo?” Elvis suddenly clocks that she’s sitting there in just a bra.

“No panties all night. Not that you noticed. Too busy talking about yourself all evening.” She pulls a haughty kind of expression, as if she’s been incredibly hard done by. “Ooooh, I’m Elvis, I’m so sexy the women can’t resist me…” Kneeling, she starts to gyrate her hips. “My show was so amazing, everyone loves me, look at my dance moves!”

Steve is howling with laughter at this point, and even Elvis can’t stop himself.

“I’m sorry, Mama. Ah was jus’ excited, s’all.”

She smiles down at him as she settles back onto her haunches. “I know you were.” She makes a point of looking at his dick, red and pressed against his belly. “Still are, seems like.”

“If this was a different night I think he’d need a punishment, wouldn’t you babe?” Steve’s eyebrow is arched as he looks from one to the other.

“I would, Daddy. But he did have a good show and I suppose he is kind of special. So I guess you’re just going to make him feel stupidly good instead?”

Reaching across to pull her towards him, Steve kisses her long and slow, making Elvis let out an audible moan.

“I’m gonna make him mine. Properly.”

Unclasping her bra, Dorothy leans down to press kisses to Elvis’ already tingling body. Steve watches her for a moment and then strips off the remainder of his clothes too, before gently tapping Elvis’ thigh to get him to lift his feet off the bed.

“Want you to get him ready for me,” he tells Dorothy, his hand on the back of her head now. “Get him good and wet.”

She nods her assent, even though she’s not exactly sure what she’s doing. Usually Elvis’ tongue is in her asshole, and although she’s teased him with a finger once or twice she’s never actually put her face there. Starting slow, she presses kisses to the insides of his thighs, then his balls, and then finally somewhere just a little lower. Slowly stroking himself as he watches her, Steve wonders at her cautiousness. His hand moves to the back of her head again, a little more insistently.

“C’mon. Where’s that little tongue?”

Looking up at him briefly, she chances a lick where she’d just been kissing.

“That’s it. Again.”

Dorothy feels a persistent tingling between her legs at Steve telling her what to do so brazenly, and she follows his instructions, licking again a couple of times and then glancing at him. He chuckles.

“You really need me to spell it out for you?” His thumb and forefinger dig into the very base of her skull just a little more.

“Mmhm.”

Shaking his head, he looks up at Elvis, who is lying back obediently, not even asking to touch himself, despite his aching need.

“First you, now her. You’re a lot of work, the pair of you.”

“Sorry, Daddy.” Elvis’ response is immediate, and Steve can’t help grinning since the other man doesn’t really have anything to apologise for.

“No more little kitten licks, babe. I want that tongue right up in his asshole, I want you sucking on it and eating his ass like it’s a damn cheesecake, okay?”

Dorothy nods as best she can as the hand on the back of her head forces her face against Elvis’ ass, her nose pushed up against his balls while her tongue tries its best to do as he says. Steve can tell when she’s finally succeeded, as Elvis arches off the bed, moaning and grabbing at the sheets.

“Good girl. That’s it.”

His hand closes around his dick again, squeezing as he starts to stroke himself, watching the filthy scene in front of him. Dorothy pushes Elvis’ legs further back to give her better access, pushing her tongue in as far as it will go and sucking with her lips. She feels her boyfriend writhing around as she keeps going, one hand wrapping around his dick to stroke him.

“Fuck. Dodo.”

A sharp tug on her hair has her pulling back and sitting up, a little dazed, a feeling that’s compounded by Steve’s mouth on hers and his hands roaming her body.

“Think he’s ready?”

She pants as she looks at Steve, feeling wild with lust and incredibly awake again. A tiny part of her wonders how he does this. It’s like it just comes completely naturally to him.

“I think so.”

“Me too.”

Generously applying lube, Steve shifts to kneel between Elvis’ legs, one hand gently stroking the outside of a thigh. Elvis’ eyes flip open.

“Dodo.” His hands are outstretched and although he’s not entirely sure he could say what he wants, she moves instinctively to sit behind him, his head in her lap. He lifts his hands again and she holds them in hers. He can feel his breathing slowing, just knowing she’s there to take care of him. Her big brown eyes stare down into his and seem to make everything okay, somehow.

“I’m going to be so gentle.”

First one, and then two fingers slip inside him, scissoring and making him cry out softly. And then he feels something bigger pressing there, and hears Dorothy’s gentle tone telling him to relax as her fingers run up and down his arms. He closes his eyes as the intensity of the feeling grows, the strangeness of something pushing inside and stretching him, and then the sudden pleasure of it hitting somewhere inside he’s never felt before.

“Ohmygod.”

He opens his eyes to find Steve leaning over him, face flushed and eyes wild. His legs wrap around the other man’s torso, and then his arms, and then they’re kissing deeply as they both feel how they’re connected. Steve rocks his hips fractionally and Elvis moans into his mouth.

“Fuck. You feel so perfect.”

“Y-you’re hittin’... there’s somethin’... oh God, Stevie. I ain’t never felt anythin’ like it.”

Dorothy looks down at the men in her lap, grabbing at each other and kissing and tugging at hair. She can feel tears welling up inside her, thinking about how special this is. How vulnerable Elvis is being with someone other than her, how precious the moment is.

“Really?” Steve asks, between kisses, starting to move his hips a little more.

“Y- ohhhh… fuck… yes… that’s it…” Elvis’ eyes roll back in his head and his arms flop to his sides.

The other man pushes himself back up onto his haunches, fingers trailing over Elvis’ skin as he goes. Taking a hold of his thighs for leverage, he slides out half way and then pushes back in with a grunt. Elvis makes a noise Dorothy thinks she might have never heard before and she instinctively grabs hold of his hands again. Building up to a steady pace, Steve feels the sweat running down his face, the sheer intensity of the tightness around his dick making him feel like he’s going to lose his damn mind too. He can feel himself getting close as he pushes on Elvis’ thighs until his knees press into the mattress so he can speed up, his hips snapping as he fucks the other man desperately. Elvis howls as he feels pleasure again and again and then suddenly and unexpectedly he’s cumming, his dick spurting all over his belly as his orgasm explodes inside him and Steve explodes inside him too, their bodies jerking and spasming, sweaty and messy. Dorothy moans just watching them, her clit puffy and sore after the show they’d put on basically half on top of her. They’re in her lap still, kissing and touching each other, drunk on sex. She shifts just enough to get her hand between her legs and gets herself off watching them, whining softly when it hits, then wriggling until she can get in the pile of bodies, reveling in their closeness.

***

“I should go back to my hotel.”

They’ve just finished a very enjoyable shower all together, and Dorothy is towel-drying her hair when she hears what she considers to be a completely ridiculous statement.

“It’s 4am.”

Steve sighs. “You know I can’t be found here.”

“There’s a room just down the corridor you could stay in. One a mine. Ain’t no-one in there right now, ya might as well.”

Steve tries to think rationally about it, but he’s dog tired and he has to work in approximately four hours. So he just nods.

“Okay, thanks.”

“Go home tomorrow and bring some stuff with ya,” Elvis tells him as he kisses him goodnight. “I reckon you’ll wanna see a few more shows.”

***

Chapter Text

Elvis was right, Steve had wanted to see a few more shows, and stay for a few more afterparties, and after-after parties where the two men continued to explore one another, making love night after night with Dorothy sometimes completely involved and other times more like a spectator, sitting on the bed or one of the armchairs. Burning the candle at both ends is exhausting him, but no matter how many times Elvis offers he refuses uppers, worried that will mean he’ll need downers, and that’s a cycle he’d rather not get involved in. He keeps making mistakes at work though, and he knows he can’t keep doing that forever. But Elvis’ Vegas run can’t last forever either, and if he can just manage one or two more days there’s the hope of rest and a decent night’s sleep. If there’s any way of getting Elvis back from his almost completely nocturnal habits, that is.

Rubbing his eyes as he sits on the sofa in the suite, he barely notices Joe watching him. Joe, wondering how come Steve is here so often, and also why he’s quite so tired. Joe thinking it might warrant a phone call to the Colonel, who’s not been quite so interested in Elvis’ first Vegas run as the other man had assumed he would be. More interested in the rest of the hotel, actually, with its slot machines and roulette wheels. Joe scratches his cheek thoughtfully as Elvis starts to talk about wrapping the night up, at just the same time as he has for the past four or five. Oddly regular, for a guy who used to sometimes keep them awake until 5am and other times turn in at ten. He hangs around just a little longer than usual, as the room clears, fiddling with his shoe lace and then deliberately knocking an ashtray off the side and fussing about trying to clean it up.

And that’s when it happens.

The slip up.

In hindsight, it was always going to happen. The three of them were too comfortable in their little routine, they were enjoying themselves too much and Elvis had started to think he was invincible. He’d forgotten his fears entirely, forgotten just how freaked out he’d been by Tom finding out, just how scared Jerry’s reaction had made him. The anxiety that had kept him sharp and wary had just withered on the vine and he could barely remember what it was like now, he was so all-consumed by love. And a little bit of hubris. Being up so high, how could he possibly come down?

Joe straightens and walks slowly towards the door, trying to make as little noise as possible, his shoes on the plush carpet, and then at the last minute he turns. He turns and sees. And for a second, his brain can’t make sense of what it is that he’s seeing, it’s so alien to him, so completely unexpected. He’s seen his boss kiss a million different women, virtually every colour, tall, short, thin, curvy… young girls and middle-aged women, fans and actresses, girlfriends and one-night stands.

But he’s never seen him kiss a man.

***

“I uh… saw something.” Joe’s hands are clammy on the phone receiver, and he grips it tightly with both of them, like he’s afraid it might get away.

“Yes?” Tom Parker is impatient. The phone call had interrupted a game. This better be a good something. Or a bad something, depending on how you looked at it.

Joe swallows. “EP. And Binder.” He coughs, not sure how to say it.

“Yes?” The second yes is even more incredulous than the first.

“K-kissing.”

“WHAT?” It’s so loud several people turn to look at him. He puts on a fake smile and waves as if it was nothing.

“Y-yeah.”

“Focking poot.” Parker grits his teeth, eyes flicking around the hotel, the glittering machines and the glittering patrons. “Alright. I will fix this.”

Before Joe has time to question the Dutch profanity or how on earth the problem is going to be fixed, he realises the line is dead.

Parker has put the phone down on him.

***

Steve is woken up by the sound of his phone ringing, his stomach lurching at his first thought that he must have slept in. He’d insisted on going back to his hotel for a change, but looking blearily at his watch he realises he’s barely been asleep for three hours. Who on earth is calling at this time?

“Binder.”

“Ah. Mr Bindle. Good morning.”

“It’s Binder,” comes out of Steve’s mouth before he can stop it. “What do you want?”

“I think it is best, Mr Bindle, if you leave Mr Presley alone. I know what’s been going on. And if you know what’s good for you and your family you’ll put an end to it.”

The words go in his ear and rattle about in his head for a minute before producing a horrible, rushing feeling in his whole body and a ringing in his ears. He knows. He knows. But what does he know?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

There’s a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “I think that you do, Steve. I think you know very well. It is something that would destroy Mr Presley, were it to become public knowledge.”

“Well whatever it is, it would destroy you too. No Elvis, no money for the General.”

There’s a pause where the Colonel appears to consider his statement, and Steve wonders whether he has the upper hand.

“I hear you have a sister, Mr Bindle.”

Steve frowns. “Sure, I have a sister.”

“Fond of her, are you?”

“Well, I mean… yeah.”

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm? Whaddya mean, hmmm?”

“Up to you to decide, Steve. But if you are fond of her, you should think very carefully before you carry on… carrying on.” Parker snorts, amused by his own little joke.

“Are you threatening my family?” Steve can feel blood rushing to his head, his pulse quickening, adrenalin waking him up fully.

“Think about what I said, Mr Binder. Stop this before it gets out of control.”

The phone goes dead, and Steve is left staring into the receiver, dial tone blaring out at him. He puts it down slowly and starts to set up a pot of coffee, watching it drip through as he sits on the bed and tries to make sense of what he’d just heard. The Colonel knows something about him and Elvis, and he’s using it to try and make him break things off with the other man. Disappear from his life, presumably. Or… or what? Or he’ll hurt Steve’s sister? It all seems so ridiculous and overblown he pinches himself quickly to make sure he’s not actually dreaming. He carries on sitting there as the pot fills. It seems like he’s in the plot of a film, and not a very good one. The only thing that makes sense, he reflects, filling a cup now with coffee and cream, is to go over there as usual tonight and try and see if any of the guys do anything to give it away. He lights a cigarette to go with the coffee, taking a deep drag and enjoying the hit of nicotine. How has this become his life?

***

Elvis bounces off the stage directly into Dorothy’s arms. The final show, and possibly the best one yet. He can’t wait to dissect it with anyone who will listen.

“It was good?” He asks, eagerly.

Dorothy nods, but she doesn’t look happy. Not happy like he would expect, anyway.

“What’s wrong?”

“Um… Steve… he isn’t here.”

She’d felt coldness settle in her stomach when he hadn’t arrived by curtain up, and as the show continued and he still wasn’t there, all she could do was pray that Elvis hadn’t noticed. It seemed like he hadn’t, if his mood was anything to go by.

“No?” They carry on walking at speed, guys gathering around the two of them and ushering them into the elevator. “Any a you seen Steve?”

They all shake their heads and mutter things about not having seen him tonight, but having seen him every other night. Elvis’ mood darkens. It doesn’t make sense.

“Musta got caught up at work.”

They all agree, like they do with everything he says, to his face at least, and then the doors open and they’re on his floor. He decides he better try his best to act the host, to be polite and make people feel welcome. Just for long enough. And then he’ll go find Steve. Straighten this whole thing out.

***

Steve hadn’t got past the doormen. Apparently he was no longer on the guestlist, and nothing he could say would entreat them to let him in. He hung around for a while, hearing the music through the doors, but they really didn’t look happy about it, so eventually he just went back to his hotel. Sitting on the tiny couch, it’s minutes before he’s leaning his head back against it and closing his eyes, just meaning to rest them a little… and then for the second time that day, the phone ringing wakes him up. Goddamnit.

“Steve.” Says the voice on the other end.

“Colonel.”

“I wanted you to break things off.”

“Well if you wanted that, you shouldn’t have taken me off the guestlist. I can’t break things off with someone I can’t get to.”

“He will come to see you. You should do it then.”

Steve doesn’t ask how Parker knows, just accepts that he does. The puppet master, back to pulling the strings. Rubbing his forehead, he decides to clarify a few things before the old prick puts the phone down again.

“What exactly am I doing? I mean, what exactly do you think is going on?”

There’s an impatient sort of sigh on the other end of the phone, as if this is a tedious job he’d really rather not be doing. As if Steve is stupid for asking.

“I don’t think, I know. You are a homo… faggot… whatever it is they call them these days. And you have got your claws into my boy, somehow. Threatening him, confusing him, flattering him… I don’t know how you people do it. But that’s what will come out, if you don’t put an end to this now. The whole world will find out the kind of pervert you are, the kind that corrupts an innocent boy from Memphis.”

Steve feels his skin go cold. He wants to find this ridiculous, but he can’t.

“And what does my sister have to do with this?”

Parker laughs. “Nothing, so long as you break it off with Mr Presley.”

***

Tears run down Steve’s face as he sits on the bed, waiting for the knock he’s sure is going to come. He can’t imagine the effect this will have on Elvis, but Dorothy’s reaction is what he really worries about Or, not really her reaction. She’ll be so busy looking after her boyfriend she’ll forget about herself, that’s for sure. But the damage the break up will do to her worries him more than anything. He wishes he could say something, but saying something seems too dangerous. He keeps trying to think it over sensibly, rationally, but he’s too tired to do that and even if he weren’t he isn’t sure how possible it is. How can he know the real power of Tom Parker? He’d heard people say he had mob connections, and he’d always laughed that off until now. Until his little sister was being threatened. He wipes his cheeks with his shirt sleeve. They’ll be round here soon. And he’ll have to think of what to say to them.

***

The room is too small to let them in, but he can’t leave them out in the hall, so the three of them stand awkwardly between the bed and the fridge. Elvis takes off his shades and pulls off the cap he’d been wearing as a disguise. He’s pretty sure it worked, but he also doesn’t think staying here long is a good idea. Not that it looks like Steve wants them to stay here long.

“Ya not feel like it tonight?” Elvis’ jaw is tight.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Steve studies the carpet and Dorothy frowns at him. He seems like a completely different man from yesterday. Yesterday he’d picked her up and spun her around, calling her his princess and making her giddy.

“It’s okay. We were just worried.” She puts a hand on his arm and he shrugs it off.

“Look… I’m exhausted. This is… I haven’t had more than four hours’ sleep in two weeks and I’m barely making it through the day…”

“Why don’tcha take time off?”

Steve looks up, flashing Elvis a look of pure irritation. “My job doesn’t work like that. I have to be there. I’ve been making mistakes.”

“Ya don’t have ta work.”

“I do. I’m not… I’m not your flunky or your towel boy or whatever it is…” Steve waves a hand around impatiently. “I have a career.”

“Ah have a career too. A damn sight more important than your stupid film makin’.” Elvis’ hands are on his hips and his lips curl into a sneer at the end of the sentence.

“Oh. My stupid film making that just saved your stupid career.”

Launching himself towards the other man, Elvis grabs his collar and brings their faces incredibly close together.

“Ah didn’t need ya damn film. I’m Elvis Goddamn Presley.”

“You don’t need it, you don’t need me.” Steve puts both hands on Elvis’ chest and pushes him backwards, hard. “I can’t live this ridiculous lifestyle anyway. Fuck this.”

“FUCK YOU.” Elvis roars in response, grabbing Dorothy’s hand and dragging her from the room.

Steve catches her eye for a second and then looks away.

“Elvis! Steve!” She tries, suddenly realising she’s about to be pulled right out of the room and probably Steve’s life too.

“Sorry, Dodo.” Steve calling her Elvis’ pet name for her for the first time ever. “I just can’t take it anymore. I need someone I can take home to my mum and dad. Not this.”

The words stun her into silence, tears falling down her cheeks as Elvis opens the door and storms through it, taking her with him. The door slams. Steve staggers backwards until his legs hit the side of the bed and then he collapses back onto it, pain in his chest and tears freely flowing again. Dorothy’s face looking at him, so desperate, and then so hurt when he’d said what he did. He closes his eyes, but her face is still there.

He wonders if that look will haunt him forever.

***

Chapter Text

After the fight Elvis tells Dorothy he doesn’t want to hear her mention Steve’s name again. She thinks he’ll calm down, given some time and space, he doesn’t usually stay angry for long. But weeks pass by and he’s exactly the same. Even when they get some weed and spend a weekend on their own in the Palm Springs house smoking and giggling he won’t talk about that fucking faggot. She wants to talk about him, but instead she just finds herself lying in bed after Elvis has fallen asleep, thinking about him and crying. She’s supposed to go to film school in a couple of weeks and she doesn’t want to. All she wants to do is go to sleep for a really long time, long enough to wake up and just feel better. To have forgotten about Steve, and the way he made her feel. But that doesn’t seem very likely.

***

The heat of late September has Elvis convinced that everyone needs to come round for a barbeque and the usual messing about in the pool. She’d wandered around for a while feeling and probably looking a little lost until Jerry had waved her over and insisted she take a load off, and she’d found herself next to him with Myrna on the other side. Jerry and Myrna had been getting closer since meeting on the tour and Dorothy notices his hand on her thigh. She deliberately sits a little further away from him than she usually would, remembering Sandi.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

Jerry is positively beaming and Dorothy can’t help smiling in return. It’s nice that someone on this sofa is happy and in love, even if it isn’t her.

“I’m okay. Tired mostly.”

Jerry frowns slightly. “Haven’t seen Steve in a while?”

“Mmm.” Dorothy shrugs and looks down into her drink.

“Myrna um… knows. She… I told her.”

Eyes flicking back up again quickly to check he’s not joking, she half-coughs and half-laughs, shifting even further away. Elvis had been right. Everyone was getting to know.

“It’s okay sugar. I ain’t judgin’.” Myrna tilts her head towards the man next to her. “Plenty of folks would want me burnt at the stake for bein’ with him. Up to you an’ Elvis what ya wanna do in the privacy of your own home. No business a mine.”

A hand rubs Dorothy’s knee reassuringly and then moves back to Myrna’s lap. The shorter woman looks over to where Elvis is, deep in conversation with a gaggle of guys and girls, and then back to her friends.

“He broke up with us.” Her voice comes out a little hoarser than she was anticipating. “He’s gone.” The last week they’d spent in Palm Springs she’d finally got up the courage to try and see Steve without Elvis, taking the car when he was still asleep. When she’d got to his house she’d found it empty and for sale.

“Oh honey.” Jerry wraps an arm around her and squeezes her to his side. “That don’t seem right, do it?”

“He said he was sick of living like this.” Her voice is small, and muffled against Jerry’s shoulder.

“Steve’s such a good guy, he ain’t one to just run out on ya.”

“Well he did.”

Jerry reflects for a while, still holding Dorothy close. There’s no doubt that trying to hold down a serious job and be in Vegas at the same time would be difficult, especially with all of the sneaking around. But something just doesn’t sit right about it with him.

“What happened, shug?” Myrna is leaning over Jerry, looking concerned.

“He didn’t turn up to the last night at the International. So we went to talk to him, and him and El really got into it… El telling him his job is stupid and pointless and…” she sniffs loudly, then quickly wipes her face with both hands and sits up. “Anyway. He didn’t want to carry on with it and I guess I can’t blame him.”

Jerry’s been on the other end of Elvis’ temper on more than one occasion and he didn’t like it one bit. Maybe that’s what had driven Steve away.

“I’m so sorry.”

Rubbing up and down Dorothy’s arm with one hand, he decides a change of subject is in order.

“Ya must be goin’ to film school soon?”

She lets out a world-ending sigh. “I don’t think so. What’s the point?”

“What’s the point?!” He looks down at her in shock. “So you can do something for yourself for a change, ain’t that what ya wanted?”

“It’s what Steve wanted.”

Jerry pulls her in even closer and kisses the top of her head lovingly. “S’what you wanted too. Don’t throw it away now ‘cause you’re pissed at him.”

“I guess.” She puts out a hand and despite all of the cuddling, is still surprised to feel Jerry take hold of it. Searching Myrna’s face for clues, all she can find there is love and concern, not a hint of jealousy.

“Jerry’s right,” she affirms, and Jerry visibly puffs up with pride at her approval. “Now more than ever ya have to do somethin’ for yourself. You’ll feel better, sugar. I promise.”

***

“You been single long?”

Steve smiles. “A few months.”

“How long were you together for?”

“It was kinda complicated.” He waves a hand around lazily. “A few months. What about you?”

“I’ve been single for a year. First real long term relationship. But I’m ready for something new now.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” He leans in a little closer and brushes a strand of hair from her face. “You want another drink?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“What kind of drinks there are at your place.”

***

Dorothy sits in the Vegas suite, full of people after Elvis’ last show there, and fiddles with her bracelet. It’s the one Steve got her that Christmas, with a D for Dorothy charm hanging off it. She wouldn’t have dared to wear it before now, but she’s pretty sure Elvis hasn’t noticed. He’s barely noticed that she exists since she’s been back, and right now he’s in deep conversation with some scantily clad girl that he presumably got the guys to fish out of the crowd for him. As Dorothy watches, the girl starts talking loudly about tequila slammers as Elvis furrows his brow and tells her he don’t have any idea what those are, honey. Dorothy rolls her eyes heavenwards, remembering him learning exactly what they were on the set of Fun In Acapulco and suffering terribly for it the next day. Make it into a game he might be able to win and there was a good chance of getting Elvis to drink, even if he usually claimed to hate it.

“You need salt, lime and a shot of tequila.”

There’s a buzz of activity then as Elvis demands the ingredients and waits to see who brings them to him the fastest. In a couple of minutes he has three full bottles of tequila, a bag of limes and four salt cellars.

“Okay, honey, what next?”

“Well,” the blonde begins, picking up a salt cellar. “First is salt.” She shakes a small pile onto her hand and then uses one finger to smear it up his neck, which is still damp with sweat after the show. “Then tequila.” She pours a shot. “And finally lime.” She picks one up and then looks around and finds herself presented with four pen knives from four eager-looking men. Taking Sonny’s with a winning smile, she cuts a segment of lime.

“So it goes like this.” Resting a hand on Elvis’ shoulder she declares “salt!” as she licks it off his neck, then “shot!” before downing the tequila. “And lime.” Without warning, she puts the lime in his grinning mouth and then brings her lips to his in a kind of half-kiss, biting into it.

Dorothy groans out loud. Not that anyone is listening. Joe is watching her though, over the other side of the room, several bourbons in. He feels bad about the way Elvis is acting, the same way he’s been acting while she’s been away but he had thought the other man would rein it in now his girlfriend’s back in town. He feels bad about a lot lately. He’d had to tell the Colonel about Steve, really. That shit wasn’t right. But he hadn’t anticipated the effect it would have on Dorothy. He takes another gulp of his drink just as someone knocks loudly on the door.

“Dodo! See who that is, will ya?”

Dorothy shakes her head in disbelief. Relegated to the doorwoman now. She makes her way across the room, weaving through the bodies and stepping over empty glasses here and there. When she opens the door she’s confronted with two identical looking girls, dark hair done in beehives and winged eyeliner. She sighs. Of course. Twins.

“Come in.”

She throws the door open wide and turns away from it, not stopping to ask who these girls are or what they want, starting to walk back to where she’d been sitting. On her way she sees Joe looking about as fed up as she feels, and for some reason decides to sit beside him.

“Hi.”

He looks up in surprise. “Hi. You need a drink?”

Staring at her empty hands in bafflement, she wonders where her drink has gone. She must’ve left it where she’d been sitting earlier.

“Apparently so.”

“Scotch?”

She nods and finds herself smiling when he hands it to her moment later. “Thanks.” She takes a sip and then nods towards the door. “He’s got twins now. Every man’s wet dream.”

Her tone makes him feel cold in the pit of his stomach. He can’t remember ever hearing her sound so despondent.

“Don’t know if you should’ve let Joyce and her sister in…”

She shrugs. “He asked me to answer the door. He doesn’t care about me seeing him with some floozy licking and kissing him, so I guess he doesn’t care about his bit on the side seeing either. Or maybe I’m the bit on the side these days. Who knows.”

“You’re not a bit on the side.” Joe fixes her with an intense look. “Not for anyone.”

“Oh Joe.” She flops against him. “You’re sweet.”

