Title: Chasing Ian.

Author: Kristina [[email protected]]

Pairing: Elijah Wood / Ian McKellen

Status: WIP. Exists in a different universe than ‘Man for all Seasons’.

Archive: BTF, Love for Sir Ian.

Feedback: Yes, please! Especially since this is a WIP. But please no complaints about the subject matter, read the warning.

Summary: Who says that every aspect of the relationship between Elijah and Ian would be idyllic? Who says Elijah is even ready to handle Ian? Here be jealousy, insecurities and mean, nasty behaviour.

Warnings: Explicit talk about explicit sex. Kink.

AR: Again, in this fic current RL-partners are married to someone else. I love to use RL in my fics, except when it gets in the way of the pairing. It could also be set in the future.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author is not affiliated with any of the individuals mentioned in this piece of fiction. The author is not insinuating anything about the mentioned individuals. No money whatsoever is made on this. Any similarities to actual events are purely coincidental. Again, this is fiction derived from the author’s imagination, nothing else. ‘Chasing Amy’ is a Kevin Smith film that I do not own in any way, shape or form. It belongs completely to View Askew. I don’t know who owns ‘Anything That Moves’ but it’s definitely not owned by me. Further details at the end of the story.

Rating for this chapter: NC 17

Huge, major, big-ass warning: OK, this is the squicky part of this series. I had a severe case of moral panic when I wrote this. Considering what I know about Ian McKellen and his love life, there is some major Out Of Character characterization going on here. There are also detailed descriptions of a sexual nature, kinkiness, angst, and references to (and spoilers for!) the pornographic film ‘Anything That Moves’. Consider yourself warned.

"But when I was young oh, I was beautiful! If only I had not been so timid! But then I probably would be dead." -Ian McKellen

See! Not only is this not true, it’s also impossible. <g>

Finally, a huge thanks goes out to my beta goddess Elanor and to Joanne, my beloved muse.

On to the immoralities!

I’ll give a cookie to the person who can spot the reference to a Peter Weir film.

Post-coital haze most definitely tops Elijah’s list of favourite states of being. He stretches his long legs and cuddles further down into the soft mattress, enjoying for a short while the sensation of feeling like a sex god. Ian suddenly sticks his head in the doorway, looking wide-awake, well dressed and well laid. Elijah thinks Ian is absolutely gorgeous when he’s well laid. [Almost] as gorgeous as when he’s immersed in reading, or that moment just before he comes. "I’m making breakfast. Come up in a bit and it’ll be done." Ian gives Elijah his trademark smile, and is gone.

Elijah reluctantly pulls back the covers and gets out of bed. He grimaces as his feet hit the cold floor. Another month, another continent. He pulls on his pants and grabs his sweatshirt on his way out. He can still feel the taste of Ian’s come in his mouth.

He doesn’t want to bleed at all, though. He tries very hard [not] to feel uncomfortable about the whole ordeal, most often by simply repressing his feelings. He pours all of his energy into his work and his social life, hoping that keeping busy will keep away upsetting images and thoughts. It’s working, mostly, but sometimes he is caught off guard by his own mind. He tries to forestall it though and nip the destructive thought patterns in the bud.

As Ian had turned towards him, still half asleep, grinding an erection into his hip, Elijah had wondered for the briefest of seconds, despite his knowledge of the male anatomy, just what sordid dreams had aroused his lover. Ian’s eyes had still been closed as Elijah had wrapped his hand around the rigid cock. Ian had merely moaned as if asleep and pushed against the attentive hand. Elijah had felt his heart sink at the sight, but he had focussed on his task.

As Ian had continued to gasp and buck without acknowledging him, Elijah had grown both anxious and irritated. So he had simply pushed Ian onto his back and crawled down the bed, swallowing his erection in one smooth motion. At that, Ian’s eyes had snapped wide open, and he had reached down to touch Elijah’s shoulder. "Bad Catholic," he had whispered hoarsely, and kept his gaze on his lover as he climaxed. Elijah had felt a wave of confidence and relief wash over him. ‘Mine,’ he’d thought and smiled.

