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It's In His Kiss

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Elijah is doing inventory. A hasty, frantic, mental inventory while he sits on the sofa with an open beer bottle in his hand.

Fingers and toes: not numb.

Head: not spinning.

Eyesight: not blurry. Hell, not even that weird, too-sharp-and-colors-sort-of-off vision that he gets right before everything goes slippery and unfocused.

Definitely not drunk.

But he must be, because why else would he be sitting there, watching in slow-mo from some other part of the room while he and Dominic lean closer and closer together, almost like they're going to...

Holy fucking mother of god... Lips on his, silken-warm, brushing across like a softly murmured promise. Ohhh. When they're suddenly gone, he can't move, can't breathe, can't force his eyes to open and look at Dom's face. Then, without warning, they're back again, firmer this time, pressing, sliding, beckoning; and he finds that he's responding, his back arching and his arms moving up and around Dominic's shoulders.

With a start he remembers the bottle in his hand as it almost slips from his grip, slapping him with a sudden self-awareness and he wonders, Why doesn't one of us pull away? Best friends don't... they just don't... And now his head really is spinning, but not drunken spinning; more like a whirl of confusion and fear and excitement and longing and... happiness? ...all passing by so fast that he can't really grasp any one emotion.

But Dom's hands are on his waist, moving around to his back, and Elijah knows it won't can't be him that breaks the kiss. He leans in even more and somewhere in the back of his brain he's marveling at the odd juxtaposition of satin-smooth lips and harsh stubble. But it's swept away in an instant as he feels Dom's tongue nudging experimentally at his lips and without hesitation his mouth is open, returning the velvet caresses and inviting more. Dominic. Dom's mouth tastes like beer and pizza and desire and Elijah is lost in the sensations, thinking he's forgotten to breathe because he's light-headed and clutching at Dominic's neck with that damn beer bottle still in a death grip in his hand, and just as he's hoping that it never ends... it does.

Dominic pulls back, away from the kiss, out of Elijah's embrace. This time Elijah's eyes fly open and meet the thundercloud blue of Dominic's, which are wide with some indefinable emotion. For a moment they just stare at each other, mouths hanging slack, caught in freeze-frame. Dominic. Elijah thinks he sees something shadowy flicker across Dominic's face as Dom sucks his lower lip into his mouth and abruptly looks away.

Elijah can't seem to draw enough breath into his lungs to speak – not that he has a fucking clue what to say. The air seems thick, slow, heavy. Still staring at the side of Dominic's face, at his ear so dark red against the short, sandy hair above it, Elijah watches him work his lower lip between his teeth. There's a high-pitched, inarticulate keening in his brain that he can't block out, can't concentrate to form words.

So focused is he on watching Dominic avoid his gaze that the sound of Billy's voice actually makes him jump, almost losing the bottle a second time. Shakily, he sets it on the coffee table as Billy comes toward them.

“So, did I miss anything?” Billy stops when he reaches the sofa, his eyebrows rising as he looks from Dominic to Elijah and back again. “What's this then? I go to take a piss, and the two of you can't be trusted to save the interesting stuff until I get back?”

Elijah is still dumb with shock and confusion, but Dominic gives Billy a half-smirk and says, “We should go now, Bill. I think I've had one too many.”

“Really? You don't seem drunk to me, Dom.”

“That's because I'm not a fucking lightweight,” Dominic snaps. He rubs a hand over his face and stands, careful to avoid looking at Elijah. “I'm sorry, Billy. I'm just tired, and if I don't get home soon I'll never make it to Feet on time tomorrow.”

“All right, then. See you in the morning, Elijah.” Billy smiles and swats Elijah on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “Go to bed. You look like shit.”

“Right.” Elijah rises slowly, watching Dominic retrieve their coats and head for the door. “G'night.”

“'Night,” Dominic throws over his shoulder without meeting Elijah's eyes, leaving Elijah standing there, staring at the closing door as it clicks shut.

What the fuck just happened?

* * * * *

Elijah is already in the trailer when Dominic arrives the next morning. His eyes flick to Elijah's, lingering for only a couple of heartbeats before they flick away again.

“Hey,” he says, sinking into his make-up chair.