“Always thought you hated me.”

“I do. But you’re the only one not buzzing around that girl over there.” She waves her hand in the general direction of Elvis, the girl and now Joyce and her twin sister. “Can’t believe Jerry left me too.”

“Who else left?” Joe asks, without thinking.

“Steve.”

“Oh.”

“You noticed, surely?”

“Mmm. Guess he has his own life though.”

Dorothy laughs, a cold stilted one as the hubbub around Elvis reaches fever pitch, it seems like the girls are arguing, and his voice is getting louder now too.

“I guess he does.”

***

Elvis lies in bed with his arm over Joyce’s small frame. The pills will kick in any minute now, and neither of them will have to carry on thinking about the chaos of the evening. She’d been furious when she’d found him with his tongue down some blonde’s throat, and her sister had been less than impressed too. Thought you said he was only interested in you, J? But as usual he’d been able to talk her round, to charm her, charm both of them actually. One arm around each sister, talking about how pretty they both looked, asking how they enjoyed the show, serenading them both with love songs. Her doubts were swept away completely when he took her back to his bedroom and they made sweet, passionate love for the first time. And now she can feel herself bobbing gently into a deep sleep.

“Thanks fer comin’ tonight, sweetheart…” He forces the words out around his fuzzy-feeling tongue. “Gorgeous… yer uh… yer sister…” He tries to open his eyes but his eyelids are too heavy. “Any time… always, yer… mmmm….”

Joyce barely registers the words as she starts to float somehow above herself in the bed and then everything starts to slowly rotate.

“Mmm. Elvissssss…”

***

“Dorothy?”

Dorothy looks up from her notebook, recognising the voice but unable to immediately place it.

“Larry!” Jumping up, she knocks the notebook to the floor as she closes the gap between them, throwing her arms around his neck “You’re back!”

“Elvis called and said he needed me.” He looks at her as she pulls back from the hug, all smiles. “Looks like Parker isn’t so bothered about me being here anymore.”

“Oh!” She sits back down, pulling him with her. “I’m so happy to see you. Jerry left me to manage some band or other, and Steve… well you never met Steve… anyway… how’ve you been?”

“Good. Just got back from India a few days ago.”

“India?”

“Yeah, been out there learning yoga from the people who invented it.” Dorothy looks at him curiously, so he continues. “You know, yoga?” She shakes her head. “It’s a series of stretches and movements, like a moving meditation…”

“Isn’t that Tai Chi?”

“Well… they’re similar in a way I suppose. But I think you’d like it. I met some real cool people out there, gurus, and they had such an interesting way of thinking about things. Yoga isn’t just about the movements, it’s a really spiritual practice, there’s breathwork…”

“Okay, okay. It’s an Elvis thing.” She waves both hands about in a way to indicate some kind of voodoo at work. Larry laughs.

“It’s for you too, not just him. But anyway, how are things with you? I half-expected to come back and find you two married, bun in the oven.” He reaches over to place a hand on her belly.

“I’m not really interested in that.”

“Thought Elvis wanted kids.”

She shrugs. Whether or not he wanted them, he hadn’t been in the position to even try for them lately. Or not with her at least. They rarely shared the same bed since she’d come back from film school. All we do is lie down and cuddle, Dodo, he’d told her the other week when she’d snappily mentioned how much Kathy was around in Vegas. She didn’t believe that for a second, but all she thought when he told her was why don’t you want to lie down and cuddle with me?

“Maybe sometime, but not now.”

“He’s doing well at the moment, haven’t seen him look this good in a long time.”

Dorothy sighs softly. Even with Larry all she’s good for is talking about Elvis and his career and his aspirations for a son and heir. Not anything she wants or might have done.

“Yeah I guess.”

“You okay?”

She smiles, thinly. “Yeah, I’m okay. You just didn’t ask me much about me is all.”

“Hey! I asked you and you didn’t tell me.”

Dorothy isn’t sure she agrees with that, but she tries to make an effort not to bicker. She loved Larry when he was around before, thought he was a good influence on Elvis and that he had more intelligence than the rest of the Mafia put together. She’s just in a bad mood that she shouldn’t take out on him.

“I went to film school, actually.”

Larry’s face lights up. Much like Jerry and Steve, he’s always thought Dorothy should be pursuing bigger things than doing Elvis’ laundry.

“You’re gonna be lighting up Hollywood! Directing all the blockbusters!”

She laughs, finding herself blushing somehow. “I’m actually more interested in writing.” Picking up her notebook from the floor, she sets it back on her lap. “I’ve been trying to do a little but it’s heavy going.”

“Anything I can read?”

She shakes her head with a little smile. “Not yet. Hopefully soon. It’s a play.”

“Well that sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to read it.” He watches the smile grow and then thinks of something else. “Hey, how about we go inside and get a little herbal tea, and then I can take you through the sun salutations…”

“The what?”

“Sun salutations. They’re a basic foundation of yoga… we can do those together. Clear your mind, stretch your body. Or the other way around. And then how about we wander into town and see what they’ve got on in the theatre?”

She’s grinning now, pleased that she had made herself be more reasonable earlier.

“I would love that! Green tea or ginseng?”

***

Two days into Elvis’ US tour, Dorothy finds herself being led to his room in the early hours of the morning, on a promise from Joe that he needed her. She yawns, half-asleep, and rubs her eyes before opening the door to find him standing next to the bed, eyes wild, half undressed.

“I c- I… I can’t… Dodo I can’t… I can’t sleep… I can’t…” His breathing is coming in pants and his chest heaves.

“Hey… hey now…” She moves towards him, slipping her arms around his thin frame. “C’mon. Let’s sit you down. Come on now… hush… it’s okay…”

Rubbing his back, she keeps trying to shush him and he keeps telling her over and over again that he can’t sleep. “I’ve-I’ve t-taken all my meds… I’ve taken them… I still can’t sleep… I can’t… I can’t be on my own… Dodo please…”

Pulling him closer, she puts a hand on his bare chest. “Slow down. C’mon. Breathe with me. In….two three… out… two three… in… that’s it…I’m here… I’m here you’re not on your own…”

After a few rounds of slow, deep breaths, he seems less on the verge of a full-blown panic attack and manages to look at her properly.

“S-sorry, mama.” Tears fill his eyes and then slide down his cheeks. “Sorry,” he whispers again, and then pushes his face between her breasts.

She moves her robe so that he can feel his skin on hers, stroking his hair. “It’s okay.” She’s not sure it is okay, but she’s also not sure what he’s sorry for. Ignoring her this whole time? Or just panicking now and demanding she come to his bed?

His hand finds hers and holds it tightly, and they stay like that for a while, until he feels himself start to relax and almost get tired. “Will you stay?” He looks up, eyes glassy.

She feels like her heart is going to burst. “Of course I will.”

Whining, he grabs at the material of her robe, eyes roving around the room restlessly.

“Joyce broke it off with me. Kathy too.” He frowns, hands and eyes stilling as he thinks. “You never leave me, mama?” He looks confused, a little boy lost again, and all she can do is kiss his temple and tell him she loves him.

Whimpering, he pushes his face to hers, mashing their lips together in a clumsy kiss. Dorothy feels tears pricking her eyes now too, and gently pulls back.

“Let’s do this in the morning, hm? It’s late.”

“Okay. You promise?”

“I promise.”

He nods slowly and lets her help him under the covers, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feeling of her fingers tracing patterns on his skin and the sound of her voice softly talking to him about nothing until he finally falls asleep.

***

Chapter Text

Dorothy spends the rest of the tour by Elvis’ side, in the backseat of the car with him as they drive away at speed from each venue, beside him on the planes, back in his bed. He’s relieved to have her there and she’s relieved to be there, at least for now. This is the second to last day of the tour, and Elvis is still sleeping soundly when she gets up and pads into the rest of the suite. Some of the hotels are fancier than others, and while none reach the opulence of Vegas, this one isn’t bad. She knows it came with a kitchenette and her stomach has been rumbling for the past couple of hours as she lay there on her back thinking about how long this situation will last. No doubt it won’t be long before some pretty young thing turns his head and the whole merry-go-round starts again.

She closes the door behind her softly and makes her way into the main living area, where a bunch of the guys are already up and playing cards.

“Hey!” Red jumps up. “You want a coffee?”

“Uh… yeah. Please. Cream and sugar.”

He makes his way towards the pot and starts clinking about with cups as Sonny asks if he can fix her some eggs. She blinks slowly a few times and then sits down on the sofa.

“Are you guys okay?”

Sonny follows his cousin into the kitchen without waiting for a reply from her or giving her any kind of explanation, searching out a pan and a carton of eggs.

“You want toast? I’ll make toast.” It’s Red again, delivering the coffee and then going back to the kitchen.

“That’s not how you make ‘em, you need to use cream.”

“I know how ta make eggs, damnit.”

Still completely baffled by the situation, Dorothy turns towards the rest of the guys who are trying to reconfigure their game having lost two players.

“What’s going on? Have they been fighting and bumped heads?”

Charlie looks up and laughs. “It’s just been nice to have you around again.”

Fiddling with his cards, Marty makes a noise of assent. “That Joyce chick was no fun.”

Sipping her coffee in stunned silence for a while, Dorothy wonders at this strange turn of events. And then the Wests deliver her eggs and toast.

She chews thoughtfully. “These aren’t bad. Bit rubbery.”

“He likes ‘em rubberier than that.”

“I know. But I’m not Elvis. We like our eggs differently.”

“You want me to make more?” Red has hold of her plate like he’s going to take it away again.

She laughs. “No. Don’t be silly. Thanks for making them, it’s kind of you.” Kind in a way that makes me think you’re buttering me up for something. Or you’ll do something terrible soon and then say, “but I made you eggs” like that makes up for it.

Looking relieved, he leans back against the sofa as she carries on eating. Everything is quiet for a while, apart from the crunch of the toast and the occasional declarations from the card table.

“They don’t know how to take care of him.”

Dorothy looks over at Red, who is still flopped against the sofa with his eyes closed. She’s about to ask what he means when he continues.

“You’re the only one who’s ever known how. The others jus’ make things worse.”

She doesn’t know how to respond. Her and the Wests have never really got on, she’s always had the distinct impression that they didn’t approve of her, they thought she was too loud and too opinionated, and would prefer a nice girl who looked pretty and would only speak when she was spoken to. They’d done things for her in the past, mainly based on the fact that like Joe they harboured fantasies that one day they’d get her into bed. This is the nicest thing either of them has ever said to her.

“I know he can be shitty sometimes,” Sonny sits forward on the armchair just across from her, “but I dunno what he’d do if you left.”

“I’m not leaving him,” she whispers, then clears her throat and sits up a bit straighter, putting down her coffee cup. “So you don’t have to worry about silly stuff like that. Okay? Good.”

Red picks up her plate and leans over to kiss her on the cheek on his way back to the kitchenette. Sonny nods and then slaps his hands on his thighs before standing up.

“Good, good. Now, I do think we’re gonna need someone with little hands to do the washing up, so…”

***

“Each part of your foot is linked to another part of your body.”

Elvis looks down at his bare foot in Larry’s hand.

“Ah don’t want you to touch my feet, Lawrence. Ah wanna learn this so I can touch hot chicks’ feet.”

“But I have to teach you first,” Larry explains, patiently. “Or you won’t know how to do it, and hot chicks won’t take you seriously.” He’s not sure that’s true at all, Elvis doesn’t need to learn reflexology as an excuse to touch women’s feet. He’s pretty sure Elvis could go up to any woman on the street and just straight up ask her and she’d be shedding her shoes and stockings before he even got to the end of the sentence.

“Hmmm.”

They carry on anyway, Larry giving him what basically seems to amount to a very nice foot massage, while he explains the areas it ought to be combating. Once he’s got past another man touching him so intimately, he starts to notice some of his usual aches and pains reducing.

“It’s working! My belly don’t hurt so much. An’ that crick in my neck…”

Larry smiles, pleased. “Blockage in your chi. I’ve loosened it up.”

“This is incredible!” He pauses, looking wistful for a moment. “Y’know, maybe ah could really help people with this. Get Charlie in. He was complain’ about his hip the other day.”

Larry gets Charlie, and as usual the shorter man is quick to follow instructions, taking off his socks and shoes and letting himself be subjected to a very unprofessional foot massage, with Larry desperately trying to give proper instructions while Elvis continually asks if this is making Charlie feel better, and does his chi seem more free-flowing.

The others are downstairs in Graceland, and as soon as they hear what’s happening to Charlie they all start to complain about Larry again.

“Goddamn hippie weirdo.”

“Why’d Parker let him back in?”

“All he ever does is weird shit. You hear he went to India? They shit on the street there. That’s really weird shit.”

Hearing the hubbub, Dorothy walks in from the garden where she’d been trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to write. She’s still exhausted from the tour, and Vegas, and then more touring, and her brain seems to be unwilling to co-operate.

“What’s going on?”

“That freak… Larry. He’s getting Elvis to fiddle with Charlie’s feet. Fuckin’ pervert.”

Dorothy looks around at their deadly serious faces and bursts out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. And then when she tries to stop she finds she can’t. Every time she thinks she might calm down she sees that serious look again or thinks about the concept of Larry making Elvis fiddle with Charlie’s feet and it sets her off again. The others are a little slower to catch on but Joe starts first and then the Wests and then Marty, and soon everyone in the room is laughing. There’s a brief moment where she sinks down onto a chair, weak from the hysteria, and it’s died down almost to a stop. And then Charlie walks into the room, hair slightly ruffled, feet bare and one pant leg rolled up further than the other.

“What’re y’all laughin’ at?”

The room erupts again and no-one can stop themselves for long enough to explain. Charlie looks perplexed and then sighs, sitting down and rolling his pants back to where they should be.

“I h-heard… I heard… hahahahah.”

“What?” He raises an eyebrow at Joe.

“I heard Elvis has been fiddlin’ with your feet.”

The laughter reaches another peak and Dorothy can just about make out the noise of footsteps on the stairs.

“Fuckin’ pervert!”

Elvis and Larry stand in the doorway and both stare in complete confusion at the scene in front of them, everyone holding their bellies, some with tears running down their cheeks, no-one able to stop laughing. Dorothy kicks her legs and tries to sit up and then gives up again.

“What the fuck are y’all laughin’ at?” The laughter reduces to a light giggle at Elvis’ tone, Dorothy desperately trying to hold herself together as Red sits up and wipes his eyes.

“Ya sure do some weird shit sometimes, boss.”

“What?”

Dorothy is pinching her skin now and biting the inside of her cheek to try and stop herself laughing out loud again. She knows Elvis hates to be left out of a joke but somehow it’s just making it funnier.

“Touchin’ Charlie’s feet.” Red grins.

“I’d have thought if you were going to touch anyone’s feet, it would be a girl’s.” Joe has just about recovered now too, but he daren’t look at Dorothy in case she starts him off again.

Elvis humphs in response. “Ah’m learnin’ on other people. He was around. Then I’ll be usin’ it on girls.”

Unable to control herself any longer, Dorothy kicks her legs in the air, bare feet and all, and squeals “what about these?” before succumbing completely to helpless gales of laughter.

Growling, Elvis steps across the room and scoops her up in his arms, shaking his head as a smile spreads across his face. “Alright then. You’re next.”

***

“I don’t think you should go.” Dorothy runs her fingertips down Elvis’ spine as he lies there, half on his side, half on his front.

“Mmm. Dodo ya know what he said. Ah’m too fat.”

She frowns, tracing patterns outwards over his shoulderblade. “You look fine to me. And if you want to lose a couple of pounds, just ask Mary to put less butter in the mash.”

He huffs. “Ya don’t understand. Ah’ve gotta look good for this show. The papers say ah’m fat an’ nearly forty.”

Slipping her arm around him, she presses herself close, his hand resting on his belly. It’s swollen, but she doesn’t think that’s down to Mary’s cooking.

“You’re thirty seven, El. You’re gorgeous. Ignore these stupid people, they don’t know anything.”

Taking hold of her hand he moves it off him, pushing her back as he gets up.

“He’s not stupid. Nice ta hear someone bein’ honest with me fer a change.” He lowers his voice. “Never happens around here anymore.” Dorothy frowns at his back. “Ah’m a global superstar,” he continues, back at full volume. “Ah have ta look good.”

She sits up and huffs herself. “Then try taking care of yourself for a change! You’re working too hard. How much time have you had off this year?”

Pulling on clothes, he shoots her a look. “So ya do think ah look fat.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Look, ah’m goin’. Ya can’t change my mind. Dr Ghanem knows what he’s doin’.”

***

“Hey, isn’t that Elvis Presley thing on tonight? The Hawaii concert. You worked with him once, didn’t you?”

Steve’s hand tightens around the whiskey glass he’s holding. “Uh, yeah I think so. And yeah, I did. On the comeback thing.”

“We should watch it!” Sharon’s hands come together with a light clap of excitement. “That would be fun!”

Steve tries not to pull a face. He’d been looking forward to a nice night in after a long week and now his girlfriend is suggesting spending their evening like this. The first concert movie, That’s The Way It Is, had been released maybe a year after their split. Even though he’d started seeing Sharon by then he’d gone on his own to San Francisco to watch it in a theatre there and replayed it in his mind as he laid in his hotel room, touching himself and thinking about Elvis and Dorothy. He’d felt weirdly guilty afterwards and decided to actively avoid watching or listening to any Elvis after that, missing the On Tour movie last year entirely. But he’s feeling better about all that now. Water under the bridge. It’s been almost four years now, so he’s almost certainly over it.

“Sure. Why not.”

They finish dinner and settle into their respective armchairs, switching the TV on. Sharon stays round a lot, but he can’t find it in himself to ask her to move in, not yet anyway. There’s something nice about it just being his house, his decor, and his time spent on his own in it too.

“What was he like?” She asks, as the credits start to roll.

“Hmm?”

“Elvis. What was he like? You must’ve worked pretty closely with him.”

Steve has a sudden flashback to him and Dorothy desperately trying to get Elvis out of his leather pants, the pair of them on the floor, laughing and laughing as they pulled. Yeah, they had worked together pretty closely.

“Great guy.”

“That it? Great guy? Thanks for the insight.”

He takes another sip of his drink and watches the crowds on the TV. “He was uh… fun to be around. A joker, y’know. Had all these hangers-on though, the Memphis Mafia they called themselves. To just do whatever he wanted, really.”

“Huh. Sounds pretty self-important.”

“No.” Steve finds himself thinking of Elvis sitting in his lap, begging him not to go to work and leave him all day. “He kinda wasn’t. Not when I knew him, anyway. Humble guy, really. Despite all of the craziness of being so famous.” He gulps down the rest of his drink as he remembers what he’d said to Elvis before he’d left that day. You don’t have to pay me to make me stay. “You mind fixing me another?” He wiggles the glass back and forth.

“He’s just about to come on!”

“I’ll do it myself then.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. I’ll do it.”

Sharon stands up, taking the glass into the kitchen behind them. She can still see the TV from there, so it’s not so bad really, just a little small. Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling emotion hit him like a tidal wave. It’s been four years, for goddsake. And then he looks up at the screen and sees Elvis in a white jumpsuit and cape, heavily rhinestoned in what he realises after a moment is the outline of an eagle outspread across his chest. Tears spring unbidden out of his eyes and down his cheeks.

“Oh, he looks so handsome!” Sharon pauses, holding the icecube tray and staring at the screen.

Steve stares too, as the first song starts up, and wonders what on earth has happened to Elvis over these past few years. He looks good, if you don’t know him. If you’ve never seen him move the way he used to. But to Steve he looks stilted, uncomfortable, stoned. His face is strangely gaunt and bloated at the same time, his eyes move slowly, he looks almost scared. Nothing like the man he’d known. The leather-clad singer, prowling the stage at NBC. The sexy, dangerous guy in black, bringing the house down at the International. The joker, the tease, the passionate lover.

Steve hears the clink of the cubes in the glass as his girlfriend moves closer and quickly wipes his face. He takes the drink from her, worried that she’ll notice he’s been crying, but her eyes are fixed on the screen.

“Look at that suit! Wow. How long’d you think it took to make that? And the cape. Oh, look at all of those rings. They look expensive.”

Gulping down half of the drink in one go, Steve tries desperately not to think about the fingers he can see gripping the microphone, the lips open in song, the tongue that pokes out every so often to wet them.

Sharon glances over at him when he doesn’t respond, and sees him captivated by the man on the screen. She smiles. It isn’t just women who can’t take their eyes off him, she thinks.

As the show goes on, Steve finds himself relaxing, even interested in the songs, talking about his choices with Sharon as if it isn’t a thing. He’d overreacted at the start, that was all. It had been a really long week. He takes another sip of his drink and then puts it down beside him as the band begin to play a song he doesn’t recognise. What now my love, now you have left me… His eyes are drawn to Elvis’ face, watching him sing and listening to the lyrics, feeling his chest tighten as they continue in their heartbreaking beauty…. What now my love, now that you're gone, I'd be a fool to go on and on, no-one would care, no-one would cry, if I should live or die… What now? Without Elvis and Dorothy… he’d thought that so many times. Of course he had his career, his work that he loved. He had his family. And now he had Sharon. But none of it seemed to be quite enough, now he’d left them…

His eyes glaze over as he watches the next few songs, his mind replaying what now my love over and over again. He finishes his drink and tries to snap back to reality, but then reality somehow becomes even more difficult to hear than that last song.

I'll remember you
Long after this endless summer has gone
I'll be lonely, oh, so lonely
Living only to remember you
I'll remember you
Your voice as soft as the warm summer breeze
Your sweet laughter, mornings after
Ever after, I'll remember you
To your arms someday, I'll return to stay
'Til then I will remember too
Every bright star we made wishes upon
Love me always, promise always
Ooh, you'll remember too
I'll remember you

That’s the moment when he knows it’s over with Sharon. The moment when he realises that he’s spent these past four years in remembrance, or trying desperately to forget. And all he’s wanted is to go back to those arms, the arms he’s dreamt about night after night. His heart breaks for the way he broke it off with them, for the time he’s wasted with this lovely girl who he really liked but never truly loved, for all this time apart. But he still doesn’t know how he can go back. Where he can go from here. All he knows is he has to let her go.

***

“Elvis says he thinks you seem tired and you should get an early night.”

Dorothy stares at Joe for a full minute without saying anything, and then sighs deeply. “Fine.”

He opens his mouth to try and say something conciliatory and she holds her hand up. “I get it. Whatever. See you in the morning.”

She knows there’s a new girl around. Young and blonde and full of life. Not thirty and tired and sick of the late nights and crowds of strangers. She starts to make her way back to her room, getting in the elevator and watching the floor numbers as they gradually increase. The bell sounds and it stops three floors below hers. Leaning back against the mirrored wall, she closes her eyes and silently prays that whoever gets in isn’t going to the afterparty in Elvis’ suite.

“Dorothy!”

She’d recognise that voice anywhere. “Tom!”

He scoops her up in a big hug and kisses her on the cheek. “It’s so good to see you, lovely!” Pulling back, he frowns. “Where’s the big man?”

She shrugs. “With some other girl.”

He stares, trying to understand what she just said, and then the bell dings for her floor and the doors open.

“This is me,” she says, moving towards the open doors.

He shakes his head. “No, no. If you’re not going to the afterparty I’m not going either. Why don’t you come to my suite instead?” He leans over and presses the button for his floor again and the doors close.

Dorothy doesn’t waste much time thinking it over.

“Okay. If you insist.” She gives him a winning smile and he grins back, escorting her out of the elevator and down the corridor.

His suite less opulent than Elvis’, but then most things are. He still has plenty of space and his own bar, but the main selling point to Dorothy is that there is no-one else there. No guys, no musicians, no showgirls. Just her and Tom and a big empty quiet space.

“Champagne comes with the room.” He holds up a bottle from the fridge.

“Shame to waste it then.”

Sitting together on the couch, it seems natural to put his arm around her, and she leans against him just a little.

“Is he really with another girl?”

She looks down, studying the pattern on her dress. “Yeah. He’s had enough of me.”

Tom curls the hair that’s fallen down over her face behind her ear gently. “Who could have enough of you?”

She finds herself blushing and giggling as she looks up at him through her lashes. “Not you, apparently.”

“Course not.”

The urge to kiss her is almost unbearable, but something is stopping him. He wants her to talk. Aside from Melinda, she’s the only woman he’s ever held back for. When he looks at her lips and then back to her eyes but doesn’t kiss her, she somehow gets the hint.

“Things haven’t been good for a while.”

“What happened to Steve? I guess… I didn’t ask but were you…” He wrinkles his nose, trying to think of an appropriate word for it. “A three?”

Somehow the way he puts it makes her laugh and she finds herself explaining.

“Me and Elvis had this agreement. We used to date girls together, and only together, so he’d stop always fucking around on me. And then the last one wasn’t being very subtle, and he wanted me to do his dirty work for him… so I said fine but I want to pick the next. And honestly I thought it would just be some nice girl who wasn’t so needy or difficult to be around… but it was Steve.” Dorothy downs the rest of her glass and Tom immediately tops her back up again. “So to begin with that was just a nice thing for me… I mean El was kinda jealous but we worked it out somehow in a way he could deal with. And then one day he acted on his feelings and it was a nice thing for all of us. And…” She pauses, gulping another mouthful of champagne for courage. “...we were all happy for a while. Really happy. Until Steve broke up with us.”

“Oh I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s tough.”

“Yeah well it was years ago now so who cares, right?”

“Plenty of things happened years ago that I still care about.”

“We never talked about it. Me and Elvis. He didn’t want to, so we didn’t. And now he just gets whatever girls he wants and doesn’t involve me anymore.” She picks a stray hair off her lap and drops it on the floor. “You know what Joe told me tonight? Elvis thinks I seem tired and I should have an early night! Fuck him! I’d respect him more if he just said he wanted to sleep with that Linda girl, we both know that’s what he means but he doesn’t have the balls to come out and say it. Not even through one of his little minions.”

Tom is almost dumbstruck by this information, and tries to buy himself time by topping up her glass again. Dorothy smiles. She almost feels sorry for him, probably thinking he was going to get a nice quick fuck and she’s here spilling her guts instead.

“At least I know where I am with you. You want to get in my panties, you’re just patiently waiting for me to stop talking.”

“Now that’s not exactly true…”

“Oh yeah?”

He laughs a little and has a sip of his own drink. “If I just wanted a shag I wouldn’t have mentioned your boyfriend, would I?”

“Maybe you did it so I’d make an invidious comparison.” When he frowns at her words she smiles again. “So I’d compare him to you and he’d come up wanting.”