As he recollects the blowjob, and the great one he received in return, he reaches the kitchen with a stupid grin on his face. He gets a plate and utensils and begins the job of satisfying his empty stomach. Since Ian is cooking, today’s breakfast is very English, toast and hard boiled eggs. "I’m getting used to this," he lets out between bites, and smiles. He might as well have said "I’ll marry you," because Ian walks over to him and gives him the kind of kiss that returning war heroes give their awaiting brides. The taste of semen mingles with that of eggs and it doesn’t matter, because Elijah is happy, and when Elijah is happy the world looks a lot prettier.

As they eat they chat about upcoming events. Elijah has to read a script and Ian has a business meeting. They’ve bent over backwards to find five days when neither of them works, and it’s a miracle that they don’t have more chores to do. Ian is affectionate, rubbing his foot against Elijah’s calf, holding his hand across the table. He’s been so sweet the last couple of weeks, being very attentive as if he’s afraid to let Elijah’s bruised ego out of his sight. It’s at times like these that Elijah thinks that maybe he’s ready to move on and leave all his insecurities behind. Yet, even now, there’s a splinter at the back of his mind, keeping him aware of the fact that things are not as perfect at they seem.

A deep sigh from across the table brings him out of his reverie. He looks up to find his boyfriend looking absolutely adorably puzzled and a bit concerned. Elijah raises an eyebrow.

"What are you brooding about, Elijah?"

"Nothing. The meaning of life. Sex. Did you like the sex?"

Ian leans forward and pulls on the strand of hair that Elijah forgot to rinse this morning.

"Allow me to present Exhibit A. Yessss." All of a sudden Ian’s posture changes as if someone has flicked a switch. Elijah can see that he is remembering the night in front of the television. The voice is suddenly filled with worry. "Why would you need to ask that?" Elijah sighs and sinks further down into his chair. If there’s one thing he has learned in these past few weeks it’s the futility of stalling.

"Because you kept your eyes closed, and I know that you were tired, and I’m not [really] this sensitive, and I know you liked it, ‘cause you squirted all over me and all, but I like to hear it, anyway."

Ian tilts his head to the left and smiles almost sadly. "I have [never] in my life come across anyone who didn’t take ejaculation as irrefutable proof of desire before! What a peculiar little thing you are." He smiles fondly when he says the last bit, and Elijah has no difficulty recognizing the humour. Their supposed cultural clash, and the oddity of Elijah’s geekiness is a never-ending source of amusement for them. He takes one of Elijah’s hands and holds it between his own.

"It was lovely. It was very nice. The reason I didn’t open my eyes sooner was because I was still sleepy. And because I wanted to savour you." Elijah feels embarrassed that it has come to this. To his boyfriend having to tell him obvious truths as if he were a small child. Elijah can’t understand how an intelligent adult, like himself, can be so vulnerable to matters this trifling and ridiculous. He appreciates Ian’s patience, though. His foot returns the affections of Ian’s, stroking his leg slowly.

"I [told] you I knew this already. Y’know… I just needed to hear it. Or I didn’t really… I just wanted to. Uhm… Dunno. Just… It’s nice. It’s nice to hear you say it." He smiles. "I don’t know what came over me."

Ian looks pensive, almost troubled. "Well, a gorgeous, luscious sex god like yourself certainly shouldn’t have to feel this way."

Elijah shakes his head and almost fervently blurts out. "I don’t! Really, I don’t. I’m fine. I just thought of this now, you know. It was just a thought. I feel fine. Cross my heart. I’m fine." He squeezes Ian’s hand and sucks his own bottom lip between his teeth. It is the truth, he realizes. He’s never felt like this during sex before, and he knows it’s all in his head. He has nothing to be worried about. There’s really no need to dwell on this further.

"Well, I’m glad to hear that, because it certainly was a wonderful way to wake up." Elijah leans over and opens his mouth to warm, wet tongue and lips.

As eating comes to an end and Ian is prevented from washing up by Elijah simply grabbing his wrist and pulling him away from the counter, the atmosphere is warm and jolly and the conversation slides easily from topic to topic. They’re going to a party tonight, courtesy of one of Ian’s friends, and Elijah is questioning him to find out just what kind of party it is.

"I swear, the second someone asks me what stocks I’ve invested in, I’m out of there." Ian giggles and places one hand on his belly as if it hurts.

"Oh please, don’t say such things, you’re killing me. You [do] know my friends, don’t you? We’re a miserable lot of bohemians, really. The shame of our generation. So you need not worry." He pulls out a bottle of milk from the refrigerator and gulps all of it down. As Elijah raises an eyebrow Ian shrugs. "Point illustrated. Besides, you’re a bad influence on me."

