Elijah had slept through most of the day. People had checked up on him (and Dom) on a regular basis; first Pete, then Fran, then Sean. Later on Barrie had knocked on the door together with Orli - heavily resting on Viggo's shoulder - and then it was Billy - and then Sean again.
Dom had suggested if he should perhaps start serving coffee and rolls, what with so many people coming to see if Elijah was feeling any better, but in the end decided that he was probably just slightly pissed off with the frequent interruptions; including those of a room service waiter who brought up breakfast, lunch and dinner throughout the day.
Not that he was trying to read a good book or watch a film or anything. Quite early on in the day he had come to the conclusion that the way he was sitting in the armchair now (or on the side of the bed, or lying on top of it, as close to a sleeping Elijah as possible), was probably the pose he was going to find himself in when the day would draw to a close.
Sean had left the room for the third time that day, having changed his opinion from it's a good thing he is sleeping, that way he'll gain his strength to is it normal for someone to sleep as much as he does? to is he still asleep, something must surely be wrong!? and all Dom had done was smile at the truly worried American and squeeze his shoulder and mutter something about everything working out just fine as he guided him out of the room.
He had locked the door behind Sean.
"Another word for monkey," Dom mutters, lying on his stomach on the bed, his feet in the air, ankles crossed. "Six letters.." He's chewing on the cap of the cheap pen he just found next to the phone, using his other hand to keep the crossword booklet from closing.
It's yet another word he can't think of, not because he doesn't have the brains, but because he is easily distracted. Elijah had started squirming and turning in the bed about ten minutes ago, and now Dom wonders if he's going to wake up soon. Darkness is rapidly falling, and he can barely make out the words in the light of the small bedside lamp. After yet another moan and squirm, Dom closes the booklet, spits out the cap of the pen and throws everything on the floor. He turns onto his side and rests a flat hand on Elijah's duvet-covered stomach.
"Hey..." he says softly, trying to ease the movements. "Are you going to wake up?"
Hearing the words, Elijah moans some more, but still refuses to open his eyes. Dom slides his hand up higher, curling his fingers into the space between Elijah's face and neck and softly brushes his fingertips against warm skin.
"Hey..." he whispers again, close to Elijah's face this time, running his fingers through the soft little curls in the boy's neck. "Come on, Lij, open those baby blues for me..."
This causes Elijah to groan and wrinkle his nose, and Dom chuckles.
"So you are awake," he grins and playfully pulls at a strand of hair. "C'mon, Lij, open your eyes. Talk to me. I'm bored. I've been babysitting you all day."
Without opening his eyes, Elijah chuckles, not in the least bothered by the fact it comes out as nothing but an annoying little squeak.
"I bet you volunteered," he chuckles again, his normally high-pitched voice now hoarse and scratchy. "And I bet you were fed up with Astin running in and out of this room on an hourly basis even before noon." He still hasn't opened his eyes, but is slowly turning on his side, struggling with the many covers that are piled on top of him. "And I'm fucking hot."
You damn well are, Dom thinks but bites his tongue just in time.
"Want me to take the quilt off?" he asks instead and pushes himself up and off the bed, grabbing the edge of the quilt, pulling it away from Elijah's body. When he looks again, the big blue eyes are watching him - and suddenly he has to think back to the previous night, when Elijah's eyes were boring holes in his skull as well. He had done a pretty good job trying not to think too much about their nocturnal conversation, but now that the intense stare is at him once again he can't help but remember
"Hey," he smiles a third time, then softer "you okay?"
"Hmm," Elijah replies lazily and worms his hands from underneath the duvet, pushing it down. "Hot though."
"You should be," Dom grins in reply. "The doctor claimed you had a case of hypothermia. But not to worry, I checked all your fingers and toes - they're all accounted for and a pretty rose colour to boot. Just no nails."
In answer, Elijah waggles his fingers and smirks, then coughs.
"Right," Dom deadpans. "No smokes for you yet."
"Ah, fuck," Elijah mutters, more to himself than anybody else, as he tries to sit up against the headboard, impatiently tearing at the buttons on his pyjama top. "Who made me wear this?" he grumbles and finally succeeds in opening the top buttons, revealing a ratty old t-shirt.