“Morning.” Elijah studies Dom's profile as though his thoughts might be visible in the rounded curve of his nose or the set of his jaw. I should say something. Dominic just sits and not-quite-stares at himself in the mirror and Elijah sits and fidgets, casting surreptitious glances at Dominic's reflection - he should say something - hoping to catch his eye or even just read some sort of emotion on his face. But Dominic is like stone, an enigma of blank expression, and Elijah can feel a growing bubble of frustration inside his head, pushing at his brain, threatening to burst forth in a torrent of brash words – and then Billy and Sean arrive and Elijah sees his chance slip away.

Feet and make-up are nearly unbearable on the best of days, but today is like everlasting torment. Already too-short fingernails are brutalized by Elijah's teeth as he squirms in his chair, his plans to remain aloof and nonchalant rapidly disintegrating, being replaced by a sort of panicky yearning. God damn it, Monaghan! What have you done to me? His mind keeps replaying last night's kiss over and over, making him wish that he had been drunk; maybe then he wouldn't be able to remember it in such exquisite detail.

Dominic's make-up is finished first, and he leaves the trailer without a word, apparently oblivious to the cerulean eyes following him as he disappears through the doorway. Elijah wants to scream in frustration, rip his chair from the floor and smash it into the mirror, and for a moment he can imagine it: the satisfying, musical crash of the impact and the mirror exploding into a million glittering shards of razor-sharp agony. Fuck me. He clamps his eyes shut and wills his heart to stop thudding in his chest. I'll never make it through the day at this rate.

When he's given his freedom he nearly leaps from his chair, resolved to find Dominic before shooting starts, to confront him, talk to him, make him, ask him... Shit! He's not sure what he's going to do; he only knows that he has to find Dominic.

He bursts through the trailer door and into the cool morning air, intent on reaching the set as quickly as possible. A sudden, hard grip on his arm nearly throws him to the ground, and he whips his head around and catches a glimpse of amber curls and a gold vest as he's being pulled backwards and around to the far side of the trailer. He stumbles to a halt and faces Dominic, all the confusion and frustration of the last several hours coalescing into an angry resentment that leaves him speechless. His fists clench and his face twists with the effort of trying to say something, say anything, and Dominic is no help, with his level gaze and slightly pursed lips; still completely unreadable.

“Dominic...” Elijah manages to grate out between clenched teeth, and his eyes are wild and pleading. Don't leave me hanging here, like this! Then time seems to stretch out, warm and sticky like fresh caramel as Dominic moves closer, furrowed brow and steel-blue glare filling his vision until Elijah's anger is replaced by surprise and... relief... as Dom's mouth covers his, sweet with longing and tentative exploration. Ha ha - Merry's kissing Frodo, he thinks giddily. And then pent-up tension flows from the center of Elijah's body and ripples out through his arms and legs, leaving behind a warm, expectant heat in the pit of his stomach. God... Dominic. No longer confused, he melts into Dominic's embrace, pouring his own longing into the slide of his tongue over Dom's, his need evident in the grip of his arms around Dom's neck.

Then Dominic's long fingers are splayed out along his ribs, pushing him backwards, leaving him gasping breathlessly at the air in the gap between them. He can't seem to clear the hot-sweet residue of the kiss from his mind as he blurts out, “Okay... what exactly was that?”

Dominic regards him for a moment, solemn-faced. “A test.”

“A test?” Elijah is baffled.

“To see if it was the drink. Last night. A test to see if the drink was responsible for...” he trails off. For the first time, he looks uncomfortable.

Elijah gapes at him. “And...?”

Dom averts his gaze to something down by Elijah's right foot. “I think it must've been. The drink, I mean, um... sorry. It shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry.”

What?? Elijah's eyebrows shoot up in shock; you didn't feel it? Nothing has ever felt so right to him, ever. Ever! It couldn't have just been him! ...Could it? A round, dark pit of disappointment starts to open in his gut, threatening to swallow him from the inside out, and all he can do is stare at Dominic and feel himself slip forward into the black abyss inside.

But then, something happens to stay his fall, to pull him back from that spiraling descent and plant his feet firmly under him. Dominic looks back up, his eyes meeting Elijah's. His features have settled into something resembling an apologetic expression, but those eyes... Elijah reads no apology there. Dominic's eyes are glittering, deep pools of want that belie his words and tone, and Elijah feels an inward calm overtake him. All right, Monaghan, if that's how you want to play it - I'll go along.

“Yeah, me, too. Don't know what came over me. Uh. Gotta watch it with the alcohol, I guess.” He produces a sheepish smirk and holds his right hand out to Dominic. “We're okay, then?”