Elijah laughs and lets the water out of the sink. "So, none of that bourgeois crap then, that’s good news. The [bad news] however," he studies his boyfriend with a wicked expression, "is that I’m going to be cooped up with a bunch of [artistes]!" he says with an exasperated cry. "Oh Ian, you know, I think I feel a depression coming on! Yes, [indeed], I have to find a canvas and exorcise my demons." He giggles so hard that he almost falls over. As Ian grabs his wrists and pins them behind his back, Elijah finally stills. It’s hard not to, staring into Ian’s sapphire eyes knowing with full certainty that you have his undivided attention. Ian’s face is a mere centimetre from Elijah’s, and his breath is hot and damp. Elijah is amused to see Ian so flustered, and he decides to tease a little. He grinds his hips against Ian’s and is rewarded with a soft groan.

"Mmm… Don’t."

"Don’t what?"

Ian sucks Elijah’s bottom lip between his teeth and bites just hard enough to prove a point before continuing. "Don’t badmouth my friends." Elijah’s giggles slip out between kisses that are more about nibbling than kissing.

"Just keeping you on your toes, brother."

Ian’s lips are parted and there’s a healthy shade of red in the places Elijah’s teeth have worked on. The sight is incredibly arousing and Elijah can feel his nether regions stirring. Unfortunately, there are other things to do and he is still satisfied by this morning’s activities. He also knows Ian’s limits, and is perfectly fine with them. There are, after all, only so many things completely unaffected by physical aging. He gives Ian’s mouth one last lick and pulls away. "Let me go." His hands are immediately released and he is met with yet another smug grin. He smacks Ian’s ass and steps away. "You have to go or you’re gonna be late." Ian winces from the impact of Elijah’s palm but obeys nonetheless.

As Ian puts on a jacket and shoes, Elijah stands in the doorway studying what is his. All set for his study session, a fresh pot of coffee and a pack of Marlboro’s awaiting him, he keeps his eyes on the man no more than a few feet away. There’s something very funny about how Ian looks when immersed in something. He looks like he’s dreaming away to some faraway place, keeping his focus solidly locked on a world other than that which he is occupying. Maybe that’s the reason acting comes so naturally for him.

Elijah is fascinated by seeing Ian on stage, and he loves to watch him read. He doesn’t know why, but there’s just something very appealing about Ian when he’s not quite there.

Ian is looking down at his feet, finishing the lacing of his left shoe. Elijah feels all warm and fuzzy inside. Finally his stupid grin betrays him and he is yet again confronted.

"What’s so amusing?"

He exhales softly and makes sure to smile even wider.

"I’m going to fuck your brains out tonight."

****

Elijah doesn’t like the party much. He doesn’t dislike it, per se, but it’s not the way he’d spend his Saturday. Then again, his own parties usually consist of having various combinations of friends over for catered Chinese food and beer.

It’s not that it’s a stuck-up party. It’s quite relaxed in fact, not a tail in sight. Good food, good music, nice comfy couches. The supply of wine and beer seems almost endless, but not one person has made a fool of themselves yet. Come to think of it, Elijah hasn’t even met anyone who’s really pissed. Maybe that’s what signifies mature partying.

It’s not that it’s a big party, Elijah has known all about handling crowded events since before he got a second digit, and besides, its not like he doesn’t secretly desire an invitation to one of Counting Crows’ famous parties.

The rather normal-looking two-story flat is filled with people of various ages, genders and, from the looks of it, sexualities as well, all talking loudly and laughing. Everyone seems tended to, and no one is glaring at anyone else. Maybe this is what the parties at the Hill are like.

It [is] a nice party, it’s just that he doesn’t quite feel at home here. Sure he socializes easily with the guests, gossiping and drinking, but it’s not [quite] his usual scene. Ian is eager to make him feel comfortable and has made sure to introduce him to everyone. His attentiveness is almost ridiculous, although very touching, and Elijah has practically had to force Ian to go speak with his friends.

Elijah grabs a drink from the bar and wanders off to smoke. On his way to the balcony he passes Ian who’s standing with a group of friends, and he takes the opportunity to sneak up behind him and smack him firmly on the bottom. He has to hurry away to avoid being sucked into further discussion but Ian still has the time to beamingly boast that Rupert Everett is there. Yeah, like Elijah is still stuck at the star-struck age.

