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fellowshippers2007-02-13 10:43 pm
hanarobi.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2007-02-13 10:43 pm
Entry tags:
Wing Development: Flourish
Title: Wing Development: Flourish
Author: Hanarobi (hanarobi_muse@yahoo.com)
Pairing: ew/dm
Rating: R
Disclaimer: No true. No profit.
Other stories in this series: http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=hanarobi&keyword=wing%21fic&filter=all
I don’t know how I came to be
All winged and feathery.
I only know that since I am
I’m happy that it’s you with me.
Dom could only stare at the red construction paper heart with its fancy cursive writing and romantic flourishes. He read the poem once more (god, would this even qualify as a poem? Surely there is a Hall of Standards somewhere, judging and evaluating these kinds of things, and this poor little piece of doggerel shite wouldn’t stand a chance), bringing the total of times read to four. Repetition did not improve rhyme, cadence, or sentiment. Repetition improved the poem fuckall and no two ways about it.
Lovers can be difficult. Oblivious lovers impossible. But romantic oblivious lovers were the worst. Hands down, bob’s your uncle, discussion’s done and over an hour ago.
And still the gobshite expects a response. Dom chewed on his biro. Well, pen. An infinite variety of pens. Now why the hell did the most powerful country in the world, fuck that, in the history of the world, thank ya kindly, want to waste even an iota of their wealth on having 500 different types of pens. And there were 500. He’d counted. Did a google search and just kept the list going. For a couple of weeks. During his ‘down’ period.
And here’s Dominic Mohanty, fresh from his supporting role as Pippin in the Lords of the Rings sequel, on the red carpet. Tell us, Dominic, what was it like to work with Orlando Bloom, the hottest thing to ever come out of Hollywood?
Dom would then imagine stabbing the annoying reporter with his “nice, shiny dagger” while enumerating the errors and/or irritations in her opening statement. Work with both Sir Ians, and Chris Lee, and the bloody knobs asked about Orlando. Orlando? What was it like to work with Orlando? I’ll tell you what it was like to work with Orlando-didn’t-have-any-lines-and-it-damn-sure-wasn’t-because-he-was-an-elf-Bloom.
And then of course, Dom would feel terrible because he had learned to be loving and happy and centered and mature and he honestly was good mates with Orlando and really did wish him all the best, not that Orlando needed his well wishes given that he was off being even better mates with the Hollywood A-list (and those that actually deserved to be A-list)…and he had this beautiful girl friend, a blond starlet no less, and…
And then Dom growls at himself and rolls off the couch, stupid fucking valentine still in his hand, because what the fuck was he doing being jealous of Orlando with his girlfriend when he, Dominic Monaghan, the one and only, had the world’s most beautiful man as his own.
He was a lower than a lowly unworthy fart from the ass of one Billy Boyd. While said Boyd’s ass was clad in pink girly knickers. A Boyd fart trapped in pink knickers. Very low indeed. He felt rather badly for the fart.
Call Hannah! Brilliant. Ah, that Monaghan chap. The whole deal he was. Incredibly sexy body and a mind to rival Einstein’s. Elijah was the luckiest man in the world. Simple as that.
“HANNAH-NO-MAH, NAH-MEEE, HANNIEEEEE!”
Years of practice had taught Hannah to instantly recognize Dom’s voice over the phone and to hold the phone away from her ear until his initial greeting had wound down.
“Dominic, how lovely to have my eardrum pierced by you. Again.”
“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah….” Followed by sounds that made it seem as if Dom were trying to slurp up the phone. Which he might very well be doing. Probably was. She rolled her eyes.
“Dom? You got 10 seconds to talk to me as an adult or I’m hanging up. 10, 9, 8..”
“Tell me about Valentine’s Day in the Wood family household.”
“What?
“Tell me what Valentine’s Day was like for Lij growing up.”
“Well, let’s see. Mom and Dad barely talked to each other, much less gave each other valentines, and I had two older brothers, both of whom thought girls had cooties. So I would have to say that Valentines’ day was not a major holiday in the ‘Wood family household’. And why the hell do you want to know, any way? Or, rather, what thing has my brother done to confuse you this time?’
“Sappy crappy love poem. Crappy. A week before the actual day. And did I mention that it is one hellaciously crappy poem?”
“So write him one back, moron. Your brain is your friend. Stop being afraid to use it.”
“Oh, right, yeah, good one. I’ll have to remember that. Share it with you next time you dye your hair PURPLE.”
“It was lavender. I am cool and avant garde and I looked fabulous. You are lucky to even be talking to me. In fact, you aren’t cool enough to talk with me. Bye!”
“No! Shit, wait, Hannah! Wait!”
“Jesus, Dom, I was just joking. I’m still here.”
“Seriously, Han, I need to know what he wants. Is Valentine’s some big deal that I never knew about?”
“And how long have you guys been together? Just do what you’ve always done.”
“We’ve never done anything before, that’s the problem. We’ve never been in the same place.”
“But you talked on the phone, right? So just do what you did then.”
“Give it the old one-handed-I’m-on-the-phone-wank while talking dirty, then shooting our loads at the same time?”
The phone went dead. If he hadn’t honestly needed her advice, Dom would have counted that a victory in his favor. He hit redial.
“HANNAH-RE---“
The phone went dead.
He thunked the cell against the top of his head and hit redial again.
“What if he is reaching out to me and I miss it and end up hurting him?”
“He’s tough, you won’t. And I don’t care anyway.”
Good, she was talking to him. Just can’t resist the old Monaghan charm.
“Is there any trauma in his past?”
“Over Valentine’s Day? God, how pathetic would that be.”
“So there is.”
He heard her start to say something, change her mind, and fall silent.
“Hannah…” he coaxed.
“It…in first grade..I don’t think...”
“Hannah, luv, I need to know.”
“Okay, fine. When I started school, first grade, he was in third grade. This was like the last year Mom had him attend public schools because he was missing so many classes anyway.”
“Yeah, right.”
“So, I got to do the whole decorate the shoebox and exchange valentines thing, right? And I came home with a shoebox completely full. And Eli had maybe four, five at the most, and he hadn’t been there when they decorated the shoeboxes so he just had a paper sack with red hearts on it that the teacher had made for him. And he cried. And said he hated school. And he hated acting. And he hated me. And not long after that, Mom pulled him out of school entirely.”
“Shit.”
“Look, don’t make more of this than it is. It was a long time ago and it’s not like he doesn’t get hundred of valentines from his fans every year. He’s fine, Dom. Trust me on this one.”
But Dom had already pushed the End button on his cell phone, plotting and planning.
“Fine. Bye to you too, fuckface.” Hannah snapped her cell shut and resumed her normal life. But with a wicked little grin on her face. Messing with Dom’s head was just too easy.
**********************************
Elijah had one thought and it was sex. Sex. Sex. More sex. Sex in bed. Sex tied to the bedposts. Sex on top of the covers. Sex under the covers. Sex tied up with the covers. Sex under the bed. (maye not…have to think about that one some more) Sex in the shower. Sex in the tub. Sex bent over the tub. Sex stretched across the bathroom counter. Sex in the hallway. Sex on the kitchen table. Sex slammed up against the refrigerator. On top of the washing machine. On top of the dryer. On the couch. Over the couch. On the floor. On the front porch (if no one was walking by). Sex in the backyard. Sex in the grass. Sex in the car --front seat and back, of course. Sex on the beach. Good drink, if you like the fruity stuff. Sex on surfboards. Okay, maybe not. Sex everywhere. Sex everywhere else.
