Unbalanced
...he then tells about having suspected for years that something was a bit... unbalanced (no need to go into clinical explanations, here).
"I don't give a shit. I had to go through that because I was so embarrassed about it. Now it's funny. It's comedy."
Elijah Wood
January 2004 Premiere Magazine
"So why exactly did you go to the doctor this morning?"
Dom turns onto his back in the rumpled bed, lifting his hand, shielding his eyes from the sunlight that comes through the open curtains. The light is wreaking havoc on his system that is still trying to get rid of last night's alcohol intake, but he watches Elijah, standing fully dressed and somewhat stiffly in the door opening.
"Dom, I really don't want to talk about this."
A pause. Dom pushes himself up on his elbows and looks at Elijah with watery, yet watchful eyes, trying to remember if he actually got the chance to kiss the boy the previous night, or that they weren't drunk enough to dare it yet again.
"And I would really like for you to just get in the shower and gather your stuff and go to your own place."
"Elijah?" Dom blinks a couple of times, trying to catch up with Elijah's uncharacteristic dismissal. Usually the two of them are all over each other.
Hell, they even shared Elijah's double bed tonight.
"Seriously, Dom - I want to be alone for a bit."
"What happened? I mean - is it something to do with that appointment you mentioned last night? Did you go to it just now?"
"I shouldn't have said anything. I talk too much when I drink. Please, Dom, just go - I'm serious."
"And so am I."
Dom pushes the duvet off of him and sits on the edge of the bed, scratching his chest through the fabric of his t-shirt, eyes still trained on Elijah, who has started to squirm slightly under Dom's unrelenting scrutiny.
"Is it something the doctor said?" Dom asks and rises from the bed, walking over to where Elijah is standing, lifting his hand to touch a cold, white cheek. The boy is looking small and vulnerable in his baggy winter coat, his thick woollen scarf clutched between ice-cold fingers.
"P-please," he almost stammers and moves to turn around, facing away from Dom. "Just - just leave me alone, okay?"
Dom watches as Elijah walks down the hall, removing his coat, dropping it on a chair, throwing his scarf on the little table near the front door that is cluttered with his phone and keys and smokes.
He grabs the latter, turns right and disappears into the kitchen.
What Dom really wants to do is run down the hall, enter the kitchen and give Elijah a good smack on the head for acting so peculiar all of a sudden, but instead he just grabs his jeans and a random t-shirt from the foot of the bed and locks himself into the bathroom where he never takes that shower.
* * *
Dom pushes the door open and enters the silent kitchen, smelling a mixture of coffee brewing and the intense scent of Elijah's cloves.
"Can I at least have a cup of coffee before I go?" he asks as he notices Elijah sitting at the kitchen table, pressing his still cold hands around a mug of steaming hot coffee. He doesn't say anything but doesn't object either when Dom picks a mug from the cabinet and pours some coffee for himself.
"Can I sit here?"
Again there is no answer, but when Dom pulls the chair back and takes a seat, Elijah still doesn't object, and Dom raises the mug, drinking his coffee, watching.
Waiting.
* * *
Elijah has poured himself a second mug and is just lighting a cigarette. He potters around the kitchen in search of an ashtray, but when he can't find one quick enough to his liking he plucks a dirty saucer from the dishwasher and slumps back onto his chair.
"Elijah," Dom tries again. "I know something is bugging you."
"Didn't I just say I really don't want to talk about this?"
"Yes, actually, you did."
"Then why-"
"Doodle, you should know me well enough by now that when you're behaving like this I am going to be on your case."
"But I don't want you on my case"
"I know that."
"Then leave me alone."
"Sorry - not an option."
"Dom..."
"Doodle - will you just tell me what happened? It's just not like you to be so uptight and secretive. Come on, man, out with it."
"No."
"Lijah..."
"No. I mean it, Dom. It's personal."
"All the more reason to tell your best friend."
Without saying another word, Elijah grabs his cigarette from the saucer and stomps out of the kitchen.
* * *
"Elijah..." Dom�s voice is soft and persistent on the other side of the bathroom door. "Please open the door."
Elijah squeezes both sides of the washbasin a little harder, his knuckles white with the effort, and stares at his own pale reflection in the mirror. He sighs, listens to Dom's pleading, and slowly lets go of the white porcelain, sagging to the floor.
"Doodle..."