“Well I think that’s more complicated than I’d need it to be really. You were already sad and vulnerable, you’d only have needed a sip of champagne for me to get in those panties.”

“Oh, really?” She has a hand on her hip now and she’s smirking.

“Really. If I wanted to, darling, I’d have done it by now.”

“What about what I want?”

“Come on. You agreed to come to my suite all on your lonesome. It’s obvious what you want.”

Arching a brow, she finishes her drink and puts the glass on the carpet next to the couch.

“What if I’m just sad and lonely and I wanted a friend to talk to? And you’re just waiting to take advantage of me.”

“Well I am waiting. Like a gentleman. Until you’re done talking.”

They’re both giggling now, faces close to one another. Dorothy thinks about how much she’s missed this. Teasing and messing around. Even when her and Elvis had got back into some kind of physical relationship it had still seemed difficult, strained. Like he felt he had to but she wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to.

“I’m not done talking.” She shifts to get into his lap, one knee on either side of his hips. “But you can have a kiss to keep you going.”

Leaning down, she presses her lips against his. His hand comes up to hold the back of her head as he tilts his to the side and their mouths open, tongues tangling gently.

“That was very nice.”

She grins. “So as I was saying…”

Tom looks up at her with a completely straight face, waiting for her to continue.

“You’re really going to let me just carry on?”

“Why not? I was being serious when I said if I just wanted sex I’d have acted differently.” Gently brushing her hair out of her face again, he continues. “You deserve better than being told to go to bed while your boyfriend sleeps with some other woman. You deserve to be listened to.”

She feels a rush of emotion rise up inside her and immediately wants to push it right back down again.

“That’s sweet. But, um…let’s talk after.”

“After?”

“Mmm. After.”

***

Tom asks her to stay but isn’t surprised when she says no. Lying on his back in the middle of the bed a few hours later, he can’t sleep for thinking about how sad she’d seemed. Especially after, she’d made good on her promise of talking and he could tell how trapped she felt by everything. Part of her obviously wanted to leave Elvis, to try and move on with her life since things had been so bad for so long. But the rest of her didn’t seem to know what to do without him. She’d told Tom stories of his unreasonable behaviour, his irrational rants, his physical complaints and the increase in his drug use as a result. But she hadn’t spoken any more about Steve, apart from to say that she still missed him and wondered where he was nowadays. Tom stares up at the ceiling. Steve had to be the only person he’d ever seen be able to tell Elvis what to do without there seeming to be any comeback. Okay, so he’d only met him properly that one time, and maybe a foursome wasn’t representative of the way he acted generally. But the more he thinks the more he feels like there’s something in it. Things went wrong when Steve left, so maybe things could go right again if he came back. It can’t be that hard to find him, they have plenty of people in common and Tom isn’t above speaking to whoever to get what he wants. He’ll give it a try tomorrow. He thinks Dorothy deserves that much at least.

***

Chapter Text

Steve reluctantly picks up the ringing phone, the feeling that crawls up his spine as he does it for some reason reminding him of the phone calls from Parker all those years ago.

“Hello?”

“Steve?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s Tom! Tom Jones! From the uh…”

“I remember you.” Steve lets out an involuntary guffaw. “Though I’d love to know how you were planning on finishing that sentence.”

“From the Palm Springs house back in ‘69. How else d’you think I’d do it?” Tom is grinning and Steve can hear it in his voice.

“No other way. Nice to hear from you, man. What can I do you for?”

Scratching his head, Tom wonders where to start. “I’ve uh… I’ve just seen Dorothy.”

Steve’s legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly and he sits down on the nearest chair with a thump.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean I was almost bound to see her, wasn’t I? Here at the Hilton when Elvis is playing. But why I’m calling…” He pauses, trying to gather himself while simultaneously wondering why he thought winging this conversation was a good idea. “I don’t think she’s happy. I mean, I know she’s not happy. Things with Elvis aren’t good and… I know you broke up but…”

Steve rubs his eyes and wonders what Tom is getting at. “Did she mention me?”

“She said she missed you.” Should have led with that…

“I miss her too.” The words seem to just fall out of Steve’s mouth.

“I don’t think Elvis is treating her very well.”

“Really?” Steve finds himself staring into space, thinking about the last time Elvis didn’t treat Dorothy well and his reaction to it.

“Last night he told one of his guys to tell her she looked tired and she should have an early night. Implication being, he had another girl he’d rather spend time with.”

The words make Steve sit up straight and suddenly feel very awake. “What?”

“I told her she deserves better than that.”

“Damn straight she does. Fuck.”

“I know this is weird… I’m probably overstepping…”

“Parker found out about us. He threatened my family. That’s why I broke it off with them.”

Tom feels like someone who’s just found the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle down the side of the sofa.

“Hell fire. I should’ve known. I know it’s been a long time and you’ve probably moved on…”

The words are out of Steve’s mouth before Tom even finishes his sentence.

“I still love them.”

“Well then. What you need is a good lawyer, straighten out this whole problem with Parker. You can use mine for as long as you need - he’s a bit of a shark is Derek, pretty good with the threats himself if I’m honest.”

Steve blinks a few times. “That’s very generous, Tom. I-I can pay you back in installments…”

The Welshman waves an impatient hand. “Nah. Don’t worry about that stuff. Just let me fill him in first and then I’ll get him to call you.”

“That’s… well I said I guess but really kind of you. Dorothy do a number on you too?”

He chuckles. “Is there a man alive she hasn’t charmed?”

***

Steve spends the next couple of days talking to both Tom and his lawyer and making arrangements. Luckily he has a decent break in his work schedule so he can just hop on a plane to Vegas, though he’s a little worried how much this will all end up costing him. He’s on his way to sin city as soon as he has confirmation that the cease and desist is in place. Tom had told Derek about how much of a dodgy character Parker was, and it hadn’t taken much digging to bring up his status as an illegal alien as well as his substantial gambling debts.

Steve lands late but still with enough time to check in to his hotel and get to the Hilton in time for the midnight show, watching from near the top of the balcony, Tom having worked some magic to get him in but not enough to get him a decent view. Although he’s got over the shock of the change in Elvis’ appearance since he’d last seen him, he still thinks there are a lot of things wrong. There’s a big difference that leaves him feeling oddly uncomfortable, even though the man onstage seems engaged and amused by the audience, and his voice is as strong as ever. As Steve walks down the corridor to Tom’s room afterwards, he wonders at exactly what is wrong, and how much of it is down to him. His stomach flips as he knocks on the door and hears a cheerful Welsh voice from inside telling him to hold on. He can’t believe he’ll see Dorothy again after so long, and his first thought is whether she’ll really want to speak to him. He can just as easily imagine her throwing things at him as he can her kissing him. He knows how much he must’ve hurt her.

Tom looks slightly dishevelled when he finally answers, and Steve gives him a look. Really? The Welshman smirks and then opens the door properly, ushering him into the room.

“Someone here to see you, sweetheart.”

Dorothy had been irritated that Tom had broken off their making out to answer the door, and looks up with a scowl.

And then she sees who it is.

“S-Steve?”

“Hi babe.”

He starts to move towards her, worried at how pale she’s suddenly become, like she’s seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?”

“Tom invited me.” He resists reaching out to touch her, even though she’s close enough now. The four years apart have been kind to her - her hair is longer and there’s a tiny hint of crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes, but otherwise she looks like the same Dorothy.

“You knew where he was?” There’s an edge to her voice now, and Dorothy can feel anger rising inside her.

“Only a couple of days ago. Did some digging and got in touch with him. Thought you’d like to see him.”

Wide-eyed, she looks in disbelief from one to the other, and then suddenly all of those feelings she’d been pushing down for so long at Elvis’ insistence explode out of her.

“What the fuck do you want?” Steve tries to put a hand on her arm and she pushes him away furiously. “No! You don’t get to touch me! You fucking disappeared and left us.”

“Babe, I’m sorry.”

“NO! No, you don’t get to call me that either.” She hits him in the chest with one palm and then the other, over and over as she carries on. “You fucking… how could you? How could you come back now?” Tears start running down her cheeks as he grabs hold of her and pulls her against him in an attempt to stop the onslaught of fists.

“Parker found out about me and Elvis. He threatened my family. Dorothy, I’m so sorry. I wish I could go back and do things differently but…” at this point he grabs her jaw with one hand, making her look at him. “...I was scared of what he’d do to my sister. Scared of how he might ruin my career, ruin Elvis… and I didn’t have any way of defending myself.”

Dorothy finally stops struggling in his grasp and just stares. Finally it all makes sense. Jerry had been right, Steve wouldn’t have left them without a reason. She curses herself for not trying to find him sooner.

“Oh.” Is all she can manage to begin with, leaning back to take him in after so much time apart. She reaches to grab his forearm. “Should you be here now?”

“Tom let me borrow his lawyer.”

“Aw. That’s so kind.” She looks over to the other man, who smiles and moves to lay a hand on each of them.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.”

Dorothy smiles back, gratefully, and thanks him again. He says something about going to play the fruities and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as he leaves the room. That’s the end of that then. Probably for the best.

“Oh God, Steve.” She throws her arms around his neck as soon as she hears the door clunk shut, and revels in his closeness.

“Did you miss me?”

“Of course I missed you.” She looks at him, shyly. “Did you miss me?”

“Every day.”

His hand on her lower back, he nudges the end of her nose with his gently. They share a kiss before she remembers herself again.

“You didn’t get married then?”

He laughs. “What makes you think I’d have got married?”

“You wanted someone you could take home to your parents.”

Steve winces at the memory. “I’m sorry babe. I… I knew you’d come looking for me, so I had to say something to stop you. It was… I said it to hurt you, not because I meant it.”

“But it must’ve been hard knowing you couldn’t tell people…”

He shrugs. “A little. But we can work it out. That is… if you want to. I didn’t ask, I just assumed…”

She nods quickly, pressing herself against him. “If it’s safe for you to be here, I want you to stay.”

They indulge in a proper kiss then, hands everywhere, hearts beating quickly. When they pull apart Dorothy is a little breathless as Steve starts to kiss her neck.

“I want to, too. You think we should talk to Elvis?”

“Y-yeah. But… we should talk first.”

They move to the couch and Dorothy tries her best to explain the past four years as concisely as she can. Telling Tom gave her some kind of practice, but she still feels like she’s rambling and isn’t sure she’s really explaining what’s wrong. But when she gets to the end Steve takes her hands in his and tells her he understands.

“I saw the Aloha performance. That wasn’t the man I knew.”

***

Despite everything he’d said about being safe and everything he’d thought about being confident with the lawyer Tom had recommended, Steve still finds his heart quickening as they walk out of the elevator and along the corridor towards Elvis’ suite. His mouth has gone dry too, and he keeps trying to swallow to wet it. Dorothy watches his Adam’s apple bob as she walks alongside him, holding his hand. She can’t remember a time when Steve had looked nervous. Well, not since they’d got together properly, anyway. She knows she used to make him nervous, and she guesses Elvis made him a little nervous too, although he’d never really shown that. She realises that she’s thought of him as this steady rock in her life, and that even when he left she never stopped feeling like he was a person entirely in control of his own destiny. It’s reassuring to have him back, although the clamminess of his palm and that bobbing Adam’s apple is making her nervous too. How will Elvis react?

Dorothy finds knocking on the door of the suite that she’s supposed to be staying in frankly ridiculous, although she hasn’t spent a single night in it so far. Two nights in she just gave up the pretense and avoided Joe entirely, not wanting to hear the latest excuse for her not being invited to the afterparty. Instead she’d spent her time with Tom, indulging probably a bit too much in being railed into next week by that massive dick of his and then talking into the early hours. Around the same time she’d given up trying to get into her own boyfriend’s suite, she’d also given up on going back to her own room. It was nice to share a bed with someone for a change, and he’d been sweet to her, getting her coffee in the morning and singing her snatches of his songs. She’d thought he was maybe getting a little too attached, and now she thinks Steve came along at just the right moment. That had been so sweet of Tom. Perhaps he isn’t as attached as she thought, perhaps he’s just a nice guy who happens to like sex.

The door opens to reveal Joe, who sees Steve and nearly passes out on the spot. How the fuck is this guy here? When he doesn’t move and just keeps staring, Dorothy shakes her head and pushes past him into the melee of people. The room is absolutely packed still and it takes her a minute to orientate herself and hear Elvis, laughing loudly somewhere near the other end of it.

“Don’t let go of my hand.”

Being small, Dorothy can easily get through gaps between people and under their arms that Steve can’t, but holding onto her tightly people are obliged to make space for him, and he finds himself being led through the crowd at a speed he would have thought were truly impossible, if it weren’t currently happening. Elvis’ distinctive Memphis drawl and his booming laugh are getting louder and louder and then suddenly Steve emerges just behind Dorothy, right in front of him.

Elvis stops mid-sentence and gawps. Looking at him in his bright white jumpsuit, covered in a shower of blue gems that glint in the light, Steve gawps right back. Whatever had been the problem on the TV certainly isn’t the problem right now, he looks ethereal, somehow the combination of white and blue under the bright lights of the room make him almost angelic. Contrasting with his tan skin and thick, black hair, the effect is unbelievably gorgeous and Steve starts to wonder if the combination of his dry mouth and his tied tongue will ever let him speak again.

“Who letchu in?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then everyone around erupts into laughter. Steve has the odd sensation of being pulled onto the set of a comedy show that only he doesn’t find funny.

“Joe.”

Elvis' head whips around to the general direction of the door. “Joe! What did ah tell ya about lettin’ jus’ anyone in?”

Another round of canned laughter, and Steve starts to wonder if he’s dreaming. Elvis is smiling, but it’s not real, it doesn’t reach his eyes. Inside he’s panicking, wondering why on earth Steve is here now, and why he’s holding Dorothy’s hand. His jaw clenches as he looks at her.

“Dodo. Thought Joe told ya that there’s no need fer ya ta come to these no more.”

His voice is low, and the hum of conversation starts up around them again.

Dorothy’s skin crawls at the words. Not come to aftershows anymore? Ever? Who even is she to him?

“Steve is here.” It comes out in a whisper.

“Ah can see that. Don’t think he’s on the guestlist neither.” He looks around expectantly, but no-one is listening to their conversation anymore, so no-one laughs.

“Fine then.” Her voice is calm, steady, emotionless. “It’s over.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me, Elvis. It’s over. We’re done. See you.”

She turns and, pulling Steve with her, returns the way she came, weaving through the crowd. Elvis stares after her for a moment, his chest tightening, hand gripping the bottle of water Charlie had just handed him more tightly than strictly necessary.

“Alright, E?” Charlie hadn’t heard the altercation either, but he’s surprised that Steve appeared after so long and Elvis seemingly sent him away. He’d always thought they got on well, but there had been a lot of comings and goings in the Mafia that honestly mystified him.

“Yeah.” Elvis lets out a breath. “Find Linda fer me, will ya?”

***

Watching Dorothy as she packs her things, Steve keeps expecting to have to swoop in and comfort her. Every time she loses something or drops a ring or struggles with a zipper he expects the tears to come, but now she’s finished and she’s on the phone for a cab to take them to his hotel and she seems fine. He takes her hand in the back of the car and looks at her expectantly, but still no tears. He almost feels like he might cry first, he’s so shocked by the way Elvis treated him. Running the conversation through his mind again and again as they make their way to his room, he can’t believe that after all that time Elvis hadn’t even directly addressed him, and all he’d managed to say the whole time was “Joe.”

When they arrive, Dorothy tries to hide her surprise at the size of the room. It really is just a room, not a suite of rooms with a hot tub and a bar and piano in the living area. She’s not sure she’s ever stayed somewhere so small.

“This is cosy.”

Steve puts down her bags and smiles. “You mean small.”

“W-” she looks at him for a moment and then laughs. “Yeah. I mean small. But it’s cute! I don’t mind. I mean…”

“Tub is a decent size.” He takes her by the hand and shows her the bathroom, which is surprisingly big for the size of the rest of the place, and does have a sizable bath.

“Oh, that’s nice.”

Standing behind her, he slips his arms around her waist. “You feel like a soak?”

Dorothy feels her skin break out into goosepimples. “Yeah. That’s just what I feel like, actually.”

He fusses about running the water and searching for bubble bath and then calls up reception for a couple of bottles of wine. Feeling like he, at least, needs a drink after the events of the evening. Once everything’s ready he starts to unbutton his shirt. She fiddles with a strand of hair.

“What’s up?”

Twisting back and forth on her toes, she looks down at the patent shoes she’s wearing.

“I’m a bit shy.”

“Shy?” He shrugs his shirt off and moves to close the distance between them. She can feel the heat radiating off him as he caresses her cheek. “Didn’t seem like you were shy with Tom.”

She’s not sure how to tell him that the first time she’d just pulled her panties to the side and sat on him fully-clothed, and the times after that she’d done her best to stay hidden under the bedclothes. She chews the inside of her cheek.

“I’m older than… when you last saw me.”

“I’m older too,” Steve replies, his hands moving to her shoulders. He slips his thumbs underneath the straps of her dress and slides them down, but she keeps looking at the floor. “You’re so beautiful, Dodo, I just wanna see more of you. Is that okay?” His hands move to the buttons that run down the front of her mini-dress. He undoes one. “Can I?” She nods, dumbly, her breath caught in her throat. “Yeah? Is that a yes, lovebug?” Her head snaps up, the pet name sending her flying back into the past, into every time he’d said it to her or Elvis, every sweet little look he’d given her, every kiss. “Yes.” His fingers make light work of the rest of the buttons, and then his mouth is on her skin and it feels like she’s on fire.

“Look at you.” He steps back to admire her and she screws her eyes shut.

Her long hair tumbles over her naked breasts in big, black waves, and as he slips her black lacey panties down and off he wonders how she’s ended up like this. A Dorothy without self-confidence is so alien to him his heart aches at what she must have suffered. When she opens her eyes again she sees him on his knees, unbuckling her shoes.

“Oh God, I can take off my own shoes!”

He chuckles. “It’s okay. I’m half-way done now.” Looking up at her, completely naked now, his gaze makes her move to shrug her hair in front of her face and cross her legs.

“No need to be shy with me.” He quickly pulls his pants and underwear off, and she can’t help having a little peek at him. Okay so she can’t look that bad naked then. Or Steve just hasn’t seen many women lately.

Wrapping an arm around her, he pulls her against him and she rests her cheek on his chest. “I feel silly,” she says, after a while.

“You don’t look silly. You look really good.”

Embarrassed, she turns her face so it’s completely hidden by her hair and huffs against his skin. He lets out a soft chuckle.

“Ah, c’mon. You’re not that shy. You must know the effect you had on Tom. The biggest womaniser in Vegas right now and he’s spending his time finding my number and begging me to come and make things better for you. Giving me his really expensive lawyer and not expecting me to pay him back. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, lovebug.”

She finally looks up. She had thought that maybe Tom was into her, but she’d not had much time to consider just how into her he might be, on the basis of this new evidence.

“I just thought he wanted to get one over on Elvis, fucking his girl you know.”

“He’s going about it in a very expensive way if that’s true.” He kisses her gently on the lips. “C’mon. The bath’ll be going cold.”

Steve gets in first, then encourages Dorothy to lie beside him, her head on his chest, his arm wrapped comfortingly around her. She puts a leg over his, her thigh nudging his half-hard dick. He makes a little noise of approval, his other hand making its way to her knee, and they lie there in silence for a while, in the warmth of the water, both basking in the closeness of the other.

“You meant what you said?” Steve asks eventually, when he’s sick of the question rattling around in his brain.

“To Elvis? Yeah.”

“You really think it’s over?”

“All I know is I said it and I just felt relief. I wasn’t sad. I just thought, thank fuck that’s over.”

Steve’s thumb traces patterns on her skin as he thinks of how to respond. There’s a coldness in the pit of his stomach thinking about Elvis and Dorothy not being together, but if he’s honest the spreading feeling of hopelessness that he’s doing his best to control is more about the concept of him never seeing Elvis again.

“Don’t you think he should know about the Colonel?”

She shrugs. “I’m not telling you not to talk to him, I’m just saying I’m done with it. It’s over for me.”

“What’re you going to do? Where will you live?”

Dorothy sighs. She’d forgotten how much Steve lived in the world of practicalities. “I dunno. I don’t wanna think about all that right now. I’d just like to do something nice, away from being on tour and hanging out with stupid dumb men.”

“You wanna go on vacation?”

She shifts so she can look at him, eyes glinting with excitement. “Yes please!”

“So I don’t count as a stupid dumb man?”

Her mouth curls into a smile. “No. You don’t. Where are we going?”

He smiles too, brushing her hair from her face carefully.

“How about Hawaii?”

***

Chapter Text

Elvis does his best to moan softly, looking into Linda’s eyes as he fucks her. She’d been sweet to him all evening, telling him how good the show was and bringing him drinks, and he felt something… maybe it was love, maybe it wasn’t. Anyway, the something had led him to start kissing her passionately as soon as the bedroom door was closed, and now he’s inside her, moving slowly, doing what they always do. Missionary, gazing into each other’s eyes. It’s nice. He moans a little louder as he feels her tighten around him, and nuzzles her neck, trying to muffle his noises. She always seems slightly frightened whenever he loses control so he tries to hold back. Her fingers knit into his hair and for some reason he’s thinking about Dorothy, and how sex with her was never just nice. She was little and flexible and she loved to fuck. He remembers holding her in mid-air between him and Steve, his hands wrapping easily around her thighs as he fucked her pussy, the other man in her mouth, holding her shoulders. Steve. Steve inside him as Dodo cradled his head in her lap, as she held his hands and whispered sweet-nothings to him. He screws his eyes shut and tries to concentrate on Linda, but his mind won’t stop wandering, even when he forces it away from Steve it’s back to Dodo and how much she liked to be fucked. Really fucked. Even before she tried to get as many men in as many holes as possible, she liked him to make her feel it the next day. And, God, she liked to hear him make noise. He starts to speed up, his hips driving into Linda, face pressed into the pillow next to her head.

“Ow! Elvis! Can you… it hurts…”

Linda’s soft voice brings him back to reality and he slows down, mumbling his apologies but thinking that Dodo had never once told him to stop or slow down, no matter how sore she was. Sometimes afterwards she’d tell him, like she’d swear she must’ve torn down there, or he’d bruised her cervix, and he’d feel bad, kissing her pussy and begging for forgiveness as she wriggled and giggled beneath him. But she never said anything in the heat of the moment, never even hinted.

He rubs his thumb over his girlfriend’s clit until he feels her tense and hears her gentle moan, and then pulls out and starts to stroke himself quickly over her belly. It could only ever be her belly, he couldn’t imagine cumming on her face - imagine the look of horror on it - or even inside her, she was too much of a good girl to be on birth control yet.

Mumbling something about taking a shower he feels a pang of disappointment when she says she’ll come too, even though it’s reasonable since she’s probably more in need of it than he is. Standing under the hot water he tries again to focus on the present, on the naked beauty queen showering with him, still flushed from her orgasm. He clears his throat.

“Hope you’re lookin’ forward ta tomorra night, baby.”

***

Dorothy loves the cute little hotel that they check into and she loves the secluded little beach just down the road from it. But what she loves most of all is having Steve’s undivided attention. He has nowhere to be but right by her side, and there are no distractions other than beach cocktails and tasty food. Those first few days she finds the way he stares at her a little overwhelming, but then she starts to really bathe in his smitten, loving looks, and she’s less bothered about other people looking too, pulling off her cover-up as soon as they get to the beach and lying down to sunbathe in a tiny bikini. They stay on the beach for most of the day, alternating between soaking up the rays and getting in the sea to cool off, her swimming away and Steve following until he catches up with her, pulling her into his arms to kiss her until she giggles and swats at him and tells him to stop. The sun is starting to go down when they get back onto the sand. Dorothy flops back down on her beach towel, tired from swimming, her eyes close and she feels Steve beside her, his arm around her and his lips on her skin, tasting the salt there. She smiles to herself as he peppers her neck and chest with kisses, one hand running over her belly to rest between her legs.

Her eyes flip open.

“Steve!”

He looks up, fingers undeterred, moving her wet bikini bottoms to the side. She squeaks and crosses one leg over the other, pushing his shoulder with one hand.

“Anyone could see!”

Grinning, he tugs the top of her bikini down with his teeth and starts to suck on her already hard nipple. She tries to push him away again, giggling, and he looks at her seriously for a moment.

“I’ll stop if you want. But there’s no-one here.” He looks around, as if to demonstrate the emptiness of the beach. “And no-one likely to be, either.” Her legs stop gripping his hand between them quite so tightly and he retrieves it, cupping her jaw gently. “You look so good, and the sunset is so pretty.” Feeling her relax he shifts to straddle her hips, his face close to hers. “It seems romantic.”

She nods and pushes one hand into his hair, the other resting on his back as he takes that as his cue to kiss her deeply, feeling her legs wrap around his waist, the wetness of their skin sticking it together as they start to roll their hips against one another. She holds him tightly once he’s inside, the intensity of the feeling of him filling her bringing tears to her eyes. They moan softly together, lost in the emotion of the moment, their proper reunion at last. Up on his knees, he holds one leg in each hand as he thrusts faster and faster, grunting with exertion, his orgasm so close. The feeling of him brushing against that spot inside her again and again is overwhelming, and everything seems to bubble up inside her until tears are running down her face. She hears one last grunt and looks up to see his eyes closed and jaw clenched, that familiar look on his face.

He lets her legs fall to the sides and somehow manages to lie down beside her, feeling a little light-headed from the rush of his orgasm. When he pries his eyes open a few minutes later, he sees hers are red, and immediately worries.

“Babe. Are you okay?”

She nods. “That was just… it was a lot… I don’t think I’ve ever cried during before.”

He cuddles her close. “You cried? Are you sad? Did I do something? Did I hurt you?”

His face is a picture of concern and she shakes her head quickly. “No, no. Not bad tears. Just… intense feelings.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.” He pauses for a beat and then suddenly thinks of something. “Did you cum?”

A little smile plays on her lips. “No. But it’s okay, it was really good. I don’t really mind if…” She trails off as she sees him shake his head.

“You might not mind, but I do. I wanna see my woman cum for me.”

“Steve!” She turns her body towards him, trying to hide her face in his chest.

“Let me watch you touch yourself.”