He watches a crooked grin cross Dominic's face as he reaches out and grasps Elijah's hand, holding it firmly for a moment calculated to be not too long and not too short. “Yeah. We're good.” Dominic releases Elijah's hand and gestures with a jerk of his head toward the front of the trailer. “Shall we, then?”

“Right behind you.” Dominic turns and walks back along the side of the trailer, and Elijah smiles inwardly, watching the tread of the hobbit-feet in front of him. Oh, Dommie boy. Have I got your number...

* * * * *


By all appearances, their relationship is the same as it ever was. They still laugh and joke, pick on each other, pick on everyone else. They compare notes on CD's and argue over who gets to pick the music for that morning. No one but Elijah makes note of the fact that Dominic spends more time watching him than might be considered normal. No one but Elijah sees the flicker in Dominic's expression when he glances over and finds Elijah's eyes on him.

But it's never spoken of again. Elijah bides his time, the picture of infinite patience, gradually and calmly coming to realize just exactly what he wants as the days and then the weeks go by. He has time; he can wait.

It almost becomes a habit; he shoves the longing and desire to the back of his mind, only taking it out to wonder at it occasionally, when he's shrouded in darkness, when there's no one there to read it in his eyes. But Dominic's eyes... How many times has Elijah looked up and caught those eyes smoldering before Dom quickly looks away? But it is never quickly enough to prevent that spark that ignites a flash of heat low in Elijah's belly, momentarily robbing him of his inward composure as the heat spreads downward and along the inside of his thighs.

Of course, equilibrium is regained. Elijah is resolute, unwavering, and not only is he used to waiting – he's good at it.

* * * * *

They end up at a Japanese restaurant because Elijah cast the deciding vote. Billy had wanted Italian and Orlando, for some bizarre reason, was non-committal, and Elijah just felt wasted after an intense day of filming and so hungry that even McNuggets were starting to sound pretty damn good. So, when Dominic suggested sushi he just agreed in a rush and the decision was made.

Now, as they are finishing up the last dregs of their meal, he is glad they came here. It wasn't a bad little place; quiet, not too brightly lit, but clean, and the food was passable. He sits and fiddles with his chopsticks, comfortable within the hushed activity around him, grinning at Orlando's enthusiastic storytelling, punctuated with gestures and undoubtedly over-exaggerated.

He's been actively ignoring the fact that Dominic can't seem to stop staring at him sideways from the opposite corner of the table. He wonders if it's his imagination, can't fathom why tonight would be different from all the nights that have come before. So he just ignores it, an instinctively self-protective action, and enjoys Billy needling Dominic with some comment about single-handedly depopulating the sea as Dominic makes a display of shoveling the last of the sushi into his mouth with gusto.

When he excuses himself to go outside for a cigarette, he doesn't dwell on motives when Dominic volunteers to come along and keep him company. Practice has molded his patient self-control into a fine art. He smiles and nods as he rises from his seat, and leads the way to the front of the restaurant.

He pauses outside the door to fish his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket, but Dominic continues ahead and around the corner. Concentrating on removing a cigarette from the pack, Elijah follows him around to the side of the building and practically collides with him where he's standing like a waiting panther, complete with hunger-filled eyes. So unexpectedly does Dominic advance toward him that there is no time to think, no time to react, and 'startled' doesn't even begin to describe Elijah's state of mind as he sees the blur of Dominic's features, feels a hand on each side of his face, finds his lips captured by Dominic's mouth. And there is hunger in that kiss, as well. Hunger and need, and weeks of suppressed longing.

Elijah's hands, flung out in surprise, helplessly drop everything and hang in mid-air for a moment, palms upward, as if in supplication. Then they're fisting themselves in Dominic's jacket, grasping the rough fabric and pushing backwards, forcing Dominic back against the coarse, pastel-painted wall of concrete, back into the shadows away from the streetlight, back into something solid enough to support them as he returns the kiss fiercely, all vestiges of finely-crafted composure gone, weeks of waiting crumbling away under his desire as he pushes against Dominic with desperate force.

Dominic pulls away with a small sound, studies Elijah's face with brows lowered and eyes dark, but Elijah isn't ready to let him go - how long have I been waiting for this? He moves his arms up around Dominic's neck and pulls him in, brings their mouths together with a slow caress of warm lips, tasting the smoky-sweet burn of sake on his tongue, surrendering himself to the long-awaited heat of Dominic's kiss.