Okay, that takes care of where. Now to address the how issue.
Sex with lube. Sex with lots of lube. Lots and lots of lube. Sex with minimal lube. Sex with no lube. Sex with flavored lube. Blowjob. Sex with butt plugs. Sex with dildos. Vibrating and non-vibrating varieties. Blowjob. Sex with nipple clamps. Sex with anal beads. Sex with cock rings. Blowjob. Sex with paddles. Sex with clothes on. Sex with clothes off. Sex with only one of them with clothes off. Blowjob. Oral sex (blowjob). Anal sex. Oral and anal sex at the same time. The time-honored sixty-nine. Frottage. Intracrual. Blowjob, blowjob, blowjob. And once again, blowjob.
Okay, since Valentine’s Day is only 24 hours long, he should have enough planned. Elijah couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face as he whipped his mom’s Mini Cooper into the parking lot of his favorite WeHo adult toy and novelty store.
**********
Tricky things, these valentines. Sure, Elijah’s to him was just red construction paper, but there were all sorts of designs, doodles, and romantic flourishes, not to mention the poem itself. And he can’t just do one back, exactly like he received. That would imply that he was doing this just because it was done for him first. But he couldn’t go too far and make them all frou-frou and girly, because, well, because then it would be all frou-frou and girly. Duh. And it had to be elegant, even if they were just silly valentines because he, Dom Monaghan, had standards. And then there were the poems. Yup, poems. Plural. He was going to fill a shoebox completely full of romantic valentine poems, more than enough to make up for that miserable little sack with its piddling four or five in it.
But exactly how many was the question. This question necessitated another call to Hannah, who seemed to be getting a cold, poor girl, because she kept having to cover up the phone and make this weird choking sound. But he needed her to tell him about how many valentines he should make and he needed a description of just what one of those decorated shoeboxes thingies was supposed to look like. When she asked him if he hadn’t done them himself as child, he had said in his very best Rowan Atkinson voice, “No, we Germans do not have a word for fluffy.”
To which she had responded, “Wow, that’s really weird. How can an entire country not have a word for ‘fluffy’?”
Dom thought that Hannah was perhaps the most gullible person on the planet and he determined right then and there to buy her the complete Black Adder series for her Christmas present next year.
After she assured him once again that he was making far too big a deal out of all this and that Elijah didn’t need a decorated shoebox full of valentines, she gave in and described these things to him, in quite a bit of detail. He had had no idea that children as young as seven or eight were expected to create such elaborately decorated boxes just for receiving valentines from their school mates. Americans really had the most fucked up priorities for what schools should be spending their time on concerning the teaching of children. But the educational system of the States simply wasn’t his problem right now. Right now, his task was to repair the gapping wound that was his beloved’s tender soul regarding this whole unthinkingly cruel Valentine’s Day tradition.
So here he is, cutting out red hearts, pink hearts, purple hearts, and white hearts. Elmer’s glue, glitter pens, tubes of gold and silver glitter, white doilies, and ribbons, markers of every color, and lots and lots of little candy hearts. He had finished decorating the shoebox, but that task alone had taken him almost three full days. Then he had decided to make a valentine for every year of Elijah’s life. 24 little hearts. 24 little poems. It is going to be a lot of work, but the thought that he would heal Elijah of this unspoken pain that he had been carrying around with him all his life more than made up for Dom’s blossoming major bitch of a headache.
*******
Oh, the possibilities! Since he already had two fantasies worked out in his head, he just needed to find the final bits of the costumes to pull them off. But, still, something was missing. He hadn’t quite found that one perfect thing that would make this, their first Valentine’s Day spent in the actual, flesh, blood and boner presence of each other, the sexual feast of unforgettable proportions that Elijah was imagining. And then he saw them.
They were perfect. Silly, obscene, candy-striped, massive dildos. One in red and white swirls, the other in pink and red swirls. Nothing says ‘I love You’ like imitation candy cane dildos. Big ones.
He tossed them into his shopping cart along with his other purchases and made sure that he bought extra batteries and lube when he got to the checkout counter. He also made a mental note to stop at a convenience store on the way home to stock up on water, chocolate, and cloves. If things went as planned, they wouldn’t be leaving the house for days and it would be hell to run of any of the three essentials in his life.
So preoccupied with imagining Dom in the outfit he had planned for him, Elijah paid less attention to his driving than normal and so it was a bit of a shock when he leaned over to adjust the speaker setting and get more bass booming along with his latest musical obsession that he noticed the flashing red lights in his rear view mirror.
With a sense of dread, he slowed down, signaled very properly and pulled over into the first empty parking lot he came to. The cop car pulled up to a stop behind him and as he was reaching for the registration and insurance from the glove compartment while one of LA’s finest walked up to his car window, he could feel his wings tucking themselves down hard and tight against his back. Apparently, they were going to let him deal with this one all by himself.
*********
I loved you when first we kiss-ed
I loved you when first we fisted
I loved you when first we lasted
Longer than five minutes.
Dom’s eyes were really hurting. He hated to think that he needed glasses so maybe it was just the damn fumes from all those felt markers. Or the glue. Or, hell, maybe he had glitter working its way up his nose and slicing into his brain. The autopsy would reveal little bits of shiny gold in his brain matter. Actually, that would be kinda cool. Death by golden glitter in the brain. A total glam rock death. Brian Slade should be so lucky.
Dom stared at the poem. Number 19, it was. And, just like the last ten that had come before it, it was utter shite. The first nine, actually, weren’t so bad. But then his brain had quit on him. Damn glitter. Besides, he was an actor, not a fucking poet. Oh! Good idea. Call Viggo.
Viggo didn’t answer his phone and the answering machine seemed to be turned off. But Dom knew that Viggo was home because he had already called Viggo six or seven times today. But now, for some reason, Viggo was no longer answering his phone. Flaky artist. Always ringing you up when you were in the middle of things and leaving long messages for you that made no sense, but never around when you needed them. Viggo had said something about the muse of poetry deserving respect and how things like expressions of love could not be forced to conform to arbitrarily chosen days that were media tools of capitalist manipulation. Uh, yeah, whatever. Viggo had also commented that he didn’t think that a butt-plug should be mentioned in a love poem, which just goes to show how little Viggo understood romance.
On reflection, Dom seriously wondered if glitter really could be slicing up his brain. He smeared glue all over Love Poem #19 and heaped gold glitter all over it. He looked at it critically and glued on a few candy hearts. EAT ME and BE MINE and HOT DUDE. Pretty much said it all, really. The poem at this point almost seemed redundant.
That gave him the idea of #20. He just glued a whole bunch of candy hearts on a red construction heart and signed his name with a big flourish.
Not his best, but a look a the clock told him he had at most 90 minutes to create four more testimonials of true love, have them dry enough to be stuffed into the decorated shoebox, and get himself cleaned up.
God, he had a headache.
********
World famous huge blue eyes are useful and so is a practiced tone of sincerity and respect for authority. Then again, the story about it being Valentine’s Day and how he was thinking about getting home to spend the remainder of the day with his one true love probably didn’t hurt either. And he was really sure he would not have gotten a ticket at all, except that when the cop did the regulation look into the interior of the car, he of course had to notice the bag with the two massively long candy-striped dildos sticking out the top of the sack. Granted it was just a warning ticket, given that it was his first offense, but the way the cop had to work really hard not to laugh just made the whole thing really embarrassing. Elijah was sure that he would be a topic of precinct gossip for weeks to come.