"Erm..." Dom gathers the quilt in his hands and starts folding it into a neat pile that he places on the seat of the armchair.
"You dressed me in this?" Elijah asks and stops his movements, staring Dom straight in the face, the corners of his mouth barely staying in place.
Dom nods, blushing slightly.
"So," Elijah starts, stretching his body as carefully as possible to prevent another coughing fit, then tilting his head to give Dom a curious stare. "Did you undress me as well?"
Dom says nothing, just sits down at the foot of the bed, not looking at Elijah. He knows that if he were to look up, Elijah would see his fiercely red colour, even in this badly lit room. He aimlessly pulls the quilt away from the armchair again, needing something in his lap, wishing he would have more control over his body that is by now responding heavily to the vivid memories of getting Elijah out of his clothes the night before. Or, more importantly, to the memories of watching Elijah's naked body for a good ten seconds, before he had to grab a t-shirt and cover up that smooth naked chest, lest anyone would suspect his true feelings.
He squirms around a bit, trying to find a better position to sit in, needing to give himself and his blossoming erection some space. He smiles at the opposite wall when he hears the boy mutter something about being fucking hot again, as he has apparently given up on waiting for an answer from the mad Brit. After a deep breath, Dom turns his face slightly when he hears the sound of rustling fabric.
From the corner of his eyes, he watches how Elijah's stubby fingers have begun working on the buttons of his pyjamas once more, opening one after the other, until the fabric parts and the boy shrugs out of it impatiently. When Elijah reaches down to grab the hem of his t-shirt, with every intention of pulling it over his head, Dom surprises mostly himself when his arm shoots forward to stop all of Elijah's motions.
"Dom?" Elijah asks surprised, his voice still scratchy, but so soft this time that Dom can't help but breathe deeply - once, twice - trying to keep his cool, still grateful for the cover of the quilt in his lap.
"Dom, please," Elijah says once more and closes his free hand around Dom's fingers.
The cold, familiar claw of insecurity that sometimes still likes to grab Dom by the throat seems to have returned; and, so pre-occupied by the intense feeling of discomfort that is suddenly pooling in his gut, he nearly misses Elijah's heartfelt "what's wrong?" when he swallows and blinks and looks anywhere but at the fiery blue stare that keeps trying to penetrate his daze.
They both hear a car pull up outside, the grinding of the gravel, the slamming of car doors, the ticking of new rain against the window.
One of Dom's fingers has curled around Elijah's wrist and he can feel a throbbing pulse on the other side of the velvety skin.
"Can I?" he hears himself ask, but wonders about his voice. He marvels at both its depth and its warmth; at its eerie distance and its feverish intimacy. He cannot help but look up and be scorched by the strangely translucent glow set in Elijah's eyes, and hears himself repeat the question.
When Elijah's shoulders relax and his hands fall to his sides and he leaves his body open for Dom to invade - or rather caress - his space, they both know that there won't be any turning away this time, and Dom realises how this moment, this night, will surpass all the other times they've been together before.
"Can I?" Dom asks once more, already knowing he can, sensing Elijah's beautiful, silent surrender. When he has finally gathered the courage to scoot closer and take the hem of Elijah's worn t-shirt between his fingers, he slides it up and over the boy's head, leaving nothing but thick air between himself and a pale, smooth chest.
With the t-shirt still crumpled in his hand, Dom gets up on his knees and closes the fingers of both hands around one of the cast-iron bars that make up the headboard, locking Elijah inside the circle of his arms. He straddles Elijah's legs that are still encased by the quilt that slid off Dom's lap just a second ago; the thick, feathery duvet; a pair of pyjama bottoms hiding undoubtedly clinging boxers - and he lowers his face until he's past Elijah's hair, past his face, all the way down past the warm, scented skin of the boy's neck, and then gently closes his lips around a rosy-flushed nipple, feeling how the air leaves Elijah's lungs and his own fingers squeeze tight around the metal in his palms.