When Dominic's hands move down to the small of his back and tug him forward, Elijah puts a knee between Dominic's thighs and pushes, bringing their hips together. He notes with satisfaction and amusement the muffled exclamation that Dom makes into his mouth at the contact, and a sigh escapes his own lips as he lets his mouth slide away from Dominic's while he presses his body forward firmly, feeling the unmistakable hard bulge in Dominic's jeans that matches his own.

Breathless, Elijah leans against Dominic leaning against the wall, hands still clutching each other. A slow smile spreads across Elijah's face as he murmurs, “I guess I don't have to ask what that was.” He laughs softly and lifts his face to claim Dominic's lips once more.

Except that Dominic is gently pushing him away, low voice saying, “Whoa, whoa. We can't do this, Elijah. I...”

Disbelieving, Elijah hisses at him. “Shut up, Dom. Just shut the fuck up!” This can't be happening. Not again. His hands ball up into fists and press into his temples as if trying to keep his head from exploding. “I can't fucking believe this. After all these weeks of waiting, I will not let you do this to me again!” he rages.

Dominic's hands on his shoulders, holding him away, making him look into his eyes. “Just slow down, Elijah... look at where we are! Look!”

Elijah struggles against Dominic's grip for a moment and then goes limp, acknowledging, but not defeated. “Okay, not here. Not now. But promise me, Dominic!” He digs desperate fingers into Dominic's forearms and searches his eyes. “Promise me you'll come to my place tomorrow night. Just you. So that we can talk about this.”

“All right,” Dominic exhales softly. “I'll come. But right now we'd better get back inside before they start to think we left without them.”

Oh, God, Elijah thinks miserably, I wish we had.


* * * * *


It takes all of Elijah's strength not to turn into a basket case the next day; in spite of the weeks of practice, cool composure eludes him. Seeing Dominic in the morning is pure torture, and Elijah goes out of his way to avoid being too close to him. Filming at least gives him something else to concentrate on, but between shots he worries, going over and over in his mind the events of the previous evening. He can't decide if he's glad or sorry about what happened, and by the time filming is over he's a bundle of frazzled nerves.

At home he compulsively shuffles things around, cursing himself for his inability to deal with... whatever this is, and cursing Dominic for doing... whatever it is he's doing. He vacillates between excitement and abject fear at the prospect of having Dom there alone. Even the hot shower he took failed to help him unwind, and the mere thought of food... well, eating is not an option. Finally, he gives in and opens the bottle of wine that Billy so obligingly provided; Billy never asked why, but somehow Elijah suspects that Billy knows more than he lets on.

He pours himself a glass, studying the pale golden liquid as he swirls it around, and then he thinks better of it and sets it back on the counter with a sigh. Best not to go into this with anything clouding his mind. He walks over to the stereo and clicks it on, cranking the volume up until the bass thuds mercilessly in his chest. I want to be able to think, but that doesn't mean I have to listen to myself do it, he thinks wryly.

He throws himself onto the sofa and sinks into the cushions, closing his eyes in an effort to relax. But he finds himself recalling the night he sat there with Dominic, so long ago it seems now, that first time that they kissed. To his surprise, the memory actually goes a long way toward calming him down, flooding his stomach with warmth like the wine would have, but without the brain-numbing side-effects. He lets his head fall against the back of the sofa and his lips curve upward in a knowing smile. He'd been so confused then. He isn't confused any more. He's had plenty of time - more than enough time - to think, and he knows what it is that he wants; that isn't in question. What it comes down to is: what does Dominic want?

Intent on smothering the flicker of fear that this last thought rekindles, and enveloped in the sound of the pounding music, he almost doesn't hear the knock on the door. He struggles up out of the sofa cushions and pounces on the stereo, the press of a button filling the room with an expectant silence. His throat is tight as he opens the door and finds Dominic standing there, hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

“Hiya.” Dominic cocks his head, a small smile on his lips. “Providing music for the whole neighborhood, now, are you?” Elijah, overcome with relief at the sight of Dominic finally at his door, merely smiles sheepishly and swings the door wide in invitation. Dominic steps across the threshold and hesitates, eyes flicking around the room as he says, “I can't stay long.”