Ever polite, he thanked the police officer for being lenient, promised to pay more attention to his driving, and even managed to return the sentiment when the officer wished him and his ‘significant other’ a lovely Valentine’s Day.
No question about it, the mood was killed. All he wanted now was just to get home and try to forget how humiliated he felt. And yeah, he was still horny as hell. Forget all the fun and games; he just wanted a good hard fuck. Get home, grab Dom, toss him on the bed and fuck his ass into next week. Greatly cheered up by the thought, Elijah drove home, very carefully and about 3 miles under the speed limit at all times.
*******
Number 24 just said, Yours. Love, Dom. No frills and it was written in simple blue ink on white construction paper (all the red, pink, and purple construction paper having been used up already). Inspiration could go fuck itself because he was completely out of time. After the shower, he put on a t-shirt that had been a retaliation gift from Hannah. When she had acquired her first live-in boyfriend, Dom had given her a t-shirt that said, “Spunk--it’s what’s for Dinner.” A week later he received a package in the mail containing a t-shirt that said “Semen. Reason enough for everyone to be a lesbian.”
The first time Elijah saw him wearing the t-shirt, Elijah had had a slightly insecure, hurt look on his face, as if maybe there was some reason that Dom didn’t want to tell him as to why Dom was wearing the t-shirt, even as a gag. To reassure him that Dom loved Elijah’s semen, Dom had made spent most of the day devouring Elijah’s cock at every opportunity. He nuzzled and lapped and nibbled and tongued and sucked and swallowed and licked him clean, repeatedly. There was no way that Elijah could doubt Dom’s love of sucking his cock after all that. And yet, still, whenever Dom wore the t-shirt, there was always the quickly covered up look of insecurity. And Dom always dealt with that insecurity in the same way. Lots of cock-worshipping. It had gotten to where putting on the t-shirt had an almost pavlovian response for him. All he had to do was put it on and the desire to suck Elijah’s cock became almost irresistible. It seemed the perfect choice for Valentine’s Day attire.
Dom looked around the place with a sense of a job well done. The shoebox was elaborated decorated and crammed with valentines. All he needed now was for Elijah to get here so he could shower him with all the valentines he had missed out on as a child. There were tears in Dom’s eyes as he thought about how much this would going to mean to Elijah, although the glue stick he had been sniffing for hours might have had something to do with it as well. He was so ready for their first Valentine’s Day together.
*******
As Elijah pulled into the driveway, all he wanted was to get inside, get naked and start fucking. He had never been quite so glad to be a guy in his life because he knew that for most of the couples in the world, Valentine’s Day was all about romance. Thank god that he and Dom didn’t hold with that shit and could just use the whole stupid day as a great excuse to engage in excessive fucking. All sorts of fucking. He clutched his bag of sex goodies and felt himself growing hard just at the thought of his plans for the next several hours. Now that he was no longer driving, it seemed safe to go back to dwelling on his fantasies of what he was going to do to Dom. Walking up the stairs to the house, he adjusted his hard-on inside his jeans, licked his lips and worked his jaw around a bit, getting it loosened up. He was so ready for their first Valentine’s Day together.
*****************************************
The first thing Elijah noticed when he got inside their apartment was that Dom was wearing that stupid, wonderful t-shirt. He could always get Dom to give him a blowjob when Dom was wearing that t-shirt. Apparently, Dom thought that his feelings had been hurt the first time Dom wore it and so he had always given Elijah lots of cock sucking. In fact, Elijah had just been wincing at the obvious poor taste of such a shirt and wondering why anyone would ever produce such a thing in the first place, much less buy or wear it, but hey, if it got him blowjobs, who was he to complain? And once he found out it came from Hannah, well, he pretty much figured that explained the whole “in really poor taste” thing. Between Dom and Hannah, western civilization was in serious peril. Actually, given that Hannah had gone with them to Japan, eastern civilization wasn’t entirely safe either.
“Hey, lover!” and he went to wrap himself up in a massive Dom hug. But there was a sharp poke of something in his gut…Dom seemed to be holding some hideous looking shoebox, for reasons probably known only to Dom and God (and God was involved only because God was omniscient and didn’t really have much choice, certainly not because God had any particular interest in why Dom was holding, what on a closer inspection, turned out to be a truly ghastly shoebox decorated for Valentine’s Day with red construction hearts and a questionable amount of gold and silver glitter).
“Ow,” Elijah said, pulling back, wincing.
“For you,” Dom was grinning from ear to ear and holding out the shoebox.
A bit confused and really interested in fucking as soon as possible, Elijah took the box, transferring his sack of sex toys and assorted paraphernalia, to Dom. “And this is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day!”
They reached across their respective recently acquired objects and gave each other a kiss. Elijah tried to go deep, but his pass was cut off when Dom just nudged him and gestured excitedly towards the shoebox. Elijah was a bit put-off that Dom just glanced inside the sack, where he had to see the matching pair of candy-striped dildos, before he dumped the sack on the couch. That was so not the reaction Elijah had been going for.
He held the shoebox in his hands. God, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen one of these things. Second grade, maybe? Was this some English tradition he didn’t know about? He bounced it a bit in his hands, smiling at Dom, and said, “Cute. Thanks. Wanna fuck?” And then he tossed the box on the table and went to cup Dom’s face in his hands, getting the whole raunchy seduction scene underway. Only to find Dom pulling away from him, obviously upset.
“Lij! I made you valentines. God, aren’t you even going to look at them?”
“You’re kidding, right? You want me to look at some crappy valentines instead of fucking?”
“Crappy? I make you valentines and you think they’re crappy? You haven’t even looked at them yet!’
“Shit. You *made* them? Dude, you just go to the store and buy a package of the damn things. No one makes valentines.”
“I did. For you. Clearly, a waste of time.”
“Oh, Dominic, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you made them yourself. For me. I’m sorry. Here, I’ll look at them, okay.”
“You know what, just never mind. I don’t need you to look at them for my sake. God, you are such a patronizing little shit. I made them for you so that you wouldn’t feel bad anymore.”
Elijah gave Dom a look that clearly indicated that he thought Dom had gone wacko on him. “Feel bad about what, Dom?”
Dom had the sudden, horrible feeling that he was missing a very important part of something, but he just wasn’t sure what it was. And he had the equally clear feeling that once he explained things, he was going to feel rather stupid. Suddenly, all that effort and all the best intentions in the world seemed insipid and kinda embarrassing.
“Dom? What am I supposed to feel bad about?”
“Hannah said that you never got valentines at school when you were a kid and that you cried.”
“What!’
“Hannah said that when you were in third grade, you weren’t there very much and so on Valentine’s Day, all the other kids got valentines and had these stupid decorated boxes,” at which point, Dom gestured angrily at the gaudy monstrosity sitting on the table,” but you didn’t and your teacher had a sack for you and you only got a couple and that you came home and cried and that’s when Debbie pulled you out of school for good.” Dom glared at Elijah, daring him to laugh.
Elijah scrunched up his face, trying to think back and then he straightened suddenly and looked Dom directly in the face. “She is so going to die for this.”
“What? Who?”
“Hannah. That little conniving little piece of shit.”
“Why? What did Hannah do? And you used ‘little’ twice. All she did was tell me…”
“Dom, no! That’s not what happened. God! That little bitch has waited all these years for payback! I can’t believe this!”
Dom rubbed at the crease between his eyebrows where his earlier headache was regaining any ground it had lost during his shower. “What’s going on?”
