One Hell of a Night
Possible sequel to More Than You Know
Dom knows that deep in his heart he is being a terrible coward for not calling ahead first, for hoping the heavy oak door will remain shut all night, and for being in this situation in the first place...
He takes a deep breath and presses the shiny brass button once, startled by the loud ringing noise that erupts inside the house, literally jumping a few steps back, almost ready to bolt.
He breathes deeply again, hands shaking with sudden nerves, and he quickly pushes them deep inside the pockets of his jeans, rocking from one foot onto the other, trying to make out any signs of life behind the door. He decides he'll wait for a minute - and he unconsciously retracts his hand to actually check his watch. He grins softly to himself. "You're a wanker, Monaghan," he mutters under his breath, and pushes his hand back inside his pocket.
Just when Dom thinks it would no longer be a disgrace for him to walk away from the door, as it is becoming apparent that no one is going to open it, he hears a key being turned in the lock, and he finds himself holding his breath. The door opens fractionally, a large metal chain is firmly in place on the inside, and a face appears around the edge of the door, blocking the sparse light that is coming from the hallway behind Elijah's small body.
"Dom?" he asks and his eyes grow wide with surprise and relief.
Dom nods, for a moment unable to say anything at all. He looks at Elijah and immediately notices the dark circles around his eyes and the messy, unkempt hair. The initial surprise in the still gorgeous blue eyes suddenly gives way to indignation, and Dom is startled out of his gazing trance.
"What do you want?" comes the harsh question and Dom realises he has to say something - anything - soon, as the look in Elijah's eyes tells him that he can expect the door in his face if he doesn't speak up quick enough.
"Talk?" he tries and realises it is the truth, but he is only met with a cold stare. "Did I come at a bad time?" he then asks, remembering it is Christmas Eve and Elijah could well be entertaining family or friends. Yet somehow, the dishevelled state the boy is in tells Dom this is not the case. "Please, Lij," he tries again, softly, almost whispering. "Will you let me in?"
The door is closed and Dom hears the chain rattling against the wooden frame. The door is opened again, a little wider this time, and Elijah moves aside reluctantly, jerking his head marginally, motioning for Dom to step inside. Dom's heart starts beating again after it stopped when Elijah closed the door, and crosses the threshold.
Elijah walks back to his living room and Dom follows him, taking in the surroundings, having never been inside this house before. The phone call that ended everything between them came a week before Elijah moved here, and Dom often wondered about how deliberate that must have been. Maybe Elijah had hoped he could start afresh that way, without ghosts of Dom floating around. Yet, the house feels strange, though, almost as if it's not lived in.
Elijah collapses on the couch - a disaster area - and pulls up his knees, like he is protecting himself. Dom looks at Elijah once more, and is again struck by the purplish shadows under his eyes, the rather long, untidy hair, and the way a threadbare pair of sweats and an old t-shirt are slung carelessly around his body.
"Are you alone?" he asks, and instantly knows it is a stupid question - for more than one reason. Elijah merely shrugs. "I guess I am pretty bad company these days," he mutters and reaches for the cigarette in the ashtray. His eyes go out of focus for a second and after a silent drag from the clove he watches Dom's again.
"What do you want?" he repeats the question. "Your books? CDs? Clothes?" He takes another drag and the eyes harden. "It's all at Mac's, you can collect it there." Dom winces as he realises this is a lot harder than he thought. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, but doesn't know where to start, which words to choose.
"Elijah," he finally chokes out. "Lij... I am sorry..." He casts his eyes down and stares at the patterns in the dark hardwood floor. "I came to say that I... I am... so sorry - for everything." Elijah snorts cynically and Dom winces, the sound cutting through him like a blunt knife.
"Quite a night to come and make up with me, Dom," he hears Elijah's hoarse voice, as if he is under water and all his sounds are muffled and distant. "Why didn't you tie a bow around your head and crawl under my Christmas tree?" He sucks at the cigarette again, and laughs a short, sharp little laugh. "Except for the fact I haven't got a fucking Christmas tree, that is." The clove is crushed with a practised gesture and a new one is just as easily shaken from a pack conveniently placed on the armrest of the couch.
"Why aren't you at your mum's, Lij?" Dom asks, suddenly overcome with worry. "You shouldn't be on your own like this..." Again, Dom is treated to the painfully mocking laugh and he can barely resist the urge to move closer to the mess on the couch and wrap his arms around it.
"Sorry, Dominic," Elijah almost hisses. "But the way I see it, you have no fucking right whatsoever to tell me what I am or am not supposed to do." A lighter flares up and is clicked shut again when a cloud of scented smoke erupts from corrupted lungs. "You forfeited that right the minute you hung up the phone two months ago."