He presses his hand against the fly of his jeans, slowly spreading his fingers across the slight bulge, and swallows with difficulty.
"Lij... Please, c'mon man... Just tell me what's wrong..."
With a loud sigh of both defeat and relief, Elijah reaches out his hand to finally unlock the door, not moving a single inch from his slumped position against the bathtub.
Then the world goes slightly out of focus as Dom moves to stand between him and the soft light coming from the medicine cabinet over the washbasin. He pulls his knees up, hugging them tightly, and he stares past Dom's legs at the empty hamper and the dirty clothes strewn around it.
* * *
"So," Dom starts and gently lifts Elijah's chin with his hand. "Doctor. Appointment. This morning. Right?"
It takes a while but eventually Elijah nods, barely noticeable.
"What did he say? Why did you have to go anyway?"
Elijah shrugs, dropping his gaze back to the floor.
"Elijah - I mean it this time, you're freaking the hell out of me. Why did you have to go to a doctor?"
Elijah shifts uncomfortably on the tiled floor and takes almost forever to look at Dom from under his lashes.
"I didn't go..."
"You didn't go."
"No..."
"As in, you got there but turned around again?"
"Something like that, yeah..."
They stare at each other, and Dom understands less and less of the entire situation as the seconds tick away.
"Why?"
Elijah shrugs again, chewing on his bottom lip, still firmly hugging his knees. When he finally opens his mouth, the sound that comes out is nothing but a whisper, and Dom has to strain to catch Elijah's words.
"Didn't dare..."
* * *
They're in the bedroom once more. Elijah is sitting on the bed, back against the headboard and watches how Dom moves to sit down opposite of him, his legs crossed, a reassuring smile on his face.
"Much more comfortable here," he says and briefly touches Elijah's leg, warm and wiry under his hand.
"Now tell me - you had an appointment, which was a big deal to you as far as I can remember from what you said last night, and in the end you decided not to go. Right so far?"
Elijah nods.
They stare at each other again.
"God - it's so fucking embarrassing, Dom!" the boy suddenly exclaims and pulls his legs up again, burying his face in the hollow between his knees and his chest, causing Dom to pull his hand back.
"What is, Elijah?" Dom tries again after several deep breaths.
"I'm just so afraid something is seriously wrong with me, Dom... I am just really afraid..."
"So afraid that you don't dare to face the doctor, is that it?"
A slight nod.
"Can you tell me?"
A shrug.
"Come on, Lij - I am your best friend. You know you can tell me anything."
"It's just that I think I'm... I am not sure because I have nothing to compare it with, which is embarrassing in itself, but... Fuck� I think I'm... I'm..."
"What, Doodle? What do you think?"
"I'm unbalanced."
Dom gives him an incomprehensive stare, his brain working like mad to try and process what little information Elijah has just given him.
"Unbalanced...?"
"Yeah... You know..."
"Uhm, actually... I don't know, Lij... Can you be a little more specific?"
"Unbalanced, you know... down there..." and with those last words he waves his hand somewhere in the direction of his crotch.
"You mean the family jewels, then?" Dom asks bluntly, realising too late that this well-meant frankness might not be going down too well with a nineteen-year-old who spent most of his adolescent life tucked away on sheltered film sets with his mother and his baby sister. No changing rooms and shared showers for this creature of home-schooled, Hollywood professionalism.
"Shit, sorry, Lij..." he manages to add as he sees the cringe wash over Elijah's face, before it drops back to his knees.
* * *
"Doodle... I'm sorry."
A slight nod.
"I shouldn't have been so crude, but is it really that bad? No two nuts are the same size, if you ask me."
A shrug, again, and Elijah lifts his head from his knees.
"Mine are weird, Dom," he almost whispers, a furious blush spreading quickly across the boy's pale neck and cheeks. "I just know they are..."
"Are you sure, Lij... I mean, maybe it's not that bad?"
"I just know." A defiant glare hits the unfathomable blue of Elijah's eyes and Dom looks down this time, unable to withstand Elijah's intense stare. "And it's been getting worse the past few years..."
A pause.
"I'm all lopsided Dom... It's ugly. It's ugly and unnatural and strange and '�m sure no one would want someone who looks like I do."
Dom is quite willing to argue with Elijah on that point but decides against it for now; he is certain that this is neither the time nor the place to confess his crush on the pretty American actor. He just slowly lifts his eyes again to take a look at Elijah, whose expression has gone from defiant and angry to insecure and on the brink of tears.