“Look, when I was in third grade, I was already gone from school most of the time. I wasn’t in school for Valentine’s Day that year, and I remember it because Hannah was. She was in first grade, so it was her first Valentine’s Day, you know?”
Dom nodded but, really, he had no clue what the significance of any of this was.
“So, she is all full of herself because she has this stupid decorated shoebox and Zach and I had been making fun of her and she was being all prissy about how she was going to get all this candy and all these valentines and how we weren’t, and it was great, because it was Zach and I against Hannah and that was one of the first times it had happened, you know? I was finally old enough that Zach was dealing with me separately from Hannah. And he had always just kinda viewed the two of us as these little kids that he ignored for the most part. So, we probably went overboard, but I was hanging with Zach instead of Hannah, you know?”
Dom just nodding along, through Elijah’s long-winded explanation, still not really seeing the point of it, but willing to wait it out.
Elijah picked up on the lack of comprehension and tried to get to the point, never his strong suit.
“So, anyway, she comes home, and she has these two cupcakes, and she’s going on and on about how popular she is and how many valentines she got and how she is not going to share her cupcakes and how we are just dumb boys anyway, and all that kind of shit, and then Zach just reaches over, calm as you please, and oh, God, this is great, he just picks them up and lobs one of the cupcakes at me, then takes a huge bite out of his. Hannah is screaming and crying and demanding her cupcakes back. By the time Mom got there, Zach and I had crammed them in our mouths and were grinning and chewing like idiots.”
Elijah had the happiest smile on his face, remembering. “Man, we got the shit bitched out of us. Mom was so pissed.”
Dom is looking on, horrified. “Good memory for you, is it?”
“Oh yeah, are you kidding? Zach let me be in on tormenting Hannah. It was like this total rite of passage into manhood, dude. Plus, I got a cupcake out of the deal.”
“So, you didn’t cry about not getting valentines,” Dom asked, just to be clear.
“Why the hell would I care? Especially by third grade, man. God, give me a little credit, would ya?”
“So, Hannah set me up to get back at you?”
Elijah winced on Dom’s behalf. “’fraid so, man. Sorry.”
Dom just nodded, looking at the box on the table.
Elijah followed his look and took in the box. The extremely, excessively decorated box, a box that had clearly had a lot of time, effort and glitter devoted to it.
“Hey, why don’t you show them to me, anyway, okay? I mean, this is neat, that you actually made me some valentines.”
Dom thought about that for a couple of seconds. Elijah thought that he had made him “some valentines.” Dom just felt foolish. And a bit used. “Ya know what? I think that maybe I need a bit of walk, clear my head.” He tried a small chuckle. “Get some of the glue fumes out of my brain.”
“Dom…” Elijah reached for him, took his arm.
Dom patted Elijah’s hand and then withdrew his arm. “Just gonna go out for a bit. No biggie, okay? I’ll be back soon and then we’ll do Valentine’s your way. It’ll be fun, okay?” He gestured to the sack on the couch. “Lots of fun, it looks like. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”
“Okay. Love you?” Elijah didn’t mean it to come out as a question, but it did.
Dom smiled at him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. “Love you, too.” He closed the door quietly behind him as he walked out the door.
Elijah plopped himself down at the table, wondering how things had gotten so off kilter so quickly. He glared at the shoebox for a bit and then pulled it towards him, opening it up and gazing into the richness of colors and shapes that Dom had created especially just for him.
*****************************
When angry, Dom’s walks could last for hours and cover several miles. He often didn’t even know where he was once his anger ran out. More than once, especially when he had first moved to LA, he had had to call Elijah to come and get him. Fortunately, his anger was rarely directed at Elijah and so Elijah had always sounded relieved to get to the call and would come pick him up as quickly as possible.
This time, Dom wasn’t angry so much as he was humiliated. And he couldn’t even figure out quite why he felt so foolish. So, yeah, Hannah had pulled one over on him. Big whoop-de-shit. He was a Master Prank Puller and the cardinal rule of pranking was that you took it straight up when you had it done back to you. So it wasn’t that Hannah had reeled him in like a pro, nah, that he could handle. He was even kinda proud of her for the skill in which she had played him. He figured she had learned this behavior from him, after all, so he could hardly get mad at her. Besides, he was so going to enjoy payback.
No, there was something else eating away at him. So what if Hannah had gotten him to invest hours making valentines for no reason at all. That he could handle. It was Elijah’s reaction that was bugging him. Even if he had made them for the wrong reason, couldn’t Elijah have responded to them with a little more consideration? And without being so goddamn condescending about it? Even if they weren’t needed to repair long ago emotional damage, they were still handmade valentines, given in love. And yeah, it was sappy as hell, but how hard could it be to show a little appreciation? Genuine appreciation as opposed to a sop to his ego.
Dom kicked at the pavement and rubbed his hands over his face. He felt like a fool. And nothing was going to change that so it was time to head home and just pretend that the whole fucking day hadn’t happened. Plus, he really needed to pee.
**********************************
The house was quiet when Dom let himself back in.
“Lij?” he called, toeing off his sneakers.
“In the bedroom.”
Dom wandered down the hall, stopping in the bathroom for the needed piss, then making his way on to their bedroom.
He stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame, taking in the sight. Elijah was kneeling in the middle of their bed, naked, smiling at Dom over his shoulder. His wings were folded down against his back, making a perfect heart-shape image, just reaching down far enough for the longest end feathers to brush past the curve of Elijah’s butt.
Elijah has a number of smiles. Sweet smiles, happy ones, geeky ones, even sad smiles. There are professional smiles for the camera and uncomplicated ones for his family. And then, there is this one, the one he reserves solely for Dom. It is a cross between the famous Frodo smile at the Grey Havens aboard the ship and the smile of a 24 year old male about to get laid. And all of Dom’s grumpiness and awkwardness from before simply melted away when he saw it. Elijah wanted him and that was so much more important than whether Elijah appreciated the effort he had put into all those valentines.
“Get naked and come here,” Elijah said as he patted the bed in front of him. He leaned back on his heels, leaving no question where he wanted Dom to be.
Obligingly, Dom stripped and stretched out on the bed, wiggling a bit to get arranged under Elijah. Once Dom was settled, Elijah sat down on his thighs, then leaned forward and took Dom’s hands in his. As he held Dom down against the bed, he kissed him and then sat back up.
“Behold,” he said and he spread his wings out behind him, opening them to their full span.
Dom gasped as he realized what he was seeing. There, tied to individual feathers, were his valentines. He was aware, on some level, that his mouth was hanging open, but, shit, Elijah had tied the valentines to his wings. Nothing was ever allowed to touch the wings (certainly not since that disastrous never-to-be-mentioned-or-repeated occasion where Viggo had art-fucked the wings). And yet, here they were. Reverently, and in a state of disbelief, Dom reached out, gently running his fingers over one or two of the valentines.
He looked up at Elijah, questions written all over his face, “Lij, your wings? They let you tie string around the feathers?’
“Let me? Hell, Dom, it was their idea. They seemed to be of the opinion that I hadn’t shown you the proper appreciation.” He grinned. “You like it?’
“Yeah,” Dom grinned back, “I do. Tell the wings thanks for me, okay?”
And then they took their time, Elijah and the wings turning and dipping, bringing the valentines into position for Dom to untie them from the feathers and hand them to Elijah, one by one, for Elijah to read them, admire them, praise Dom for his cleverness, laugh at his poems, kiss him for each valentine, and then carefully stack them on the bedside table. But when all the valentines were removed and the wings were shaking themselves back into smoothness, Dom realized that one valentine was missing. It was the very last one he had done, the one on white construction paper, that one that simply said, “Yours. Love, Dom.”