The little nub grows firm instantly under the attention of his tongue, and when he opens his eyes he can just watch Elijah's hands clenching and unclenching by his sides, rumpling the creased white linen on the bed. He closes his eyes again and grazes his teeth lightly against the puckered flesh on Elijah's chest, hearing a distant, tiny hiss, feeling the fingers of one hand closing around the nape of his neck.
When he lets go of Elijah's glistening nipple with a soft pop and with the slightest lick across the few downy hairs that surround it, the hand in his neck is already redirecting him towards the other nipple, dry and rosy, but undeniably hard and waiting for Dom to flick his tongue at.
Dom moans, wrapping and re-wrapping his fingers around the metal bar - incredulous as to what is happening, wondering again if they are both aware of what they're doing, wondering if Elijah won't pull back this time, if they'll both have the courage to give in to the very thing that has kept them at arm's length for such a long time.
The other nipple is quickly perking up and, letting go, Dom runs his lips across Elijah's bare chest once more - to the middle, to the slight indentation between one pectoral and the other - and the strange incongruence between the softness of the boy's skin and the hardness of the muscle lying underneath makes his head spin. He lowers his head even further, lets one hand slip away from the metal bar to rest on the pillow, and licks a trail to Elijah's stomach - until his chin touches the edge of the duvet and he realises that the sound he is hearing is Elijah's laboured breathing, and the warmth in his neck is Elijah's hand, as stubby fingers are tracing circles through his damp hair.
"Dom," he hears and looks up, moving his head back up, dragging his free hand across Elijah's fair skin, unable to get enough. "Dom, please kiss me." When he is sits up he is just in time to see Elijah close his eyes, feel the hand in his neck tightening its hold, and watch the tip of an impatient tongue wetting dry, wanting lips before he locks his own mouth over them determinedly.
For a few deliriously sticky-hot minutes they're silent, not counting the softly squelching sounds they both produce - and suddenly, when Dom vaguely begins to wonder how long he has been rubbing his hand across Elijah's roughened nipples and pushing his crotch against the boy's duvet-and-quilt-covered legs, he realises the small, strong hands that were massaging both his shoulders through the fabric of his t-shirt, are now trying to worm their way between a very clothed and a decidedly naked stomach.
"O-off," Elijah mutters, breaking apart with glistening, swollen lips. The moment his hand finds the smallest bit of space he yanks at the duvet between them, and Dom uses the seconds apart to pull his own t-shirt over his head. When he strips it off his arms and looks down at Elijah's face again he is met with an intense blue gaze that is slowly roving from his face to his chest to his stomach, then back up to his face.
"Good?" Dom asks, and produces a shy little smile when he realises this is the first time Elijah is actually deliberately checking him out. There have been dressing rooms and on-set trailers and other occasions in which they have seen each other's bare skin, but never have they undressed in front of each other so consciously.
Elijah nods absent-mindedly, unwilling to take his eyes off Dom's chest, unintentionally stretching out his hands to caress the downy hair on his stomach; scratching almost non-existent nails against the rough edge of the waistband of Dom's jeans, asking for more. When Elijah looks up and one shuddery breath leaves his mouth, Dom slowly starts popping the buttons of his jeans, one by one, through their ratty, worn holes. His eyes never leave Elijah's as their breathing is the only thing audible in the thick silence of the room.
"Are we going to do this?" Elijah suddenly asks, slipping his hands down his own stomach to tentatively push the waistband of his pyjama bottoms down, but stilling his movements when Dom steps out of his jeans, climbing back on the bed, sitting on his haunches, showing him that he hadn't bothered with underwear that morning.
"I m-mean," he stammers and forces himself to look at Dom's face and not anywhere else. "I mean..." he starts again, hands going slack half inside his own pyjamas, suddenly finding it very difficult to swallow - his throat parchment dry.
"You're not wearing any..."
Dom chuckles gently. "I never do, usually," he offers. "That night at your place I did, but that was because I..." He hesitates and suddenly blushes in the slight darkness of the room.
"What?" Elijah asks and tries to move and sit up as well on weak, shaky knees. Dom grabs him around the waist and presses their bodies close together, supporting Elijah, reassuring the both of them.
