Ian watched as Elijah polished off the food in front of him,
shovelling it down as if he thought it was going to be taken away
from him before he had finished. Ian had a sudden mental image of
trying to take the plate away, and Elijah hanging on for grim death,
refusing to give in, and he coughed to cover a very unrefined laugh.

"I thought I'd taught you better than that," he said finally. "I
thought you had at least learned how to eat properly. How can I
possibly take you out in polite company?"

Elijah paused, fork suspended in mid-air, a look of vague surprise on
his face.

"You mean I have to be polite even when I'm at home?" He
paused. "Crumbs."

Ian gave in, and laughed. "Don't say `crumbs', you strange man;
nobody says `crumbs'. It makes you sound like you belong in a Famous
Five book – and no, I am not about to tell you who the Famous Five
are." He picked up his coffee cup and smiled warmly at Elijah, the
casual use of the word `home' lighting a fire somewhere in his belly.

"Were you planning to take me out into polite company?" Elijah asked,
continuing his shovelling. "I thought I was your love slave."

"Well, you are, amongst other things," Ian agreed. "But you have to
keep your strength up, or what good would you be to me?" He paused
to take another drink of his coffee before putting the cup carefully
back down on its saucer. "Are you all right, Elijah? You've had a
tough couple of days, and you seemed a little – distracted – when you
got here."

For a second, Elijah considered not telling Ian about his
conversation with Sean, but then remembered another lesson: never
keep secrets in a relationship, it doesn't ever work.

"Had a bit of a face to face with Sean before I left – nothing bad,"
he hastened to add, watching Ian's face. "He was just being himself –
y'know, all concerned and stuff. He's looking out for me."

"You have a good friend there," Ian said gravely. "Did you explain
everything?"

"Enough," Elijah said after a pause. "He knows enough now."

"Good."

*

After the meal, they retired once more to the lounge to indulge in
what Elijah was coming to consider his favourite hobby, and he was
soon lying back amongst the cushions, his head tipped back as Ian
slowly licked down the soft white flesh of his neck.

"I don't understand," Ian mumbled, his voice sending a delicious
vibration through Elijah's body. "I haven't done this kind of thing
for years – I'm far too old and genteel to lie on a sofa like this.
I much prefer the comfort of my bed. But then, I have discovered the
joys of doing this…" And tailing off, he slowly slid his fingers
underneath Elijah's t-shirt, stroking the soft, almost hairless flesh
gently.

Elijah, predictably, moaned softly and pushed into the touch, at the
same time reaching up to rest his hand on the back of Ian's neck,
keeping him in place. He knew that Ian didn't really like that,
didn't like the feeling of being controlled, but he couldn't help
himself, and Ian, although he grunted slightly, didn't stop what he
was doing.

"I like it," Elijah finally managed to moan. "I like coming here and
being with you, talking to you, and then doing this … fuck! - with
you. Can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing." His voice
trailed off into an inarticulate moan as Ian moved his fingers lower,
sliding his hand between Elijah's legs, his thumb stroking against
the rough denim, exerting just enough pressure to make Elijah's eyes
want to roll back in their sockets.

"Ready for your next lesson?" Ian's voice was smooth and deep, rich
like chocolate, and Elijah felt his body respond, his hips pushing
forward, his head tilting backwards, his hands clenching into fists.
He bit his lip, trying to keep silent as Ian's fingers trailed their
slow, tormenting path away from Elijah's legs and up onto his belly
and chest.

"I thought I was having it." Elijah shifted slightly, trying to
increase the contact between his crotch and any portion of Ian's
anatomy he could reach, but Ian refused to play. In fact, he pulled
back completely and sat up, smiling in a way that could be best
described as evil.

"No, no. I told you it was a sensory lesson."

"But touch is a sensory .. I mean, sense," Elijah protested,
struggling into a less compromising position himself. "So what's the
lesson?"

"Finish your coffee," Ian said blandly, smiling at the scowl it
produced. "And for goodness' sake, remember patience!"

Elijah stuck his tongue out at Ian, but smiled, and finished his
coffee, sighing exaggeratedly as Ian positively sipped own drink,
without a doubt dragging out the act.

But finally, he put the empty cup back on the table, and stood up,
stretching, and then reached out a hand, which Elijah took eagerly,
letting himself be led upstairs and into the bedroom.