The cold metal of the doorknob slippery in his hand, Elijah clenches his jaw and tries not to linger on the implications of that statement. He closes the door slowly and watches Dominic wander over toward the sofa and stop, standing awkwardly with his hands still in his pockets. Elijah has to remind himself to breathe as the first fingers of an ice-cold fear start to snake their way into his chest. This isn't how this is supposed to go...

Taking a deep breath, he takes the few steps to the sofa and says softly, “Aren't you even going to take off your jacket and sit down?”

“Yeah, sure. I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm not thinking straight tonight. Nervous.” He grins self-consciously, eyes meeting Elijah's for only a fraction of a second before he peels the jacket off and throws it on the arm of the sofa.

“That's okay. So am I.” Elijah pauses, chews his lip for a moment. “Um. How about a glass of wine?”

“Wine? All right. Uh... well, maybe not.” Dominic runs a hand through his hair, looking exasperated. “Oh, why not. Okay,” he finishes.

“Well, as long as you're sure,” Elijah chides, relieved when Dom flashes his familiar fuck you smirk. “Be right back.”

He heads into the kitchen and leans on his hands against the counter for a moment, as if steadying himself physically might do so mentally as well. Get a grip, Wood. He pours a second glass of wine and carries them both back out to the living room.

At least Dominic is sitting down, now, and Elijah hands him a glass before settling onto the sofa himself. They sit in silence for a moment, Elijah running his thumb over the smooth, cool glass in his hand, watching Dominic stare at his own glass, not drinking.

“Elijah...” he starts, and then sighs. Elijah watches as Dominic leans over and puts his wine glass on the coffee table, watches as Dominic straightens up and turns to face him, watches Dominic's eyes slowly rise to meet his own. His gaze is turbulent, troubled, and the icy tendrils in Elijah's chest tighten their grip. “God, Elijah. I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry,” Elijah repeats in a strangled voice. “Sorry for what?”

“For everything. For last night. I'd been holding back for so long...”

“But, Dom!” Bit by bit, Elijah can feel himself coming unglued, disintegrating into tiny, unrecognizable pieces. “Why hold back at all? I don't understand.”

“This... us. We just. Can't.” Dominic's anguished expression barely registers with Elijah. Can't. Can't. Can't. his brain keeps repeating. Why not? Who says? What the fuck does that mean, anyway? He doesn't move as Dominic leans forward, can only blink as warm, slightly moist lips meet his for just one tantalizing moment before Dominic draws back again.

“And what was that?” Elijah whispers through clenched teeth.

“That. That was goodbye.”

There is a moment when everything goes still. There is no sound, no movement, no drawn breath; but suddenly the air that Elijah didn't know he was holding in his lungs explodes out of him in a heated fury.

“Fuck you, Dom!” He slams his wine glass down and it topples over, cool liquid flooding over the base of Dominic's glass and then cascading over the far side of the coffee table. Dominic flinches like he's been slapped. “Fuck you! You can't make that decision on your own. Maybe you didn't notice that there's another person involved, here. And you can not make that decision without me!”

“Elijah, listen to me! It would be such a bad idea for so many reasons! Think of the publicity... what about your career? Our careers! And the film? Not to mention that we've still got months to go on this shoot. Years, even. And anything could happen!”

“Don't you think I've thought of all that? All of that and more! But what about the rest of it? What about --” He pauses as every horrible and painfully true cliché races through his mind in a blur. What about how I don't feel complete unless you're there? How I can't stop thinking about you whether you're there or not? How I've never wanted anyone the way that I want you... and how good, how right it feels when we touch... In desperation he clings to this last thought before it can slip away, and then he's suddenly twisting his fingers in the soft, blue fabric of Dominic's t-shirt, pulling him forward into a fevered, urgent kiss. He feels Dominic's lips part and slides his tongue past them, hungrily coaxing, pleading, trying to pour himself into Dominic, to show him the aching need that stretches taut across his soul and shimmers behind his eyelids in the dark at night.

There's a small whimper from Dominic's throat as their tongues curl and twine together and hands clutch at Elijah's back, scrabbling and tugging him forward. He follows an impulse and pulls himself up onto Dominic's lap, straddling his thighs, capturing his head between his hands as he kisses hungrily, noses bumping, teeth colliding and scraping lips and tongues. He wants to wrap Dom around himself, breathe with him, breathe for him, become him...

