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fellowshippers2006-09-11 03:55 pm
mametsuki.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-09-11 03:55 pm
(no subject)
Tattoo
Author:Mametsuki
Rating:PG/13
Paring:DM/EW
Summary: Dom likes Elijah's tattoo
Feedbacks:Please!
Disclaimer: Lies all lies! I made it all up!
Author:Mametsuki
Rating:PG/13
Paring:DM/EW
Summary: Dom likes Elijah's tattoo
Feedbacks:Please!
Disclaimer: Lies all lies! I made it all up!
Tattoo.
“Do you like it?” Elijah’s exited voice was cracking a pitch higher than usual in anticipation. It was a fairly important question since this was the first time his friends would see the results of Elijah’s big plan.
It was one thing, thought Dom, to get a teensy tattoo of an elvish number nine to seal a deep friendship, it was another to spend eight hours on your belly while an artist caused bloody-inky hell. And here was Elijah, standing bare-backed and hopeful, his arms crossing his chest and his stubby fingers grasping at the skin on his shoulders.
Billy’s response was immediate
“Wow”
“Shit maaan”
Orli pretty much summed up what Dom was intending to say. Though his thoughts had suddenly become much more eloquent. Lots of fast moving images ran behind Dom’s eyelids, slightly too vivid, very startling.
The tattoo was quite beautiful, black and delicate, electric blue. It followed the bumps of Elijah’s spine; his skin seemed like molten white marble next to it’s spiky, delicate form. The dragon’s long tapered head rested at the top of Elijah’s left shoulder blade, a thin forked tongue lashed slightly upwards and a spray of blue flame shot towards the curve of his shoulder. Lacy wings filled the smooth canvas of Elijah’s skin on ether side of his spine. Dom followed the line of the dragon’s back with his eyes.
“That must have been so painful, that’s like, over bone isn’t it”
Billy’s eyes widened with the thought. Elijah was known to have a high pain threshold, but some of this detail, this black inking must have been murder. Dom tried not to screw up his eyes with the alien thoughts and images still rushing into his mind. Images of Elijah, his brow glistening and sweaty and with his chin resting on his arms, teeth sunk into his quivering bottom lip with the effort not to cry out in pain. With the effort to be manly and take the searing heat like he’d taken so many falls and scrapes before, a modern day Chaplain, Dom had said.
“Mmm huh” Elijah answered Billy just enough so as not to worry anyone unduly.
“Where does the tail go? Does it go down on to your bum eh yeh cheeky bugger?”
Dom began to worry that his thoughts were tattooed on his own face by now. However to bail now and make an excuse to leave the room would be very rude, it would upset Elijah. Oh dear. He’d seen Elijah’s ass before of course, as he had seen most of the fellowship naked before, normally very briefly and without any of these forbidden thoughts rushing about his system and now dangerously rushing towards his pants. ‘What if Elijah drops those baggy jeans now?’ The waistband of his white cotton boxers was already visible above the dark denim and the black leather belt. Dom could even tell that the white cotton was shot with light blue check, and in spite of his delicate frame, a tiny fold of chubby flesh ran along the top of the elastic. Dom was used to teasing Elijah for his near invisible “hobbit belly”, but right now he just felt like squeezing that little fold in his palm.
Was it obvious he was staring this hard? Dom chanced a glance around the semi-circle of friends that had formed. No, Orli looked transfixed as well, and was sucking in breath with an expression of delight, but his features were open and his grin was wide, in awe of a job well done.
“I thought it would spoil the line if it ended on my butt”
“Phew” thought Dom, then “Did I just say that aloud?”
“Say what aloud Dom?” Elijah turned around with a grin and a little chuckle. Dom noticed he was also undoing his belt anyway and gently tugging down the right side of his pants.
“Here’s the tail”
Just above that little number nine, snaking around that soft fold from back to front was the point of the tail, a classic little barbed triangle pointing downwards as if towards places Dom had publicly announced as Elijah’s “no no” spot.
In his mind, Dom was shouting at himself, over the din of the memory of a breaking wave with Elijah sliding along the white foam as naturally as a dolphin.
“NO NO! UH UH!!, WRONG, this CANNOT BE”. But his mind was taking his inner voice away, showing him innocent memories of the rustic showers at the beach, just after their tattoos had healed.
Elijah was brushing the last of the dead skin and dressing away from the new tattoo, Dom had just done the same, and was turning around to put hand the shower gel to someone else...Elijah was pulling up his shiny wet skin and examining the fresh black ink. Dom’s focus was naturally drawn in the direction of Elijah’s gaze...downwards. NO! too far down...he had to flick his eyes up a little, and meet Elijah’s gaze on the way back up.
“It’s come up really well”
“So has yours man, I hope all of them turn out as dark as ours...oh, hang on....” Elijah was reaching for Dom’s arm, noticing a straggly bit of sticky dressing. He plucked it of and swiftly brushed it down Dom’s bicep, before turning his back to shampoo his hair.