"One question; how much do you value that t-shirt?" Ian asked,
looking at the offending garment somewhat disdainfully. "I can't
believe that it means a great deal to you, but you can never tell.
Maybe it has some sentimental value?"

"No," Elijah answered, curiosity in every line of his body. "It's
just a t-shirt. Why?"

Ian smiled at him before leaning forward for a long, tender kiss,
which left Elijah with his eyes half closed, a smile on his face, and
his question unanswered.

"Let me tell you what I always say before a lesson," Ian said softly,
guiding Elijah to the bed. "This is all for you. If at any point
you want me to stop what I'm doing, just say. "

"Have I ever asked you to stop? Have you ever done anything I don't
like?" Elijah lay back on the bed, and reached out, his hand
stroking Ian's leg. "What are we going to do?"

Ian sat on the bed next to Elijah, fingers once again sliding under
the hem of his t-shirt, his eyes so intense that Elijah squirmed,
unsure suddenly of where this was going. Ian's hand began to move,
and Elijah, a creature of touch, revelled in the contact, his eyes
sliding closed as he relaxed back onto the bed.

"Keep your eyes closed," Ian whispered, both hands now on Elijah's
belly, gently stroking. "This is where your lesson begins. You
already know about touch, now I want you to learn about trust."

"But I trust you," Elijah said softly. "I've trusted you right from
the very beginning."

"I know. And I'm honoured, but you have to let me do this, you have
to understand how deep trust has to go."

Elijah felt the bed shift and sag as Ian moved away, and he half
turned, making a noise of protest in his throat.

"One minute," Ian's voice was soft and soothing. "Just keep your
eyes closed, all right?"

"All right." Elijah turned over onto his side, eyes closed,
listening as Ian made his quiet way around the room. He buried his
face in the pillow and inhaled, revelling in the scent that was so
very Ian – rich and refined, and very comforting. Pulling his knees
up to his chest, he let himself begin to fade out – a skill he had
learned as a child when he wanted to rest without actually sleeping.
He was still fully aware of what was going on around him, but to a
casual observer, he would seem to be asleep.

Ian wasn't a casual observer, not of anything, and particularly not
of Elijah. As he continued to move around the room, gathering what
he needed, he was constantly aware of the small, still figure on the
bed. That something had happened with Sean was undeniable; the
Elijah who had turned up on his doorstep had looked ragged, as if he
had been put through a wringer. Without speaking, he had walked into
Ian's embrace and for what seemed to be a long time had stood
silently, before, with an effort so great Ian could feel it, he had
pulled back and smiled.

Ian knew perfectly well that Elijah wasn't fragile, either physically
or mentally, but his looks were against him. Ian suspected that
sometimes he got a little bit tired of always fighting to prove what
kind of person he was.

Having finally located everything he needed, Ian sat on the bed and
stroked Elijah's cheek, smiling as Elijah pushed into the touch.

"Sweet Elijah," he whispered. "Are you ready for your lesson?"

Covering Ian's hand with his own, Elijah nodded, straightening his
legs and turning over onto his back. "Kiss me," he said
softly. "Just for a second could you just kiss me?"

It was said in such a simple, heartfelt tone that Ian felt his eyes
sting, and berated himself for his foolishness, and setting aside
his `props', he lay next to Elijah and pulled him close.

"Keep your eyes closed," he whispered, his lips just brushing
Elijah's. "I want to take away your sight tonight, teach you about
touch, about trusting someone so much that you don't need to watch
them." He kissed Elijah, feeling long, dark lashes flicker against
his cheek as Elijah fought against an immediate and automatic
reaction to open his eyes.

With a soft groan, Elijah wrapped his arms around Ian's neck, tilting
his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue searching out Ian's taste.

"Are you all right?" Ian asked finally, trailing his lips down
Elijah's cheek, revelling in the warmth and almost constant
vibrations of energy coming at him. "You want to tell me?"

"Nothing to tell." Elijah shifted his head so that he could kiss Ian
again. "Nothing that I can't sort myself, you know?"

"I know. But if you need to tell someone…"

They lay in silence for a second and then Ian dropped a gentle kiss
on each of Elijah's still-closed eyes, the nervous fluttering of the
thin skin forcing him to bite down on a ridiculous urge to pull
Elijah close and never let him go.