“Hey, Lij, you’re missing one.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. It’s a white one.”
“Not missing. I know exactly where it is.”
Dom gave him a look. “And where would that be?”
“I stuck it on the fridge.”
“Why? It’s the plainest one of the bunch.”
“Exactly.”
“Huh?”
“It’s to remind us that we don’t need flourishes, we just need each other, plain and simple.”
“God, you’re brilliant.”
“I know. Let’s fuck.” And with that, Elijah kissed (and fucked) Dom for half of an eternity.
Epilogue
For the remainder of February 14th and all of February 15th, the phone was unplugged and cells were turned off. The days were taken up with the use of various sex toys and the abuse of bodily orifices.
On February 16th, the phone rang in Hannah Wood’s New York apartment. When she answered the phone, Dom’s voice greeted her in the quietest, sexiest tone she had ever heard him use.
“Hi ya, Han. How are ya, yeah?”
“Dom? So…so, what’s up?” Something was going on, but she couldn’t quite tell what. His voice was so very different from normal, not the least bit frenetic.
“Oh, not much,” And then there was the killer pause, “Cupcake.”
Hannah jerked the phone away from her ear and stared at it in horror.
Author: Hanarobi (hanarobi_muse@yahoo.com)
Pairing: ew/dm
Rating: R
Disclaimer: No true. No profit.
Other stories in this series: http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=hanarobi&keyword=wing%21fic&filter=all
I don’t know how I came to be
All winged and feathery.
I only know that since I am
I’m happy that it’s you with me.
Dom could only stare at the red construction paper heart with its fancy cursive writing and romantic flourishes. He read the poem once more (god, would this even qualify as a poem? Surely there is a Hall of Standards somewhere, judging and evaluating these kinds of things, and this poor little piece of doggerel shite wouldn’t stand a chance), bringing the total of times read to four. Repetition did not improve rhyme, cadence, or sentiment. Repetition improved the poem fuckall and no two ways about it.
Lovers can be difficult. Oblivious lovers impossible. But romantic oblivious lovers were the worst. Hands down, bob’s your uncle, discussion’s done and over an hour ago.
And still the gobshite expects a response. Dom chewed on his biro. Well, pen. An infinite variety of pens. Now why the hell did the most powerful country in the world, fuck that, in the history of the world, thank ya kindly, want to waste even an iota of their wealth on having 500 different types of pens. And there were 500. He’d counted. Did a google search and just kept the list going. For a couple of weeks. During his ‘down’ period.
And here’s Dominic Mohanty, fresh from his supporting role as Pippin in the Lords of the Rings sequel, on the red carpet. Tell us, Dominic, what was it like to work with Orlando Bloom, the hottest thing to ever come out of Hollywood?
Dom would then imagine stabbing the annoying reporter with his “nice, shiny dagger” while enumerating the errors and/or irritations in her opening statement. Work with both Sir Ians, and Chris Lee, and the bloody knobs asked about Orlando. Orlando? What was it like to work with Orlando? I’ll tell you what it was like to work with Orlando-didn’t-have-any-lines-and-it-damn-sure-wasn’t-because-he-was-an-elf-Bloom.
And then of course, Dom would feel terrible because he had learned to be loving and happy and centered and mature and he honestly was good mates with Orlando and really did wish him all the best, not that Orlando needed his well wishes given that he was off being even better mates with the Hollywood A-list (and those that actually deserved to be A-list)…and he had this beautiful girl friend, a blond starlet no less, and…
And then Dom growls at himself and rolls off the couch, stupid fucking valentine still in his hand, because what the fuck was he doing being jealous of Orlando with his girlfriend when he, Dominic Monaghan, the one and only, had the world’s most beautiful man as his own.
He was a lower than a lowly unworthy fart from the ass of one Billy Boyd. While said Boyd’s ass was clad in pink girly knickers. A Boyd fart trapped in pink knickers. Very low indeed. He felt rather badly for the fart.
Call Hannah! Brilliant. Ah, that Monaghan chap. The whole deal he was. Incredibly sexy body and a mind to rival Einstein’s. Elijah was the luckiest man in the world. Simple as that.
“HANNAH-NO-MAH, NAH-MEEE, HANNIEEEEE!”
Years of practice had taught Hannah to instantly recognize Dom’s voice over the phone and to hold the phone away from her ear until his initial greeting had wound down.
“Dominic, how lovely to have my eardrum pierced by you. Again.”
“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah….” Followed by sounds that made it seem as if Dom were trying to slurp up the phone. Which he might very well be doing. Probably was. She rolled her eyes.
“Dom? You got 10 seconds to talk to me as an adult or I’m hanging up. 10, 9, 8..”
“Tell me about Valentine’s Day in the Wood family household.”
“What?
“Tell me what Valentine’s Day was like for Lij growing up.”
“Well, let’s see. Mom and Dad barely talked to each other, much less gave each other valentines, and I had two older brothers, both of whom thought girls had cooties. So I would have to say that Valentines’ day was not a major holiday in the ‘Wood family household’. And why the hell do you want to know, any way? Or, rather, what thing has my brother done to confuse you this time?’
“Sappy crappy love poem. Crappy. A week before the actual day. And did I mention that it is one hellaciously crappy poem?”
“So write him one back, moron. Your brain is your friend. Stop being afraid to use it.”
“Oh, right, yeah, good one. I’ll have to remember that. Share it with you next time you dye your hair PURPLE.”
“It was lavender. I am cool and avant garde and I looked fabulous. You are lucky to even be talking to me. In fact, you aren’t cool enough to talk with me. Bye!”
“No! Shit, wait, Hannah! Wait!”
“Jesus, Dom, I was just joking. I’m still here.”
“Seriously, Han, I need to know what he wants. Is Valentine’s some big deal that I never knew about?”
“And how long have you guys been together? Just do what you’ve always done.”
“We’ve never done anything before, that’s the problem. We’ve never been in the same place.”
“But you talked on the phone, right? So just do what you did then.”
“Give it the old one-handed-I’m-on-the-phone-wank while talking dirty, then shooting our loads at the same time?”
The phone went dead. If he hadn’t honestly needed her advice, Dom would have counted that a victory in his favor. He hit redial.
“HANNAH-RE---“
The phone went dead.
He thunked the cell against the top of his head and hit redial again.
“What if he is reaching out to me and I miss it and end up hurting him?”
“He’s tough, you won’t. And I don’t care anyway.”
Good, she was talking to him. Just can’t resist the old Monaghan charm.
“Is there any trauma in his past?”
“Over Valentine’s Day? God, how pathetic would that be.”
“So there is.”
He heard her start to say something, change her mind, and fall silent.
“Hannah…” he coaxed.
“It…in first grade..I don’t think...”
“Hannah, luv, I need to know.”
“Okay, fine. When I started school, first grade, he was in third grade. This was like the last year Mom had him attend public schools because he was missing so many classes anyway.”
“Yeah, right.”
“So, I got to do the whole decorate the shoebox and exchange valentines thing, right? And I came home with a shoebox completely full. And Eli had maybe four, five at the most, and he hadn’t been there when they decorated the shoeboxes so he just had a paper sack with red hearts on it that the teacher had made for him. And he cried. And said he hated school. And he hated acting. And he hated me. And not long after that, Mom pulled him out of school entirely.”
“Shit.”