* * *
"Doodle?"
"Hmmm?"
"D'you want me to... erm... do you want me to take a look?"
Elijah's eyes go impossibly wide but Dom returns the stare with all the sincerity he can muster. He pulls out another encouraging smile, trying to make up for his previous bluntness.
"I don't know, Dom..." the boy mutters. "Wouldn't that be weird?"
"Why would it be weird? I know what it should look like, right? I can tell you if you're lopsided or unbalanced or ugly - which I seriously doubt. And I won't-"
"Just promise me you won't-"
"...laugh."
* * *
"Okay..."
"What do you mean 'okay'?" Elijah mutters nervously as he finishes pushing his trousers and underwear down, uncertainty clear in his eyes. "There's nothing to see yet."
Dom crawls a little closer on the bed, trying his best to keep his eyes fixed on Elijah and nothing else, noticing the burning flush on the boy's cheeks. When he's this close he settles again, one knee gently touching Elijah's.
"I'm still not sure this is such a good idea, Dom," Elijah mutters again, insecurity and fear still written all over his face. "No one has looked at me like that before..."
"No one?" Dom asks, struggling to keep the incredulity out of his voice.
Dom didn't actually think it was possible, but Elijah's blush deepens and he averts his eyes, closing his hand over the hem of his t-shirt, making sure nothing is visible as of yet.
"N-no," he stumbles on the words, and Dom realises that this is a bit more than a simple "whip-it-out-and-measure-it-up" experience for Elijah. "Well, my parents of course, when I was younger... a-and my brother once, when that jerk forgot to knock."
Dom cannot help but grin, and, feeling slightly caught, he claps a hand over his mouth and looks at Elijah, hoping he didn't scare him off. One look tells him he needn't worry, though, as Elijah is having difficulty trying to keep the smirk off his face himself.
"Sorry," Dom grins around his fingers, eyes dancing. "I know how that feels."
Elijah raises his eyebrows, hand still firmly clutching his t-shirt, pulling it towards his legs, stretching it tight.
"Older brothers," Dom clarifies. "Think they own the bloody place."
This has Elijah in giggles and Dom is secretly relieved that he unwittingly managed to lower the stress-levels in the room.
"So what did you do?" he asks when the laughter has stopped and Elijah's face has relaxed notably.
"Nothing," the boy says, regret written all over his face. "He looked at me, threw me his horrible know-it-all smirk, turned around and left. And he never even closed the fucking door." He sighs, remembering how he'd had to tuck himself back into his pyjama bottoms before he could actually get up from his bed to close the bedroom door.
"He sounds just as terrible as mine..." Dom commiserates softly, gazing into the distance for a second, thinking about how his brother had managed to make life hell sometimes. Then it strikes him how much has changed since then, and he blinks a couple of times, concentrating again on the matter at hand.
"Come on, Doodle," he says, a little bit too chipper maybe. "Let's get this thing straightened out, okay?" He forces himself not to smile, knowing full well there's a horrible pun in that statement somewhere. Now would not be the time.
"O-okay," Elijah concedes, the endearing stutter returning to his words. As if on cue, the insecurity is back in his eyes as well. "But you p-promised, right?"
"I certainly did - and a Monaghan never breaks a promise to anyone. Unless his name is Matthew."
Another combined snort erupts, but then - suddenly - they're both quiet.
Dom tries to keep his eyes trained on Elijah's, but as the boy's hand creeps a little further across the hem of his t-shirt, Dom can't help but shift his focus down Elijah's body, secretly aching to look at the very thing that has fuelled his near-obsessive wank sessions lately.
* * *
"Wow..."
"Dom!"
"No - I mean it. That's... that's pretty amazing, Lij."
"Really?" Elijah is still unsure about what to make of Dom's words and he briefly lets go of his t-shirt. "You don't think it's weird?"
Dom's hand reaches out to lift the hem of Elijah's shirt again, almost accidentally brushing the soft skin of his belly, and suddenly his mouth goes dry and he has to swallow hard, a hint of sweat breaking out on his upper lip. He fights to make his voice sound unaffected.
"I see your point about being unbalanced, Lij, but I wouldn't call it weird... or unnatural... And I certainly wouldn't call it ugly..."
"No...?" Elijah's voice is small and barely audible.