"Teach me," Elijah whispered finally, moving so that his body was
pressed full length against Ian, and Ian laughed and pulled away,
pushing Elijah over onto his back. He put a hand softly over the
still-closed eyes, entangling the fingers of his free hand with
Elijah's.

"What do you see?" he asked. "Tell me, Elijah, what do you see
behind your eyes?"

Elijah's eyebrows quirked slightly, and again, Ian felt the tremble
of lashes against his palm.

"Well, I see dark," Elijah said, "or is that really stating the
obvious?"

"Nothing but darkness? Describe it."

Elijah sighed, but stilled and lay quietly. "Light," he said
finally. "Flashing lights, and shadows, and monsters."

"Monsters?" Ian pulled his hand back, startled, and Elijah opened
his eyes, squinting slightly.

"S'okay," said. "I lied about the monsters. They live in closets."

"Minx," Ian laughed. "For that…" He picked something off the bed
and held it in front of Elijah.

"Is that … could that possibly be … a cravat?" Elijah reached out
and stroked the black silk. "Oh, it is!" He laughed up at
Ian. "What? You want me to wear it?"

"Yes, I do." And Ian placed it gently over Elijah's eyes. Elijah
caught his breath, but didn't pull away; instead he lifted his head
so that Ian could tie it securely in place before dropping back down
onto the pillows.

Monsters behind his eyes. Elijah hadn't lied. He hated the dark,
hated the feeling of vulnerability it left him with, but there were
certain things nobody needed to know. He didn't consider it as
keeping a secret within a relationship; it was his own secret,
forever.

Trying to ignore the monsters, he concentrated on the feel of Ian's
hands on his body, arching into the touch of fingers stroking down
his chest, brushing his hips, and jumping as lips brushed his neck
and throat.

"Don't be scared," Ian's voice was soft in his ear. "Remember what
I said. If you want me to stop, I'll stop."

"No, don't stop." Elijah heard the begging tone in his voice, and
mentally slapped himself. But Ian's hands felt so good, and his
voice made Elijah feel so secure … no monsters would get him, not if
Ian was there. The darkness was empty.

"Oh!" Elijah's body jerked as something cold touched his stomach,
and an odd noise that he couldn't place filled his ears, his body
vibrating slightly with some kind of weird echo. It was only when
the vibration stopped and he felt the cool air against his chest that
he realised what had happened, and he laughed quietly.

"Well, you did say that you weren't too bothered about the t-shirt."
Ian's voice sounded amused. Elijah was trying to form a witty
retort, when all thought went from his mind as Ian's tongue, wet and
warm, began to lick its way up the newly exposed flesh of his belly
and chest, biting his nipples and making him jump.

"Are you feeling it, Elijah?" Ian's breath was warm against his
chest. "When one of our senses is taken from us, we feel things so
much more intensely with the remaining four. Can you feel my breath
on you, my hands touching your skin? Can you feel the blood running
through your veins, and your heartbeat speeding up?" Elijah felt
Ian's lips against his chest again, and made some kind of guttural,
nonsensical grunt. He was hyper aware of the sweat beginning to
break through on his upper lip, and he could feel his hips starting
to move as his body arched into Ian's gentle touches and caresses.

"Do you know what one of the greatest erotic tools – and don't
snigger at the word – is?" Elijah squirmed at the hot breath against
his ear. "It's the voice," Ian continued. "The human voice,
describing what will happen to you, and how you will feel."

"Oh!" It was all Elijah could manage as Ian's hands scraped over the
waist of his jeans, before sliding back up his belly. "Please."

"Shall I tell you what I'm going to do, how you will feel?"

There was no word to describe the sound that was torn from Elijah's
throat then – it was a sound of need and lust all mixed up until it
was nothing more than some kind of primeval grunt.

"I'm going to touch you everywhere," Ian began, his voice so soft
that Elijah could hardly hear it over the pounding of his
heart. "Everywhere you can think of." Elijah squirmed as Ian's
fingers brushed over his crotch. "And you'll sweat and beg and
wriggle until you feel as if you want to push my hands away and take
care of yourself, because I will go so slowly that it will be pure
torture for you."

"Can I touch?" Elijah managed to grind out. "Is it allowed? Oh,
Jesus!" His whole body arched off the bed as he felt the zip of his
jeans being slowly lowered.