As she wriggles her bikini bottoms off and moves an unsure hand towards her pussy, she thinks of when they first met, and how she was the one embarrassing him and making him blush. How things have changed…

Circling her clit with her middle finger, she closes her eyes to better concentrate on the sensations and try to feel a bit less self-conscious. Steve starts to kiss her neck again, watching her with fascination as she starts to slowly shed her inhibitions, spreading her legs and arching her back, a little moan escaping her lips as she obviously finds a spot she likes. He reaches up to untie her bikini top, tugging it down to expose her breasts. Licking and sucking on her nipples he can’t help noticing they’re like bullets now, and her hips are starting to rock into one hand as the other comes up to the back of his head and holds him where he is, her breath coming in little pants now.

“Daddy, I’m close.”

He moans around her breast and then moves his head just enough to tell her how much he wants to see, sucking hard on her nipple as she arches and then squeals, that noise he’s not heard in so long, feeling and seeing and hearing her and still thinking it’s not enough. As she slowly comes back down to earth, he pulls her towards him and indulges in a long kiss.

“I never wanna wait that long to do that again.”

“Me either.”

He smirks as he runs a hand along her body and then gives her ass a little slap.

“C’mon. Let's get back to the hotel.”

She looks at him questioningly and he starts to grin. “Get a little food in you to keep your strength up.”

“Oh yeah?” She’s grinning now too, retying her bikini top.

“Yeah. I think you’re gonna need it.” He stands up and pulls her to her feet too. “I’ll have you begging me for mercy by morning.”

***

“It’s your turn.”

Joe looks at Charlie in disbelief. Elvis should have been up hours ago, and they’ve been squabbling about who should go into the room to wake him for the best part of one of them. No-one wants to have something thrown at them, or even just to be yelled at, but someone has to do it. Parker is due any time now.

Joe gives up.

“Okay, fine. But if you hear screams you have to come in and get me.”

Charlie just shrugs. He thinks Joe can fend for himself, really. Things hadn’t been very good amongst the Mafia since Dorothy left - they were all blaming each other and no-one really wanted to have anyone’s back about anything anymore. Plus rumours had been flying around about Steve and Dorothy and the Colonel, and it didn’t seem like the Wests were likely to stick around for much longer if those rumours were true.

Joe gives two loud knocks and when he gets no response, pushes the door open slowly. It’s pitch black in the room, and freezing cold, as always. He can just about make out Elvis’ sleeping form in the bed, and he decides to try waking him from the other side of the room so he can make a quick exit if necessary.

“E? Elvis? It’s uh… are you awake?”

The groaning noise from the bed persuades Joe to continue.

“It’s kinda late, man. Parker will be here soon. You might wanna…”

He’s cut off mid-sentence by Elvis half-sitting up, bleary-eyed, and yelling.

“Why’re ya in here tryna look at Dodo? She ain’t decent! Get out!”

Joe’s eyes widen and he checks the bed reflexively, even though he knows for a fact that Elvis is alone.

“E, there’s no-one else here. Linda got up hours ago.”

Elvis squints as the whole room seems to roll around him.

“Where’s she gone man? Where is she?”

He tries to focus on the other side of the bed but it won’t stop moving, and he can feel his stomach flipping and his mouth filling with saliva.

“Linda’s just getting herself breakfast. She’s sitting with us, it’s okay.” Joe finds himself drawn towards the pathetic figure in the bed, swaying from side to side. He puts a hand on his arm.

Turning his head, Elvis tries desperately to focus as he swipes at the hand, missing the first two times and finally connecting on the third with a loud kiai. He nearly overbalances right out of the bed, but somehow manages to get himself upright again, putting both hands up as if he’s getting ready for a fight.

Joe’s chest tightens. “It’s just me. It’s just Joe.”

Elvis’ eyes roll around in his head and then it flops forward and his hands go to his lap.

“Just Joe.” He lets out a single, hollow laugh. “Just Joe,” he mutters again. And then, “gemme Dr Nick, will ya? I ain’t feel so good.”

***

The phone in the hotel room rings just as Steve rolls off Dorothy, bathed in sweat despite the A/C. He groans, half-tempted to ignore it and revel in his post-orgasmic bliss instead, but the noise is designed to be annoying and his girlfriend nudges him in the side.

“Can you reach it?”

Rolling over, he sticks out an arm and just about manages to grab the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Steve, mate. It’s…”

“Tom, I know.”

The older man sits up in bed and Dorothy follows suit, interested to find out why Mr Jones might be calling.

The Welshman laughs. “No flies on you. How’s it going, man? How’s Dorothy?”

Smiling, Steve puts an arm around her. “I’m good. She’s insatiable.”

Tom cracks up properly at that, as Dorothy elbows Steve in the side and blushes even though there’s no-one there to be embarrassed in front of.

“Good for you. Good for both of you.”

“How’re you?”

“Ah, not too bad. I um… Elvis asked me to call you.” Steve feels like his whole body has just gone cold and his stomach seems detached from the rest of him. He manages what he hopes sounds like an unconcerned “mmmhmmm” and waits for the rest of the sentence. “He wants to invite you and Dorothy to his closing night show, next Monday.”

“I’ll have to ask her.”

“He was quite insistent.” Tom coughs, and then suddenly Steve realises there’s been something weird about the sound quality for the whole call. He frowns.

“Elvis?”

The line clicks and then sounds normal again. There’s silence for a second, and then Tom confirms his suspicions.

“He was listening on the other line. He wanted to make sure you said yes.”

Steve doesn’t know how to respond, so he does his best to wrap things up quickly.

“I’ll talk to Dorothy and get back to you. I can’t just decide on my own.”

“Alright.” Tom gives him a number to call back on, and they both say their goodbyes and hang up.

When Steve turns back to Dorothy she’s pale and her teeth are digging into her lower lip.

“Okay, what the fuck?”

***

Dorothy and Steve talk the whole thing round in circles for the best part of an hour, and then he decides they ought to get something to eat. Sitting outside in the sun with a plate full of huli huli chicken and a big glass of lemonade, Dorothy has to admit that she does feel better. She still doesn’t want to see Elvis though.

“I don’t understand why you want to see him. He’s been nothing but a prick to me for these past few years. Why would you want to see someone like that?”

Steve picks up a piece of chicken and takes a thoughtful bite. Part of him thinks she’s right, Elvis has treated her terribly and there’s no reason he should want to spend any time with him at all. Especially after the welcome he’d been given at the afterparty. But why did Elvis invite them to his closing night show, if he didn’t want to see them? To make it up to them, even? Or at least try.

“I get it, babe. I know you’re pissed at him. And so am I. But…” He lets out a sigh. “I want to tell him why I left, I think he still deserves to know that. And… there’s still something there. Those years passed and I thought I moved on but then I saw him on TV and obviously I hadn’t. And when I saw him in the flesh, I knew I really, truly hadn’t. I just want to talk to him and see what happens.”

“What about me? What about what I want?” She pouts. “I only want you.”

Steve chews slowly as he tries to work out the best way to respond.

“I know that’s how you feel now…”

“Don’t tell me how I’m going to feel later! Oh goddamnit.”

She looks down, huffing with frustration, knowing what he’s going to say and knowing he’s probably right.

“It wasn’t just Elvis who couldn’t be monogamous, was it? It was you, too. So you like me enough for now, but give it a few months and you’ll be asking if someone else can join us.”

“But I don’t want that someone else to be Elvis!”

He reaches across the table for her hand. “Are you sure? Is it 100% no, never again? Or is there a tiny, tiny chance that you might take him back, under the right circumstances? That you might have a really little teeny tiny space in your heart for him? Any chance at all?”

“Of course there’s a fucking chance.” Dorothy huffs again. “I spent so much of my life with him, I gave so much of my life to him. But, look, he’s different now to when we were all together. He’s fucked up on pills all the time and he never wants to be alone and it’s just way too much. I don’t think you’d like it.”

He nods. “Alright. But can you let me try it and decide?”

“Yeah. I guess that’s reasonable.” She lets out yet another sigh. “I guess we’re getting back on the plane to dry old Vegas then.”

“I guess we are.”

***

Chapter Text

Steve had thought he was prepared for seeing Elvis onstage again. He’d seen the Aloha performance, and even the Vegas one a little closer up. He’d listened to the stories Dorothy insisted on regailing him with, like she was trying to persuade him that they actually shouldn’t go after all. He’d made himself remember the horrible feeling of rejection at the afterparty, and the way Elvis had acted, like he really was some kind of prima donna. But nothing could prepare him for what he was about to witness.

He and Dorothy sit there, open-mouthed, their hands tightly clasped together, both thinking the same thoughts but somehow unable to vocalise them. Elvis is terrible. He’s forgotten half of the words and the other half are slurred together, and he keeps laughing at things that are clearly only funny to him. Dorothy physically cringes when he changes the lyrics to Fever to make some kind of joke about JD and Myrna, that she can see from the looks on their faces they don’t find funny at all. He staggers across the stage looking almost drunk, close to overbalancing on more than one occasion as he tries to lean down and kiss a fan. At one point Sonny pushes a bed onstage and he lies on it, rolling back and forth as he sings. Just when she thinks things can’t get any worse, he pauses, looks around and starts to speak again.

“Ah’d like ta welcome some people here tonight… special guests of mine… Miss Dorothy Valens and Mr Steve Binder. Some of ya might remember Steve as the director of my comeback on TV a few years back… And some of ya might remember Dorothy as my girlfriend. Well. Not anymore. I hope you’ll all raise a glass with me tonight an’ toast the happy couple. Hahaha.”

Dorothy feels the blood drain from her face, her head spinning as the house lights try to find her and Steve and then eventually shine directly on them for a few seconds before moving back again. She trembles all over, feeling Steve’s arm move to her shoulders and wondering why on earth Elvis invited them here.

“He’s not going to fucking get away with that.”

She turns at the sound of Steve’s voice, and is shocked to see him flushed a deep scarlet, his jaw clenched.

“I won’t let him treat you that way.”

***

“It was good!” Linda enthuses. “You sang really well, the crowd really loved How Great Thou Art. I loved it too.”

Elvis stands in the semi-darkness of the suite, empty apart from his girlfriend. The show was not good. The show was a shit show. After he’d finished embarrassing Steve and Dorothy he’d gone on to rant about how much he hated the Hilton and demanded that they give his friend Mario his job back. He can feel the Colonel on his way to berate him, and Linda is just standing here blowing smoke up his ass.

“Don’t fucking bullshit me.”

“I’m not, I really enjoyed it. I thought it was…”

“I SAID, DON’T BULLSHIT ME,” Elvis roars, and Linda takes several terrified steps backwards. “Get the fuck out. Leave me alone.”

She doesn’t waste any time following his instructions, not really wanting to stay. She’d thought the whole thing with Dorothy and Steve was weird, and if she was honest, a little disrespectful to their relationship too. Not that she’d ever dare say that. As she opens the door the Colonel almost falls through it from the other side.

“Out of my way!”

Scurrying over to where the guys are hanging out nervously in the corridor, she looks at Joe desperately for help.

“He’s on his own in there. It’s not good.”

The next few minutes confirm Elvis’ suspicions that the Colonel is, indeed, pissed with him. But he doesn’t want to take it lying down, and the shouting match that ensues brings the guys to a whole new level of panic.

“Someone oughta get Dorothy.”

“Are you kidding? Why would she come after what he said about her? She’s probably gone home already.”

“But who else could talk to him?”

Right in the middle of their debate, Parker comes flying back out of the suite again, shouting something about their relationship being done and for Elvis to expect a bill of what’s owed to him in the morning.

“I don’t owe you shit! You owe me!” Elvis’ angry response is followed by a series of loud smashes and bangs, and the guys look anxiously between them as they realise the hotel room is getting trashed.

“Fuck it. Imma look for them.”

Joe starts down the corridor, hoping and praying that for some reason Steve and Dorothy haven’t just left forever. And then he sees them marching towards him. His feeling of relief is short-lived.

“Get outta my way.”

“Look, Steve, Elvis is really pissed, he’s just fought with Parker and he’s smashing up the suite…” Joe has his hand on Steve’s arm as he half-runs backwards. Steve shrugs it off.

“I know it was you. So don’t try and be my friend now. And don’t fucking touch me again.”

Joe mumbles something that could be an apology and stops in his tracks, trying to catch his breath. When Steve and Dorothy reach the door to the suite they pause to listen but it’s all quiet.

“If I push this, will it open?”

Charlie shakes his head. “Here. You need the key.”

Steve takes one deep, steadying breath, and then puts the key in the lock and turns it, before pushing the door open. Inside is dark aside from one lamp, which is half-illuminating Elvis’ face as he sits at a table. The older man briefly shakes his head before hitting the nearest lightswitch on the wall, turning all of the overhead lights on at once. Elvis looks up, glass in hand, and stares at them both. He supposes, in a way, this is what he’d meant to happen.

“Steve. Dodo. Nice of you to come visit. Sorry I didn’t have the chance to tidy up.”

There are overturned chairs dotted about the place, and one of the mirrors is smashed. Surface damage. The way Joe had been going on Steve had been expecting a war zone.

“You didn’t leave me much choice, after what you said onstage.”

Elvis shrugs, and brings the glass to his lips. “It’s jus’ the truth. She was mine, then you took her. She went jus’ like I always knew she would.”

“She?” Dorothy throws her arms in the air in exasperation. “She? I’m right here. And Steve didn’t take me. You pushed me away.”

Elvis’ response is incomprehensible, a sort of mumbled sigh, and Dorothy groans in response, stomping her feet. He won’t even have a proper argument with her. What is the fucking point of any of this?

“I tried to talk to you.” Steve finds himself strangely calm. “You ignored me. Look, Elvis, I know I left…”

“Damn right ya did. Left me an’ her. Fuck you.” He takes a swig from his glass and winces at the taste.

“Parker threatened me. Me and my family. Joe must’ve seen us and told him and he called… I didn’t want to do it but I didn’t feel like I had a choice.”

Elvis looks at him, dead-eyed. So Parker had ruined his relationship, too. What a surprise.

“Well, fuck him too.”

“Dodo doesn’t deserve the way you treated her.” Steve moves towards the bar and rummages around for a minute before finding what he wants. “She doesn’t deserve to be second best.”

Hating the feelings welling up inside him, Elvis goes for another drink and almost spits it back out again. Fuck. Stupid fucking disgusting whiskey.

Stepping towards him, Steve drops a sugar cube in his drink, stirring it with a spoon he’d also found behind the bar. “Are you listening?”

“Who the fuck cares?” Elvis takes another sip and this one slides effortlessly down his throat. Tears prick his eyes as he replaces the glass on the table. “She’s gone, you’ve gone, mah career’s fuckin’ gone down the damn toilet…”

Unable to help himself, Steve puts his hand on top of the other man’s. “We’re here now.”

Elvis whips his hand back like he’s been burnt. “Don’t touch me, fuckin’ faggot.”

“Elvis Presley!” Dorothy shouts from the other side of the room. “You don’t get to fucking do that! You were there too! Steve wasn’t fucking thin air!”

Finishing the rest of the drink in three big gulps, Elvis grits his teeth and then hurls the glass across the room and into the wall, where it smashes loudly. Dorothy could swear she can hear the guys outside moving back from the door where they were most probably eavesdropping. He puts his head in his hands.

“Goddamnit.”

Steve looks at him briefly and then over at Dorothy. “Tell them to all fucking go, will you? I can hear them shuffling about out there. Tell them to get some sleep.”

She nods and opens the door carefully, sticking her head out and telling the guys to beat it. Steve watches Elvis, his face hidden in his hands, the beautiful jumpsuit he’s still wearing glittering under the lights. This whole thing has just been a big cry for help. All that stuff on stage, making them come here, calling him names… it’s all just Elvis wanting someone to save him from the mess he’s got himself in. Steve moves closer, and once he’s sure that the guys have actually gone and Dorothy is safely back in the room, he puts a hand on Elvis’ shoulder.

“Get up, I wanna look at you.”

The other man freezes for a moment or two, unable to process the words. He doesn’t know what he had been expecting to happen next, but it wasn’t this. Slowly uncovering his face, he looks at Steve, searching for clues, half-expecting this to be some kind of cruel joke. But he doesn’t look like he thinks anything is funny, so Elvis gets off his chair and stands there, fingers twitching reflexively.

Taking his time, Steve just stares. He’d always been a little overwhelmed by Elvis’ beauty in the past, and this is no exception. The glittering suit, the orange silken scarf and a big gold chain adorn probably what must be considered physical perfection by most people. The raven hair, hooded eyes, puffy, bee-stung lips. So gorgeous, but so unable to deal with his own problems. Elvis shuffles, uncomfortable.

“W-what?”

“I’m just thinking about what I should do with you.”

It doesn’t seem like the alcohol has dulled his feelings like he’d intended, instead they come full force, excitement and trepidation and for the first time in a long time, raw sexual desire. The way Steve is looking at him is making him weak.

“I’ve got it. Take that suit off. And your underwear. Just leave this.” He tugs the long looping gold chain around Elvis’ neck. “Might come in handy.”

Elvis feels his whole body wobble at those words, and it takes him a while to act. Steve ambles over to the couch and sits with his legs spread, one hand resting on each thigh as he waits. Falling into the nearest armchair, Dorothy watches them both. She hadn’t been expecting this either, whatever it was, but Elvis isn’t the only one with a body that’s betraying him. Rubbing her thighs together in a way she hopes is surreptitious but strongly suspects isn’t, she almost devours Elvis with her eyes as he strips naked.

Steve smirks when the other man finishes doing as he’s told and stands there, his hands in front of his privates and his face flushed. This is more like it. This is back to the way things used to be.

“Looks good.” He tilts his head to the side, thoughtfully. “But it’d be better if you put the belt back on.”

Elvis is horrified. Being naked is bad enough, but naked with a belt on? It seems unholy.

“N-no.”

The smirk turns into a shit-eating grin. “No? You’re not in a position for no, Elvis. You need me. And you need Dodo, and I’m the only one who’s going to be able to persuade her to look at you again.” He flashes her a quick glance and then laughs. “Actually, she’s been staring at you like you’re the hottest thing in Vegas ever since you got into your birthday suit. But I still think you’ll need a little help.”

Elvis mumbles something, mostly curse-words, and then grabs the belt and puts it on as quickly as he can. This looks absolutely ridiculous, he just wants me to feel stupid…

Licking his lips, Steve beckons Elvis towards him and the other man progresses slowly, shyly, shaking his hair down in an attempt to hide behind it. He stops between Steve’s spread legs and looks down at the carpet, his heart racing.

“C’mere. Want you on my lap.”

Slowly, still unsure, Elvis puts a knee on either side of Steve’s hips. He catches sight of the bulge in the other man’s pants and quickly looks up into his face instead. There’s no amusement there now, just undisguised lust. Steve helps adjust his arms so they rest on the back of the couch, then runs his hands down the other man’s back, skipping over the belt and coming to rest on the top of his ass.

“Shake this for Daddy.” He moves his hands down, grabbing handfuls of ass as he encourages Elvis up on to his knees. “Want you to grind on Daddy’s lap. Gimme a nice lap dance.”

Elvis whimpers, embarrassment making him redder and redder and excitement making his erection poke into Steve’s stomach.

“I know you want to.”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

Dorothy tries to suppress a moan, shifting her thighs back and forth against each other. She watches in awe as Steve’s hands start to help the movements of the man in his lap, hips rolling, chains on the belt jangling, Elvis burying his head in the crook of Steve’s neck. The honorific had almost made Steve moan out loud too, and he indulges himself as he feels the other man rutting against him, going from too embarrassed to move to too turned on to stay still in a matter of a few seconds.

“Oh that’s good. Good boy.”

Another whimper, and Elvis feels himself letting go. Not realising until now quite how tightly he’d been gripping on, trying to find some semblance of control. Lost in the movements, it takes a couple of tugs on his chain for him to stop and look up.

“Knees.” Steve points to the carpet between his legs and Elvis scrambles to do as he’s told. “Good. Want you to get me ready for Dodo.”

He unzips his pants and pulls out his dick, pumping it a couple of times before guiding into Elvis’ willing mouth. Fingers in his hair, Steve looks over to Dorothy.

“Clothes off. Come here.”

She obeys without thinking, taking her dress and underwear off and barely breaking eye contact with the wonderful sight of Steve’s dick disappearing into Elvis’ mouth again and again. As soon as she gets to the couch Steve taps the other man gently on the cheek to get him to stop.

“I want you to sit here and watch her take what she needs from me. No touching yourself.”

Elvis nods dumbly, and now it’s his turn to stare as this time Steve’s dick disappears into Dorothy’s pussy again and again. Slick with arousal from watching Elvis’ little lapdance show, she slides up and down effortlessly, one hand steadying herself on Steve’s shoulder as the other teases her clit.

“Feels so good, Daddy.”

He smiles, his hand cupping her cheek as he starts to thrust his hips upwards, feeling himself getting closer.

“Good girl. Cum for me.”

Speeding up her movements, she closes her eyes as pleasure builds inside her, moaning and cussing and finding she’s enjoying putting on her own show, knowing Elvis is watching and doing everything in her power to make him jealous.

Steve moves his hands to her hips to help her get there, thrusting inside her even more deeply as she throws her head back and moans long and loud, little fireworks of pleasure exploding inside her now, her pussy pulsing and then squeezing hard. Steve groans, tipping forwards and grabbing hold of her with both arms as his orgasm rips through him, unexpected and overwhelming. Elvis watches them both, his dick hard and his heart feeling like it’s tearing in two. They look so good together. They don’t need him.

They take their time recovering, Dorothy flopped against Steve, both of them breathing hard. But he hasn’t forgotten Elvis.

“You think he should cum?”

She shifts to look at him. “No.”

Steve laughs. “Well it’s not up to you, babe.”

A little smile plays on her lips. “I still think no. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Elvis just watches, silently, his head and heart a mess of conflicting emotions he doesn’t know how to even begin to deal with.

Steve runs his fingertips over Dorothy’s breast and then her belly, thoughtfully. After a minute he looks at her again.

“You can get into the room next door, can’t you?”

She nods. The room next door is still hers, even if she took all of her stuff out of it when she left. “Yeah. I haven’t got anything with me though.”

Finding his voice, Elvis whispers hoarsely. “There’s some robes in the closet over there. Take whatever.”

Steve nods and gives her a quick kiss on the lips. “Go and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll stay with him.”

Dorothy isn’t sure how she feels about this turn of events, but as soon as he says sleep she yawns, so she decides to take that as a sign.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Come in whenever.” He holds her to him, and then mumbles softly, “it’ll be a bad night, I don’t wanna put you through that.”

She nods, reassured, and goes to look for whatever clothes she can dig out of the closet, rummaging around in the bathroom for toiletries too.

Both men watch her as she leaves, and then Steve turns to Elvis.

“What am I going to do with you, then?”

Elvis just stares back. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s not sure why Steve sent Dodo away, or why he’s still here, not really. He keeps thinking they ought to leave together again. Leave him here, on his own.

“You want to cum?”

The black-haired man nods, silently.

Steve looks around the room for inspiration, and then he spots something and starts to smile. Standing up, he holds out his hand and Elvis takes it, letting himself be pulled up to standing. And then finds he’s being led across the room, until he’s standing in front of the only unbroken full-length mirror. Standing behind him, Steve unclasps his belt, letting it fall to the floor. He puts his arms around Elvis’ torso and looks at him in the mirror over his shoulder.

“You want me to make you cum?”

“Y-yeah, Daddy.”

Wrapping his hand around Elvis’ red, aching length, he starts to move it slowly.

“Good. I want you to watch yourself, hm?”

“Yeah.” Elvis’ voice is small. He’s not sure he wants to watch himself. He’s not the man he used to be and something about the mirror seems very confronting right now.

Steve’s hand speeds up and he hears the other man let out a little gasp. Looking at him in the mirror, he sees him trying to look away.

“Uh-uh.” His other hand moves to grab a fistful of hair, forcing Elvis to look at himself. “I want you to look.”

Elvis’ eyes flick back to his reflection, watching the man in the mirror getting more and more worked up despite his best efforts to hold back.

“I want you to watch me make you cum.” Steve murmurs in his ear.

Elvis watches his reflection bite his lip, his dick leaking precum.

“I want you to see how much you enjoy being a dirty little fag just for me.” Steve’s breath is hot on his ear, and he feels and sees his dick swell at the words.

The hand around him speeds up again and he starts to pant.

“Doesn’t matter if you never want another man, you’re still my pathetic little fag. Cumming just for me. Disgusting, aren’t you?”

Elvis’ chest heaves and he couldn’t speak if he wanted to, forcing his eyes to stay open he stares as the hand touching him so skillfully brings him to a shuddering orgasm, cum streaking across the glass of the mirror. Steve lets him go and brings his hand to Elvis’ face.

“Good boy. Lick it clean.”

“Mmm. Yes Daddy.” The words are almost lost in the fevered licking, and Steve only gets halfway through making a joke about him licking the mirror too before he’s on his knees, tongue pressed against the glass.

“Oh fuck, you’re so good for me.” Steve kneels down beside him and turns his head away from the mirror, looking into his eyes deeply. “So nasty, aren’t you? Kiss me.”

Their first kiss in four years is tentative at first, a slow exploration of everything they’d missed, and then passionate and half-desperate. It takes them both a while to calm down, kissing and nibbling on lips and touching skin, then making their way to Elvis’ bed, Steve finally taking his clothes off and the pair of them getting under the covers together. They kiss again, Elvis wanting comfort and finding it in his favourite way of showing affection. Legs tangling together, Elvis feels blissful in Steve’s arms, starting to feel like maybe he won’t leave again, after all.

When they eventually pull apart, Steve combs Elvis’ hair back off his face with one hand.

“You okay?”

The other man nods. “Yeah. I-I-I missed ya, Stevie.”

“I missed you too.”

“I’m… I’m sorry. Fer callin’ ya that… it ain’t right.”

Steve smiles. “I’m not sorry for calling you it.” He puts his lips to Elvis’ ear. “My dirty little fag.”

Elvis blushes up to his ears. “I ain’t know what’s wrong with me. S’bad ta like bein’ called things like that.”

“Nothing bad about it.” Steve runs a finger up and over Elvis’ nervously bobbing Adam’s apple. “If it turns you on.” The finger runs over his lips now. “And it helps you remember your place.”

Hiding his face against the other man, Elvis mumbles. “Bottom of the pile. Ah know.”

“Think you might’ve forgotten though, for the last few years?”

“Mmm. Needed you.” A hand grips Steve’s arm. “Please don’t go again.”

Gathering him into his arms, Steve kisses Elvis’ temple. “Need you too. Promise I’m staying this time.”