The balcony is large and surprisingly devoid of people except for said movie star. Elijah lights a cigarette and leans over the railing to smoke when he is interrupted by a sweet, masculine voice.

"You got a light?"

The conversation goes smoothly. Elijah is a sociable person, and the first thing he learned about movie stars is that most of them want to be treated like ordinary people.

The man is casually dressed, black chinos, white shirt, smudged eyeliner and a particularly messy version of dark hair that falls into his eyes whenever he nods. Elijah is slightly impressed by the man’s mellow presence and soft voice. He’s quite good looking, and seems very at ease with himself. He’s a nice guy, the kind of guy Elijah can imagine being attracted to.

"So, you [are] the Lord of the Rings, then?"

Elijah grins and picks up another cigarette. Like he’s never heard [that] before.

"Naw, not really. That would be Peter Jackson. He’s the creator, I’m just the [staaar]". He throws his arms out and smiles. "Do you want to use this again?" He waves the lighter towards Tall Dark and Handsome™ and revels in the thick smoke filling his lungs.

"You are one heavy smoker, pretty boy."

The voice is filled with an admiration on the brink of envy and the smile is warm and friendly. "Yeah, you know what they say, looks like an angel, smokes like a devil."

"Shouldn’t that be [fucks] like a devil?"

Elijah almost chokes on his laughter. "Well, yeah. That too."

"That stuff kills you, you know?"

Elijah shrugs and grins. "Yeah, I know. I plan to quit before I’m thirty. It’s nasty, really."

"One of your co-stars is here by the way. McKellen." Elijah coughs to cover the laughter trying to escape. "Yeah, I know."

"I was quite surprised to not see him out here."

"Yeah, he quit. He doesn’t smoke at all anymore."

"Well, hooray for that. I guess you [can] teach old dogs new tricks."

Elijah feels a blush coming on and looks down at the floor.

"Yeah… he must have had a good reason."

"Well, here’s to us mortal sinners." Rupert raises his glass and clinks it against Elijah’s.

"Cheers."

The overwhelming sweetness of the Pina Colada sticks to Elijah’s throat and he feels his body climbing over the edge to inebriation.

"Yeah, so now he neither smokes [nor] drinks. That doesn’t leave much to do at parties."

Rupert gives him a thoughtful glance.

"Trust me, it leaves [lots] of things."

There’s something in the tone of his voice that leaves Elijah suddenly uneasy. He rubs out his cigarette and gulps down the last of his drink.

"Do you know him?"

"Huh?"

"McKellen. I know you’ve worked together, but do you have a personal relationship? Are you friends?"

Elijah smiles broadly. "Well, actually…"

"‘Cause for a moment there I thought you were the new boyfriend or something."

Elijah finds his words suddenly caught in his throat.

"Uhm…"

"He’s quite the charmer isn’t he? Charms his way [right] into your pants. He’s hot [now], but he used to be a [real] looker. Quite the perv too."

There’s the loud crash of reality colliding with Elijah’s dream and he feels sobriety winning ground.

He suddenly wants to confess his relationship with Ian, to set things straight right away, but he doesn’t. Instead he simply raises an eyebrow and says: "Oh?"

Rupert moves closer to him and leans against the railing. "I could tell you a thing or two. Do you?"

Elijah has to force himself to speak and is surprised at how frail his voice sounds.

"What?"

Rupert’s eyes narrow and he speaks his next words carefully.

"Do you know him?"

With great effort Elijah forces his nerves to calm.

"No, I don’t. I mean, I know him but... We’re not friends."

Rupert’s entire face lights up in a smile and he gets an almost conspiratorial look in his eyes.

"He’s cool. He’s quite a piece of work. [I] know him … Or, I did. We kind of had a thing going on. For about fifteen minutes. Jesus, but was he a good fuck."

Elijah is suddenly dizzy, like the ground has been snatched from under him. He takes a deep breath of fresh air. He’s suddenly lost all taste for tobacco.

"That’s… that’s cool. When did you, uhm, when did you meet?"

He wishes for the world that he had another drink. Rupert just throws his head back and laughs.