“Look, don’t make more of this than it is. It was a long time ago and it’s not like he doesn’t get hundred of valentines from his fans every year. He’s fine, Dom. Trust me on this one.”
But Dom had already pushed the End button on his cell phone, plotting and planning.
“Fine. Bye to you too, fuckface.” Hannah snapped her cell shut and resumed her normal life. But with a wicked little grin on her face. Messing with Dom’s head was just too easy.
**********************************
Elijah had one thought and it was sex. Sex. Sex. More sex. Sex in bed. Sex tied to the bedposts. Sex on top of the covers. Sex under the covers. Sex tied up with the covers. Sex under the bed. (maye not…have to think about that one some more) Sex in the shower. Sex in the tub. Sex bent over the tub. Sex stretched across the bathroom counter. Sex in the hallway. Sex on the kitchen table. Sex slammed up against the refrigerator. On top of the washing machine. On top of the dryer. On the couch. Over the couch. On the floor. On the front porch (if no one was walking by). Sex in the backyard. Sex in the grass. Sex in the car --front seat and back, of course. Sex on the beach. Good drink, if you like the fruity stuff. Sex on surfboards. Okay, maybe not. Sex everywhere. Sex everywhere else.
Okay, that takes care of where. Now to address the how issue.
Sex with lube. Sex with lots of lube. Lots and lots of lube. Sex with minimal lube. Sex with no lube. Sex with flavored lube. Blowjob. Sex with butt plugs. Sex with dildos. Vibrating and non-vibrating varieties. Blowjob. Sex with nipple clamps. Sex with anal beads. Sex with cock rings. Blowjob. Sex with paddles. Sex with clothes on. Sex with clothes off. Sex with only one of them with clothes off. Blowjob. Oral sex (blowjob). Anal sex. Oral and anal sex at the same time. The time-honored sixty-nine. Frottage. Intracrual. Blowjob, blowjob, blowjob. And once again, blowjob.
Okay, since Valentine’s Day is only 24 hours long, he should have enough planned. Elijah couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face as he whipped his mom’s Mini Cooper into the parking lot of his favorite WeHo adult toy and novelty store.
**********
Tricky things, these valentines. Sure, Elijah’s to him was just red construction paper, but there were all sorts of designs, doodles, and romantic flourishes, not to mention the poem itself. And he can’t just do one back, exactly like he received. That would imply that he was doing this just because it was done for him first. But he couldn’t go too far and make them all frou-frou and girly, because, well, because then it would be all frou-frou and girly. Duh. And it had to be elegant, even if they were just silly valentines because he, Dom Monaghan, had standards. And then there were the poems. Yup, poems. Plural. He was going to fill a shoebox completely full of romantic valentine poems, more than enough to make up for that miserable little sack with its piddling four or five in it.
But exactly how many was the question. This question necessitated another call to Hannah, who seemed to be getting a cold, poor girl, because she kept having to cover up the phone and make this weird choking sound. But he needed her to tell him about how many valentines he should make and he needed a description of just what one of those decorated shoeboxes thingies was supposed to look like. When she asked him if he hadn’t done them himself as child, he had said in his very best Rowan Atkinson voice, “No, we Germans do not have a word for fluffy.”
To which she had responded, “Wow, that’s really weird. How can an entire country not have a word for ‘fluffy’?”
Dom thought that Hannah was perhaps the most gullible person on the planet and he determined right then and there to buy her the complete Black Adder series for her Christmas present next year.
After she assured him once again that he was making far too big a deal out of all this and that Elijah didn’t need a decorated shoebox full of valentines, she gave in and described these things to him, in quite a bit of detail. He had had no idea that children as young as seven or eight were expected to create such elaborately decorated boxes just for receiving valentines from their school mates. Americans really had the most fucked up priorities for what schools should be spending their time on concerning the teaching of children. But the educational system of the States simply wasn’t his problem right now. Right now, his task was to repair the gapping wound that was his beloved’s tender soul regarding this whole unthinkingly cruel Valentine’s Day tradition.
So here he is, cutting out red hearts, pink hearts, purple hearts, and white hearts. Elmer’s glue, glitter pens, tubes of gold and silver glitter, white doilies, and ribbons, markers of every color, and lots and lots of little candy hearts. He had finished decorating the shoebox, but that task alone had taken him almost three full days. Then he had decided to make a valentine for every year of Elijah’s life. 24 little hearts. 24 little poems. It is going to be a lot of work, but the thought that he would heal Elijah of this unspoken pain that he had been carrying around with him all his life more than made up for Dom’s blossoming major bitch of a headache.
*******
Oh, the possibilities! Since he already had two fantasies worked out in his head, he just needed to find the final bits of the costumes to pull them off. But, still, something was missing. He hadn’t quite found that one perfect thing that would make this, their first Valentine’s Day spent in the actual, flesh, blood and boner presence of each other, the sexual feast of unforgettable proportions that Elijah was imagining. And then he saw them.
They were perfect. Silly, obscene, candy-striped, massive dildos. One in red and white swirls, the other in pink and red swirls. Nothing says ‘I love You’ like imitation candy cane dildos. Big ones.
He tossed them into his shopping cart along with his other purchases and made sure that he bought extra batteries and lube when he got to the checkout counter. He also made a mental note to stop at a convenience store on the way home to stock up on water, chocolate, and cloves. If things went as planned, they wouldn’t be leaving the house for days and it would be hell to run of any of the three essentials in his life.
So preoccupied with imagining Dom in the outfit he had planned for him, Elijah paid less attention to his driving than normal and so it was a bit of a shock when he leaned over to adjust the speaker setting and get more bass booming along with his latest musical obsession that he noticed the flashing red lights in his rear view mirror.
With a sense of dread, he slowed down, signaled very properly and pulled over into the first empty parking lot he came to. The cop car pulled up to a stop behind him and as he was reaching for the registration and insurance from the glove compartment while one of LA’s finest walked up to his car window, he could feel his wings tucking themselves down hard and tight against his back. Apparently, they were going to let him deal with this one all by himself.
*********
I loved you when first we kiss-ed
I loved you when first we fisted
I loved you when first we lasted
Longer than five minutes.
Dom’s eyes were really hurting. He hated to think that he needed glasses so maybe it was just the damn fumes from all those felt markers. Or the glue. Or, hell, maybe he had glitter working its way up his nose and slicing into his brain. The autopsy would reveal little bits of shiny gold in his brain matter. Actually, that would be kinda cool. Death by golden glitter in the brain. A total glam rock death. Brian Slade should be so lucky.
Dom stared at the poem. Number 19, it was. And, just like the last ten that had come before it, it was utter shite. The first nine, actually, weren’t so bad. But then his brain had quit on him. Damn glitter. Besides, he was an actor, not a fucking poet. Oh! Good idea. Call Viggo.
Viggo didn’t answer his phone and the answering machine seemed to be turned off. But Dom knew that Viggo was home because he had already called Viggo six or seven times today. But now, for some reason, Viggo was no longer answering his phone. Flaky artist. Always ringing you up when you were in the middle of things and leaving long messages for you that made no sense, but never around when you needed them. Viggo had said something about the muse of poetry deserving respect and how things like expressions of love could not be forced to conform to arbitrarily chosen days that were media tools of capitalist manipulation. Uh, yeah, whatever. Viggo had also commented that he didn’t think that a butt-plug should be mentioned in a love poem, which just goes to show how little Viggo understood romance.