***

Chapter Text

Elvis wakes up for what feels like the hundredth time and decides he’s probably not going to get back to sleep again. He looks over at Steve, sleeping peacefully beside him, and thinks he probably shouldn’t wake him. Shifting about, he groans at his various aches and pains. Steve had told him he shouldn’t be taking so many things to sleep and had basically halved his dosage. And then he’d told him that he’d find him a decent doctor, and that he’d call his lawyer and ask him to take on Elvis’ case against the Colonel. The suddenness of all of this makes Elvis nervous and he wriggles around a bit more, trying to get comfortable, wondering if he’s too hot or too cold. Part of him wonders if Steve would actually notice if he took another pill now. He looks at the time and then sits up, reaching across the bedside table, half-open eyes trying to locate the bottle he wants. His fingers slip and he knocks one over with a bang. Cringing, he wonders if Steve might’ve slept through that and carries on with his mission, right until he feels a hand on his belly and a warm body behind him.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Elvis grumbles, letting the pill container drop back down onto the table.

“Tired. Want more sleep.”

“Me too. C’mon, lie down with me.”

Reluctantly, Elvis slides back down between the sheets. His head is thumping, but he doesn’t think Steve will want him to have a painkiller either. The other man watches him lie there pouting with his eyes closed and can’t help smiling. He’s exhausted. It had been a truly awful night’s sleep, just as he’d suspected, spent comforting someone entirely unused to sleeping without some kind of aid. Not that Steve had prevented him from taking anything. Far from it, he thought that was likely to be as dangerous as what he was doing now, if not more so. But the panic the other man seemed to go through every time he woke up really worried Steve, and it’s still worrying him now. They need to get out of the madhouse of Vegas and spend some time relaxing and eating good food and going to bed at a normal time. God, I sound old, he thinks to himself. Even older than I actually am.

“Can’t sleep,” Elvis announces, after approximately five minutes of lying on his back with his eyes closed.

Propping himself up on an elbow, Steve leans down to press a kiss to those ever-so-kissable lips. Elvis’ eyes open in surprise for a second and then he closes them again, his hand reaching up for the back of Steve’s head, tongue gently pressing against his lips. This had been Steve’s answer to every single time Elvis had woken up in the night in a state - kissing him into submission. And it had worked, kind of. It had calmed him down, at least.

“Mmmm. Stevie. Makin’ up fer lost time?”

“Something like that.”

Forgetting for a while about his difficulties sleeping, Elvis rolls Steve onto his side and deepens the kiss, letting a hand trail over his skin, enjoying the feel of him. It had been good to have Steve in his bed all night, and still here in the morning. But Dorothy had gone. And she’d barely interacted with him when she’d been there, though he can’t blame her for being more interested in Steve. They’d just been on vacation together, all that sea and sun and probably sex on the beach…

When they eventually come up for air, Steve notices Elvis’ far-away look and asks what he’s thinking about.

“Ya think she’ll forgive me? Dodo?”

“I hope so. Give her time.”

Elvis frowns. It’s not as positive a response as he was hoping for. He wanted more of a sure, Elvis, she still loves you, she’ll forgive you.

“Hmm.”

“Y’know, when I first met you, I couldn’t believe the connection you two had. Like you could read each other’s minds. It made me kinda jealous.”

“An’ now I’m jealous of you an’ her. Goin’ ta Hawaii. Lookin’ so good together.”

Steve smiles. “I don’t think you can lose that connection. You can get it back if you want. But you’ve got some making up to do.”

“Ah know.” He looks despondent and the other man feels a pang of sorrow. “When you left ah couldn’t look at her no more. She jus’ reminded me a you.”

The pang turns into a stabbing pain, and Steve briefly wonders if this is fixable at all.

“I’m sorry, Elvis.”

The other man lets out a shaky sigh. “Parker’s fault, isn’t it? Joe’s fault. Mine.”

“Yours?”

“Damn stupid life ah live. If ah drove a truck no-one would give a shit that ah… that we…” He looks away, awkwardly.

Steve touches his cheek gently, encouraging him to make eye contact again.

“Maybe if you drove a truck in LA no-one would care that you like boys and girls. But I know in the deep South they do care. And elsewhere. I’m not blaming your career for Parker threatening my family and me being too afraid to do anything about it.”

Elvis eyes search Steve’s face for answers, restlessly. “You ain’t ever embarrassed of it?”

“What?”

“Wantin’ ta fuck men.”

A small smile starts to play on Steve’s lips. “I don’t wanna fuck men. I’ve only ever wanted to fuck you. And I’m definitely not embarrassed about that.”

***

Sitting on the plane from Vegas to LA, Steve holds Elvis’ hand while Dorothy sits opposite, swinging her legs restlessly. Elvis fiddles with the long gold necklace he’d put on again over his navy blue suit with the high collar.

“Do ah look okay ta you, Stevie?”

“Your hair needs a brush,” Dorothy mutters.

Steve leans over and tries to flatten down Elvis’ hair with his hand where it’s sticking up, but it seems to catch a static charge and get even worse. He giggles.

“I haven’t helped.”

Elvis brings both hands to his head in a sort of panic, trying to flatten it himself and demanding a mirror, and then demanding Larry.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Well you ain’t helpin’. I never asked ya, I asked Stevie.”

“Oh, so I’m just supposed to sit here quietly, am I?”

“Ain’t you heard that expression, little girls should be seen an’ not heard?”

“I’m not a little girl! I’m thirty one!”

“Well ah’m still yer elder an’ better an’ ah’m tellin’ ya ta shut up!”

Steve had just been observing the little rally of insults, but at that moment he decides that enough is enough. They are definitely not going to get back on track if they keep bickering about stupid things like Elvis’ hair.

“Hey!”

The tone makes them both turn to look at him, faces flushed with annoyance, Elvis’ jaw spasming and Dorothy’s fingernails digging into the arms of the airplane seat.

“Enough, both of you.”

Pouting, Dorothy gets up from her seat and puts herself in Steve’s lap. “But Daddy, he was being mean to me.”

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling and studying it for a moment, Steve tries to think calmly.

“What panties are you wearing?”

Despite her obvious confusion, Dorothy answers almost immediately by pulling up her skirt. “Pink lace.”

They go up to her belly-button and then cut around each leg. Probably okay for what he has in mind. They look pretty stretchy, anyway.

Elvis gives her a sideways glance. Pretty panties. He wonders if Steve bought them for her.

Steve nods, carefully pulling her skirt back down again. “I think it’d be fun if you and Elvis swapped underwear.”

Dorothy’s eyes go wide. “He doesn’t wear any!”

“Exactly. Fun for me, lovebug. Watching you all day knowing you’ve got nothing on underneath this little skirt.”

She squirms in his lap, half-horrified and half-delighted. Kissing the top of her head, he turns to Elvis, who is looking similarly conflicted.

“I ain’t wearin’ those.”

Steve’s eyes skim his body and notice first the gold chain and second the slight bulge forming below his belt.

“What have we said about no, lovebug?” He asks, taking hold of the end of the chain and giving it a little tug. The other man grumbles. “What you’re trying to say is “yes, Daddy”, isn’t it?”

Elvis wriggles in his seat and blushes and fails to say anything. Steve pulls a little harder on the chain and kisses his cheek. “If you keep them on all day you get to cum. If you take them off, nothing.”

The black-haired man lets out a little whine, wondering why the hell he’s so turned on by the idea of wearing women’s panties and how he can ever get his masculinity back.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my good boy.” He lets the chain go, giving Elvis another kiss and patting the side of Dodo’s ass with one hand. “Take ‘em off.”

Dorothy holds out the little bundle of pink lace with one hand once she’s removed them and Elvis takes it reluctantly, getting up and going into the restroom with a resigned little sigh. She leans her head back against Steve’s chest and looks up at him through her lashes. He smiles and she smiles back. After a few minutes she breaks the silence.

“We’re going to wear you out eventually, aren’t we?”

Before Steve can respond, Elvis opens the door and steps back out into the plane, pulling a face as he wonders if the panties are going to dig into him like this all day.

“Don’t you think Steve will have enough of us?”

He looks down and realises to his surprise that Dorothy is talking to him.

She continues. “We’re a lot. He’ll get tired.”

“Ah wouldn’t be surprised if he had enough.” Sitting down, Elvis wonders if he’s feeling sad or horny or uncomfortable or all three.

Steve ponders for a while, reaching for his hand again and squeezing Dorothy closer. Wonders how exactly he can explain the way he feels about them.

“I um… I had a relationship after you two, with this woman named Sharon. It lasted a few years actually.” Dorothy leans forward with interest. Steve had mentioned her but not really gone into details. Elvis frowns. “She was great, a really lovely girl, and we got on really well.” He pauses, fumbling for the right words. “But uh… she… well, she had it together, she had a career and she knew what she wanted out of life… the sex was good but nothing that wild. I guess really the thing was, the thing I realised when I saw you on TV, doing your Hawaii show,” he looks over at Elvis, who looks back, puzzled, “was that she didn’t need me to take care of her. We broke up after I saw you. I realised I was missing something from that relationship, and it’s something I get from you two. So you won’t drive me away. I need this too.”

***

The three of them arrive at the Palm Springs house, having told the other guys that had flown with them to stay in their own houses and they’d call if they were needed. Sonny and Red had opted to go back to Memphis, but Charlie and Larry were still nearby if necessary, and Myrna had told Dorothy that her and Jerry would be around too. Even Tom had said he’d fly over in the next couple of days, after his shows were done, so they really were surrounded by people if they wanted. Of course, Elvis had wanted everyone to be in the same house at the same time, but Steve had put his foot down. There was a lot to sort out between just the three of them, and a lot that didn’t need interference from other people right away, even if they were good friends. Luckily, having enough other people around at the airport had helped confuse the reporters who were waiting for them, and Elvis had managed to stick to saying “no comment” to the myriad of questions about his career, Parker, and his relationship with Dorothy. There were even a few about his erratic behaviour onstage the night before. He’d been relieved to find a few fans waiting to be kissed and for autographs, and tried not to wonder too much about what they would think if they knew he was wearing his ex-girlfriend’s underwear while he was talking to them.

***

“I can’t wait any longer.”

Steve undoes Elvis’ belt and pants and tugs them both down, once he’s sure he’s far enough inside the house and enough curtains are closed to avoid prying eyes.

Elvis’ erection had come and gone a lot over the past few hours, but Steve’s obvious excitement at seeing him in the panties brings it back full force. Obviously they’re too tight for him, and every time he gets hard it borderline hurts, but looking down at himself now he feels fluttering in his stomach and gets harder.

Steve looks down just as admiringly and then grabs a handful of his ass and squeezes. “Yeah, I wanna be able to see this all day long.” Capturing Elvis’ lips in a kiss, he ghosts his fingers over the other man’s bulge, making him jerk and moan. “Take the rest of your clothes off, hm? But um… leave that necklace on.”

Elvis just finishes doing as he’s told when Dorothy comes into the room, after starting to try to unpack and losing faith halfway through.

“Oh, I like that more than I thought I would!”

Steve laughs. He’d had an idea that she would enjoy Elvis being made to look a little more feminine and maybe a tiny bit silly, and he’s glad to be proven right. She stands there for a minute admiring the view and then decides to go back to unpacking. It’s hard to know what to say to Elvis when all he’s wearing is pink girls’ underwear and jewellery.

Steve lets him put on a robe and then snaps back into organising mode. “I’ll get Derek on the phone. We need to sort out this list.”

Before they’d left the hotel earlier that day, Parker had produced his itemised list of “monies owing” just like he’d said he would. The total was substantial, and Elvis had gone very pale looking at it. But Steve’s convinced it’s mostly bluster, another snowjob, and he’s sure Derek will agree. There’s a lot that will take sitting down in a room with lawyers and thrashing out, but a quick phone call ought to set the ball rolling and hopefully put Elvis’ mind at rest.

They sit together on the bed and Steve puts the speakerphone on so they can both talk, though Elvis is mostly quiet, listening and wondering still if he’s doing the right thing. The Colonel had ignored his requests for a world tour, something that starts to make more sense as soon as Derek lists the things they have against Parker, his lack of a US passport being one of them. The substantial gambling debts get a mention too, and suddenly Elvis realises that him playing the Hilton is a great way of paying those debts back. Tom Parker doesn’t have his best interests at heart. Tom Parker is interested in saving his own hide, at whatever cost necessary to Elvis.

“So if you fax that list over, I’ll take a look and make a start on it. I’ll need access to your accounts too, I understand they’re in Memphis?”

Elvis clears his throat. “Uh… yeah. My daddy takes care of the money.”

“I’ll send someone over to pick them up in the next couple of days.”

Making a mumbled noise of assent, Elvis starts to wish the lawyer off the line. This whole thing is getting too real and too complicated and too much like a series of conversations he doesn’t want to have. He knows his daddy isn’t the greatest with money, and suddenly having some big shot lawyer going through his accounts is making him nervous. He feels his throat start to close up and tears well in his eyes.

“Thanks Derek, that’s great. We’ll get off the phone and send it over now.”

“Thanks both. Bye.”

Elvis starts to cry as soon as Steve puts the receiver down. The feelings are so overwhelming he doesn’t know what else to do, going from silent tears to big, hitching sobs in seconds. Steve pulls him into his lap and holds him, rubbing his back but not telling him to stop or asking why. He knows why. Parker has been with Elvis for most of his adult life. Whatever he might’ve done to him since then, breaking that relationship can’t be easy.

Hearing the noise Dorothy immediately stops what she’s doing and almost runs to Elvis, instincts taking over. Standing in the doorway, she tries to steady herself, looking questioningly at Steve.

“We just finished with the lawyer, he’s going to look into that list and the accounts and everything.”

The accounts. Oh Lordy. Dorothy is sure they’re going to be a mess and that will make for another confrontation she knows Elvis will want to avoid at all costs. Why he ever put Vernon in charge of his money was beyond her. A man who had gone to jail for a bad cheque had never seemed to her like the sort of person who ought to be in charge of millions of dollars. But Elvis loved his daddy and he wanted him to feel important so here they were.

She walks round to the side of the bed and leans over, stroking Elvis’ hair and then giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. “It’s the right thing.”

Chest heaving, he looks up at her desperately, as if she might somehow be able to wave a magic wand and fix everything for him. It’s a look that takes her back to so many desperate times before that she can’t stand it, quickly turning and heading back out again.

“Dodo!”

“I need a… I have to get out of here.”

Her exit and the bang of her bedroom door start off a fresh round of crying, and it’s all Steve can do to keep himself calm, still stroking the other man’s back and periodically kissing his temple.

Thinking about the Colonel and Vernon and Dorothy and everything else that has happened in the past twenty four hours threatens to overwhelm Elvis again, and now he’s sure the panties are the most uncomfortable things in the world, with the way he’s sitting they seem to dig in everywhere. He shifts off Steve’s lap and then back on, legs together, legs crossed, but nothing is fixing the problem.

“These are so uncomfortable! I have ta take ‘em off.”

“No you don’t.” Steve loops his finger through the necklace.

“No I don’t? Yes I fucking do.” Elvis has two thumbs in the top of the elastic before Steve speaks again.

“You know what happens if you take them off.”

“How is that fucking… I’m fucking upset. Dodo hates me and this is all fucked.”

Steve shakes his head. “Those are still the rules.”

“Fuck the rules!”

Elvis throws himself off Steve’s lap and the bed and storms out into the kitchen. Standing in the middle of it, staring around for a moment, he pulls his robe closed and ties it angrily. He carries on standing, breathing hard and waiting for Steve to come in and apologise.

The other man gets up slowly and starts unpacking, ignoring the lurking feeling that he should go and see Elvis, not to apologise but just to check he’s okay. He’s a grown man. You have to leave him to it. After a few minutes Dorothy reappears and tells him she’s going to see Larry for a bit. He gives her a quick kiss and tells her to take as long as she needs, but “you might wanna come back at the end of the day just to see what happens with the panties.” He notices she’s put on a longer skirt, which is probably cheating on some level, but he’s inclined to let her off. Plus he won’t be getting the benefit of the shorter one when she’s with Larry, anyway.

When minutes have passed and Steve has not, in fact, followed Elvis into the kitchen begging for his forgiveness, the other man looks around. The drip coffee machine standing on the counter catches his eye. His whole face hurts from crying so much and the idea of a coffee is very appealing right now. He’s about to call for the maid when he remembers there is no maid, they’re here on their own. But he can make coffee, right? It’s not that hard. Anyone can make coffee…

Elvis quickly establishes that maybe everyone but him can make coffee. He puts the filter paper in, and then starts to panic about where the coffee goes, and where the water goes. Trying one in one place and one in another, he fiddles and second-guesses himself and then comes to the sudden, undeniable conclusion that he can’t even make himself a cup of coffee. Sliding his back down the kitchen cabinet, he lands with a bump on the floor and just sits there, crying again. Feeling like the most useless person that ever lived.

“Elvis?”

“Ah- uh… I-I-I-I w-was tryna m-m-make coffee…”

Steve had heard the crying and much as he had tried to harden his heart he couldn’t, and in the end he was kind of glad, finding Elvis Presley on the floor of his own kitchen crying about a pot of coffee.

“C’mon. Up. Let me help you.”

Steve pulls Elvis to his feet and then manoeuvres him so he’s stood in front of the coffee machine. He stands behind and a little to the side, his arm around the other man’s waist.

“Where did you get to?”

Elvis takes a while to reply, having worked himself up into something bordering on hysteria he finds it hard to calm down enough to identify pieces of a coffee machine.

“F-filter paper.” He flicks up the top of the machine to show Steve. “Coffee. An’ uh… I dunno.”

Kissing his temple, Steve taps the big jug of water. “You just need to pour that down the side, there, and then put the jug on the hotplate and turn it on.”

“O-oh.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you just didn’t finish.”

Starting to sniff, Elvis pours the water into the reservoir and puts the jug on the hotplate, flicking the switch. He wipes his face.

“Well ah feel like a damn fool.”

Smiling, Steve pulls him close again. “You’re not a fool. You’ve just got used to everything being done for you.”

“Can’t even make coffee.” Elvis puts his head on Steve’s shoulder and snuggles into him.

“You just did.”

“I guess.”

“Making coffee for me. Next thing you’ll be cooking me breakfast…” Steve pauses as Elvis grumbles again, not willing to say that he’d actually only been thinking about making coffee for himself. “Cooking and cleaning for me like a good little wife.”

Little Elvis strains against the pink lace, pressing into the other man’s belly at his words. Steve grins into his hair.

“You think you’d like that? Me teaching you to be a good little wife for me?”

“Ye-yes. Yeah. Daddy I would.”

Steve bites his lip at the series of delicious ideas that are occurring to him.

“Good.”

***

“Every time he looks at me like that I think of all the other times and I just can’t deal with it, Lar. It all comes flooding back, everything that happened, and I just hate him and I have to leave.”

Dorothy is sitting cross-legged on the grass outside of Larry’s house. They’d just done half an hour of yoga, which she’d hoped would make her feel more relaxed. And it had, right up until she’d started talking about Elvis and got all stressed out again.

“Have you talked?” Larry takes a sip of green tea.

“Elvis doesn’t want to talk.”

“Take me through the thing with Steve again.”

Dorothy can’t help blushing. Larry had looked at her with incredible seriousness the whole time she was describing their relationship, even when she’d told him the most intimate things. Any other man would be looking away, stumbling over his words, beet red. But Larry was so zen about the whole thing it made her embarrassed instead.

“St-steve… Elvis wouldn’t like me to tell you.” She scratches her nose. “He just… he is trying to make Elvis make it up to me.”

“Does he know what he’s making up to you?”

“I don’t know. Being a fucking asshole for the past four years?”

“That’s too vague. You need to sit down and talk through everything. That’s the only way you’re going to get through being so angry.”

“I don’t think he wants to.”

“Based on what?”

“Based on that he wouldn’t talk to me when Steve left.”

“But Steve is back.”

Dorothy sighs loudly. She loves Larry, but sometimes she feels a bit like she’s having a conversation with a brick wall.

“Look,” Larry softens a little, reaching out to stroke her arm. “There’s a lot of hurt there. Years of hurt that haven’t been dealt with. And the only way to start is to talk them through, and to find out what the other person was thinking. Then you work out how you move forward.”

When Dorothy doesn’t reply, he continues. “Steve seems like a good guy. What you both need. But maybe he’s not the whole solution. I think Elvis needs spiritual cleansing too, you both do. Maybe a trip to the ashram would help.”

She shrugs and agrees, although she’s never been that into Daya Mata. That’s more of an Elvis thing, and definitely more of a Larry thing.

Seeing that she’s not up for chatting he suggests another half an hour of yoga practice and she agrees. Something to take her mind off her mind for a while.

***

Dorothy gets back to the Palm Springs house late afternoon, and is more than shocked to find Elvis wearing his robe and a pair of rubber gloves, standing at the sink doing the washing up.

“Did Larry put something in my tea?” She asks, moving towards him and prodding him with an experimental finger. “Are you real?”

“Pretty damn real.” He gives her a sly grin and she can’t help smiling a little back.

“Did Steve make you do this?”

“Ah made lunch, thought I oughta wash up too.”

“No.” She sits down on one of the kitchen stools and puts a hand to her forehead. “This is too much. Either Larry drugged me or this is some kind of elaborate prank.”

Elvis grins again. “Soup an’ a sandwich. Ah jus’ got the soup outta can, but ah made the sandwich.”

“Stop.” She starts to laugh, despite herself. “Daddy! Steve! Where are you?”

“You’re back.” Steve appears in the doorway.

“You… he…” She struggles for words, gesturing at Elvis, and the other man grins delightedly. “What the fuck?”

“What? Oh, that. I’m teaching him to be a good little wife for me.”

Dorothy nearly topples off the stool. “A wife?!”

Making his way towards her, Steve starts to explain. “Well, I think you were right in a way, you two are a bit like hard work. But if I train you both up to wait on me hand and foot then I don’t think it’ll be so much of a chore for me.” He puts his arm around her and kisses the top of her head. She stares at him wide-eyed.

“I can already cook,” she finds herself saying.

“I don’t think you’ll take much teaching.” He winks, before letting her go and moving over to Elvis. “He’s a quick study, but he’s got a lot to learn.” The last part is growled in the other man’s ear and he struggles not to drop the glass he’s holding. “When you’re done here, how about you give Dodo’s feet a rub? I’m sure she’d like that.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Elvis hurries to finish the last few dishes, thinking about how much he’d like it, too. He takes off the gloves and smoothes down his robe, stopping by a mirror to make sure his hair looks okay before he goes to look for her. He finds her in her bedroom, sorting out the last of her things into closets.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

She moves to sit on the bed, letting her feet dangle off the side. It’s weird to be alone with Elvis, she can’t remember the last time it happened, and as she tries to avoid eye contact she finds herself looking at his dick instead. Something about those panties on him really appeals to her, and it’s not just the idea that they might be humiliating him. He gently takes a foot and starts to rub.

“That feels nice.”

“Ah’m glad.”

They exchange tiny, tentative smiles and then Dorothy looks away again.

“I can’t believe Steve has got you doing housework.”

He pushes her foot back towards her shin and starts to rub circles on the sole with his thumbs.

“He’s very persuasive.”

“Hah.”

They sit there in silence until Elvis changes feet, picking up her left one and wiggling each of her toes in turn.

“This isn’t much of a punishment for you.”

He smirks. “No. Y’know how much ah like sooties. ‘Specially yours.”

She smiles and looks away again.

“Colour’s pretty on ya.” He runs his thumb over her big toenail. “Always did take good care of ya sooties.”

“Thanks.”

Somehow growing in confidence, he carries on as he starts to rub circles on the top of her foot.

“Pretty ankles too.” His hands slide up and over her ankle bone and back down again. “Gorgeous set a pins on ya.”

“You’re going to say you like my knees next.”

“Nothin’ about ya I don’t like, Dodo. Yer perfect.”

“Why’d you leave me then? Why’d you fuck all those other girls, if I’m so perfect?” Her voice is quiet and resigned and he stops massaging her feet to look at her.

“Ah jus’... you reminded me a him. An’ I couldn’t… ah couldn’t deal with it, Dodo.” A stray tear escapes down his face. Just when he thought he couldn’t cry anymore, surely there were no more tears left. “An’ then ya went ta film school and left me an’...”

“I didn’t leave you! I went to do something for me for a change.”

“But ah was lonely an’ I thought some other girl would help. But every time I closed my eyes all I saw was Steve’s face an’ then you an’ I just…” He trails off, looking at the carpet vacantly.

Dorothy’s heart aches for him, despite her frustrations with him. She moves so her legs are on the bed and then pats her thighs. “Come on.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

He gets up onto the bed and sits on her lap, thinking of all the times he’d done it in the past when they’d broken up with some girl or other and he’d wanted comfort.

“I wanted to talk to you, El. You were the only other person who understood how I felt.” She puts both hands on his face and stares into his eyes.

“‘M sorry. Ah fucked up.”

They press their foreheads together and stay like that for a while, cheeks wet with tears, fingers tentatively touching patches of skin. Then she realises she can feel him against her, pressing into her belly.

“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” She rubs where she can reach and he jerks away and then groans quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah I really am.”

Putting her lips to his ear she smiles as she replies. “Me too. I’m into whatever he wants to do. He’s so hot, isn’t he? I swear those four years made him about fifty per cent sexier.”

Elvis giggles. “He’s really sexy. Dodo, he could do anything to me. Oh God I can’t believe ah said that.”

“What’re you two lovebugs giggling about?”

They both shift at the sound of Steve’s voice, and keen into his touch as he gets on the bed too, kissing them both and playing with their hair.

“How much we like you, Daddy.” Dorothy bites her lip and catches Elvis’ eye, making him nod and agree.

“Well then which of my lovely lovebugs wants to make their Daddy dinner, hm?”

***

Chapter Text

Elvis sits in front of the mirror combing his hair. It had been a better night’s sleep than the night before, but he still can’t get used to being up so early. He yawns. The doctor is coming round at midday and Steve had said they ought to have breakfast before then. First the lawyer, now the doctor. He bristles a little at the idea of someone else calling the shots. The Colonel used to call the shots, and look where that got him. Playing the same place over and over until he was literally sick. Putting the comb down, he rubs his stomach, trying to soothe the ache there. He doesn’t have to listen to anything this doctor says, if he doesn’t want to. Steve can’t make him. His mind drifts back to the night before, after the dinner that he and Dorothy had made, the first quality time he’d spent with her in ages, trying to make spaghetti and meatballs like the first time they’d had Steve round. Giggling and messing around and him almost feeling like maybe she didn’t hate him anymore. But after, after all that Steve had praised him for keeping the panties on all day, even when he didn’t want to, and stroked him off until he’d cum all over them. And then he’d had to watch as the other man fucked Dorothy into the mattress he was still lying on, regret and shame starting to seep into his belly at what he’d done to cum, and how he was still being tortured. He sighs and adjusts the long gold chain he’s put on again this morning. Time for breakfast.

