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fellowshippers2004-12-23 04:23 am
blankversesfic.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-12-23 04:23 am
FIC: Homecoming, Trust (3/?)
Title: Homecoming: Trust (3/?)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: EW/VM
Disclaimer: still don't know them or what they spend their time doing, but it's fun to pretend, now isn't it? *grins*
Hot tea and breakfast in bed, nestled amongst the sex-tossed covers. Long afternoons making love, pounding each other into the floorboards. Fingers gently exploring bodies that had been separated by the years, murmuring wonder over new scars, each mark a story to tell of the time that had been when they were not together -- time that seems to be evaporating as they move inside of one another again.
It’s good, this -- good and right, and somehow more than both of those, although Elijah can’t find the words to express it. He’s home, he’s where he should be, and Viggo seems to be just as happy as he is.
Their friends, however, have some reservations.
“Be careful, Doodle,” Dom warned over the phone, when Elijah called to tell him why he hadn’t shown up for his visit in Hawaii. “Take your time with this one. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“How can anything hurt more than being apart from Viggo?”
Dom had wisely chosen not to respond, or to remind Elijah of what had happened before, when the blue-eyed boy had been so broken over the fall out of the breakup with his lover that he had drunk himself to sleep for months, crying in Dom’s bed as Dom did everything he could to put him back together.
“Viggo, love, are you sure about this?” Orlando asked when the two men met for dinner, Viggo having flown in for the opening of Orlando’s newest movie.
“How can anyone be sure of anything?” Viggo had replied. “I know how I feel when I’m with him, and I remember how I felt when he was gone. There’s nothing in this world that’s sure, there’s only hope and faith in the one you love, and in the moments that you’re together.”
Orlando smiled, but inside he was worried, for he also remembered how Viggo had been after Elijah had left, smashing the older man’s heart. Orlando had remembered the horror he had felt when he had been called to Viggo’s house, the shock at finding Viggo lying amidst the wreckage of his studio, every canvas slashed and burned, every photo in shreds, his book of poems covered in ink. Viggo had looked up at him, eyes beyond wild, almost bestial, as he tried to explain that nothing meant anything without Elijah, that his art must have been a lie if the love that Elijah had felt for him meant nothing, was nothing but a fantasy.
Hot tea and breakfast in bed. Taking it one day at a time, each wondering when the other would bring up the past, each hoping that it would not have to be his responsibility.
Instead of talking about what had passed between them before, Viggo would reach over to his lover, gently pulling him close. Elijah’s eager mouth met his own, and they melted into the sensation of loving each other.
Instead of asking him why he had waited for him, when he knew that he had broken his heart, Elijah would slip warm lips over Viggo’s cock, promising himself that tomorrow they would talk, but now was not the time, for Viggo was bucking his hips under him, thrusting into his mouth, and Elijah would loose his thoughts, nothing important but flesh and pleasure.
***
Viggo wanted Elijah to know, without having to tell him, that all the past was forgiven, that there was nothing in his heart but trust. With a whispered kiss he rolls over onto his stomach. Elijah’s brow furrows as he regards his lover.
“Viggo, what --”
“Fuck me, Elijah,” Viggo growls, his voice rough.
“But I’ve never -- I don’t know --”
“Of course you do, lover,” Viggo purrs, “so shut up and fuck me.”
Elijah’s eyes go dark blue with lust, and he quickly sets about doing what he’s told. Lips trace a trail of kisses down Viggo’s back and, tentatively, he slips a finger inside of him. Viggo tenses, curses, and Elijah is about to pull back and stammer an apology when Viggo sighs, relaxing.
“It’s been quite some time since anyone’s done that,” he murmurs. “Just a little unready, don’t worry,” Viggo babbles, trying to say anything to ease the blue -eyed boy’s nerves. “Don’t stop.”
He goes slowly, reverently, almost frightened by the power he feels as Viggo’s body responds to his touch. They had never been like this before, with Elijah in control like this. With one hand still slowly readying Viggo he slips the other hand around his own cock, imagining how it’s going to feel to be inside of his lover. A moan escapes his lips, and he thrusts his hips forward, rubbing himself against Viggo. Elijah’s eyes grow wide as Viggo whimpers, need drives him forward and -- oh, so slowly -- he’s easing into Viggo. Elijah bites his lip as he moves with painful patience, wanting to go faster, not daring to. Seconds slide by feeling like hours and still, slowly, he’s moving, each gentle, lingering thrust deeper, until finally, both of them panting, he’s as deep inside as he can be, and he rests there, head lolled back and eyes closed, dizzy at the sensation.
“Elijah, please,” Viggo begs, and with that Elijah looses himself, his body acting of its own accord, and he’s thrusting quickly, hard, and deep as can be, pleasure so total that it almost knocks him out of his skin bursting up along every nerve. He grabs Viggo hips and pumps harder, holding back orgasm by sheer force of will as Viggo bucks underneath of him. Finally he can wait no longer, and he comes deep inside of Viggo, crying out, vision blurring.
After a long moment he frees himself, and roughly flips Viggo over onto his back. Without waiting for Viggo to speak he slips between his legs, tongue flicking over the head of Viggo’s cock, fingers curled around its length. Fingers and mouth bring Viggo over the edge, and after a long moment they lay curled together in the bed.