"What...?" Elijah asks again as he wraps his arms around Dom's shoulders, his voice a whisper - lips almost touching Dom's, a fluttering of warm air brushing past Dom's cheek.
"I guess I anticipated something like that to happen that night," Dom answers and he is suddenly ashamed. "Or let's say I wanted it to happen," he corrects himself, "and so I decided to put on a pair after my shower that afternoon... I didn't want to frighten you off by not wearing them... I didn't know what you were used to, what would bother you..."
Dom swallows. :It meant so little, didn't it?" he wants to know, freeing one hand to caress Elijah's face. "That night was such a mistake... I made you feel cheap, I felt cheap myself, it was just so-"
"Ssh," Elijah whispers once again, pushing his chest tighter against Dom's. "Just kiss me again, okay, and don't talk about that night. It doesn't mean a thing anymore now."
So Dom is quiet and wraps both his arms around Elijah's waist again and they kiss once more, ignoring the rain that is picking up outside, or the voices in the corridor - distant at first, increasing, passing by their door, then disappearing around the corner in the direction of the elevators.
Dom lets his hands slide down the small of Elijah's back and slips his fingers inside the waistband of both pyjama bottoms and boxers and cups his hands around two perfectly smooth cheeks, kneading them until Elijah is moaning into his mouth, unable to kiss any longer, barely able to hang on to Dom's shoulders.
"Do you want me to take them off?" Dom asks quietly, his lips so close to Elijah's ear that he moves to lick the soft shell and nuzzle the tiny curls in the boy's neck.
"Yes," Elijah breathes. "Please..."�
Dom closes his fingers around both garments and unhurriedly pushes them past Elijah's ass, slowly exposing him to the cool air in the room.
"Hang on," he whispers and briefly keeps Elijah at arm's length. "Let's give this some space as well..." He looks down, worms the trousers to Elijah's knees and frees a rock hard, proudly swaying erection. Dom can't help but sink back to sit on his haunches again, his hands sliding over Elijah's stomach, caressing the soft white skin with his spread fingers, his thumbs brushing against the curls of dark pubic hair.
"Fuck, Lijah," Dom says, smoothing pale thighs that are just as strangely soft and strong as the boy's arms and stomach. "You are gorgeous. Really, truly, fucking gorgeous..."
Elijah smiles, his eyes a mixture of shyness and seduction, and Dom rises up once more and presses Elijah tight against his chest. They kiss again and their lazy movements cause their erections to rub together. Elijah moans in time with his gentle thrusting, revelling in the combined sensations of his cock finding friction against Dom's body and Dom's strong hands on his ass.
"I want to come like this," he breathes in Dom's neck. "Just like this..."
"Come on then," Dom mutters in response and stretches out an arm. "Let's lie down." He gently pushes Elijah back down on the bed and carefully lowers his own body between the boy's legs, finding a good position for them both to just lay there and kiss and rub against each other.
Elijah immediately locks his arms around Dom's neck and pulls him in for another kiss, digging his heels into the mattress and pushing his hips up against Dom's crotch. They both groan with the renewed contact and Elijah can't help but break their kiss.
"God, fuck - I'm so close, Dom," he murmurs into Dom's mouth, his breath hot on Dom's lips. "And I am worried I won't be able to stop myself because I'm too tired to fight it and then it'll be all over and I don't want it to be over, Dom... I want this to last forever because this is just perfect... This is perfect, Dommie, you are perfect, just don't ever stop, don't ever let me go..."
"I won't let you go," Dom breathes, rolling to Elijah's side and lowering a hand to take hold of the boy's firm erection. "I promised, remember? I said I would never let you drown. And I know you want me to teach you how to swim, but I think you already know how to do that..."
He starts pumping Elijah's engorged cock, sliding his other hand under and around the boy's neck, and they kiss again, warm and wet and interspersed with Elijah's soft, desperate moans as he climbs to higher heights.