"It wasn’t like we were bloody dating or something." He shrugs. "We met when I was in Drama School. I had a phase when I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. As an actor I mean. I was very taken with him then, and quite infatuated. So, I sought him out and begged to pick his brain. He was very accommodating, very helpful. And well, one thing led to another. He was very friendly, really generous. He’s a great man, really. Very caring." He smiles warmly and inclines his head as if he is telling Elijah something he doesn’t already know.

"And, as I said, very talented in all sorts of ways. He’s calmed down a bit nowadays, though. It seems the years have changed his perspective in a lot of ways. He’s nothing like he used to be." As if to avoid any misunderstanding he quickly adds: "I don’t mean that in a bad way. It [is] more than twenty years since I had him, but I’m sure he’s still every bit the sex god he used to be. I simply mean that he doesn’t [quite] engage in the activities he used to. Not that he was ever anything but discreet, dear God no, but he was more into… certain things then. More frequently anyway. But you can’t say that he was very outrageous, no more than the rest of his lot anyway."

"That generation of actors," Rupert adds as a reply to Elijah’s puzzled expression. "He started out as rather timid when I come to think of it. Not that he was ever ashamed of anything, just… he was a bit shy, a side effect from the repression of those days I think. But he relaxed about sex once he’d found his friends and made his mark as an actor. Or so I’ve heard. I was hardly born then." He shrugs again. "He certainly wasn’t timid when [I] knew him. But he’s changed now. You don’t hear things anymore. Then again, you don’t hear many things nowadays." The sigh is almost sad and for a moment he looks very disappointed.

Elijah thinks how bizarre it is to hear a stranger talk about Ian’s past like this. He has to remind himself that this [is] only one guy’s psychobabble opinion and not some ultimate truth. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised to hear this stranger’s revelation, Ian has never tried to keep him in the dark. Whatever Elijah has asked, Ian has answered. The problem, it seems, is that Elijah hasn’t asked enough.

"What changed him?"

Rupert throws out his hands and sighs. "Age. Fell in love. Grew bored. Who knows with Ian? He does whatever he wants to. Always has."

His eyes light up as if he’s suddenly remembered something, and he grins wickedly.

"He’s had his moments in later days, though. Wanna hear?"

Elijah can feel himself nodding mechanically. He knows he should stop this. He knows he should take his glass, say his goodbyes and walk away, but he feels a strange urge to stay. It’s as if his limbs had lost the capacity of movement and his brain its capacity of command.

Rupert’s excitement is hard to miss, although being the low-key person he is, he hardly lets it show.

"I only know about this because a mutual friend told me. As I said, Ian’s very discreet. Always has been." He lights another cigarette and takes a long, slow drag on it.

"It was, what, twelve years ago? It was at a party, a New Year’s Eve party if I’m not mistaken. Ian had rather recently become single again and he’d only been out of the closet a short while. He was happy, I hear. Not drinking, of course, but making people laugh, chatting with everyone and having a blast. He’s like a fish in the fucking water at these things, and he throws the greatest parties. You should really force him to invite you some time. Great food, great drinks, everyone enjoying themselves, and it’s funny how he always finds the time to talk to you and make sure you’ve got everything you need. He has the loveliest house overlooking the Thames, you really must go there."

Rupert stops what is becoming a rant when Elijah gives him a stern look.

"Anyway, so he’s at this party. One of his friends was throwing it. I [think] it was David Hockney but I’m not sure… I can hardly keep track of that crowd. Anyway, the point is, Ian caused quite the stir that night. It was his attitude that was the coolest part of it all, I think. How he revelled in the attention, all pride and confidence. I heard he loved every minute of it. Walked on clouds for weeks afterwards."

"What did he do?"

Rupert smiles and studies Elijah mischievously.

"You’re straight enough, you must have wanked off to ‘Anything that moves’ dozens of times."

Elijah feels himself yet again nod, and he watches Rupert let out a long stream of grey smoke.

"You know the bachelor scene? Well, Ian pulled off a similar stunt that night. Right there, with everyone watching. Almost brought down the ceiling. God, he knew how to entertain."

He says the last words sadly, as if he’s dreaming back to a world with brighter colours and more orgies. Through a mist Elijah can hear himself speak quietly, with a voice he wished didn’t tremble so much.

"How… how many were there?"

Rupert shrugs. "Three. Maybe four. I don’t remember. He was the one who initiated it. Made them draw straws. He really did love it, kid, he smiled through the whole thing."

Through a daze that’s making his head spin, Elijah manages to take his glass, say his goodbyes and walk away.