With an effort, Elijah breaks the kiss and sits panting, forehead resting against Dominic's, and he relishes the feeling of Dominic's breath puffing against his lips and skin. His hands release Dom's head and slip down his long neck to rest on his shoulders. Elijah feels raw with desire and anguish, afraid to open his eyes and see Dominic's face so very near to his own.

“God, Dom,” he manages to choke out. “Don't you want me?”

There is silence, and Elijah's blood roars in his ears as it stretches on. Dominic has gone so still... Elijah's breath catches in his throat, white-knuckled fingers digging trenches in Dominic's shoulders. And still he waits like a condemned man, certain of inevitable rejection, eyes clamped shut, wishing he could close his ears as well so that he won't have to endure Dominic's answer...

When it comes, it is a soft caress across his face.

“It kills me that you even have to ask me that.” Dominic's voice is low and pained. “Elijah. Lij, look at me,” he implores. Slowly, Elijah tips his head back and looks into Dominic's face, and the sorrowful expression he finds there tugs on the icy-hot fear behind his breastbone. “I've wanted you for months. So badly that I could fucking taste it.” Dominic pauses, tongue passing slowly between his lips as if recalling that phantom flavor. But... Elijah thinks, and holds his breath, watches Dominic's gaze falter and drop before he continues in a strained voice. “I'm scared, Elijah. That's what it comes down to. I'm too fucking scared.”

Elijah slowly lets the imprisoned air escape his lungs, relief flooding through him like warm, sweet syrup. Jesus. Is that all? He lifts a hand to Dominic's beautiful, crooked jaw, urging his face upward. Leaning in, he lets his lips and just the tip of his tongue brush lightly over Dominic's mouth. “I'm not scared.” He's still so close that he speaks the words against the sleek softness of Dominic's lips. He trails his mouth down to the stubbled underside of Dom's jaw and presses a kiss against the warm pulse-point below his ear. “Not scared,” he whispers again, and continues down to press his tongue into the hollow behind Dominic's collarbone.

When he sits back up, Dominic's eyes are on him, deep and liquid. Elijah sits and waits, concentrating on keeping his hands from trembling as they rest lightly on Dominic's chest. But it's Dominic's hands that are shaking as he reaches up and starts tugging at Elijah's t-shirt, freeing it from the waistband of his jeans, pulling it upward as Elijah raises his arms and allows it to be stripped off over his head. Almost before he can think, Dominic's mouth is on his bare chest, tongue drawing lines up the center and then moving over to drag slowly over a nipple, coaxing it into a hard point.

Elijah inhales sharply at this new sensation that sends prickles across his skin and waves of heat down through his belly and thighs. By the time Dominic moves on to the other side, Elijah is yanking on Dominic's shirt, his palms tingling in anticipation of the expanse of warm, smooth flesh. Dominic shrugs his way out of the tangle of soft cotton and Elijah lets it drop to the floor behind him before running his hands across the lean muscles of Dom's shoulders and back, feels the trail of goose flesh left by Dominic's fingers as they trace a path up his arms and then weave themselves into his hair, pulling him down into a deep, demanding kiss.

Every pull of Dominic's tongue on his own sends flickering ripples down Elijah's body and straight to his groin. Suddenly there's a warm pressure there and he gasps, hips jerking forward into it, and he lifts his head in surprise. On Dominic's face is the barest beginning of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as his eyes glitter below heavy lids. His hand is moving slowly across the denim of Elijah's jeans, and then he squeezes gently, causing Elijah's eyes to flutter shut and a small sound to escape his lips. When he feels fingers pulling at the button on his jeans he moves a hand down to stay them, and answers the question in Dominic's eyes with a husky, “Bedroom...?” It's half statement and half question, and Dominic quickly responds with a sharp nod of his head, steadying Elijah as he clambers down out of his lap.

As Dominic rises from the couch, Elijah hooks a belt loop and tugs, pulling Dominic after him as he backs out of the room toward the hallway, feeling almost dizzy with anticipation. When they reach the bedroom doorway Elijah gropes inside, flicks on the light switch and then hesitates, looking around the room and its casual disarray: the disheveled, unmade bed, the scattered clothing and discarded magazines. Somehow the sharp glare of reality makes his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth and he swallows thickly. Holy shit. Are we really going to do this? He feels Dominic's eyes on him and turns toward him, chagrined, suddenly uncertain. Still in the hallway, half of Dominic's features are cast in shadow as he regards Elijah, his brows furrowed with concern.