When Elijah's breath hitches and his hips don't really touch the bed anymore, strung tight like a bow waiting to be set off, Dom lets go and rolls back onto Elijah's body again, feeling how strong legs wrap themselves around him. He shivers when surprisingly powerful thighs cling to him, how that unbelievably softstrong body is writhing underneath him in search of the ultimate release.
He's so close himself; he has tried to keep himself from coming for so long now that each and every part of his body is hurting. His muscles seem to be screaming for relief - craving that very moment when everything in his system is allowed to shut down and he can just drift off on the waves of orgasmic ecstasy.
He opens his eyes, trying to remember the moment he had closed them, and watches Elijah doing the same thing. They stare at each other for a second, maybe two, but then, suddenly, the scales are tipped. The waves crash onto the shore, and the beginning of the end is unfolding itself in the thick air of a hotel room where everything is unchanged, yet nothing will ever be the same again.
~ ~ ~
Elijah opens a window as quietly as he can, keeping half an eye on Dom who is still sleeping soundly on the messy bed, his head under the pillow, his body partly covered by the quilt. After a good five hours of sleep, Elijah had woken up just ten minutes ago, and he instantly realised why.
He really needs a smoke.
He picks up his clothes from the chair in the far corner of the room and rifles through the pockets of his jeans and jacket, finally coming up with a pack of his beloved cloves. He pulls a cigarette out with practised ease and, grabbing a hotel matchbook and the ashtray from the table, quickly lights it and walks back to the window.
Fortunately, it has stopped raining, but it's still cold, and so he pulls the duvet closer around himself as he takes the first drag, marvelling at the number of hours he has gone without his cloves and relishing the addictive rush that is coursing through his veins right now.
He pulls himself up to sit on the sill, and tugs at the handle on the window until there is a tiny crack left through which he can blow his smoke. While he watches Dom sleep, he lets his head fall back against the glass behind him and tries to think. He knows that maybe he shouldn't, but it's an unstoppable process really - he always thinks.
Dom says that sometimes he over-thinks things, and he guesses that, to some degree, Dom is right - but tonight has been pretty big in his book and he knows himself well enough to realise that there won't be any sleeping unless he gets some of his thoughts sorted out.
Watching Dom sleep helps, in a weird way.
There is this vulnerability to people who sleep - this tenderness and softness. And even though Elijah is not asleep, this is exactly how he feels. It is a sensation he not always knows how to deal with, and the protective shroud of clove-scented air is a welcome ally.
He remembers the metaphor, sink or swim, and Dom's promise never to let him drown. In his gut he knows he can trust Dom, he has come to know him as far too intense and far too connected to everything that has to do with him and what they feel for each other... Yet, when he is completely honest with himself, he realises he has trouble trusting those people he doesn't know all too well.
I thought I could trust my father, and that turned out to be a mistake, right?
He has only known Dom for just these past few months, and the knowledge that he has already gone this far - not because he felt pressured into it or because he simply wanted some uncomplicated sex; but because he knew it was the next step, the only way to find out if what he had been feeling so strongly for the past weeks, was in effect reality - makes him want to try and swallow around this huge lump of fear in his throat.
He knows Dom has been much more upfront about his feelings than he has. He knows that, apparently, Dom talks about these things with a lot more ease than he will ever be capable of. He hopes he has succeeded in letting Dom know that he would really like to tell him more about what he feels, but that he is always having difficulty forming his thoughts, let alone his sentences.
He crushes his cigarette in the small glass ashtray in his hand and stares at Dom a little longer, unable to really get a grip on the mess of emotions in his head.
Maybe he should just go back to bed and curl up against Dom's warm body and forget about his self-made rule that there won't be any sleep until all his problems are solved.
Elijah hops off the sill and turns around to close the window. The heavy clouds from which endless rain has fallen for the past few days seem to have disappeared and he stops a moment to look at the stars - so completely different from the ones back home. He never paid much attention to the constellations there, but somehow he just knows that it is completely different here.
And suddenly, like the ever-changing moon and stars he's staring at - like the expanding universe above him - Elijah knows that the adventure he is about to start with Dom is worth all the fear and uncertainty in the world.
And maybe that is what it is all about.
Chapter Nineteen
Expanding Universe Index
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