***

“You and Elvis seemed to be getting along ok last night?”

Dorothy takes a bite of toast while she ponders. “I guess. He did say sorry. And… he did kind of explain. But I dunno.”

Running a hand through his hair, Steve gets up for more coffee. “It was nice to see you close again. And it sounded like you were having fun making dinner.”

She smiles at the memory. It had actually been fun making dinner. Elvis had tried to be in charge of making it, calling her his sous chef, but he’d immediately burnt the onions. In fact, he’d burnt quite a lot of things, and she’s convinced that if he could have, he’d have burnt the spaghetti. But Steve had still seemed to enjoy it, and they’d all laughed a lot. More than she thought she’d actually laughed with Elvis in years.

“Yeah it was fun.”

“But?”

“One fun dinner doesn’t make up for four years of neglect.”

“So I gotta atone fer the next four years, that it?”

Dorothy’s head snaps up to find Elvis standing in the doorway.

“I gotta be down on mah hands an’ knees for four goddamn years, an’ that might make it up ta ya?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Well I ain’t doin’ it.”

Steve looks from one to the other with dismay. He’d had high hopes after their fun evening, but now it seems as though they’re back to square one.

Scrambling down off the kitchen stool, Dorothy grabs her coffee cup and storms out of the room, shouting “Fine!” as she goes.

Steve opens his mouth to speak and Elvis just shakes his head, making his way over to the hot plate to pour himself a coffee. “I ain’t in the mood, Stevie.”

***

Steve watches Elvis’ interactions with the doctor with a degree of fascination. It’s obvious that he knows a lot about the medication he takes, or at least he knows a lot of what he’s found in medical text books about it. The bit about the effect it has on him, or the side-effects and how they might be affecting his life seem to pass him by. But he doesn’t take the conversation lying down, and it’s clear he’s not about to just do whatever is suggested. After about half an hour of arguing round in circles, the doctor tries to arrest the conversation and make some kind of progress.

“So I’d like you to come in to the hospital for some tests. And then we should be able to identify some of what’s causing you pain.”

Elvis makes a sort of humphing noise and the doctor decides to take that as assent and continue.

“But in the meantime, it might be a good idea to think about your lifestyle.”

“Mah lifestyle?”

“Yeah. I mean, how much you drink and smoke…”

“Ah don’t do neither.”

Steve raises his eyebrows to the ceiling but doesn’t say anything.

“Your diet, how much sleep you get.”

“Well I ain’t gettin’ good sleep, an’ I won’t if y’all keep insistin’ on me cuttin’ back on the pills that help me sleep. Ah’m an insomniac. Ah need help fer that.”

“There are other ways to help yourself relax before bed. Gentle music, a bath…”

Elvis snorts. “A bath.”

“C’mon. Do you have to argue with everything? You like baths.” Steve can’t help himself. Staying quiet for so long had almost given him a hernia.

Elvis shoots him a look, then deflates a little. “Alright. Okay. Baths.”

“Mr Presley, I know you’re a very busy man, and you spend a lot of time on the road. And I don’t expect you to stop touring…”

“Stop touring!” Elvis’ eyes nearly pop out of his head. Steve puts a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“I know my wife and my kids would be very upset if I suggested that.” The doctor smiles, wryly. “My wife especially.” Now it’s Elvis’ turn to smile, and Steve feels him relax a little. “But it might help to have more time between concerts. Or less time in general on the road.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Just a thought.”

Elvis nods. “Alright. Thank you for yer time, sir.”

He stands, and the doctor stands too, before they shake hands and Elvis starts to usher him out of the door. He promises to go to the hospital for the tests, but in the back of his mind he wonders if he really should bother.

“Imma go play some piana.”

Taking that as an instruction that he wants to be on his own, Steve watches him leave and then sinks back down onto the sofa again. That hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. None of this was going as well as he’d hoped.

***

Elvis had been playing for nearly an hour, lost in a sort of fugue state, when Dorothy quietly pads into the room. She’d been listening to the gospel, his beautiful voice paired with his inimitable piano playing style, and after a while she felt bad. Probably it wasn’t okay to make him keep paying for the same mistakes over and over. So, without really thinking of what she was going to do or say, she’d got up off her bed and followed the sound until she found him. He’s right in the middle of another spiritual number, his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back and fingers punching the keys. She sneaks up next to him and hits a high C with her little finger. Watching him frown, she tries hard not to laugh as she does it again, twice. His eyes open and he looks at her in confusion, hands poised above the keys and mouth still half-open.

“Damnit, little girl.”

She leans over him, bashing out a quick scale down the keys and then giggling. There’s a moment where he still looks completely furious, like he might grab her and throw her across the room, and then he bursts out laughing.

“Whatchu come in here an’ do that for?”

Still giggling, she pushes him sideways to make space and then sits beside him on the piano stool.

“I dunno. I just felt like it!”

“Thought ya hated me nowadays.”

“I do but I liked your singing.”

“So ya thought ya’d come in an’ mess it all up?”

“You’re not much of a professional if you let me playing one random note put you off.”

He elbows her in the side and she elbows him back, and then they’re tickling each other and shrieking with laughter.

“I was concentrating!”

“You were being all serious Elvis does serious gospel and you got pissed that I interrupted!”

“Serious Elvis! Goddamnit.” He grabs her around the waist and wrestles her into his lap, both of them still laughing and gasping for breath.

“Serious Elvis, with his serious commitment to God, and his serious commitment to pretending he hasn’t gone grey yet.” She fluffs up his hair with her hands, smirking as she does it.

He shakes his head, eyes merry. “No other girl was ever this goddamn rude ta me, y’know that? All the rest of ‘em knew their place.”

Face twitching, she puts her arms around his neck. “But… you know your place now, right?”

The look on his face tells her immediately that her words didn’t land the way she intended them to.

“Goddamnit. You an’ Steve jus’ get together behind my back ta laugh at me, that it?”

He looks away, distraught, wondering if he should just push her off his lap and walk away, but enjoying having her close to him again too much to actually do it.

“No.” She waits for him to look at her again before she continues. “Steve loves you, he’s not laughing at you. He wants you to be happy and healthy and to get a new manager who doesn’t treat you like shit. If it’d been up to me we wouldn’t have gone back to Vegas, but he was the one who wanted to and everything he’s done over the past couple of days has been for you.” She strokes his cheek with the backs of her fingers. “And I’m not laughing at you either, El. I’m struggling with all of this but I am trying. We did have something special once, and I know Steve doesn’t think we should throw it away.”

Elvis hums quietly, reaching up to move a few strands of her hair off her face. “Was special, weren’t it?”

She nods. “‘Specially when we had Steve.”

He smiles thinly. Everything aches right now.

“Think I’m gonna lie down fer a bit, Dodo.”

“You okay?”

“Bit sore. Jus’ need a lie down.”

***

“I’m worried about him.” Dorothy looks at Steve through her fringe as she sits on the grass outside.

“Me too.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. That chat with the doctor didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.”

She looks up. “Did El quote the entire contents of the DSM at him? And tell him he doesn’t drink or smoke and he in fact knows best?”

Steve starts to laugh. “Yeah. Exactly that, actually. Guy had the chutzpah to suggest El might want to cut back on the touring.”

“Oooh. I bet that went down well.”

He rolls his eyes and Dorothy laughs too. “Why are you worried?”

“I dunno. I… I felt bad about earlier… and I heard him singing gospel so I went to see him. Anyway it was all going fine until I made a joke about him knowing his place and he got sort of upset… like saying we must be laughing at him… I told him we weren’t but…”

“Hmmm.” Steve rubs his face with one hand. “Maybe I need to back off a bit. We’ve got another call with Derek later.”

“Has he… will he have seen the accounts?”

“That’s the plan. He sent someone to look over them anyway.”

Dorothy grimaces. “Vernon shouldn’t be looking after El’s finances. He wouldn’t know an interest rate if it hit him over the head. It’s going to be bad when someone tells him that.”

Steve sighs. He had wondered about Vernon being in charge of the accounts, but naively thought there must be good reason for it. This whole waving the magic wand of Tom’s lawyer and money was not working quite as well as he’d thought it might. Everything is a little more complicated than Steve Binder had hoped.

***

The phone call goes about as well as Dorothy had predicted. The accounts are not in good order, and Derek isn’t backwards in coming forwards about telling Elvis exactly how bad they are. Elvis spends the rest of the evening in a sullen mood, eating the food that’s given to him and then making an excuse about reading and disappearing off to his bedroom. Steve sits at the kitchen table, finding himself thinking back to the events of the night before, making Elvis cum in those little pink panties… he’d seemed really into it then. But maybe he hadn’t been really into watching Steve and Dorothy fuck next to him afterwards. Steve had got a little carried away in the moment, and, thinking about it now, it probably hadn’t been a good idea for them to leave Elvis alone to sleep either. It had been a miracle he hadn’t knocked himself out with his usual round of pills, and Steve had really been focussing on that and not on the fact that he’d left him with his thoughts and taken his girlfriend away for late night snuggles.

Getting up, he walks over to the bedroom and knocks softly on the door.

“Hey, lovebug?”

“Mmm.” Elvis is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what his life has come to.

“You wanna watch a movie?”

“Ah dunno.”

“Your choice.”

Elvis takes one last long look at the ceiling and then sits up, swinging his legs out of the bed. “Okay then.”

He’s surprised to be gently manhandled into the den and even more surprised to find Steve sitting on one side of him and Dorothy on the other, both happy to watch whatever he wants. But despite Patton being one of his favourite films, he can’t seem to concentrate. That lawyer had said some terrible things about his daddy, and although that’d made him furious, a little bit of him knew it was right. His daddy was not an accountant. He’d never even graduated high school. Someone else should be in charge of that money, but… he screws his eyes shut for a few seconds and then opens them again. How is he supposed to tell the man who raised him that he’s not good enough to help him out now? It seems pretty damn ungrateful. His thoughts spiral around and around and as soon as the movie finishes he huffs out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m probably s’posed ta go ta bed now.”

He gets up without waiting for an answer, heading for the bathroom. Steve leans across the couch to whisper in Dorothy’s ear. “Follow me.”

They brush their teeth and wash their faces and then head to the bedroom. Dorothy watches Steve, wondering exactly what he’s planning. She hadn’t been in the room for the phone call but she’d seen the result and could have guessed how it had gone without being told, though of course Steve had found time to give her an almost blow-by-blow account. It worries her when Elvis gets like this. The shouting and screaming was never great, but she’d always been more freaked when he’d got quiet. It tended to mean things were worse.

The two men get into bed and Steve gives her a little look to mean she should get in the other side. Elvis turns to look at her in surprise. They can’t all be sleeping in the bed together, it isn’t the Graceland bed and even Elvis is starting to realise that it’s best if they take turns. She gives him a steady look in return, not entirely sure what she’s doing either.

“I’m proud of you for agreeing to go to the hospital.” Steve’s voice makes Elvis turn to look at him instead. Guilt bubbles up inside him at the thought that he hadn’t really intended on going.

Dorothy wonders what she should say, and it seems like an age before “I like hearing you sing,” finally comes out of her mouth. She’s not sure this is what Steve wanted, but she feels like she’s being honest. She does like hearing him sing, even if sometimes when she looks at him her anger is in danger of consuming her.

“Huh.” Not sure what’s going on or really what to say, Elvis’ head turns back to her.

“You did a good job with Derek today. I know it must’ve been hard. But you listened to him.”

“I like your piano-playing too. I liked it when we used to play together.”

“I’m proud of you for taking fewer pills too, it’s tough not sleeping, I know you don’t feel good.”

“I like your hair like this.” Dorothy ruffles his hair and watches as he stares up at her. “It looks good on you.”

Steve nuzzles his neck. “You look really good.”

“W-what… what are you doin’?” Elvis feels hot and bothered and isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

“I think we’re trying to make you feel good.” Dorothy kisses his cheek.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing. Is it working?”

“I-I-” Elvis pauses, unable to work out how to respond.

“Would you prefer something else?” Dorothy finds herself asking.

“How about if I left you two together for the night?” Steve asks before Elvis can think for himself, which makes him kind of grateful. He turns his head back towards the other man.

“She don’t wanna stay with me.”

“I… I do, actually.”

“Ya do?”

She smiles. Somehow the plan to make Elvis feel good had made her like him more. “You are kinda cute. I wouldn’t kick you out of bed.”

His lips curl into a smile as he looks her up and down, realising she’s telling the truth. She does want to stay. Carefully getting out of the bed, Steve murmurs something about them having a good night’s sleep and makes his way back out of the room again as quickly as possible. Before anyone freaks out and changes their mind.

“I ain’t kickin’ you outta bed either. Ah know what yer capable of.”

She starts to giggle. “What, exactly, does that mean?”

Pushing his face into her neck, he puts an arm across her body. “Nasty little thing, ain’tcha? Up fer anythin’.”

“Maybe.”

“Bet you an’ Stevie have been up to all sorts.”

“Actually he’s been quite the gentleman.” Elvis shifts to give her a disbelieving look and she smirks. “Okay, he did choke me a little. But c’mon, you must’ve been up to all sorts too.”

“Nuh-uh. Kathy, Joyce, Linda… they’re all nice girls. Good Christian girls like I’m ‘sposed ta want.”

“But…?”

“But ah don’t want ‘em. Ya know me, Dodo. I want you, even though I shouldn’t. An’ Stevie. I definitely shouldn’t want him. Ah know why Sonny an’ Red ain’t here no more. Ah don’t think they’ll come back neither.” He pauses for a moment, then sighs softly. “Those girls, if they knew…”

“So you want me because I don’t care that Steve fucks you in the ass?”

He jolts at the words, that familiar cold feeling seeping into his belly. Then he remembers the conversation he’d had with Linda, only two days earlier.

“After the show, y’know…” He looks at her and she nods. “Linda was blowin’ all kindsa smoke up my ass…” Her amused face makes him roll his eyes. “Not like that. She ain’t like that, ah’ve explained.” Dorothy laughs out loud. “She was sayin’ how good the show was, an’ how amazin’ I was, an’ I knew it was all bullshit. I knew it was a shitshow from the moment I stepped on the stage, an’ I just kept makin’ it worse. She lied to me. To my face. They’re all always lyin’ to me Dodo, even when I push an’ push them. I disrespected her too with what ah said onstage, but she just lay there and let me trample all over her. You never do that.”

Dorothy’s stomach knots at his words. “I think I did let you trample me for a long time.”

“I treated ya badly, an’ you stuck around because of what we had together. But you’d never have told me that show was good. Never.” He looks deeply into her eyes, fingers in her hair.

She can feel the electricity crackling between them, and she swallows, hard. “It was fucking shit,” she whispers, trying to lighten the mood, but Elvis keeps staring at her intently.

There’s a second or two where they’re both just looking at one another and then he closes the gap between them, bringing their lips together in a fierce kiss. Giving up all pretence of being sensible she presses her body against his, her hands grabbing, desperate for the familiar feeling of him.

“Ah’ll never forget you holdin’ me when Steve…” Elvis begins, breathless as he pulls back from the kiss. “No other woman’d ever do that for me.”

Feeling tears prick her eyes, Dorothy tries to joke again. “It was hot, having you both in my lap.”

“No. There’s no other woman like ya, Dodo. Ah don’t care if ah do have to stay on my hands and knees fer the next four years. I’d do it for you.”

***

Chapter Text

Dorothy, Steve and Elvis spend another week or so together in Palm Springs. Larry visits once or twice and Charlie too, but Jerry is too caught up with work to get away. Elvis struggles when they have visitors, sitting up a little bit too straight, always trying to make sure he’s not quite within touching distance of Steve, fiddling almost constantly. Tom pops round once and it’s clear he and Dorothy don’t quite know how to act around one another, and if Elvis weren’t brooding so deeply on his own issues, Steve is sure he’d have thought something was up. The Palm Springs house is still a better place to be than Graceland right now, with all of the usual comings and goings and the press everywhere, but Steve feels like the relationships between the three of them are still too precarious to be subjected to outside influence. He wonders about going somewhere else, asking Dorothy if Elvis has houses anywhere other than Memphis and LA, and being somewhat surprised to find that he doesn’t.

The three of them are sitting by the pool one afternoon when Steve suggests a vacation. It seems like the only sensible solution to him, LA hadn’t turned out to be quite anonymous enough. As soon as the word “Hawaii” is out of his mouth Elvis is enthusiasm personified, up and bouncing around the place, talking about his favourite places to go and things to do. They settle on somewhere a little more remote than his usual vacationing spots, and he starts to really get into the idea of rest and recovery. Provided he’s still able to find enough things to do to keep from getting bored. He’s been gradually cutting back on the Benzos and the main side effect seems to be wanting to do everything at once, toes tapping, hands restless.

Chartering a plane, setting up for a month in a private villa and all the rest will cost a lot, but he bites the bullet and tries to make sure he can afford it before committing to it. Derek had recommended an accountant and Elvis had agreed, telling Vernon it was something he had to do for now while he was sorting things out with the Colonel. He didn’t explain that sorting things out meant them going their separate ways, since his daddy didn’t seem to think that Elvis could manage without Tom Parker, and he decided that right now arguing wasn’t best. It seemed as though a lot of things on the Colonel’s list weren’t exactly accurate either, so the new, actually qualified accountant, told him he had plenty of money to go on a trip. But that they might want to meet when he returns, to discuss investments. Elvis told him “yessir” and got off the phone as quickly but politely as he could. Investments. Aren’t all the gold and diamonds he’s bought over the years investment enough?

***

Elvis is excited to bring them both onto the private jet. He wants to buy his own soon, over the last year or so he’s enjoyed being able to travel in luxury like this, and it stilled the fear of flying that had kept him more or less grounded in his twenties. Dorothy is just as excited as him, running around and squealing with delight at every detail.

“Ya like it, Dodo?”

“I love it!”

“Think I’m gonna buy one next year. If the Colonel don’t clear me out first.”

She reaches up to put her arms around his neck and his hands automatically rest on her hips.

“You should buy one and name it Dodo. Y’know. Because it would be ironic. Flightless bird…” As she talks he keeps staring at her like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and then by the end of the sentence he starts to laugh. She shoves him in the chest playfully and he pulls her back towards him, planting a loud wet kiss on her lips.

Steve watches them both with a smile on his face. It’s nice to see them closer, even if he knows from both telling him separately that kisses and cuddles are as far as they’ve gone. They at least look comfy together, and both seem much comfier than he feels on this jet. After take off Elvis starts talking about gold faucets and sinks and getting TVs and phones installed in his imaginary new plane, and even a bed so he can get sleep between concerts.

“Sounds expensive.”

Steve had found the only Graceland experience he’d had a little overwhelming, all of Elvis’ jewellery, clothes, knick-knacks, rooms… all his things were just quite a lot, never mind the pile of presents he’d bought.

“Ah’ll check ah can afford it. We ain’t poor, though, Stevie.”

Steve nods, taking a sip of the glass of champagne that Elvis had insisted the flight attendant brought for him and thinking he’s certainly not coming across as poor, right now.

***

The villa is beautiful, Hawaii is beautiful, and being back there makes Elvis almost giddy with joy. He’d been very jealous when he found out that’s where Steve had taken Dorothy, both because he’d missed out on it and because he felt like it was his place, their place, and somehow Steve had taken it. But when she’d told him where they’d stayed he’d felt better, knowing he could pull off something far more spectacular. If nothing else, Elvis Presley knew how to splash the cash, and he hadn’t just found them somewhere jaw-dropping to stay, he’d made sure the kitchen was well-stocked and that Dorothy and Steve both had their own brand new robes, towels and toiletries. He’d also got her several new swimsuits and Steve a whole pile of brightly-coloured shirts, and both of them kiss him delightedly for his efforts. He spends the day taking them around, showing them things and feeling pleased and proud about all of it. Steve is smiling again watching him. It’s good to see him back a little more like his old self, and at least some of the things he’s filled the villa with are useful. Steve is sure that he doesn’t need ten Hawaiian shirts, but he certainly doesn’t have the heart to tell Elvis that.

***

They spend the second day lazing around, and the evening barbequing on the beach. Starting to actually enjoy eating fresh food (everything tastes better on vacation, after all) Elvis goes back for seconds and even thirds, before having to lie down for an hour in an attempt to digest it. Once he’s feeling less uncomfortably full, he finds Steve and Dorothy in the huge main bedroom, sitting on the sofa together, talking in low voices and sharing the occasional kiss. He sits down on the other side of Dorothy, and she greets him with a kiss too. He leans his head on her shoulder.

“I love it here.”

“Me too.”

Steve looks at them as Dorothy reaches up to stroke Elvis’ face. “You two look cute together.”

She giggles, shyly. “Thanks.”

He strokes her cheek now. “You want me to leave you alone?”

Quickly sitting up, she shakes her head. “N-no. No, daddy.”

“No? Lemme see you kiss, then.”

They both respond to the request eagerly, hands cupping one another’s jaws, tongues exploring mouths. Steve smiles. They had seemed a long way from this back in Vegas. It’s starting to feel like maybe they could get back to what they had before, when all three of them would play together. He decides to try, putting his mouth to her ear as one hand gently caresses her thigh.

“You think I could watch him eat you?”

Elvis lets out an involuntary moan. He’s been missing pussy, specifically missing Dorothy’s pussy, and there’s nothing he wants more right now.

Pulling back from the kiss, she isn’t sure what to say. She’s definitely horny enough, she’s been horny all day long on the beach and in the sea, clothes sticking to the boys in all the right places and the fun of play-fighting and kissing. And she wants to do what Steve asks, in fact she loves doing what he asks, it gives her a special thrill every time. But…

“I… I don’t know…” she admits, guiltily.

Gently tilting her face towards him, Steve asks her why. “If you don’t want an audience, I can go.”

“No, it’s not that.” There’s a long pause then, while she tries to work out how to explain herself. Steve waits, patiently. “I’m… I’m scared…” She turns to look at Elvis. “I’m scared of letting you, and then… I don’t know.” She fiddles with the collar of his shirt, rearranging it so she doesn’t have to look him in the eye.

Elvis swallows with a little difficulty. “Ya don’t trust me.”

“I guess not.” Still staring at his shirt.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. I promise ya. No more other girls.”

She makes a tiny mmming noise. Steve puts his arms around her and she feels herself relax a little. He feels it too, and it gives him an idea.

“How about this?” He gives her a quick kiss to the side of the head and then tightens his grip, pulling her onto his lap, so she sits facing away. Spreading his legs beneath her he gently encourages her to follow suit. “Lemme hold you while he does it.”

The feeling of him all around her, the smell of him, the softness of his voice in her ear all make her melt. “Okay,” she whispers.

“Okay?”

Nodding, she shifts to remove her underwear.

Once it’s gone, Steve barely has to glance at Elvis before he’s kneeling between both sets of legs, carefully pushing her dress up her thighs. He whines at the sight of her pussy, glistening with arousal already, dark hair surrounding plush pinkness. Pushing his head against her inner thigh, he stares.

“Oh, mama,” he breathes. “So pretty.”

The devoted look on his face makes her even wetter, and she fully relaxes into Steve’s arms, watching as Elvis kisses his way up her thigh, ghosting over the place she wants him to be and then kissing down the other one. She starts to wriggle and whine as he begins gently, kissing between her legs and then slowly licking stripes up her.

“Tastes s’good.”

His words are mumbled against her as he dives in properly now, tongue pushing inside as far as it will go. Her eyes roll back in her head and she arches her back, feeling Steve start to palm her nipples through her sundress.

“Feels good, pumpkin.”

The pet name spurs him on, and he wants to make her cum as quickly as possible now, swirling his tongue around her clit again and again, watching her hands start to clench into fists. Steve watches too, feeling himself get hard as she writhes about on top of him and Elvis continues his exploration of her most sensitive spots.

“Ohhh, ohhh…”
The younger man grabs her hip as his tongue flicks back and forth in double time, hearing her cry out as her orgasm hits her. Hand on the back of his head, she holds him in place as she rides it out, body tingling all over.

Steve kisses her neck and she lets Elvis go, dimly hearing him gasp for breath shortly afterwards. “Good girl.” He looks down at the other man, face red and wet with arousal, and grins. “Good boy. You wanna cum too?”

Elvis nods quickly, and then rocks forwards on his knees, dragging both hands up Dorothy’s thighs, making her jolt and giggle.

“Mama?”

She squints at him, still giddy. “Yes, pumpkin?”

“Wanna make love.”

A smile spreads across her face, and she looks up at Steve. “Can he?”

The other man feels his dick get harder beneath her. “If that’s what you want.”

She nods quickly. “Can we stay here? Like this?”

“Sure.”

Elvis stands a little unsteadily, trying at first to just pull his shorts down enough to get his dick out, and then eventually deciding to get rid of them entirely. Slowly stroking himself, he leans over both of them and lines himself up with her entrance, gradually starting to push inside. Halfway in he finds himself looking into Steve’s eyes and then they’re kissing hungrily, Dorothy watching from between as he fills her up completely and she wraps her legs around his waist. They start off slowly, hips barely moving, Dorothy feeling hot and overstimulated as Elvis tries to hold himself back. He feels a hand on his ass, squeezing and pulling him in and then realises it’s Steve, grabbing the other man’s head and growling before going in for another kiss. Starting to speed up, he grabs the back of the sofa with both hands for leverage, his forehead pressing against Steve’s. Whimpering and whining again, Dorothy can feel herself getting close, and Steve knows it too, his hand curling around her throat. He reaches up to the back of Elvis’ head, watching the sweat bead on his forehead and the veins start to stand out in his neck. Letting his hand slide around to touch the vein, his thumb rubs the other man’s windpipe.

“Tell me when you’re gonna cum.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Dorothy squeaks and suddenly the force of another orgasm is rushing towards her, and then she feels a strong hand closing around her throat and squeezing and the pleasure intensifies.

“I’m gonna… fuck…”

Steve’s other hand wraps itself more tightly around Elvis’ throat and he hears him groan and grunt as he cums deep inside his girlfriend's pussy. Savouring the moment he keeps his hands where they are for a few more seconds before letting go and watching them both flop like ragdolls, exhausted and ecstatic.

Dorothy is the first to come round, her hand rubbing Elvis’ chest.

“Daddy hasn’t cum yet.”

Steve is amazed at the speed the two of them move at to remove his clothes, Dorothy smothering his chest with kisses as Elvis starts to lick his newly exposed dick like a lollipop.