Without waiting for an invitation and also because his knees feel like cotton wool all of a sudden, Dom sinks down in one of the chairs opposite Elijah, and stares at the floor again.
They're quiet for a while, and then Dom notices the absence of the music that is usually filling the room. This worries him a lot more, because Elijah not listening to music, is like Ian McKellen claiming he is straight.
"Lij," he starts again. �" am sorry, I really am... I made mistakes, big ones. I didn't face up to the things that were driving us apart; I simply chose to stick my head in the sand. I left you to sort it out and pretended I had a ball on that fucking Hawaiian beach." Elijah lifts his head to look at Dom and for the first time the glacier in his eyes seems to melt a bit.
"What took you so long, then?" Elijah asks and sits up a bit, his eyes piercing - no, flaying Dom's very essence. "No calls, no e-mails, no letters, no nothing. Another fine example of bad judgment on your part, Dom?" His hand automatically reaches for the pack of cloves behind his back, and suddenly, without really realising what he is doing, Dom is across the room and stills it.
"Please," he whispers. "Stop destroying yourself over this. Please. Let's talk, let's work this out."
The initial anger on Elijah's face slowly changes into exhaustion and then that typical softness is hinting at the edges of his eyes, and all of a sudden Dom knows the love is still there, it's still burning; yet the walls of ice pulled up around it are viciously high and thick.
"I am sorry, Lijah," he whispers and pulls the narrow body against his chest. "I don't know how often you want me to repeat it before you believe me, but I am sorry, and I knew I had made a mistake the second I let you walk away from me." Elijah doesn't fight Dom's arms sliding around his body; instead he closes his eyes and rests his cheek on Dom's shoulder, releasing a shuddery breath.
"I am just so angry with you, Dom," he sighs, sitting up again. "Whenever things get just the slightest bit harder for us, whenever life asks us to show some restraint, some discipline, you always bail on me." He lets his rail-thin body fall back against the couch and stares at Dom, the glacier glare completely gone from his eyes, leaving incredulity and hurt.
"I know," Dom mutters, eyes darting left and right, uncomfortable under the unrelenting stare of Elijah's unbelievable blue eyes. "For a while I really believed we couldn't do it, you here, me in Hawaii - for so long. I talked myself into believing parting would be best for both of us and it's been hard to look at myself in the mirror whenever I think of how I just more or less detached myself from us until you were practically forced to make the decision for us, while I should have been the one to do that. I know what I did, Lij... I know what I am sorry for..."
Dom moves to sit next to Elijah on the couch, pushing a book and the remote control to the side, eyeing the clothes that have been carelessly tossed into the other corner of the couch, the various jewel cases on the coffee table and the DVD boxes that lie scattered around the large widescreen television.
"I still love you, Lijah," Dom whispers, running a lone finger along Elijah's bare arm. "I am a fucking idiot for ever thinking I could exist without you." Elijah turns his head and looks at Dom, then dropping his eyes to follow the finger that has reached the inside of his wrist and traces small circles across the tender skin there. He looks up again and the harsh disbelief in his face seems to soften a little.
"I never stopped loving you, Dom," he says. "I just thought you didn't love me anymore... I thought I was supposed to let you go, and you never contradicted me, and it just hurt like hell to realise you could do without me...� Dom watches the beautiful blue eyes go out of focus and fill up. "I think I hated you for a while, Dom..." he adds on a whisper and a single tear finds its way down a perfectly smooth cheek.
Dom brushes the tear away and folds his arm around Elijah's shoulders. "I have made mistakes, Lij, I know," he whispers again, and pulls Elijah's body closer to his own, placing a soft, tentative kiss at the side of his face. Elijah doesn't return the kiss, but doesn't recoil either. He just sits there, registering the way Dom familiarises himself again with the feel of his skin, his heady, spicy scent, the rhythm of his breathing, almost like he is synchronising their heartbeats.
Elijah realises he actually believes there is hope after all, when for the past two months all he wanted was just cease to exist, and be swallowed by the biggest gaping hole the ground had to offer. That same attitude had earned him a lonely Christmas Eve, blowing off his mother and his sister when they had offered him to spend the evening at home with them, both well aware of his continuing inability to shed the heartache and the self-pity.
"Will you let me stay, Lij?" Dom's voice suddenly breaks through the silence and Elijah is startled out of his thoughts. They look at each other and Elijah can't help but give that wry smile again. "Don't know, Dom," he starts. "It's not like I have the exemplary Christmas atmos on offer here..."