All perfectly innocent then, just a bunch of guys getting themselves cleaned up before the party that evening. But for some reason the memory had come into sharp focus when it shouldn’t have. Dom wasn’t even sure he remembered it properly, but the memory of Elijah’s fingers on his arm sent the slightest of itches to his tattoo.
Dom was glad at this moment for the very baggy combat jeans he had chosen for the day. Things were beginning to stir in his boxers and Elijah was now facing the group, beaming with glee.
“I’m glad you like it, It’s not like you have any choice of course, but I’d rather have the approval of my best friends before I try it out on the ladies at the beach!”
“It’s meeting with my approval and that’s all that matters my dear”
“Smooth one Viggo.” Dom watched in awe as the oh so suave Mr Mortensen swaggered over to Elijah’s side, and as calmly as if brushing away a speck of lint, reached down to tickle the skin around the tattoo; then deftly arched his neck to place a soft kiss upon the dragon’s black tongue.
Elijah flinched and jumped back with the repeated tickling, giggling and hopping from one foot to the next. Dom noticed the mischief in Viggo’s eyes, the low growl he could make when he was really enjoying himself. Harmless flirting, naturally. “Might as well join in then Dom”.
“Oh Elijah!” Dom affected a girlish voice “How brave of you! Did you cry? Did you cry from those pretty blue eyes?” No harm in moving over to join Viggo in tormenting the now hysterical figure squirming on the concrete floor. Even if tickling Elijah means touching the tight skin over his ribs with his own black varnished nails, accidentally scratching a hardening nipple in the process. Viggo’s hands moved all over as well, and as well as flinching in response to the unseen scratch, Elijah was wheezing and swearing under his failing breath.
“Fuckers, it’s cold on this floor, and one of you scratched me! Where’s my shirt?!”
As he scanned the white warehouse for Elijah’s t-shirt Dom became aware that the room was still full of all his friends. Still standing in formation with affected nonchalance at the show they had just witnessed. All perfectly harmless. Dom finally grasped the T-shirt that had begun to slip behind an old armchair, thick soft cotton that released a puff of scent as he whipped it out and slung it up to throw to it’s owner. Musky deodorant and an aftertaste of clove that seemed always to be there, part of Elijah’s own smell.
“Whooph! Elijah! You really oughta stop smoking soon or your skin will stink as bad as your shirts.” Dom held his nose.
“Well if I stop Dom, you will have no excuse, will you?”
Elijah put on the shirt, and with a dramatic wave of his hand swept out of the room through the wide open doors and into real and blinding daylight. From somewhere out of sight his wheezing voice could still be heard to shout:
“I’ll go find Ian, he’s gotta see this tattoo sooner or later, he may surprise me and actually like it”.
Billy waved a goodbye and flopped down onto the sofa tossing a game cube controller to Orlando. “You walked right into that one there Dom. Hey, come and play with us!"
“Do you like it?” Elijah’s exited voice was cracking a pitch higher than usual in anticipation. It was a fairly important question since this was the first time his friends would see the results of Elijah’s big plan.
It was one thing, thought Dom, to get a teensy tattoo of an elvish number nine to seal a deep friendship, it was another to spend eight hours on your belly while an artist caused bloody-inky hell. And here was Elijah, standing bare-backed and hopeful, his arms crossing his chest and his stubby fingers grasping at the skin on his shoulders.
Billy’s response was immediate
“Wow”
“Shit maaan”
Orli pretty much summed up what Dom was intending to say. Though his thoughts had suddenly become much more eloquent. Lots of fast moving images ran behind Dom’s eyelids, slightly too vivid, very startling.
The tattoo was quite beautiful, black and delicate, electric blue. It followed the bumps of Elijah’s spine; his skin seemed like molten white marble next to it’s spiky, delicate form. The dragon’s long tapered head rested at the top of Elijah’s left shoulder blade, a thin forked tongue lashed slightly upwards and a spray of blue flame shot towards the curve of his shoulder. Lacy wings filled the smooth canvas of Elijah’s skin on ether side of his spine. Dom followed the line of the dragon’s back with his eyes.
“That must have been so painful, that’s like, over bone isn’t it”
Billy’s eyes widened with the thought. Elijah was known to have a high pain threshold, but some of this detail, this black inking must have been murder. Dom tried not to screw up his eyes with the alien thoughts and images still rushing into his mind. Images of Elijah, his brow glistening and sweaty and with his chin resting on his arms, teeth sunk into his quivering bottom lip with the effort not to cry out in pain. With the effort to be manly and take the searing heat like he’d taken so many falls and scrapes before, a modern day Chaplain, Dom had said.
“Mmm huh” Elijah answered Billy just enough so as not to worry anyone unduly.
“Where does the tail go? Does it go down on to your bum eh yeh cheeky bugger?”