Five minutes too late.

****

As he walks back to the party he can feel tears burning behind his eyelids and he curses himself. He shouldn’t react this way, really, he’s a grown man. He’s not a fucking kid, he’s not a naïve fool, and he’s [not] a sensitive wuss. He bites his tongue hard enough to hurt and keeps his focus where he’s heading. The bar. He slams his drinking glass down on the counter and pours a shot of Vodka straight into the glass, not caring that it’s the wrong type of glass and it still has the stupid stick in it. The burning of the alcohol doesn’t soothe him but it doesn’t make him high either. It [does] give him the sense of control he needs right now. His inebriation gives him a fixed spot to focus on when everything else in this world seems to be in constant motion. He finds Ian in the kitchen, as usual blabbering away with some friends. He lights up when he sees Elijah and is just about to include him in whatever conversation he has going when Elijah interrupts him.

"I want to go back."

"Elijah?"

"I want to go back to your house. I’m feeling a bit tired."

Even though it only lasts a second, Elijah can still see that cursed concern filter Ian’s gaze.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I’m fine. I’m just tired."
"Should I call for a taxi? Or do you want the car? I can find a ride home."

"No, I’ve been drinking. I want to go home with you. I want you to drive me."

"What’s wrong?"

Elijah grabs both of Ian’s wrists rather brutally.

"Nothing’s wrong. I just want you to go home with me. Now."

Puzzled, and with a worried look on his face, Ian quickly kisses his friends goodbye and tells them to give his regards to the hostess. Elijah keeps his grip on Ian the entire way out of the building. As they stand outside on the snow-covered pavement, with the noise and warmth of the party behind them, Elijah begins to take in the peculiarity of his own behaviour. The windy chill of a London winter usually has a cooling effect on the mind. He hears his boyfriend whistle and within seconds he finds himself pushed into the backseat of a taxi.

"I thought we were taking the car?"

"I forgot that I had lost one of my contacts. We spent half an hour looking for it. Sarah said I could leave the car and pick it up in the morning."

He turns to Elijah and smiles. "Now, what’s wrong?"

Elijah turns to look out through the window. There really [is] something special about snow-covered concrete.

"Nothing’s wrong."

"Are you sure?"

"I’m sure."

"Why did you suddenly become so tired?"

"I just did."

"Why couldn’t you go back ahead of me?"

Elijah turns back to meet Ian’s gaze.

"Why did [you] want to stay?"

"Because I wanted to be with my friends a bit longer. Is that so bad?"

"I wanted to go home with my lover and relax. Is [that] so bad?"

Ian leans forward and Elijah reluctantly opens his mouth to a slow kiss.
"Not at all." Ian smiles. "Of course I want to be with you if you’re feeling bad."

"I’m not feeling bad."

"Are you sure?"

"The driver."

"Is the driver feeling bad?"

"No, you senile fuck. The driver could be watching."

Ian studies the cabbie from behind and winks at Elijah. "I don’t think so. She doesn’t seem to be the type."

He takes Elijah’s hand and pulls it into his lap where he holds it rather discreetly.

"You never answered."

"Huh?"

"You never answered me if you are sure you are all right."

"I’m fine."

"You’re drunk."

Elijah chuckles. "That I am."

There’s a moment of silence before Ian opens up again.

"It was a lovely party, wasn’t it? At least [I] thought so. You must tell me if you hate these things because then I’ll make sure not to drag you to them in the future."

"It was all right, really. I mean, it wasn’t my kind of bash but I didn’t hate it or anything." Elijah smiles. "I [do] really love your friends Ian, they’re all cool. I just get a little lost at these big parties. Except your parties of course, babe. Your parties are perfect."

Ian lights up like a Christmas tree and he looks a bit like a mother cat showing off her new offspring.

"Well, if you say so… Did you see Rupert?"

"Yeah, I saw him."

"Was he nice?"

"Yeah, he was nice. I gave him a light."

"He’s still smoking then. You miserable bastards." He leans forward and presses a palm against Elijah’s chest. "Those poor, poor lungs. But I shouldn’t say anything, I used to be the worst case of them all."

Elijah studies him curiously. There is genuine sadness in Ian’s eyes.

"Did you really quit for my sake?"

"Yes."

"Why? I smoke."

Ian fingers a strand of Elijah’s hair and answers very quietly.