***
Hot tea and breakfast in bed, nestled under the covers, Elijah knows of no other place that he’d rather be.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: EW/VM
Disclaimer: still don't know them or what they spend their time doing, but it's fun to pretend, now isn't it? *grins*
Hot tea and breakfast in bed, nestled amongst the sex-tossed covers. Long afternoons making love, pounding each other into the floorboards. Fingers gently exploring bodies that had been separated by the years, murmuring wonder over new scars, each mark a story to tell of the time that had been when they were not together -- time that seems to be evaporating as they move inside of one another again.
It’s good, this -- good and right, and somehow more than both of those, although Elijah can’t find the words to express it. He’s home, he’s where he should be, and Viggo seems to be just as happy as he is.
Their friends, however, have some reservations.
“Be careful, Doodle,” Dom warned over the phone, when Elijah called to tell him why he hadn’t shown up for his visit in Hawaii. “Take your time with this one. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“How can anything hurt more than being apart from Viggo?”
Dom had wisely chosen not to respond, or to remind Elijah of what had happened before, when the blue-eyed boy had been so broken over the fall out of the breakup with his lover that he had drunk himself to sleep for months, crying in Dom’s bed as Dom did everything he could to put him back together.
“Viggo, love, are you sure about this?” Orlando asked when the two men met for dinner, Viggo having flown in for the opening of Orlando’s newest movie.
“How can anyone be sure of anything?” Viggo had replied. “I know how I feel when I’m with him, and I remember how I felt when he was gone. There’s nothing in this world that’s sure, there’s only hope and faith in the one you love, and in the moments that you’re together.”
Orlando smiled, but inside he was worried, for he also remembered how Viggo had been after Elijah had left, smashing the older man’s heart. Orlando had remembered the horror he had felt when he had been called to Viggo’s house, the shock at finding Viggo lying amidst the wreckage of his studio, every canvas slashed and burned, every photo in shreds, his book of poems covered in ink. Viggo had looked up at him, eyes beyond wild, almost bestial, as he tried to explain that nothing meant anything without Elijah, that his art must have been a lie if the love that Elijah had felt for him meant nothing, was nothing but a fantasy.
Hot tea and breakfast in bed. Taking it one day at a time, each wondering when the other would bring up the past, each hoping that it would not have to be his responsibility.
Instead of talking about what had passed between them before, Viggo would reach over to his lover, gently pulling him close. Elijah’s eager mouth met his own, and they melted into the sensation of loving each other.
Instead of asking him why he had waited for him, when he knew that he had broken his heart, Elijah would slip warm lips over Viggo’s cock, promising himself that tomorrow they would talk, but now was not the time, for Viggo was bucking his hips under him, thrusting into his mouth, and Elijah would loose his thoughts, nothing important but flesh and pleasure.
***
Viggo wanted Elijah to know, without having to tell him, that all the past was forgiven, that there was nothing in his heart but trust. With a whispered kiss he rolls over onto his stomach. Elijah’s brow furrows as he regards his lover.
“Viggo, what --”
“Fuck me, Elijah,” Viggo growls, his voice rough.
“But I’ve never -- I don’t know --”
“Of course you do, lover,” Viggo purrs, “so shut up and fuck me.”
Elijah’s eyes go dark blue with lust, and he quickly sets about doing what he’s told. Lips trace a trail of kisses down Viggo’s back and, tentatively, he slips a finger inside of him. Viggo tenses, curses, and Elijah is about to pull back and stammer an apology when Viggo sighs, relaxing.
“It’s been quite some time since anyone’s done that,” he murmurs. “Just a little unready, don’t worry,” Viggo babbles, trying to say anything to ease the blue -eyed boy’s nerves. “Don’t stop.”
He goes slowly, reverently, almost frightened by the power he feels as Viggo’s body responds to his touch. They had never been like this before, with Elijah in control like this. With one hand still slowly readying Viggo he slips the other hand around his own cock, imagining how it’s going to feel to be inside of his lover. A moan escapes his lips, and he thrusts his hips forward, rubbing himself against Viggo. Elijah’s eyes grow wide as Viggo whimpers, need drives him forward and -- oh, so slowly -- he’s easing into Viggo. Elijah bites his lip as he moves with painful patience, wanting to go faster, not daring to. Seconds slide by feeling like hours and still, slowly, he’s moving, each gentle, lingering thrust deeper, until finally, both of them panting, he’s as deep inside as he can be, and he rests there, head lolled back and eyes closed, dizzy at the sensation.
“Elijah, please,” Viggo begs, and with that Elijah looses himself, his body acting of its own accord, and he’s thrusting quickly, hard, and deep as can be, pleasure so total that it almost knocks him out of his skin bursting up along every nerve. He grabs Viggo hips and pumps harder, holding back orgasm by sheer force of will as Viggo bucks underneath of him. Finally he can wait no longer, and he comes deep inside of Viggo, crying out, vision blurring.
After a long moment he frees himself, and roughly flips Viggo over onto his back. Without waiting for Viggo to speak he slips between his legs, tongue flicking over the head of Viggo’s cock, fingers curled around its length. Fingers and mouth bring Viggo over the edge, and after a long moment they lay curled together in the bed.
***
Hot tea and breakfast in bed, nestled under the covers, Elijah knows of no other place that he’d rather be.
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