“Lovebugs,” he begins, with a half-smile, but the rest of his sentence dissolves into a groan as Elvis takes him in his mouth in one smooth movement. The way he looks up at him through his lashes as he bobs his head up and down is downright pornographic, Dorothy kissing her way down to where Elvis is and the two of them engaging in sloppy kisses mixed with licking and sucking, saliva spilling everywhere.

Steve is lost in a sea of pleasure, unable to string a word together, let alone a sentence, his nerve-endings tingling as they take it in turns to suck his dick and balls, Dorothy slipping her finger between his cheeks and rubbing his asshole as his hips start to buck uncontrollably, his release so close now. Unable to decide between them which should be sucking him off when he finally finishes, Elvis decides to stroke him to completion instead, cum splattering over both of their faces. It’s Steve’s turn to flop like a ragdoll, and when he finally decides he better open his eyes again, he’s greeted by the sight of his two lovers licking his cum off each other’s faces.

“Lovebugs.”

“Yes, daddy.” They basically say it in unison and it starts all three of them laughing.

“C’mere.”

Quickly removing the rest of their clothes, they each sit on one of his thighs. It’s a bit more precarious for Elvis but he doesn’t care, cuddling up close with one hand on Dorothy’s leg too.

“Fuck, that was good.”

Elvis and Dorothy giggle, pleased to please him, kissing him on the cheek and the ear and halfway down his neck.

“I had fun.”

“Me too.”

Steve smiles broadly, enjoying the feeling of both of them so close, the three of them all together again at last. He reaches his hand around Elvis’ neck, loosely. “Did you like this?”

“Yes, daddy.” The other man looks a little embarrassed but tries to hold eye contact.

“Good. Where’s that necklace you’ve been wearing recently?”

The words make his composure go entirely, and he wobbles about on Steve’s leg, blushing copiously. “It’s… I forgot to…”

“You wanna get it now?”

Scrambling to get up to standing, Elvis half-runs over to the dressing table and picks it up, putting it over his head before returning to the sofa.

“Good boy.” Steve strokes his cheek and he leans into the touch like a cat. Dorothy watches them both with a little curiosity. “Think it’d be best if you kept wearing it, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Dorothy reaches over and tugs on the chain, smirking as Elvis looks over. “Daddy got you on a leash now?”

Elvis smirks right back. “Daddy thinks I’m the best wife.”

Her stomach flips at the words.

“Do you?”

“I don’t play favourites.”

“I can cook and clean and I always thought I pleased you in bed. “Dorothy feels herself flush now, rushing through her credentials like it’s a job interview.

Steve pulls her into him. “Oh babe. You do please me. You’re good. You’re very good. I just wanted you to have whatever you needed, after everything that happened. And when you’re ready, you can give me what I need.”

“I’m ready,” she replies, immediately, arms around his neck, eyes staring deeply into his. “For whatever you want.”

Ghosting a hand down her back, he lets it rest on a hip. “Hey. You don’t have to be. It’s not a race.”

She looks at him like she definitely thinks it is a race, and one she’s worried Elvis is winning. “Can I try? I want to be the best wife for you.”

Steve suppresses a groan. Although he’d started this whole wife thing for them rather than him, it’s turning him on more than he’d care to admit.

“Alright.” He gently dislodges her arms and then lets his other hand slide down her body and come to rest on her pubic mound. “This is mine to do what I want with. Not yours.” He pauses to study her reaction for a moment. “No touching unless I say you can.”

The enormity of what he’s asking makes her gasp, but then she quickly nods. “Yes, daddy.”

“Sure? Sure that’s okay?”

“Yes.”

He turns to Elvis. “Same with you. This is mine.” He puts his hand on Elvis’ now half-hard dick. “For whatever I want. You ask if you want to use it.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good lovebugs. And then you know what I’m going to say about these.” His hands move between their asscheeks, gently rubbing sensitive spots. “Mine too.”

Dorothy nods eagerly and tells him yes, but Elvis is a little more uncertain. Steve notices immediately and holds his face gently. “Talk to me.”

Elvis’ chest heaves. The thought of Steve there had haunted him ever since the other man had left, and the mess of feelings that swirl around every time he even tries to look, tries to think about it, makes him dizzy.

“Ah dunno, ah…” He swallows and then tries his best to gird himself for what he’s about to say. “Ya fucked me in the ass an’ then ya left, Stevie.” He closes his eyes tightly, pushing his face into the other man’s shoulder.

Steve feels like his heart is actually hurting, and he takes a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, El. I really am. It was nothing to do with…”

“Ah know that. But ya have ta understand this whole thing is unnatural, it’s against God an’... ah felt dirty and wrong when ya left me.”

Steve presses a quick kiss to Dorothy’s forehead before moving to embrace Elvis with both arms, pulling him close. “I’m so sorry. I hate that I hurt you. We don’t have to do this now, we can take things slowly…”

“No,” Elvis whispers back, hoarsely. “I wanna do it. Ah want ta trust you. Ah think ah can, ah’m jus’ scared.”

Sliding one arm around Steve and the other around Elvis, Dorothy holds them both close. “I’m scared too, El.”

“I promise you both that you can trust me. If you want to do this now, fall back and I’ll catch you. But we don’t have to.”

They both sit up and look at him, and like when he first met them, it’s as if they have a psychic link.

“We want to do it.”

He lets out a breath and nods once.

“Alright. These are the ground rules, then. When we’re alone I want you both to only call me daddy. Obviously outside call me Steve or whatever you want. No touching yourselves unless I tell you it’s okay. And whatever I ask, you do it. No questions.” He looks from one adoring face to the other and tries not to think how scared having all of this power makes him. “You’re both mine to do what I want with, to make into my two perfect little wives. I’ll get you both something proper to help you remember who owns you, but for now, do you agree?” He puts a hand around each of their throats.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good. Now, daddy thinks at least one of you can cum again tonight for him. Dodo, tease my little lovebug for me.”

***

Chapter Text

Elvis wriggles in his sleep, dreaming he’s in a boat, bobbing up and down on the sea. He’s a little way from the shore, but he can see Dorothy and Steve sitting on the beach together and he steers towards them. Something seems to be pulling him away, and he hears a voice telling him something or other.

“El… EL!” Dorothy whispers as loudly as she dares in his ear, trying to subtly shake him awake.

“Mmmphhh.”

“Elvis!”

It sounds like a woman is calling his name, a kind of whisper on the wind, a nymph calling him, a siren…

“ELVIS!”

He groggily opens his eyes to find Dorothy millimetres away from his face. “Huh?”

“Wake up! I want to make St-daddy breakfast in bed.”

“I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”

Her eyes widen in challenge. “Oh, okay. So you want me to bring him breakfast in bed and you to just lie there like a lazy ass?”

Slowly starting to come round, Elvis catches her meaning. “Ya need help?”

She huffs. “I could have just got up and done it myself by now, I don’t need your help cooking, Elvis Presley, I thought it would be nice if we did it together.”

Reaching up to stroke her cheek he nods, slowly. “It would be nice. Sorry, Dodo. Ah’m still ‘sleep.”

“I can see that.” She kisses his cheek and then starts to get up as carefully as she can, so as to not disturb Steve.

The temptation to roll over and close his eyes again is almost overwhelming, but remembering all of his previous pledges to do whatever it took to get him and Dodo back on track, Elvis sits up instead. The two of them wrap robes around their naked bodies and make their way into the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind them. Dorothy has just started cooking the bacon and Elvis is trying to acquaint himself with the coffee machine when the door opens and the sleepy-looking third person in their little trio appears.

“Morning.”

“No! Go back to bed!”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Huh?”

Fed up with trying to make the coffee machine give up its mysteries by staring at it, Elvis moves towards the other man instead.

“Dodo wants to make you breakfast in bed.” He stops in front of him and then puts a hand on each of Steve’s hips. “I’m helpin’. Ah think she’d like ya ta go back ta bed.”

He tilts his face just enough to capture Steve’s lips in a good morning kiss. Their noses still touching, the older man smiles and kisses him again, a little longer this time.

“Hey! I’m the one making breakfast and he’s the one getting kisses?”

Elvis and Steve share a little smirk before letting each other go, Steve crossing the kitchen in a few short strides and wrapping his arms around Dorothy, looking over her shoulder at the stove.

“Looks good, babe.” The bacon is just starting to colour and the smell is making his mouth water. He gives her a kiss on the cheek, and then one on the lips when she turns her head towards him.

“Thanks, Daddy. Are you gonna go back to bed?”

He chuckles, squeezing her. “No. I don’t think I will. I’d prefer to sit at the table while you two wait on me hand and foot.”

“You hear that, El?” She moves her head to raise her voice. “The two of us.”

Elvis wonders if she has eyes in the back of her head and slowly gets back up off the chair he’d just sat down on.

“Okay, okay.”

Steve sits down himself and watches with amusement as Elvis tries and mainly fails to be helpful, periodically rubbing his eyes and sighing dramatically. Dorothy, on the other hand, is something like the model wife in the kitchen, keeping her eye on the bacon while making the French toast, sending Elvis to look for fruit and pour juice into glasses and even spending time explaining the coffee maker to him. She rolls her eyes and huffs at him impatiently while he fails to find things, breaks a glass and nearly forgets to put water in the machine, but every so often Steve spots her giving him tender little looks, when she thinks he’s not paying attention. Elvis is much more demonstrative, trying to make things up to her by wrapping an arm around her waist as he rubs his head against her shoulder. She pushes him away with a laugh but her gaze lingers a little longer than it has to, and Steve finds himself smiling again.

They eat breakfast, which is pretty good and Steve spends some time complimenting Dorothy on and a little being nice to Elvis, since he did at least try. Settling in to drink coffee and eat watermelon, the younger man starts to ponder the day ahead.

“What’re we gonna do today, then?”

“Well, you’re gonna wait around for the doctors to come visit, and then you’re gonna be very nice to them and do exactly what they say.”

Elvis’ eyes narrow at what he perceives to be Steve doing an impression of him, but then he remembers his promises the night before and just nods. He’d found the doctors here very agreeable in the past, and Steve had been careful to get Charlie to find the very same ones, as well as making sure that the villa had a suitable room in it, to avoid them all having to go out in public.

“What are we going to do today, Daddy?” Dorothy props her head up on her fist and grins.

“You are going to get me your manuscript and I’m going to read it.”

It’s Dorothy’s turn to be horrified, and try to wriggle herself out of it, but her thoughts follow a very similar path to Elvis’, with the addition that she can’t look less agreeable than him. Steve watches their reactions with interest, their thoughts seem to pass right over both of their faces and they seem very alike. He makes a mental note to come back to that later, as both of his lovebugs prepare to do just as he asked.

***

Elvis finds he doesn’t mind the conversation with the doctors here as much as he’d minded the one with the doctor in LA. There’s something about being on vacation in a lovely sunny spot with the two people he loves most in the world that softens him, and there’s also something about the way the doctors here talk to him. Like he’s not Mr. Moneybags, like they really have an interest in his health. They run tests, they make suggestions, they prescribe very little. They make no attempts to change his lifestyle, but they do talk a lot about their way of life on the island, and their ways of dealing with disease. By the time they leave he feels better about everything. So good, in fact, that he decides to make a phone call.

“Hello?”

“Tom? It’s Elvis.”

“Hey! How are you doing?”

“Great, man. Really good. Soakin’ up the sunshine.”

Tom makes an enthusiastic noise of approval and Elvis continues.

“So, listen. Ah jus’ wanted ta ask ya somethin’. About Gordon. Whether ya think he’s any good.”
The Welshman pauses for a moment, weighing up his options before he replies.

“I love Gordon, I do. But uh… I dunno if he’s the guy for you, E, if that’s what you’re asking?”

“Yeah, it is what ah’m askin’. Why not? He’s been good fer you, ain’t he?”

Tom bobs his head from side to side trying to think how exactly to explain it. He’d given it thought as soon as he knew that Elvis and the Colonel were on the rocks, and he couldn’t help coming to the conclusion that Gordon, try as he might, couldn’t quite manage someone like Elvis Presley.

“You know Lynsey De Paul?”

“Naw.”

“Gord had her on the books for a bit but they fell out last year. An’ if I’m honest with you, E, I’m close to falling out with him myself. Not getting the hits I used to, don’t know if I feel like he’s putting in the effort these days. He signs other people, but I dunno if he’s taking care of me and Bert. Think you might be better off with something different.”

Elvis is quiet for a while, trying to take in this information. Gordon had been his back up if things ever went sour with Parker, and he’s not sure where to go now Tom’s told him his back up might not be such a good idea.

“Well, you know him best ah guess. Better than me anyhow.”

“Well don’t take my word for it. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to give you an offer. But if I were you, I’d keep my options open.”

Elvis hears a girlish laugh in the background and smirks. “That what you’re doing, Tom?”

The Welshman breaks into an easy grin. “Always, E.”

“Well ah better let ya get back to her. Anyone special?”

Lowering his voice so the woman on the other side of the room can’t hear, he replies, “not really. Just a bit of fun. Home to Mel at the end of the week.”

“Ha. Enjoy yourself.”

“Will do. You too.”

Elvis puts the receiver down with a smile and makes his way into the living room, finding Steve and Dorothy sitting on the sofa, Steve reading as Dorothy nibbles at her nails.

“Ah jus’ spoke ta Tom.”

Steve looks up. “Oh yeah? How did the doctor go?”

“Good. Seein’ ‘em again for test results next week.” He sits down on an armchair. “Tom don’t think Gordon’s a good fit.”

Putting the manuscript down, Steve ponders. He hadn’t been expecting Elvis to start making moves towards getting another manager yet, if at all really, and he isn’t sure how to respond.

“Really? Guess we don’t have to think about it just yet.”

“Haveta think about it soon. Come up with some other ideas.”

Nodding, Steve agrees. “Sure. Yeah. Worth getting hold of Jerry?”

“Ah think so.” He pauses in thought for a while. “Tom sounded like he was havin’ fun, anyway.”

“Really?” Dorothy’s voice is tight, and this time Elvis notices immediately.

“Yeah. He had a girl there with him.” He watches for her reaction.

“Oh. Well I guess he is Tom Jones.”

“Irresistible to women.”

Dorothy swallows. The way Elvis is looking through her she’s convinced he’s on to her. She tries to go for a casual shrug but he just keeps staring, his jaw working.

“Takes one to know one.” Steve tries to lighten the mood but somehow the tension in the room seems to be getting worse.

“Dodo thinks he’s irresistible, don’t ya?”

“I d-” She throws her hands in the air in frustration. “Okay, fine. We slept together.” Elvis immediately opens his mouth to speak, looking like he’s just been told his shoes are on fire, but she doesn’t let him. “Don’t look at me like that. You were with Linda the beauty queen at the time. I was just getting something for myself. And anyway, Tom is the one who found Steve again so don’t get mad about Tom.”

“Don’t get mad about Tom!” Elvis stands, throwing a hand in the air. “Don’t get mad ‘bout my woman cheatin’ on me with the biggest fuckin’ man whore in Vegas!”

“Second biggest.”

If steam could’ve come out of Elvis’ ears, it would have, but instead regular air is forced out of his nostrils loudly as he grits his teeth.

“Fuckin’ whore.”

It’s Dorothy’s turn to open and close her mouth ineffectually as Elvis crashes out of the room before she has a chance to reply. Steve watches the whole thing in silence, deciding that perhaps it’s best not to interfere right now.

“I’m the whore. Did you hear that? Me. I’m the whore.”

Steve rubs her back in a way he hopes is comforting. “It’s not right, but you know he was always going to be funny about it being Tom.”

She lets out a loud sigh. “So it’s okay when he does it because I don’t know them?”

“No. It’s not okay. I’m sorry, babe. Come here.” He pulls her closer and she leans into him gratefully.

They stay there for a while, not saying much, Dorothy squeezing her eyes shut every time she hears a loud bang from the direction of the bedroom. She’s grateful at least that it doesn’t sound loud enough to be a gunshot, but not wanting to stay in the house in case that changes, she decides to go and spend some time in the sun instead. Walking out onto the private beach hand in hand with Steve, her wearing a large sunhat and him in one of the shirts bought for him by his boyfriend, Dorothy’s mind drifts back to simpler times.

“You remember when I asked you if you wanted to join us and nearly made you crash your car?”

Steve looks at her, amused. “Obviously.”

“I don’t know what I thought I was doing.”

He chuckles. “Getting what you wanted.”

She shoots him a look. “You make it sound like I was so calculating.”

“No?”

“Well I wanted you. But I guess I didn’t think about what would happen with El so much.”

“If I remember correctly, you said he could be persuaded.”

Dorothy giggles. “And he was! I was right!”

“Did you think he…” Steve gives her a sidelong glance. “Did you think he’d be into me?”

They walk along the beach near the sea, bare feet sinking into the sand as the sea laps at their toes.

“I kinda thought he was, y’know? He talked about you all the time.”

“Ah, c’mon.”

She grins. “I always kinda thought he had it in him. He would have these really obsessive relationships with men - Larry when I knew him and Nick before that. But he was brought up with God… I dunno. It’s hard for me to understand how he is because I’ve always liked girls and I guess it’s always seemed okay to me. But then…” She looks up, with a cheeky grin. “Lesbian’s aren’t real, are they?”

That makes Steve laugh out loud, walking with her from the edge of the sea to a shady tree a bit further up the beach.

“And did you think I’d be into him?”

“Are you kidding me?” Dorothy laughs now too. “I can’t tell you the amount of guys who’ve told me they’re not gay but they would for him. I didn’t think you’d be an exception.”

They sit under the tree, Steve continuing to giggle. “Oh really?”

“Really. You didn’t think you liked him?”

He shakes his head. “Not until he kissed me. And then it seemed obvious.”

“You’ve never liked a guy before?”

“No. He’s not just any guy though, is he?”

“No.” Dorothy sighs a little, feeling caught in the trap of Elvis Presley again.

As if on cue, not just any guy walks out of the villa and, seeing them underneath the tree, makes his way towards them.

“Lovebug.” Steve has some kind of hope that starting the interaction off like this might stop another argument, but it’s short-lived.

“Daddy.”

Elvis flops onto his knees beside Steve and looks over at Dorothy. He’d been so furious when he found out about her and Tom that he’d wanted to strangle her, so instead of acting on that particular urge he’d thrown a few things around the bedroom and anger-eaten half the haupia cake that had been delivered the night before. The idea of the two of them together, Tom Jones and his over-sized dick and his nice, lilting Welsh accent and his successful career. Younger than him, healthier than him, probably better in bed than him… the idea is driving him mad and he has to have it out with his girlfriend. If that’s even what she is, nowadays.

“How long?”

Dorothy blinks, confused. “What?”

“You and Tom. How long was it goin’ on for?”

Throwing herself back against the tree, she folds her arms across her chest defensively. “I dunno. A week or something.”

“A week?”

“How long were you sleeping with Linda? Kathy? Joyce? Whoever the fuck else there was that I didn’t even know about?”

Waving his hand in front of his face as if to demonstrate that none of those questions are important, he continues. “What’s he got that I ain’t, then?”

“He gave me the fucking time of day. I could talk to him. He listened.”

“Ah’m too old fer ya. Past it. Probably prefer him in bed too, don’t ya?”

Uncrossing her arms furiously, she throws her fists down into the sand. “You’re not listening to me now! And those are all stupid things. Steve’s older than you.” She turns her head away, muttering, “and no I don’t prefer him in bed, he was too big if I’m honest.”

“Huh?”

The noise is from Elvis, but it’s Steve who gently turns her head back to look at the other man.

“Nothing.”

“Ah c’mon, lovebug. Tell him properly, I think he’d like to know.”

Pouting, but unable to do anything other than what Steve asks, she repeats herself. “I don’t prefer him in bed.”

“Ya don’t?” A little of the fury is gone from Elvis’ voice.

“No. I prefer Steve.” Wrapping her arms back around herself, she smiles a little to herself at the barb, almost pleased at the wince he gives in response.

“Dorothy.” Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t sound pleased, and she looks over at him cautiously. “That was cruel.”

“Sorry. But he’s cruel to me! Can’t you see that?”

“Of course I can see it. But babe, do you really think that continuing to hurt him is going to help fix things?”

“He has no right to be angry with me!”

Steve looks up at a big fluffy cloud in the sky for some kind of help. Obviously it’s unreasonable of Elvis to be upset with Dorothy when she’d only done the same thing to him as he’d done to her repeatedly. Well, not unreasonable, but certainly hypocritical. But their obsession with arguing about everything and trying to one up one another didn’t make it easy for them to stop. They are just too similar, he thinks. Too damn alike.

“You both have a right to be upset with each other. But for all of our sakes, you also need to find a way to move on. Dodo, why don’t you tell Elvis three things you like about him?”

Caught again between the childish urge to say something mean and the undeniable nature of the promise she’d made to Steve to do whatever he asked, she sits there in silence for a while, knees drawn up to her chin. Eventually she presses her forehead against them instead and mumbles, “his dick.”

“Dorothy.”

“His dick! I like it, okay!” Head up, she directs this at Steve and then looks over at Elvis, who is somewhere between embarrassed and bemused. “I like your dick. It’s satisfying.” Her tone is so furious he isn’t quite sure whether he should take the words as complimentary or not, so he mumbles “thanks” back to her, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

“And I like… I like the passionate way you sing.” Her tone softens and she starts to colour a little. “And how talented you are. You don’t need to… you know you don’t need to compare yourself to other people. There’s no need. You’re in… you’re in a totally different… league… y’know.”

She pulls the brim of her hat down to try and hide her face, returning to her study of her knees. Suddenly wanting to be close to her, Elvis climbs over Steve and sits, half on his legs and half on the sand. He puts a hand on her arm before he starts to speak, knowing that the other man will want him to return the favour to Dorothy, and more than that, wanting more than anything now to do it.

“I like the way ya always tell me how it is, Dodo. Ya never sugar-coat it fer me. I know ah’ve said it before, but it’s true. You’re not like any other woman ah’ve ever known. An’ I like that ya went off ta film school ta learn things. Ah like yer independent streak.”

She looks up. He has told her the first bit before, but never the second. “You like it? I always thought you hated it. That’s why you never wanted to marry me.”

“Felt like that when ah was younger.” Elvis wrinkles his nose at the memory. “Felt like ah wanted ta keep ya. But I… uh… it ain’t right, is it? That ah get to have a career and you don’t. That ah get to have all this stuff an’ yer jus’ meant ta keep house. Yer not a keepin’ house kinda girl.”

Swallowing, Dorothy looks back at her knees again. One of them is a little reddish. She prods it with a finger.

“You have maids and cooks anyway.”

“Mmm.” He leans closer and kisses her cheek. “Know what else I like?”

She tries to keep the corners of her mouth from curling up but fails miserably. “Surprise me.”

“Pussy,” he growls in her ear, making her giggle uncontrollably.

“Any pussy specifically?”

“This one.” He grabs her and rolls her onto her back, his hand trying to touch her as she playfights him off, both of them giggling between kisses.

“I love you, mama.”

“I love you too. But the sand is getting… everywhere.”

They both break down into another fit of giggles and Steve lights a cigarette with a smile. He’s been trying to cut down, for Elvis’ sake if nothing else, but he feels like he deserves one after that. From calling her a whore to telling her he loved her in less than an hour.

Well done, Binder. You’ve earned this.

***

Chapter Text

“I don’t think we should be doing this,” Dorothy mumbles, between kisses.

“Hm?” Elvis’ thumb is rubbing the outside of her panties in a way that she’s struggling to find the will to extricate herself from.

Using one hand to push his face away, she looks at him with a serious expression and he looks back confused.

“I don’t think Daddy would like it if he found out.”

“We ain’t touchin’ ourselves, we’re touchin’ each other.” He tries to kiss her again but she brings up the other hand to help stop him.

“He said that this,” she reaches between them, finally dislodging his hand to put hers in its place, “and this”, grabbing his dick in a way that makes him groan, “are his.”

“Then he won’t mind if they come together in a perfect union of passionate love, will he?”

Grabbing her wrists, he pins them to either side of her head, his lips just hovering above hers when they both hear the front door clunk shut. They both leap up and away from one another, and Steve finds them on either side of the kitchen, Dorothy setting up a fresh pot of coffee and Elvis doing something with a dishcloth.

“Lovebugs.”

“Hi, daddy.” Dorothy makes her way towards him with her best winning smile and he gives her a kiss, and then turns to Elvis.

“El?”

Elvis pulls a face at the pile of dishes in front of him. He’d hoped that enough time would’ve passed for his raging erection to have calmed down, but no such luck. He fixes Steve with his most sultry look as he walks across the kitchen, hoping to distract from the situation below his belt. “Hey, daddy.”

Steve’s slightly puzzled expression changes to delight as he reaches up to touch Elvis’ cheek, kissing him tenderly. Relieved that he seems to be getting away with it so far, the younger man kisses him back and continues to wish his hard-on away. But if anything, all the sneaking about and pretending seems to be making it worse.

“What have you two been up to while I’ve been gone?”

The question is innocent enough, but their reaction is anything but - both of them start to speak at the same time, and then stop and stammer and blush and Steve immediately guesses what exactly they’ve been doing from their body language and the way Elvis’ shorts seem tight around his groin. His raised eyebrow is all it takes for Dorothy to crack.

“I told him not to! I said it was breaking the rules!”

Elvis’ arm is around her waist, pulling her into his side. “You said we weren’t allowed ta touch ourselves. Ya never mentioned not touchin’ each other.”

“I told you, he said my pussy and your dick were his property. We shouldn’t be playing with his things without permission.”

Deciding to file that one way for future Steve to retrieve and enjoy, the brunette contents himself with a slightly smug smile.

“Dodo’s right. Don’t think you two should be playing with each other without asking first.”

Elvis visibly pouts.

“Sorry, daddy.” Dorothy bites her lip, doing her best to look cute but seemingly unable to stop herself cuddling up to the black-haired man.

“You did break the rules. But maybe I didn’t make them quite clear enough.” Elvis starts to smile at this, chancing a quick “see, Dodo?” before the other man continues. “And it is nice to see you two so close again.” Dorothy looks almost bashful at his observation, studying her feet. “So why don’t you carry on where you left off, and let me watch?”