"Because I don’t want to leave you any sooner than I have to."

Elijah swallows uneasily and feels yet again the burning of tears behind his eyelids. He hates this topic. It doesn’t come up very often, but he hates it when it does. He feels the urge to speak, to reward the noble gesture, as if speaking the magic words will ward off the reality that is to come.

"I love you."

Ian’s smile is both sad and heart warming at the same time. "And I you."

They sit in silence for a while. Elijah looks again out the window. They’re almost there now.

"Why didn’t you tell me that you’ve had an affair with Rupert?"

Ian looks startled for only a brief moment before replying with a sincerity in his voice that always leaves Elijah breathless. "I didn’t think about it. Of course I knew it in the back of my mind, but I didn’t think it was important enough for me to tell you."

Elijah leans back into his seat and frowns. "What?"

"I didn’t even reflect upon it. Elijah, it was over twenty years ago. I don’t even think about him in that way anymore. He ceased being ‘former fling’ and became ‘acquaintance’ a long time ago."

Ian shrugs. "Besides, what was I supposed to do? Tell you that ‘Oh by the way Elijah, my old acquaintance with whom I happened to have a five minute indiscretion in the seventies that I don’t ever think about anymore and who I am not the [least] bit attracted to is in the same building as us?’ Wouldn’t that make you think that I [do] still think of him in that way? Because otherwise I wouldn't have felt it necessary to mention it, would I?"

There is understanding in Elijah’s heart, but it doesn’t even begin to take away the razor-sharp edge of the pain he is feeling. He covers his shortcomings by firing off his most beaming smile.

Ian leans back and continues mischievously. "Besides, you didn’t ask. I was quite surprised by that actually! I thought you were going to give me the third degree about every person there."

The driver pulls over to the curb and pulls to a halt. "We’re here fellas." They step out and Ian gives her the money with a hefty tip and a "Miss."

"What did he tell you?" Ian returns to Elijah’s side as the driver pulls away.

"Only nice things about you."

"I mean, besides telling you that he and I socialized once, what did you talk about?"
"Uhm, the movie. ‘The Rings’ I mean. Smoking. How cool you are."

Ian chuckles as he sticks his arm under Elijah’s, walking the short bit to his front door.

"Well, I think that’s exaggerating a bit. Both you and he are light years cooler than I. What did he say about me?"

"That you are generous and friendly. That you throw good parties and that he’d fuck your house if he could. And well… he said you’re a perv."

Ian suddenly stops walking and turns to Elijah. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"I wonder on what information he based that assumption." Ian’s snort is amused and his eyes are still twinkling.

"I don’t know, Ian."

"Did he tell you anything?"

"He told me nothing. He just called you a perv. What the fuck do I know, people say things."

They walk in silence until they reach the heavy front door of Ian’s house.

It’s not until they’re in the second floor hallway that Elijah speaks again.

"I [still] can’t understand how you could have done those things."

"Come again?" Ian steps out of the bathroom after washing his hands. Elijah doesn’t answer.

"You said you wanted to get cosy. Do you want some tea and toast? Some incense, or music perhaps?" Elijah shrugs. "Whatever’s fine with me."

Ian leans against the doorframe. "What things have I done?" Elijah laughs quietly and snorts.

"Oh, orgies, threesomes, public sex, sadism, role playing, being a general fucking pervert. I can make the list longer if you like."

Ian sighs deeply and throws his arms out.

"Oh, [those] things! I’d almost forgotten!" He pins Elijah with his gaze and says sternly: "What did he tell you?"

The authority in Ian’s voice pisses Elijah off and he loses his temper for a second. "It’s not what [he] told me, it’s what [you] told me. Remember? And I’m sorry if I’m being a prude, but I can’t understand what kind of person would do those sorts of things." He leans back against the wall and realises he really isn’t in the mood for tea or music.

"Well," Ian says softly, gracefully manoeuvring his slim body until he is mere inches from Elijah. His eyes are bright and serious, and he asks the following question in a voice that is calm and full of wickedness. "Would you like me to do those sorts of things with you?"

"Of course not!"

The approach is so candid, and so Ian-esque that Elijah completely loses track of what he was to say. The rage vanishes like air escaping a punctured balloon and all that is left is sadness, indignation and awareness of his own inadequacies.

Ian leans back and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Well, what [do] you want?"