Dom began to worry that his thoughts were tattooed on his own face by now. However to bail now and make an excuse to leave the room would be very rude, it would upset Elijah. Oh dear. He’d seen Elijah’s ass before of course, as he had seen most of the fellowship naked before, normally very briefly and without any of these forbidden thoughts rushing about his system and now dangerously rushing towards his pants. ‘What if Elijah drops those baggy jeans now?’ The waistband of his white cotton boxers was already visible above the dark denim and the black leather belt. Dom could even tell that the white cotton was shot with light blue check, and in spite of his delicate frame, a tiny fold of chubby flesh ran along the top of the elastic. Dom was used to teasing Elijah for his near invisible “hobbit belly”, but right now he just felt like squeezing that little fold in his palm.
Was it obvious he was staring this hard? Dom chanced a glance around the semi-circle of friends that had formed. No, Orli looked transfixed as well, and was sucking in breath with an expression of delight, but his features were open and his grin was wide, in awe of a job well done.
“I thought it would spoil the line if it ended on my butt”
“Phew” thought Dom, then “Did I just say that aloud?”
“Say what aloud Dom?” Elijah turned around with a grin and a little chuckle. Dom noticed he was also undoing his belt anyway and gently tugging down the right side of his pants.
“Here’s the tail”
Just above that little number nine, snaking around that soft fold from back to front was the point of the tail, a classic little barbed triangle pointing downwards as if towards places Dom had publicly announced as Elijah’s “no no” spot.
In his mind, Dom was shouting at himself, over the din of the memory of a breaking wave with Elijah sliding along the white foam as naturally as a dolphin.
“NO NO! UH UH!!, WRONG, this CANNOT BE”. But his mind was taking his inner voice away, showing him innocent memories of the rustic showers at the beach, just after their tattoos had healed.
Elijah was brushing the last of the dead skin and dressing away from the new tattoo, Dom had just done the same, and was turning around to put hand the shower gel to someone else...Elijah was pulling up his shiny wet skin and examining the fresh black ink. Dom’s focus was naturally drawn in the direction of Elijah’s gaze...downwards. NO! too far down...he had to flick his eyes up a little, and meet Elijah’s gaze on the way back up.
“It’s come up really well”
“So has yours man, I hope all of them turn out as dark as ours...oh, hang on....” Elijah was reaching for Dom’s arm, noticing a straggly bit of sticky dressing. He plucked it of and swiftly brushed it down Dom’s bicep, before turning his back to shampoo his hair.
All perfectly innocent then, just a bunch of guys getting themselves cleaned up before the party that evening. But for some reason the memory had come into sharp focus when it shouldn’t have. Dom wasn’t even sure he remembered it properly, but the memory of Elijah’s fingers on his arm sent the slightest of itches to his tattoo.
Dom was glad at this moment for the very baggy combat jeans he had chosen for the day. Things were beginning to stir in his boxers and Elijah was now facing the group, beaming with glee.
“I’m glad you like it, It’s not like you have any choice of course, but I’d rather have the approval of my best friends before I try it out on the ladies at the beach!”
“It’s meeting with my approval and that’s all that matters my dear”
“Smooth one Viggo.” Dom watched in awe as the oh so suave Mr Mortensen swaggered over to Elijah’s side, and as calmly as if brushing away a speck of lint, reached down to tickle the skin around the tattoo; then deftly arched his neck to place a soft kiss upon the dragon’s black tongue.
Elijah flinched and jumped back with the repeated tickling, giggling and hopping from one foot to the next. Dom noticed the mischief in Viggo’s eyes, the low growl he could make when he was really enjoying himself. Harmless flirting, naturally. “Might as well join in then Dom”.
“Oh Elijah!” Dom affected a girlish voice “How brave of you! Did you cry? Did you cry from those pretty blue eyes?” No harm in moving over to join Viggo in tormenting the now hysterical figure squirming on the concrete floor. Even if tickling Elijah means touching the tight skin over his ribs with his own black varnished nails, accidentally scratching a hardening nipple in the process. Viggo’s hands moved all over as well, and as well as flinching in response to the unseen scratch, Elijah was wheezing and swearing under his failing breath.
“Fuckers, it’s cold on this floor, and one of you scratched me! Where’s my shirt?!”
As he scanned the white warehouse for Elijah’s t-shirt Dom became aware that the room was still full of all his friends. Still standing in formation with affected nonchalance at the show they had just witnessed. All perfectly harmless. Dom finally grasped the T-shirt that had begun to slip behind an old armchair, thick soft cotton that released a puff of scent as he whipped it out and slung it up to throw to it’s owner. Musky deodorant and an aftertaste of clove that seemed always to be there, part of Elijah’s own smell.
“Whooph! Elijah! You really oughta stop smoking soon or your skin will stink as bad as your shirts.” Dom held his nose.
“Well if I stop Dom, you will have no excuse, will you?”
Elijah put on the shirt, and with a dramatic wave of his hand swept out of the room through the wide open doors and into real and blinding daylight. From somewhere out of sight his wheezing voice could still be heard to shout:
“I’ll go find Ian, he’s gotta see this tattoo sooner or later, he may surprise me and actually like it”.
Billy waved a goodbye and flopped down onto the sofa tossing a game cube controller to Orlando. “You walked right into that one there Dom. Hey, come and play with us!"
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:)
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Thanks!
Keep the comments coming, I don't mind hints, or (constructive) criticism.
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