“Lijah?” Dominic looses Elijah's fingers from the belt loop he's still clutching and lightly intertwines them with his own. His voice is quiet. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Yes, it's what I want! It's all that I want. What I've been wanting all this time. What I've always wanted! “I...” He makes a strangled sound. I want... you. “Uh. Oh, God...” With a small, uncomfortable laugh, Elijah scrubs a hand across his eyes and leans against the door frame, trying to will away the knot that's twisting in his stomach.

Dominic steps forward and pulls him in, wrapping his arms around Elijah's slender body. “It's all right,” he murmurs. “We don't have to do anything tonight. We can wait.”

But Dominic's embrace is having an unanticipated effect on Elijah, the friction of skin-on-skin sparking nerve endings all over his body. He plants his hands on Dominic's hips, and with a soft exhalation of breath, draws him closer. He can feel Dominic through the heavy fabric, just as he knows Dominic can feel him, is sure of it with the sudden tension in Dominic's arms. The knot in his stomach loosens, unties, drops away. “No. This is what I want.” His voice is low and certain as his lips whisper across the skin in the crook of Dom's neck. “You are what I want.”

“All right, then.” Dominic tightens his arms around Elijah and then reaches down for his hand, urging him toward the bed with a smile.

“Wait...” Elijah reaches behind him and flips the light switch down, casting the room into darkness.

“Lij! What're you...”

“Just bear with me, here.” He switches on the small bedside lamp, the small, warm glow leaving the cluttered corners in shadow. “There. Less crap, more romance.”

Dominic tugs him close again. “You're a bloody idiot, you know that? You'd think I'd never witnessed your slovenly habits before.”

“Humor me. And kiss me again.”

The kiss that Dominic bestows upon him is slow and passionate, his tongue pushed deep into Elijah's mouth like he wants to drink him in and swallow him whole. By the time they pull apart, Elijah is breathless and clinging to Dominic as if he fears he might collapse on the carpet if he lets go. Dom cradles his flushed face in his hands, brushing a thumb over Elijah's cheek, and says, “Slowly, okay? Nothing you don't want or aren't ready for.”

Elijah, eyes wide and sparkling in the low light, nods mutely and allows himself to be drawn to the edge of the bed. Dominic sits and pulls Elijah between his knees, leans over and places his open mouth against the hard bulge in Elijah's jeans, and exhales. Elijah clutches at Dominic's shoulders as he feels the warm, moist breath invade and surround him. Jesus. Then Dominic's tongue is tracing circles around his navel, one set of his fingers slowly unzipping Elijah's pants while the other is squeezing him through the fabric, and for a panicky moment Elijah thinks he just might come right there and then. He grits his teeth together and groans, forcing his eyes away to look at anything - the headboard, the ceiling, the paint, for Christ's sake - other than Dominic's wet, pink tongue against his skin... He feels Dominic chuckle against his stomach, and then he feels his jeans and boxers being tugged down to his thighs, and warm palms are skidding around his hips and grasping his buttocks, kneading them firmly as Dominic presses wet kisses onto his belly. Then those same hands are pushing him back gently, helping him step out of his jeans.

Abruptly Dominic's shoulders vanish from under Elijah's hands, and he feels his stomach flip over as he realizes that Dominic has slid off the edge of the bed onto his knees. He risks a glance downward and finds Dominic looking up at him wolfishly, his hands slowly moving up the insides of Elijah's thighs toward his...

“Oh, fuuuck...” Elijah whisper-groans as one hand encircles his cock while the other cups his balls, kneading them slowly, and then he sees Dom's mouth open, lurid red and slippery, his head moving forward like in some surreal porn flick, and Elijah's head snaps back at the shock of hot-slick-wet lips and tongue around him, pulling at him, dragging low, guttural sounds from deep inside his body. His hands grope madly for something to steady himself and they find Dominic's head, weaving into the short hair as he moves back and forth. Then Dominic does something with his tongue and teeth that makes Elijah yip and he doesn't know what it is, doesn't care as long as it doesn't stop... He breathes raggedly, gasping for air as something filmy and black threatens the edges of his vision and he's afraid he might pass out. So close... Oh, god. so. Close...