There’s only a brief moment’s hesitation before Elijah throws himself at Ian, pulling his head down and pushing into his mouth for a frantic kiss.

The only thing he can think of, as he grabs hold of Ian, pulling him up the stairs and into his bedroom, is to wonder how many other people have done this before him. He thinks of Ian’s hands on other men, his body beneath [their] hands. Entwined limbs, the mingling of scents, the noises of arousal. He can almost see it if he closes his eyes, so he keeps them open, keeps them [wide] open as he pushes Ian down on the bed, ripping off his trousers and pulling out the half erect penis, sucking it down his throat.

He tries hard [not] to think about Ian’s past. He wants to brand this body and wipe away every trace of previous lovers. He pulls back and is met halfway by Ian who is suddenly sitting up and throwing his arms around him. Elijah finds himself kissed yet again. The kiss is soft, tender and passionate at the same time. He suddenly can’t stand the idea of Ian having kissed someone else this way.

As he finally pushes into Ian, a sweaty thigh under his hand, his mind disobeys him and wanders off in directions he wants to run from. And suddenly, he’s fifteen years old, putting in a tape with ‘Anything that moves’ recorded off his friend’s satellite dish. He pushes harder, using a knee for leverage. He’s trying desperately to keep his attention on Ian. It’s better thinking of the tight heat surrounding him, or the slippery skin beneath his hand, than on a gorgeous, naked Seleena Steele asking a room full of horny men to draw straws.

Elijah pounds Ian harder into the mattress, faster and faster, sucking his lips into a fierce kiss that’s bordering on violent. His back is aching, but it doesn’t register. Ian’s cock is leaking, but it doesn’t register. All that matters to Elijah is that he doesn’t think about that night, about Ian’s re-enactment of the bachelor scene, that he doesn’t think about gorgeous, bitchy, ice-cool Seleena, who he’d worshipped as a teen, sucking and fucking the winners of the drawing until the room is going crazy and she is covered with come and grinning, smiling, demanding more.

In the end, Elijah doesn’t see Ian’s eyes cloud with passion, doesn’t feel the legs wrapping around his waist to pull him in harder. He doesn’t even hear the moaning gasps, or his own name being panted as Ian comes.

Instead there is only desolation, and the distinct feeling that he has somehow lost.

He pulls out shakily and lays down next to Ian who is giggling softly. "My my, weren’t we feisty tonight." Within moments Elijah is hugged and cuddled, kissed and petted.

"Oh sweetie, you didn’t come." He can feel Ian’s soft hand stroking his cheek and when he looks into the familiar blue eyes he wishes for the millionth time that things were different.

"Just relax." He is coaxed into lying on his back, a warm comforter covering him. "There, there. Just lie still." He closes his eyes as Ian’s strong fist wraps around his cock and he tries to think of nothing but the almost mechanical pleasure of being stimulated. Yet, there is no effect. As Ian starts kissing down his belly, Elijah pulls him up. "It’s all right. It’s not gonna happen tonight."

Ian moves up the bed, nuzzles him and goes immediately into his comforting mode.

"These things happen. Don’t worry, you’ll get yours tomorrow."

Elijah swallows uneasily and rubs his face against the pillow. His concealer smudges onto the immaculately white pillowcase and his voice shakes more than he thought it would. "Can we turn off the light, please?"

Ian gets up to perform the task, then pulls off his shirt and socks, before lying down next to Elijah who still has his clothes on. For the third time tonight, Elijah feels the back of his eyelids burning, and this time he doesn’t even try to stop the tears.

Ian hugs him tight from behind, his hand rubbing Elijah’s belly. "Don’t worry love, things will be different in the morning, you’ll see. You’re simply drunk, that’s all."

Elijah doesn’t correct Ian, he simply takes whatever comfort he can from the embrace. He kisses Ian’s hand and wishes that he was being comforted for the true reasons. In this moment it doesn’t matter that Ian has the wrong idea, the only things that matter are the irreversibility of the past and the futility in wishing that things were different.

***

End part 3.

Notes on canon:

1. Rupert Everett did seek Ian out to ask him for advice on acting but there has been no indication that the contact was anything but professional.

2. Ian did give up smoking in 2002 but it obviously didn’t have anything to do with Elijah.

3. A picture of Ian and Susan Sarandon drinking champagne in 1981 does exist, but speculations about the nature of their relationship do not. It’s all fiction.