"In fact," Dom starts, and looks up to catch Elijah looking straight back at him. "I think you're pretty amazing. For such a short guy."
"Fuck you," Elijah grumbles, swatting at the top of Dom's head, trying to hide his smile. "Like you're so tall. And besides, we weren't talking cock, we were talking balls."
* * *
"Dom?"
Feeling slightly caught, Dom pulls his hand away and sits back, watching Elijah's t-shirt fall back to cover his crotch, but only partly this time.
"Yeah?"
"Can I...?" There is hesitation in Elijah's voice, which has dropped about an octave or so. "Can I... like... see yours?"
Dom's head snaps up, and the blush that is on his cheeks for a change, must be clearly visible now.
Dom becomes painfully aware of the fact that it has taken him all of twenty seconds to grow totally and irreversibly hard watching - no, admiring Elijah's dick. He realises that, even though it is mostly covered now, he can barely tear his gaze away from the silky head that is still peeping out from under the cotton shirt. Not a very long shaft, but firm - even when mostly flaccid like it is now, and Dom suspects it will grow to an admirable girth once Elijah is seriously aroused. He wishes he could just take it into his hand and...
"Dom...?"
Fuck! He should say something now. Staying silent would probably scare the hell out of Elijah, and with good reason.
"Erm... What?" he tries for dumb and ignorant, hoping to buy some time.
"Never mind..." Elijah's voice trails off and he twists his body so that he can grab his dark blue boxers. Dom's hand shoots out, grabbing Elijah's wrist, and he pulls him back - looking straight at him.
"Sorry," he says, panting a little. "Sorry - of course you can. It's just that... well... erm..."
"What?"
"Well, you see..."
"Come on, what is it? I thought I was the insecure one here, Sblomie..."
In answer, and because this time he really doesn't know how to break the news to Elijah, Dom settles for lifting his own shirt, showing the very obvious bulge in his jeans.
Elijah's eyes go wide for a second, but he composes himself a lot quicker than Dom had expected, and his hand reaches out, clearly with every intention of touching the denim that is stretched tight over Dom's erection, but he pulls back at the very last second.
"Wow..."
"Elijah..."
"Is that because you just... because of... because of me?"
Dom's too embarrassed to speak and keeps his eyes averted, staring at the heap of clothes to Elijah's side. He wonders how he could have been so stupid to think that he could safely look at Elijah's fucking family jewels without getting aroused himself. He should have known that everything - everything comes with a price. And here it is - Elijah will probably realise what is going on and explode in a couple of seconds, or at least be very upset with Dom and it's most likely he doesn't want anything to do with him any longer and ignore or evade him on set from now on and that's the fucking end of that friendship.
The next second it dawns on Dom that Elijah had wanted to touch him just a second ago and asked him a question. When he dares to look up he finds Elijah's eyes soft and expectant and not angry at all. He swallows with difficulty, his throat suddenly desert-dry.
"Yeah," is his gentle, barely audible answer. "Because of you..."
"Oh..." Elijah's reaction is just as gentle, amazement clear in his voice.
"So," Dom whispers uncertainly, looking into the blue of Elijah's glittering eyes. "I guess my secret's out then..."
* * *
"Here," Elijah mumbles, eyes glossy, cheeks all flushed - but with excitement this time, not embarrassment. "Let me help you."
He tugs Dom's jeans down and over his hips and waits for Dom to wriggle out of the rest of them.
"You're not wearing any underwear."
"Erm, no... I hardly ever wear underwear, Lij."
"Wow..."
"You think that's weird?"
"I think it's okay if you're shaped like..." and with those words Elijah pushes Dom's shirt out of the way so that he has an unobstructed view of Dom's clearly aroused cock, foreskin just about to slip away from his flushed, shiny head. "...this."
"Oh," Dom answers, and watches with the slightest hint of relief and some weird form of pride how Elijah's cock is growing steadily under the minimal cover of his t-shirt.
"If I'd do that I'd only chafe myself," Elijah continues and lets the pads of his fingers travel lightly over the hardened flesh of Dom's arousal, seemingly unaware of the effect he's having on him, as he is too caught up in the way the foreskin rolls under his thumb and forefinger.
"Elijah..."
A pair of blue eyes stares straight at Dom before realisation hits, and, as if struck by lightning, Elijah pulls his hand back.
"God, sorry, Dom," he mutters, eyes wide and fearful. "You must think I'm out of my fucking mind."