On reflection, Dom seriously wondered if glitter really could be slicing up his brain. He smeared glue all over Love Poem #19 and heaped gold glitter all over it. He looked at it critically and glued on a few candy hearts. EAT ME and BE MINE and HOT DUDE. Pretty much said it all, really. The poem at this point almost seemed redundant.
That gave him the idea of #20. He just glued a whole bunch of candy hearts on a red construction heart and signed his name with a big flourish.
Not his best, but a look a the clock told him he had at most 90 minutes to create four more testimonials of true love, have them dry enough to be stuffed into the decorated shoebox, and get himself cleaned up.
God, he had a headache.
********
World famous huge blue eyes are useful and so is a practiced tone of sincerity and respect for authority. Then again, the story about it being Valentine’s Day and how he was thinking about getting home to spend the remainder of the day with his one true love probably didn’t hurt either. And he was really sure he would not have gotten a ticket at all, except that when the cop did the regulation look into the interior of the car, he of course had to notice the bag with the two massively long candy-striped dildos sticking out the top of the sack. Granted it was just a warning ticket, given that it was his first offense, but the way the cop had to work really hard not to laugh just made the whole thing really embarrassing. Elijah was sure that he would be a topic of precinct gossip for weeks to come.
Ever polite, he thanked the police officer for being lenient, promised to pay more attention to his driving, and even managed to return the sentiment when the officer wished him and his ‘significant other’ a lovely Valentine’s Day.
No question about it, the mood was killed. All he wanted now was just to get home and try to forget how humiliated he felt. And yeah, he was still horny as hell. Forget all the fun and games; he just wanted a good hard fuck. Get home, grab Dom, toss him on the bed and fuck his ass into next week. Greatly cheered up by the thought, Elijah drove home, very carefully and about 3 miles under the speed limit at all times.
*******
Number 24 just said, Yours. Love, Dom. No frills and it was written in simple blue ink on white construction paper (all the red, pink, and purple construction paper having been used up already). Inspiration could go fuck itself because he was completely out of time. After the shower, he put on a t-shirt that had been a retaliation gift from Hannah. When she had acquired her first live-in boyfriend, Dom had given her a t-shirt that said, “Spunk--it’s what’s for Dinner.” A week later he received a package in the mail containing a t-shirt that said “Semen. Reason enough for everyone to be a lesbian.”
The first time Elijah saw him wearing the t-shirt, Elijah had had a slightly insecure, hurt look on his face, as if maybe there was some reason that Dom didn’t want to tell him as to why Dom was wearing the t-shirt, even as a gag. To reassure him that Dom loved Elijah’s semen, Dom had made spent most of the day devouring Elijah’s cock at every opportunity. He nuzzled and lapped and nibbled and tongued and sucked and swallowed and licked him clean, repeatedly. There was no way that Elijah could doubt Dom’s love of sucking his cock after all that. And yet, still, whenever Dom wore the t-shirt, there was always the quickly covered up look of insecurity. And Dom always dealt with that insecurity in the same way. Lots of cock-worshipping. It had gotten to where putting on the t-shirt had an almost pavlovian response for him. All he had to do was put it on and the desire to suck Elijah’s cock became almost irresistible. It seemed the perfect choice for Valentine’s Day attire.
Dom looked around the place with a sense of a job well done. The shoebox was elaborated decorated and crammed with valentines. All he needed now was for Elijah to get here so he could shower him with all the valentines he had missed out on as a child. There were tears in Dom’s eyes as he thought about how much this would going to mean to Elijah, although the glue stick he had been sniffing for hours might have had something to do with it as well. He was so ready for their first Valentine’s Day together.
*******
As Elijah pulled into the driveway, all he wanted was to get inside, get naked and start fucking. He had never been quite so glad to be a guy in his life because he knew that for most of the couples in the world, Valentine’s Day was all about romance. Thank god that he and Dom didn’t hold with that shit and could just use the whole stupid day as a great excuse to engage in excessive fucking. All sorts of fucking. He clutched his bag of sex goodies and felt himself growing hard just at the thought of his plans for the next several hours. Now that he was no longer driving, it seemed safe to go back to dwelling on his fantasies of what he was going to do to Dom. Walking up the stairs to the house, he adjusted his hard-on inside his jeans, licked his lips and worked his jaw around a bit, getting it loosened up. He was so ready for their first Valentine’s Day together.
*****************************************
The first thing Elijah noticed when he got inside their apartment was that Dom was wearing that stupid, wonderful t-shirt. He could always get Dom to give him a blowjob when Dom was wearing that t-shirt. Apparently, Dom thought that his feelings had been hurt the first time Dom wore it and so he had always given Elijah lots of cock sucking. In fact, Elijah had just been wincing at the obvious poor taste of such a shirt and wondering why anyone would ever produce such a thing in the first place, much less buy or wear it, but hey, if it got him blowjobs, who was he to complain? And once he found out it came from Hannah, well, he pretty much figured that explained the whole “in really poor taste” thing. Between Dom and Hannah, western civilization was in serious peril. Actually, given that Hannah had gone with them to Japan, eastern civilization wasn’t entirely safe either.
“Hey, lover!” and he went to wrap himself up in a massive Dom hug. But there was a sharp poke of something in his gut…Dom seemed to be holding some hideous looking shoebox, for reasons probably known only to Dom and God (and God was involved only because God was omniscient and didn’t really have much choice, certainly not because God had any particular interest in why Dom was holding, what on a closer inspection, turned out to be a truly ghastly shoebox decorated for Valentine’s Day with red construction hearts and a questionable amount of gold and silver glitter).
“Ow,” Elijah said, pulling back, wincing.
“For you,” Dom was grinning from ear to ear and holding out the shoebox.
A bit confused and really interested in fucking as soon as possible, Elijah took the box, transferring his sack of sex toys and assorted paraphernalia, to Dom. “And this is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day!”
They reached across their respective recently acquired objects and gave each other a kiss. Elijah tried to go deep, but his pass was cut off when Dom just nudged him and gestured excitedly towards the shoebox. Elijah was a bit put-off that Dom just glanced inside the sack, where he had to see the matching pair of candy-striped dildos, before he dumped the sack on the couch. That was so not the reaction Elijah had been going for.
He held the shoebox in his hands. God, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen one of these things. Second grade, maybe? Was this some English tradition he didn’t know about? He bounced it a bit in his hands, smiling at Dom, and said, “Cute. Thanks. Wanna fuck?” And then he tossed the box on the table and went to cup Dom’s face in his hands, getting the whole raunchy seduction scene underway. Only to find Dom pulling away from him, obviously upset.
“Lij! I made you valentines. God, aren’t you even going to look at them?”
“You’re kidding, right? You want me to look at some crappy valentines instead of fucking?”
“Crappy? I make you valentines and you think they’re crappy? You haven’t even looked at them yet!’
“Shit. You *made* them? Dude, you just go to the store and buy a package of the damn things. No one makes valentines.”
“I did. For you. Clearly, a waste of time.”
“Oh, Dominic, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you made them yourself. For me. I’m sorry. Here, I’ll look at them, okay.”
“You know what, just never mind. I don’t need you to look at them for my sake. God, you are such a patronizing little shit. I made them for you so that you wouldn’t feel bad anymore.”
Elijah gave Dom a look that clearly indicated that he thought Dom had gone wacko on him. “Feel bad about what, Dom?”
Dom had the sudden, horrible feeling that he was missing a very important part of something, but he just wasn’t sure what it was. And he had the equally clear feeling that once he explained things, he was going to feel rather stupid. Suddenly, all that effort and all the best intentions in the world seemed insipid and kinda embarrassing.