Elvis doesn’t need asking twice, scooping his giggling girlfriend up and carrying her over to the kitchen island before depositing her on the top of it, in a slightly more comfortable position than the one he’d had her in earlier. Grateful not to be almost bent in half, she sprawls on the counter top, hands above her head as Elvis resumes his rubbing of her rapidly dampening panties, bringing her giggling to an abrupt end. Steve sits on a stool on the other side of the island, interlacing his fingers with hers as he watches her reactions to Elvis’ expert touches. He’d never really thought of himself as much of a voyeur before now, but it seems like he’s spending a lot of his time watching. Perhaps that’s a natural side effect of having two willing little dolls to pose in whatever way he likes.

“Mmm, please.” The rubbing is starting to make Dorothy feel insane.

“Please?”

She frowns. “You know.”

Elvis does know, and he reaches for his belt, briefly feeling relief as he undoes it and thinking he should probably go down a notch soon. Moving his shirt to make sure his belly is covered, he hooks her panties to the side and starts to rub his dick against her bare pussy. The loud moan he gets in response convinces him that now probably isn’t the time to tease, so he slowly starts to push inside.

“Oh God.”

He leans over her as he fills her completely, pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss. Her hands grab his collar and then she’s pulling his shirt open, half-pushing it off his shoulders as he starts to move inside her. She groans, back arching, one hand still on the back of his neck.

“Fuck.”

Elvis grunts, pulling out almost the whole way before driving his dick deep inside her again. She writhes and arches again and then she looks at Steve.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Dodo.”

“Can I… would it be ok for me to call Elvis daddy too, just now?”

“‘Course it would, gorgeous.”

He kisses her forehead and she reaches to tangle their hands together again as Elvis tortures her with another few long, slow thrusts. Knowing she wants to say it, he decides he ought to fuck the honorific out of her, grabbing both legs and putting them up so that her heels rest on his chest, his hands around her thighs as he starts to pick up the pace.

“Oh. Oh. Oh.”

“Yes. Fuck. Ya feel so good Dodo.”

Starting to moan and whine, her eyes stay closed as she concentrates on the intensity of the feeling, pleasure buzzing in her veins. He watches her, awestruck, and then moves her legs so they’re pressed together near one shoulder instead, pulling her towards him before starting a relentless pace. She’s squeezing and squeezing him and he can’t stop looking at the way his dick slides in and out of her.

“Oh daddy, I love it when you fuck me like this.”

Dorothy feels completely insensible, her head rolling from side to side as her pleasure builds to what seems like a completely unsustainable level until it finally bursts and she cums, squealing and grunting and then immediately becoming oversensitive. Letting her legs go, Elvis closes his eyes at the intensity of the feeling of her all around him, and then somehow pulls out, quickly stroking himself to completion on her pussy. Audibly moaning at the sex show put on for his benefit, Steve beckons the other man over.

“Want you to make me cum.”

Trying to catch his breath, the other man makes his way to the other side of the island and looks down at Steve questioningly.

“However you want.”

Hands still a little shaky from the force of his orgasm, he’s grateful for Steve’s decision to wear elasticated shorts, freeing his dick easily and starting to pump it up and down. He stops for a second to spit on his hand, the lubrication suddenly making the movement easier and the other man moan pornographically.

“Thanks for letting me watch.” Steve looks up at him.

“Seems like you enjoyed it,” Elvis breathes, hand squeezing that bit tighter.

“Mmm.” Tugging his head down closer, Steve tilts his face up to the other man who studies it for a moment before closing the distance between them with a bruising kiss.

Turning onto her front for a better view, Dorothy watches as they kiss for a while longer and then Elvis is on his knees, taking Steve into his mouth as he pumps furiously. Tangling his fingers in the other man’s hair, Steve moans again, his balls tightening as he feels himself on the edge of his orgasm.

“Fuck. Elvis.”

The younger man looks up and that’s enough to push Steve over the edge, cumming hard down his throat. His eyes close in bliss for a second and then he feels himself wobble on the stool and grabs hold of the counter top. Dorothy smiles and puts her hand on top of his.

“Don’t fall off!”

He smiles. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not going anywhere.”

***

Later that afternoon, as they laze about on the beach again, Steve remembers what he’d actually been doing when he’d left them for the morning. He fetches a small package from the house, unwrapping it as his two partners watch with interest.

“I wanted it to go with whatever else you want to wear. I know how much jewellery you have.” Steve hands Elvis a small box.

The other man opens it and whistles. The chain is gold and very fine, and as he pulls it out of the box he sees it’s fairly long too. It’s far more understated than anything he would ever get for himself, but there’s something appealing about that.

“I can change it if you want. I want you to like it. I want you to wear it all the time so you have to like it really. I won’t be offended if you want to get something else.” Steve is rambling a little and he tries to stop himself.

“Nuh-uh. Ah love it, daddy.” He leans over to kiss the other man. “Will ya put it on me?”

Nodding, Steve unclasps it and carefully places it around his neck before redoing the catch. He tucks it into Elvis’ half-open shirt, which he’d meant to change after Dorothy had pulled one of the middle buttons off, but hadn’t got around to for some reason.

“Mine.”

Elvis nibbles his lower lip. “Yours.”

Reaching for her own box with growing excitement, Dorothy struggles to know whether to keep watching the two men kiss or stop and look inside. Luckily they pull apart and her dilemma is over, pushing the little button on the side of the box and pulling the top up. Her necklace is much chunkier and more obvious, but she isn’t a global superstar so it seems appropriate. And Steve is less nervous about this decision, being familiar with her much more modest jewellery collection and feeling confident that he could pick something she would like.

“Do you like it?”

Taking it out of the box and studying it, she nods. “I love it. Thank you, daddy.”

Elvis catches hold of it for a second and then lets go. “Gold-plated.”

“Yours is solid gold, Dodo’s is gold-plated. I’m not made of money but I knew how you’d be if you didn’t have solid gold.”

The younger man blushes. “Ah’m sorry. Ah’d like anythin’ ya got me, daddy, y’know that.”

“But you’d be pissed if it wasn’t twenty four carat.” Dorothy chips in with a grin.

“C’mere. Let me put it on you.”

He looks at them both contentedly as they look back at him, gold necklaces glinting in the sun. Looping a finger through each one he tugs them closer to him.

“These look good. No taking them off now. Want you to remember who you belong to.”

“Yes, daddy.”

They both lean in to kiss him at the same time and the three of them giggle, trying to all kiss at once again like they did that Christmas at Graceland, and failing miserably. But it doesn’t stop them from spending a bit more time seeing if they can perfect it, laughing and rolling about in the sand.

***

“Do you ever lose control?” Dorothy is sitting on the other end of the sofa, watching Steve as he reads the newspaper. Elvis is with the doctors again so they have a few hours to themselves, but she can’t seem to get into the book she brought with her.

“Huh?” The brunette puts the paper down and looks over at her.

“In bed. Or, in life even. Do you ever just… stop being in control? Lose it completely?”

“A bit, sometimes.”

She laughs. “You can’t completely lose it a bit.”

“No, I guess not. So maybe not, then.”

“Huh. What is that like? Being so in control of your emotions all the time? I can’t imagine it.”

He smiles. “Takes a bit of effort I suppose, but I’ve always been like it. So I can’t really imagine the other.”

“Takes effort?” She arches a brow.

“Yeah. I mean… I’m not constantly trying to stop myself exploding or anything like that. But I do hold myself back sometimes.”

“Because?”

“Because I like being in control of myself. And if I didn’t, there’d be three people in this relationship losing their tempers left right and centre.”

That makes her giggle. “Okay, you got me there. But you don’t ever want to just, let go, see what happens?”

“Not really.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Dorothy continues to ponder as Steve returns to his newspaper. She likes Steve being in control, she likes his steady, reassuring presence in her life, and she knows Elvis does too. But she wonders if it’s fair for him to be the only sensible one. He surely deserves to be allowed to completely surrender to emotion once in a while. Her mind wanders back to the other day, when Elvis had stood over him and touched him and he’d looked up at the black-haired man. There was something different in that moment, she’d noticed it even in her post-orgasmic silly state. A glimpse into how things could be, maybe only very occasionally, but all the same…

***

As much as Elvis loves Hawaii, after spending a month there he’s itching to get back to Graceland and doing things. Doing things that need sorting out before his December recording session, things that ought to be done in Memphis with friends. He summons everyone he thinks could possibly help to a meeting in the mansion. Red and Sonny are nowhere to be found, and it seems even more likely than before that they won’t be coming back. Elvis asks Derek to contact them separately and make sure they aren’t going to talk, trying to put the disappointment of losing two of his oldest friends out of his mind. He doesn’t invite Joe, being almost certain that he was the one that outed him to Parker, but he does get Charlie to call Tom and make sure he’s there, despite his misgivings about the Welshman being in the same room as his Dodo. Sitting at the head of the table, he places Steve and Dorothy on either side of him, and everyone else gradually files in and sits down. Larry has come from LA with Jerry and Myrna, and of course faithful old Charlie is there, pulling out the final chair at the other end of the table.

Elvis opens his mouth to begin but he doesn’t manage any more than the first syllable before Vernon walks in.

“Ri-”

“What’s goin’ on, son?”

The singer gets up with barely disguised irritation, trying to shoo his father back out of the room again.

“Nothin’, daddy. Jus’ business chat. Nothin’ fer you to worry about, I’ll talk ta ya about it later.”

“Don’t ya think I should be involved, son? If it’s business chat.”

Elvis lowers his voice as he keeps walking Vernon towards the door. “I’ll talk ta ya later. Not now. C’mon. Later.”

“I jus’...”

“LATER!” Elvis thunders, and then immediately regrets it. “Sorry, daddy.” He lets out a shuddering sigh. “Didn’t mean ta snap. I’ll talk to ya later. Ah promise.”

Still not exactly thrilled at being excluded, Vernon continues to mutter about how he ought to be involved as he lets himself be ushered through the door at the back of the house. Returning to the table, Elvis presses his forehead against it as he flops forwards in frustration. He’s starting to wish he’d just stayed in Hawaii.

The feeling of a comforting hand on his leg makes him look up, reluctantly, and he’s greeted by Dorothy’s smiling face. Slowly looking around the table, he sees all the other expectant faces of his friends and confidants, and it’s enough to snap him back to reality and try to get on with sorting out his managerial problems.

“Right. Let’s try again. Thanks fer comin’, all of ya. Me an’ Parker have parted ways - still some paperwork to sign but it’s a done deal.” He rubs his nose with the back of his hand. “Ah need some help decidin’ what ta do next.” Another unsteady breath makes its way out of his mouth. “So. No bad ideas.”

The table is silent for a moment while everyone digests the enormity of the information and each of them independently wonders if he really wants their opinion. Charlie is absolutely sure that there are bad ideas, because he’s been accused of having them in the past, and Jerry rubs his palms on his thighs anxiously too.

Myrna is the first one to actually have the guts to speak.

“That’s good news sugar. That man was no damn good.”

“Yeah, good decision E.” Jerry backs his girlfriend up immediately.

“You know how I feel about Parker,” Larry joins in. “Odious man.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Well he didn’t ransack your apartment.”

“You can’t prove he did that.”

“You can’t prove men walked on the moon, but it seems pretty damned likely.”

“ALRIGHT!” Larry and Jerry both jump out of their skins and immediately shut up. “Ah’m not askin’ fer a post mortem on him. Ah’m not askin’ fer your opinions on him at all. Ah’m askin’ what I do now. Me. Elvis Goddamn Presley.”

There are a few mutterings of “sorry E” and then the room falls into another uncomfortable silence. No-one is really sure what Elvis wants, and what they should say, aside from Steve and Dorothy who already agreed ahead of time to let others speak first. Eventually Tom decides he does have something worth saying, and he may as well say it, since he bothered to fly all the way from sunny Wales for this.

“I’ve been thinking. It’s a big job, managing Elvis Presley. There’s a lot of moving parts, and a lot of fans and merchandising… It’s a lot for anyone and I can see how whoever did it could easily get greedy.” Elvis waves his hand impatiently, wanting him to get to the point. “Well… I just wondered. Does it have to be one person?”

Elvis’ eyes flick around the room as he thinks. There’s no reason it has to just be one person, apart from that it always has been.

“I guess not.”

There are some mutterings from Jerry and Myrna’s side of the table, and then the singer elbows her boyfriend in the side, fairly hard. “Go on. Say.”

“You know I’ve been managing bands, E. Beach Boys…” he trails off, uncertainly. Myrna elbows him again. “Well… I think I’m kinda alright at it.”

“And you’d give them up to manage me?”

Jerry looks uneasy. “Ah hadn’t really thought I’d have to give them up…”

Shaking his head, Elvis fixes him with a look. “Ah’d need your full attention. Ah can’t just be someone on your books.”

“But what about spitting it up, E?” This time it’s Charlie.

“I could trust Jerry. Couldn’t I, Jer? Not to get greedy.”

“I don’t think that’s the only problem with only having one person managing you.” Elvis looks over at Larry and raises an eyebrow. The other man smiles. “Burnout. You’re a lot of work, you want to run poor Jerry ragged?”

Briefly looking put out, the singer huffs out a sigh and studies his fingers. That was probably true, too. “Hmmm.”

“I have an idea.” Dorothy gets up, giving her boyfriend a reassuring pet on her way, and then returns a moment or two later with paper and a pen. “Let’s think of all the things a manager should do for you, and I’ll write them down. And then maybe that will help us think of who could do what, if we split it up.”

Both Elvis and Steve positively beam at her, and everyone else at the table makes encouraging noises. The obvious things come out first, like tour management (US and abroad), recording rights and arrangements and merchandising, someone suggests movies, if Elvis wants to act seriously again. And then some other, more interesting ideas raise their heads. Someone to help him get his own TV show, if he wants. Someone to help him get into directing films. Someone actually qualified to take care of his health, in a way that isn’t just designed to put money directly in their pocket. Larry even suggests a spiritual guru, which immediately has Jerry laughing and asking “oh, and who exactly would be qualified for that job?!” Bodyguards are discussed, and even accountants and suddenly everything is on the table and everyone’s thoughts are free-flowing and Elvis starts to think that maybe this is the way to do it. No pressure on any one individual, the way he likes to perform with a whole band and half an orchestra behind him, the way he likes to run things otherwise, with the guys helping him. Hell, the way he likes his sex life, with more than one willing participant. He looks around the table again, at everyone talking and laughing and joking.

This crazy idea might just work.

***

Chapter Text

Steve has to go back to LA in a couple of days and do some actual work, much to Elvis’ obvious displeasure. But even though he’s upset he tries to see it from the other man’s perspective. He does have a career. And Elvis knows how important that is, and how much that career has been put on hold to help his own recently, so he does his best not to act like a petulant child. At least until Steve leaves, anyway. Dorothy is sad too, and kind of nervous to be left on her own with her original partner. Not that there’s much time at Graceland when other people aren’t around, but she feels a little off-balance thinking about being without Steve for so long. At least Elvis has recording obligations to fulfil, and the plans around his management are certainly keeping him busy. Instead of being petulant and whiny about being without his daddy for so long (Steve said he’d visit at Christmas, but he couldn’t be flying back and forth every weekend, no matter how much he was pleaded with), and he’s comfort-eating as a result. He surreptitiously unbuttons his pants after dinner, the pressure of the waistband pressing into him making him uncomfortable. Frowning into his coffee with extra cream, he starts to think about how much weight he’s gained. It’s getting to the point where he can’t quite suck it in anymore, and he’s avoided looking in a full-length mirror for the past week or so. He can’t carry on like this, it looks disgusting and he’s sure it must be turning Steve and Dodo off. They haven’t had sex in a few days, probably because he looks so horrible naked now, and he finds himself reaching for a helping of Mary’s home-cooked banana pudding and starting to eat before he quite realises what he’s doing. He puts the plate down.

“How many jumpsuits do you think you have?” Steve has been asking him questions about his tours all day long, and he looks up, a little weary.

“Ah dunno. Twenny. Thirty.”

“Wow. Do you keep them here?”

“Some of them, yeah. Some are at the cleaners, some in storage.” He sees the look of interest of the other man’s face and sits up a bit. “Ya wanna see ‘em?”

“Sure!”

“Alright then!” Suddenly filled with enthusiasm, Elvis gets up and makes his way to the stairs, fiddling with his pants to try and do them up again as he goes.

The second walk-in closet in his bedroom is the one that’s full to the brim with the suits, and Elvis soon gets stuck in, pulling them out and showing off, explaining the designs and the amount of jewels that had been used on some of the more fancy ones, talking through the ones he likes the best and the least. He pulls out the one that he was wearing the day Steve came backstage and the other man smiles.

“That one is gorgeous.”

“Fans call it the blue starburst. This here’s the matchin’ belt, an’ the cape.”

“I really like it.” He examines it for a minute or so and then starts looking through the others on his own, pulling out one or two to examine more closely.

They’re arranged seemingly in date order, getting less fancy as Steve walks to his left, but something gold catches his eye. Pulling the suit out, he finds it’s laced up the side with a tiny gold chain. He lets out a low whistle of the sort more usually done by his partner, and the other man comes over. He blushes a little.

“That’s an old one.”

“Pretty sexy, no?”

Giggling like a little boy, Elvis half-nods, half-shakes his head. “Ah guess.”

“Oh come on. It laces up the side. And this chain… kind of reminds me of something…” He leans closer and pulls the thin gold necklace from inside Elvis’ shirt. Biting his lip as he looks at the other man, he starts to have an idea. “You wanna put it on for me?”

“Y-yeah…” Tingling all over with excitement, he takes the suit off the hanger and looks at it for a minute. He was at his very thinnest when he wore it last. “It might, uh… I dunno if it’ll fit, daddy.”

Steve pulls a face like he doesn’t see how that could possibly be an issue, and suggests he goes into the ensuite to put it on. “Then you can come out here and give me a little fashion show.”

The older man enjoys how much the suggestion makes Elvis blush and stutter, thinking that his bashfulness seems kind of ironic considering he’d built a whole career on sex appeal, and he sits down on the bed to wait, kicking his feet idly back and forth.

Standing in the bathroom, Elvis’ excitement turns to horror as he starts to pull the suit on. It’s very tight, so tight he’s not sure he’d have got it on at all if it weren’t for the lace-up sides which are straining open. He finally manages to pull it up far enough to get his arms in, shrugging it into place, squinting at the feeling of the fabric hugging him so closely. And then he looks in the mirror and feels sick. The chains are pressing into his flesh so hard he’s sure they’re making criss-cross patterns, chubby bits of him are sticking out of the sides and his belly is straining against the front. He wriggles about a bit to try and make it look better, sucks in his belly to the best of his ability, and then grimaces at his reflection. He can’t go back to the bedroom looking like this.

“It don’t fit!”

“Lemme see.”

“N-” Elvis stops, remembering he’s not actually allowed to say no to something Steve asks him. “I uh… I’d kinda rather ya didn’t.”

Steve looks in the direction of the voice thoughtfully. He’s not entirely surprised the suit doesn’t fit too well, but he’s sure it can’t be that bad.

“C’mon.”

Opening the door a crack, Elvis puts his head around it and tries to look as pathetic as possible.

“It don’t look good, daddy.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Come on. You promised you’d do as I say…”

Making a noise a bit like a sad puppy, the singer slowly pushes the door open and sidles into the room, sucking his gut in as best he can. Steve watches with interest, seeing his boyfriend’s obvious discomfort but not quite understanding why he’s acting that way until he gets a little closer and it becomes clear. Elvis stops right in front of him, his head down, hands fiddling with his rings awkwardly. Moving slightly to one side, Steve runs a curious finger down the gap at the seam of the suit, letting it bump over flesh and chains. The other man flinches at the touch and immediately loses control of his abdomen, trying to suck it in again seconds later with a gasp.

“Relax.”

Steve’s other hand glides over the front of the suit, making gentle contact with Elvis’ belly.

“Look so fucking fat.” Elvis stares down at the hand and the stretched fabric and cringes, the words letting the air out of him.

Eyes flicking all over his body, the older man can’t help biting his lip a little. Elvis looks good enough to eat, something about the way the chains are pressing into his flesh is making Steve feel light-headed, and his dick is definitely appreciating seeing the contours of the other man’s body defined like this.

“You are so fucking fat.” The words are purred into the singer’s ear and he jolts, fingers moving, mouth working, not sure what to do or say.

His boyfriend’s fingers start to touch him again, where he’s almost oozing out of the sides of the suit, rubbing at first and then pinching, as if he’s trying to quantify the excess weight somehow. Elvis whimpers, feeling his dick start to respond almost against his will.

“You’re my fat little faggot, aren’t you?”

The whimper turns into a full on whine, and now he really doesn’t know what to do with himself, body starting to tremble.

“Hm?” Steve pinches his face in one strong hand and makes him look into his eyes.

“Y-yeah.”

“Tell me. Tell me you’re daddy’s fat little faggot. That you’ll do whatever I want, because you’re pathetic and worthless, people out there think you’re some big star but we both know you’re just a nasty fag who wants his daddy to fuck his fat ass.”

Breathing like he’s drowning, Elvis tries desperately to respond as he feels his dick pressing urgently against the jumpsuit like he could just cum from this.

“I’m a… I jus’... f-fuck… I want…”

Steve watches him pant and ramble incoherently, feeling himself redden at the sight of it, hearing his own breath come out ragged and uncontrolled too.

His hand moves to grab Little Elvis through the suit. “Use your words.”

There’s a brief moment where Elvis thinks he has cum, his head thrown back, whimpers and moans freely falling from his lips. And then somehow he opens his eyes and looks down into the big brown ones of the man holding him by the dick.

“D-daddy ah’m a nasty fucking fag an’ I want ya so much. Please fuck me. Ah know ah don’t deserve it, ah’m so fat an’ disgusting, ah’m beggin’ ya.”

“Oh God.” Taking hold of his face with both hands, Steve crashes their lips together in a passionate kiss and Elvis responds, hands everywhere, grabbing, desperate.

“I wish someone designed this suit so I could fuck you in it.” It’s mumbled into Elvis’ neck between kisses, and he feels all the hairs on his body stand on end.

“Me too.”

Somehow pulling away, his heart hammering in his chest, Steve looks at him.

“Take it off.” He removes his own clothes quickly, sitting at the head of the bed and starting to stroke himself. “Want you to ride me like a little slut. C’mon. On daddy’s lap.”

Struggling to remove the jumpsuit, Elvis looks over at him as he pulls at the sleeves. They hadn’t made love since Steve had been back, even though he’d wanted to. Somehow it felt like too much, unmanageable, and he knew the other man was waiting until it stopped feeling that way. He finally pulls the suit down over his hips and his dick springs up, almost slapping against his belly. He hears stitching rip and kicks his legs free too.

“Yes, daddy.”

Moving to straddle him, he’s desperate for touch again, their dicks rubbing together like that first time, on the couch in Palm Springs. A hand on the back of his head, Steve pulls Elvis’ face to his own and starts to kiss him as his other hand makes its way between his buttocks, rubbing a lubed finger there for a moment before pushing inside. He feels the other man’s reaction, the way he presses their chests together, the way his hands grab at Steve’s hair, his shoulder. Slowly moving his finger in and out and then adding another, touching him until he’s convinced he’s relaxed enough and then slipping his fingers back out again. Elvis’ whole body seems to flush crimson as he gets up onto his knees and the other man holds his dick for him to sink down onto, slowly, filling him up like all of those times in Vegas.

“Oh fuck.”

The head brushes against his prostate, and then as he starts to move it bumps against it again and again, making him see stars. He looks down at Steve, both of them moaning at the intensity of the feeling, the older man’s hands gripping his sides to help him move, holding him by his love handles.

Elvis can feel the pressure building even though no-one’s touching him, and starts to try to say something.

“Ah’m gon’... St-daddy… ah’m…”

Steve moves his hand to the other man’s dick and two firm strokes are all that’s needed. Pleasure whips through Elvis’ body and he flops like a ragdoll, letting Steve use him however he wants, needy hips bucking up as hands press down.

“God. Fuck.”

He feels a sharp slap on one buttock and he stares at his lover’s face, watching it contort in pleasure as he snaps his hips over and over, grunting with effort until finally he cums deep inside the other man. Holding onto Elvis as he feels like his body is spinning away from him, his orgasm so strong his head immediately starts to ache.

They spend a while on the bed, just recovering, and then take a slow, hot shower. Elvis’ eyes search Steve’s face the whole time, wondering something, looking for clues. He helps him into a big fluffy white gown and then puts his own on. He’d had Steve’s monogrammed with his initials and as they get into bed he traces the letters over and over again with a finger.

“Penny for ‘em.”

Elvis looks up into Steve’s face, wondering if he’s ever seen a more handsome man. Remembering when Dorothy asked if he found him attractive and he’d claimed not to know. He’s a guy. How do ah know if a guy’s cute?

“Ah need ta lose weight ‘fore January.”

“Not on my account.” A hand slips inside the robe and starts to stroke the skin around his hip. “All this healthy eating and relaxing is doing you good.”

“It’s makin’ me fat.”

Pushing his leg between Elvis’, he pulls the other man closer.

“Think you look good with a little more meat on your bones.”

“Naw. Ya don’t. Yer jus’ sayin’ that ta make me feel better. Dodo’s the same.”

“Uh-uh. You don’t get to tell me what I like and don’t like, Elvis Presley.”

Searching his face again, Elvis still can’t find it. “Naw.”

“Yes.” Stroking his cheek with a thumb, Steve looks back at him. “If I could’ve fucked you in that suit without wrecking it I would’ve done. The way you were squeezed right into it…”

“Out of it.” Elvis can’t help himself. There’s no way anyone could’ve found that attractive. Maybe Steve has had a bump to the head.

“Shh.” He presses his forefinger to the singer’s lips. “Thought I was going to lose my damn mind looking at you.”

“Even though I’m a fat faggot?”

“Exactly because you’re a fat faggot.”

Elvis keeps just looking at him for a while longer, unable to figure out what to say in response to that. Stroking the singer’s cheek now with the backs of his fingers, Steve’s brow furrows slightly.

“Are you okay? I know I went quite far. You know… you know how much I love you?”

They’d declared their love for each other again in Hawaii, in hushed tones one morning in bed, but Elvis hadn’t heard Steve say it since then, hadn’t realised until now how much he needed to.

“‘M okay, daddy.”

Steve pauses the stroking of Elvis’ cheek to hold his chin for a moment instead. “Call me Steve for a minute. Be honest with me.”

Letting out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, Elvis buries his head in the other man’s chest.

“I love ya s’much Stevie. Ah’d do anythin’ for ya. Scares me a bit, the way I feel.”

Steve strokes the back of his head, fingers knitting into his hair. He can feel his heart beating fast again, and concentrates on trying to breathe more deeply and slowly.

“Scares me how much I love you too, El.” He murmurs back. “Scares me half to death.”

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