"Well," Dom starts, going for broke and holding his breath for a few seconds. "It felt kinda nice, actually..."
* * *
"Dom..."
With difficulty Dom drags his eyes away from Elijah's small, white fingers around his shaft. Fingers that started out by softly playing with the infinitely funny foreskin, then moved on to rub inquisitively along the thick vein on the underside, and ended up making clearly inexperienced but very enthusiastic strokes along Dom's engorged cock. Strokes that have no real rhythm or well-defined aim yet but that most definitely cause Dom to huff out his breathy appreciation each time Elijah's thumb and forefinger bump against the oversensitive head.
"Yeah...?" he manages, as he looks into Elijah's sparkling eyes, hopelessly entranced by the way the tip of a shiny pink tongue darts out quickly to wet the Eighth Deadly Sin that is Elijah's bottom lip.
"You still enjoying this?" Elijah's voice is uncertain and soft, his breath coming out in irregular little bursts, almost as if he forgets to breathe from time to time. "I mean... I have never... you know..." he gestures with his free hand, "done this before."
He looks away again, eyes flickering from Dom's stomach that ripples with pent-up energy, to his own nail-bitten fingers that clumsily try to set some sort of pace.
"Well, he adds, almost as an afterthought. "I have... But not to anyone but myself." He can't stop a miniature giggle from escaping his lips and looks at Dom again. "I guess I have to get used to this angle a bit..."
This forces a grin from Dom, who says nothing in return, but simply closes his hand over Elijah's, showing him where to press and when to squeeze and how to make sure Dom won't say anything else for a whole lot longer.
Comprehension is steadily dawning on Elijah's face and he can't help but close his other hand over his own, by now painfully hard erection, trying to rub the ache away, dipping a careful finger into the moist slit and smoothing the glittery string of precum across the flushed head.
"Jesus..." Dom moans and his brain, quite near to short-circuiting already, finds it impossible to decide which image is hotter - Elijah's hand on Elijah's dick or Elijah's hand on his dick.
He briefly closes his eyes and after what seems like an eternity, he decides that he can easily feel what Elijah's hand under his own sweaty palm is doing to him, but that he absolutely needs to see what Elijah is doing to himself.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans when he finally opens his eyes to the image of a blissfully smiling Elijah who has thrown his head back against the soft padding of the headboard, staring at the ceiling, smoothly jerking himself off in the exact same rhythm he is using on Dom.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Dom growls again, letting go off Elijah's fingers. He leans back and places his own hands on the bed behind him, in desperate need of some support when he arches his back.
"Don't you fucking stop," he hisses and arches up again, more forceful this time, but Elijah is a fast learner - and a proud one - and he doesn't back off. When Dom arches up a third time, his dick smooth and pulsing in the boy's vice-like grip, he tilts his head to take a quick look at the passionate blue eyes, but to his disappointment he finds them closed.
He blinks, arches up again, fights the coiling sensation just behind his balls, and concentrates on Elijah's strong, perfect neck stretching out even further, his throat moving as he swallows hard around short, breathy grunts.
Then suddenly, Elijah's eyes fly open, locking them on Dom and his rhythm falters, briefly, just once, once more - but then there's that squeeze, that final little push-pull, and Dom is falling over the edge, shutting his eyes, shutting out the world - shutting out everything but the bliss of his uncoiling body and the sound of Elijah coming.
* * *
"Doodle?"
"Hmmm?"
Dom pulls at a corner of the duvet and covers them both. Elijah is snugly tucked away in the crook of his elbow, head resting on his shoulder - warm puffs of breath ghosting across his chest, and he tightens his hold on Elijah's body.
"Maybe you should go to that doctor and have them checked out."
"You think so?"
Dom nods, brushing a few strands of hair away from Elijah's damp forehead.
"Best be safe, you know."
"O-okay... If you say so... I'd still be embarrassed, though..." Elijah whispers and hooks a leg across Dom's hip. Dom grins softly and curls into their embrace.
"Don't be..." he soothes. "Because no matter what he'll say - I think there's nothing wrong with them. I think they're glorious in all their unbalanced lopsidedness. They're in splendid working order and very responsive and -"
"And what?"
"And they're beautiful."
Elijah closes his eyes and starts to drift off into warm, fuzzy, post-orgasmic sleep.
"Beautiful, Doodle..."
"Mmmm..."
"Like you."
Fin
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