"I haven't taken away your sense of touch, have I? Only your sight.
Do you want to touch yourself?"

"I want to touch you," Elijah answered, with such raw desperation
that Ian laughed, and Elijah moaned as he felt his hands being taken
and held against Ian's belly.

"Touch me, then," Ian said, and Elijah let his hands move until they
were touching Ian's cock, his fingers tracing the hard shape even
through the material of Ian's trousers.

"Oh god, I want that," Elijah said. "I want that so much." He
tightened his grip, making Ian gasp. "I want it inside me."

He felt the shock of his words reverberate through Ian's body, and
for one terrible second thought he had gone too far. He was about to
reach up and pull the blindfold off, when his wrists were taken in a
gentle grip.

"Oh, Elijah." There was such – awe – in Ian's voice that Elijah's
heartbeat, which had begun to slow down, started to thump almost
painfully in his chest. "Elijah, you have to understand something.
To me, that is the ultimate act of love, there is nothing after
that." Elijah's hands were lifted up and kissed.

"But I love you," Elijah said, straining against the darkness. He
pulled his hands free and flailed around until he brushed against
Ian's cheek, then cupped his face. "I have never, ever felt like
this."

"You're not ready," Ian's voice was soft. "Believe me, you're not
ready. I would never forgive myself if I hurt you, or if we did
anything that would hurt you." Elijah felt fingers against the
blindfold, and flinched, before stilling as the fingers continued a
gentle path down his face, tracing his mouth before dipping briefly
inside. He let his own fingers echo the movement until they were
resting against Ian's lips, feeling rather than hearing him speak.

"Soon."

Shifting his position, Ian slowly began to unfasten Elijah's belt,
pulling down the thick denim until the soft flesh of Elijah's belly
was exposed. Elijah's hands slipped from Ian's face and moved wildly
across the bed, clutching at the sheet, his throat working as he
tried to swallow sound after sound. Gently Ian pressed the heels of
his hands into the yielding muscle, and Elijah grunted, his teeth
clamping into his lower lip.

"For now, let's do this," he said, pushing the jeans further
down. "Lift up your hips."

Elijah did as he was told, gasping as his cock sprang free, the cool
air on hot flesh making him shiver.

"That's it," said Ian, sliding the jeans off completely, taking
Elijah's boxes, socks and shoes with them and dumping the whole lot
on the floor, then he knelt back and looked. Pale skin, the colour
in his hair and lips almost shocking in comparison. Dark nipples,
beautifully contrasting – Ian couldn't resist leaning down and
kissing each one in turn – and his cock. Dark red, almost purple,
hard against his belly, and so achingly beautiful that Ian wanted
nothing more than to take it in his mouth. But not yet. There was a
lesson to continue.

"Can you feel that?" he whispered, pressing his lips to Elijah's
throat. "Feel the air on you, feel how hard you are, how much you
want relief? Can you feel the ache building up, the pressure? If I
touch you now, you won't know how to react, what to do because you
can't think straight." He let his fingers gently brush the length of
Elijah's erection, having to pull back when Elijah arched off the
bed, making a noise that was little short of a yowl.

"Oh, no more," he begged as soon as he could speak. "Please, Ian…"

"Do you want to come now?"

"Yes … no. Oh god, Ian, please keep going…" Elijah trailed off,
twisting on the sheets, practically beyond coherent thought.

Ian smiled and shifted his position, his tongue trailing through
Elijah's pubic hair and dipping briefly into the join of leg and
hip. Elijah spread his legs wide open, shameless in his need, and
even from his awkward position, Ian could see that the hands
clutching the sheets were holding so tightly that they were almost
bloodless. Ian reached up and covered them with his own hands, and
with a whimper, Elijah released the sheets and wrapped his fingers
around Ian's, tightly enough to make Ian wince.

"Let go…" Ian pulled away and dipped his head, swirling his tongue
around Elijah's straining cock, then moving further backwards to the
soft, secret flesh behind his balls.

"There…" Elijah's voice was a strained whisper. "Oh god, Ian,
there…"

For a second Ian hesitated. The boy was so desperate, so certain of
what he wanted, and it would be so easy to take him now, to take him
so intimately that neither of them would ever be the same again… He
let his finger slip further backwards, pushing gently, testing
Elijah's reaction, stopping as soon as he felt resistance. No. Not
yet.