Dom grins. "I really don't give a damn about that, Lij," he says softly. "I just don�t want to leave you alone now, it's Christmas Eve for fuck's sake..." He plants a quick kiss on Elijah's lips and is taken by surprise when Elijah returns and even deepens the kiss.
"We can talk tomorrow," the boy says, suddenly breathless and gravelly. "And we will, because I am still really angry with you, but for fuck's sake, Dom... I want you back..." He wraps his arms around Dom's neck and pulls him close. "I really want you back; I mean... Look at me... I am a mess without you..."
"Come on then," Dom says abruptly and stands up from the couch. "Show me where to sleep and I'll be here for you tomorrow." Elijah grabs Dom's hand and starts walking towards the door, hitting the light switch on his way out, not stopping until he is right in the middle of a large bedroom and he turns to look at Dom.
"Do you want me to...?" Dom starts and looks from Elijah to the big bed and back, realising this is not the guestroom. He doesn't get an answer, however, but before he truly realises it, Elijah has fastened his lips on Dom's neck, an almost forgotten passion flaring up between them.
"Let's just forget about yesterday or tomorrow, okay?" comes the smothered question in between kisses and bites and Dom excitedly pulling at Elijah's t-shirt. "Just be with me again, Dom, I have missed you so much... You bastard..."
They get onto the bed where they finish undressing each other, and Elijah pulls the sheets open and beckons for Dom to come and lie down with him. "Will you hold me...?" he asks softly, and quickly nestles in Dom's arms when they fluently slide around him, protective and warm. "And touch me...?" which comes out barely a whisper.
"Are you sure?" Dom wants to know. "You just called me a bastard... You want a bastard to touch you?" He holds Elijah tight, however, completely overcome with the way this initially horrible Christmas Eve is progressing. By way of an answer, Elijah snuggles closer, presses his back tighter against the warm chest behind him and grabs one of Dom's hands, placing it tentatively close to his crotch. "Touch me," he repeats softly. "Let's forget about the mess we're in for just a bit, okay? We'll sort it out tomorrow. And yeah, you're still a bastard..."
Dom chuckles and slowly cups his hand around Elijah's dick, which starts swelling with the sheer sensation of skin on skin, the awareness of powerful arms around him and the feel of another man's cock pressing against his ass.
"God, feel that," Dom whispers against Elijah's hair, his hand slowly stroking the rampant dick, relishing the silky skin pulled tighter and tighter over hardening flesh. "Why did I ever think I could do without this - without you?"
"Just stroke, Dom," Elijah says, his breathing becoming heavier and more erratic. He pushes his body into Dom's, already arching his back in search of better angles. Dom brings his hand back to Elijah's mouth before he sets up a real rhythm.
"Spit," he orders, and Elijah does, not really caring about raw private bits this very moment but touched with the gesture anyway. The hand goes back to its place and Dom starts to pump Elijah's by now rock hard shaft in earnest. His other arm is clasped tightly around Elijah's chest and all the boy can do is buck his hips every once in a while.
"Come on," Dom urges him on. "Feel this, baby, you like this so much. Close your eyes - drift off - let me make this good for you." His hand speeds up, his fingers strong at the base, yet soft at the tip, twisting his fingers to spread the little droplets of precum around the flushed, swollen head. "You feel as gorgeous as ever, baby, big and hard and ready to let it all go..."
After a few more talented strokes, Elijah spills copiously over Dom's hand, in rhythmic little bursts, groaning between gritted teeth, fingers digging almost painfully deep into Dom's other hand. Then his shoulders sag, all tension leaves his lithe body, and he turns around in Dom's embrace.
Dom grabs his t-shirt from behind his back and wipes his hand, then feels how Elijah mumbles something against the hairs on his chest and he chuckles. "I don't hear a word you're saying, baby," he whispers and nudges Elijah's head up with his hand.
"Don't leave me again, Dom," Elijah says softly, eyes closed, fingers fumbling between their bodies. "I can't be without you, it's like Christmas without a Christmas tree."
"Sleep, Lij," Dom whispers again and wraps his arms around the boy. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
It's quiet for along time and Dom hears how Elijah's breathing evens out and becomes heavier and he realises his love is asleep. "I am so sorry, Lij," he mutters, as softly as he can. "I am a bastard... But I'm going to make it up to you... I promise..."
He notices the alarm clock saying it's ten minutes past midnight and he closes his eyes, squeezing Elijah's shoulders ever so gently, breathing deeply.
"Merry Christmas, baby," he whispers, almost asleep himself. "I love you..."
Tell me what you think...
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