But it's not right. “Dominic...” Elijah growls. “Dom...” He winces and pulls himself back, pushes Dominic's head away and tugs him upward. He can barely grind words out when he sees Dominic's face, lips glistening and swollen, eyes glassy, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “I want to be with you, not towering over you.” It seems to take a moment for Dominic to grasp his meaning, and then with a gleam in his eyes, he's sitting back down on the bed, pulling Elijah down onto his knees in front of him. Elijah works impatiently at the fly on Dominic's jeans while Dominic grins down at him, running fingers through Elijah's thick, dark hair. Finally, he's got it open and gives them a solid tug, and Dominic rises up and helps Elijah to slide them down and off his legs.

For a moment, Elijah eyes Dominic's rigid cock, imagines taking it into his mouth to feel its warm, sleek hardness, taste the clear, slick liquid seeping from the tip. His tongue flicks out across his lips as he reaches out tentative fingers and brushes them softly up the length and across the slit, spreading the fluid down and around the head with such concentration that Dominic's purr-growl of pleasure takes him by surprise. “C'mere, you...”

Dominic hauls him up by the arms, but it is Elijah that propels Dom backwards to the bed, nipping at the skin on his neck and collarbone as he crushes their bodies together, pushing until Dominic falls onto the rumpled bedclothes with Elijah on top of him. With a jolt, Elijah feels his cock trapped between their bodies right next to Dom's, the friction of heated, moist skin making him gasp and writhe, grinding down with his pelvis and then sliding up and back, grabbing at Dominic's shoulders for leverage, trying desperately for more contact. Oh god oh god. He presses his forehead into Dominic's shoulder, snapping for air and whimpering softly as he bucks frantically into the sweat-slick space between them.

“Lij... Lijah...” Dominic pries Elijah's right hand from his shoulder. Elijah lifts his head, his mouth open and slack around his labored breathing, and he watches Dominic bring his hand to his lips and place a wet kiss in his palm, licking up the length of it and then pressing the pads of his fingers against his lips. Then Dom is guiding his hand downward, wordlessly directing Elijah to rise up just a bit so his hand can fit between their bodies... Understanding finally dawns on Elijah and he curls his fingers around both of their cocks, feels Dominic lay his own hand on top and tighten his grip. This is... Ohhh... yeah. The sensation of his hand sliding over them both is overwhelming as Dominic's firm grasp guides him in only a few long strokes before Elijah starts to feel his climax overtake him. With a low groan, his hips pumping of their own accord, he feels the white hot pressure build and then spill over onto his hand, Dominic's hand, colored sparks behind his eyelids as he rides the wave of his orgasm. He feels Dominic tense under him and give a low, grunting moan, feels him pulsating under his palm, semen mixing together over their knuckles and against their bellies.

Elijah can still feel his legs trembling as they lie together, finds his brain sluggishly deciding that he will never move from this spot, never, ever move again. He smiles a slow, syrupy smile and lets out a low, articulated sigh into Dominic's neck. Dominic turns his head and kisses Elijah's temple, eases their hands out of their cramped space and helps Elijah slide off of him to snuggle into his side.

Elijah settles his head on Dominic's shoulder with a small sound of contentment, wraps his arm over Dominic's chest, and closes his eyes. “I lied, you know,” he murmurs after awhile.

“Mm? About what?”

“About not being scared. I'm actually terrified.”

Dom laughs softly. “That's all right. I'd be more worried if you weren't.”

Elijah can feel sleep trying to engulf him and moves restlessly, fighting the blurred edges that encroach on his mind. He wants to savor the feel of Dominic's arms around him, revel in being captured, tangled in his limbs. Dominic runs a soothing hand up and down his back. “Shhh. Just go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up.”

Drowsily, Elijah tilts his head up and looks at Dominic. “I thought you couldn't stay long.”

“Yeah. Well, I lied, too.” He smiles and presses his lips to Elijah's forehead. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Well, that's good. That means you'll be here when I get back.” He rolls away from Dominic's embrace and sits up a bit unsteadily.

Dominic props himself up on one elbow, an expression of disbelief on his face. “Get back? Where the hell are you going at this hour?”

Elijah turns and smirks at him, laughter dancing in his eyes. “I have to go take my contacts out.”

With a snort of laughter, Dominic flops back down on the mattress. “Wanker. Well, don't take too long. I'm not sure how long I can stay awake.”

Elijah stands and heads for the bathroom. “Don't worry.” He grins back over his shoulder at Dominic. “I'll bet I can think of some way to wake you up.”


~ END ~