Shifting again, Ian spread Elijah's legs even further apart, and
settled between them, stopping when he heard Elijah's voice.

"No, don't do that. I want to feel you on me, want you on top of me…"

The tone of his voice punched Ian in the gut, and he moved quickly up
until he was lying on Elijah, his fingers trailing through dark hair,
his lips just hovering above pale skin.

"You've got your clothes on, old man," Elijah said, some of the
humour returning to his voice. "Why?"

"Because you haven't taken them off yet," Ian answered in the same
tone, guiding Elijah's hands to the buttons on his shirt, not helping
as Elijah clumsily opened them, sliding the shirt off Ian's
shoulders, and then running his hands over the revealed flesh, stubs
of bitten nail and skin catching in sparse hair, making both of them
gasp.

Beyond any kind of reasoned behaviour now, Elijah slid his hands down
Ian's body until they collided with the waistband of his trousers,
and, blind or no, he unfastened both belt and trousers within a
matter of seconds, releasing his grip just long enough for Ian to
take them off completely, before dragging him back and sighing in
pleasure as Ian's warm, lean body completely covered his.

He gasped out loud as Ian began to move his hips, the sensation on
his over-sensitised flesh very close to pain, but it soon changed,
became heat and friction and overwhelming pleasure.

Unable to see, he could feel – feel Ian moving against him, feel his
hair being moved by Ian's breath, feel Ian's hips snugged firmly
against his, their cocks together. He ran his hands down Ian's back,
testing the textures under his fingers. Wrapping his legs around
Ian's hips, he heard the half gasp, half grunt as the pressure
changed, and Ian's steady rhythm faltered.

"My beautiful boy," Elijah could hear the effort it was costing Ian
to speak steadily. "My own Elijah. Do you want to see?"

"No," Elijah's own voice was anything but steady. "Not yet." He
pressed his heels into the small of Ian's back, urging him
on. "Harder, please. More."

And he felt Ian oblige, thrusting so hard that Elijah could feel his
back move on the sheets, and he grunted his appreciation, his voice a
counterpoint to Ian's movement. He reached up and wrapped his hands
around the headboard to stop his inevitable slide into the wall, and
dug his heels into Ian's kidneys, arching his back, wanting more –
wanting more than he could ask for.

When he came, it was with a strange mixture of relief and
disappointment. He could feel himself shaking, hear the strange
guttural sounds he was making. He was aware of Ian coming, gasping
out, "Elijah."

The lay quietly for a long time, and Elijah could feel Ian's fingers
stroking him, stroking his face and the corners of his mouth, tracing
his eyes through the blindfold, and he wanted to say something funny
and clever so that this wonderful man would know how he felt, but as
soon as he reached for the words, they slipped away, and in the end
it felt better to stay silent.

"Now?" Ian whispered, sliding his finger under the edge of the
blindfold, and Elijah nodded. Together, they eased the black silk
off his face, and he blinked, dazzled even in the subdued lighting.

"Lesson learned?" Ian asked, his fingers still tracing over Elijah's
face, as if memorising it. "Voice and touch are incredibly sensuous."

"Learned," Elijah agreed, finally moving his legs and giving Ian room
to move if he wanted, although he didn't. "You are …" he tailed off,
and shrugged. "Thank you."

"Now, go away and have a shower, young hobbit, whilst I change the
bed. Go on…" Ian rolled off Elijah and pointed towards the
bathroom. "Go!" He slapped Elijah's leg, and Elijah giggled,
pushing himself off the bed and heading for the shower.

Ian changed the bed, deliberately not letting himself think, and when
Elijah emerged, pink and clean, from the shower, he quickly took his
place in the bathroom, standing under the water for a long time.

By the time he was out of the shower and dry, Elijah was tucked in
bed, fast asleep. Carefully, Ian climbed in behind him, spooning
around him, smiling as Elijah, even asleep, grunted and pushed back
against him.

"I can't fight it," Ian whispered softly into the dark room. "Elijah
Wood, if any part of your brain is listening to this, I love you. I
have fought it and run from it, but the second I saw you tonight,
looking so tired and lost, I gave in." He kissed Elijah lightly on
the nape of his neck. "I love you." He sighed and settled himself
to sleep.

Elijah, curled up and quiet, smiled to himself. Home at last.