“Dom? What am I supposed to feel bad about?”
“Hannah said that you never got valentines at school when you were a kid and that you cried.”
“What!’
“Hannah said that when you were in third grade, you weren’t there very much and so on Valentine’s Day, all the other kids got valentines and had these stupid decorated boxes,” at which point, Dom gestured angrily at the gaudy monstrosity sitting on the table,” but you didn’t and your teacher had a sack for you and you only got a couple and that you came home and cried and that’s when Debbie pulled you out of school for good.” Dom glared at Elijah, daring him to laugh.
Elijah scrunched up his face, trying to think back and then he straightened suddenly and looked Dom directly in the face. “She is so going to die for this.”
“What? Who?”
“Hannah. That little conniving little piece of shit.”
“Why? What did Hannah do? And you used ‘little’ twice. All she did was tell me…”
“Dom, no! That’s not what happened. God! That little bitch has waited all these years for payback! I can’t believe this!”
Dom rubbed at the crease between his eyebrows where his earlier headache was regaining any ground it had lost during his shower. “What’s going on?”
“Look, when I was in third grade, I was already gone from school most of the time. I wasn’t in school for Valentine’s Day that year, and I remember it because Hannah was. She was in first grade, so it was her first Valentine’s Day, you know?”
Dom nodded but, really, he had no clue what the significance of any of this was.
“So, she is all full of herself because she has this stupid decorated shoebox and Zach and I had been making fun of her and she was being all prissy about how she was going to get all this candy and all these valentines and how we weren’t, and it was great, because it was Zach and I against Hannah and that was one of the first times it had happened, you know? I was finally old enough that Zach was dealing with me separately from Hannah. And he had always just kinda viewed the two of us as these little kids that he ignored for the most part. So, we probably went overboard, but I was hanging with Zach instead of Hannah, you know?”
Dom just nodding along, through Elijah’s long-winded explanation, still not really seeing the point of it, but willing to wait it out.
Elijah picked up on the lack of comprehension and tried to get to the point, never his strong suit.
“So, anyway, she comes home, and she has these two cupcakes, and she’s going on and on about how popular she is and how many valentines she got and how she is not going to share her cupcakes and how we are just dumb boys anyway, and all that kind of shit, and then Zach just reaches over, calm as you please, and oh, God, this is great, he just picks them up and lobs one of the cupcakes at me, then takes a huge bite out of his. Hannah is screaming and crying and demanding her cupcakes back. By the time Mom got there, Zach and I had crammed them in our mouths and were grinning and chewing like idiots.”
Elijah had the happiest smile on his face, remembering. “Man, we got the shit bitched out of us. Mom was so pissed.”
Dom is looking on, horrified. “Good memory for you, is it?”
“Oh yeah, are you kidding? Zach let me be in on tormenting Hannah. It was like this total rite of passage into manhood, dude. Plus, I got a cupcake out of the deal.”
“So, you didn’t cry about not getting valentines,” Dom asked, just to be clear.
“Why the hell would I care? Especially by third grade, man. God, give me a little credit, would ya?”
“So, Hannah set me up to get back at you?”
Elijah winced on Dom’s behalf. “’fraid so, man. Sorry.”
Dom just nodded, looking at the box on the table.
Elijah followed his look and took in the box. The extremely, excessively decorated box, a box that had clearly had a lot of time, effort and glitter devoted to it.
“Hey, why don’t you show them to me, anyway, okay? I mean, this is neat, that you actually made me some valentines.”
Dom thought about that for a couple of seconds. Elijah thought that he had made him “some valentines.” Dom just felt foolish. And a bit used. “Ya know what? I think that maybe I need a bit of walk, clear my head.” He tried a small chuckle. “Get some of the glue fumes out of my brain.”
“Dom…” Elijah reached for him, took his arm.
Dom patted Elijah’s hand and then withdrew his arm. “Just gonna go out for a bit. No biggie, okay? I’ll be back soon and then we’ll do Valentine’s your way. It’ll be fun, okay?” He gestured to the sack on the couch. “Lots of fun, it looks like. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”
“Okay. Love you?” Elijah didn’t mean it to come out as a question, but it did.
Dom smiled at him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. “Love you, too.” He closed the door quietly behind him as he walked out the door.
Elijah plopped himself down at the table, wondering how things had gotten so off kilter so quickly. He glared at the shoebox for a bit and then pulled it towards him, opening it up and gazing into the richness of colors and shapes that Dom had created especially just for him.
*****************************
When angry, Dom’s walks could last for hours and cover several miles. He often didn’t even know where he was once his anger ran out. More than once, especially when he had first moved to LA, he had had to call Elijah to come and get him. Fortunately, his anger was rarely directed at Elijah and so Elijah had always sounded relieved to get to the call and would come pick him up as quickly as possible.
This time, Dom wasn’t angry so much as he was humiliated. And he couldn’t even figure out quite why he felt so foolish. So, yeah, Hannah had pulled one over on him. Big whoop-de-shit. He was a Master Prank Puller and the cardinal rule of pranking was that you took it straight up when you had it done back to you. So it wasn’t that Hannah had reeled him in like a pro, nah, that he could handle. He was even kinda proud of her for the skill in which she had played him. He figured she had learned this behavior from him, after all, so he could hardly get mad at her. Besides, he was so going to enjoy payback.
No, there was something else eating away at him. So what if Hannah had gotten him to invest hours making valentines for no reason at all. That he could handle. It was Elijah’s reaction that was bugging him. Even if he had made them for the wrong reason, couldn’t Elijah have responded to them with a little more consideration? And without being so goddamn condescending about it? Even if they weren’t needed to repair long ago emotional damage, they were still handmade valentines, given in love. And yeah, it was sappy as hell, but how hard could it be to show a little appreciation? Genuine appreciation as opposed to a sop to his ego.
Dom kicked at the pavement and rubbed his hands over his face. He felt like a fool. And nothing was going to change that so it was time to head home and just pretend that the whole fucking day hadn’t happened. Plus, he really needed to pee.
**********************************
The house was quiet when Dom let himself back in.
“Lij?” he called, toeing off his sneakers.
“In the bedroom.”
Dom wandered down the hall, stopping in the bathroom for the needed piss, then making his way on to their bedroom.
He stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame, taking in the sight. Elijah was kneeling in the middle of their bed, naked, smiling at Dom over his shoulder. His wings were folded down against his back, making a perfect heart-shape image, just reaching down far enough for the longest end feathers to brush past the curve of Elijah’s butt.
Elijah has a number of smiles. Sweet smiles, happy ones, geeky ones, even sad smiles. There are professional smiles for the camera and uncomplicated ones for his family. And then, there is this one, the one he reserves solely for Dom. It is a cross between the famous Frodo smile at the Grey Havens aboard the ship and the smile of a 24 year old male about to get laid. And all of Dom’s grumpiness and awkwardness from before simply melted away when he saw it. Elijah wanted him and that was so much more important than whether Elijah appreciated the effort he had put into all those valentines.
“Get naked and come here,” Elijah said as he patted the bed in front of him. He leaned back on his heels, leaving no question where he wanted Dom to be.
Obligingly, Dom stripped and stretched out on the bed, wiggling a bit to get arranged under Elijah. Once Dom was settled, Elijah sat down on his thighs, then leaned forward and took Dom’s hands in his. As he held Dom down against the bed, he kissed him and then sat back up.
“Behold,” he said and he spread his wings out behind him, opening them to their full span.
Dom gasped as he realized what he was seeing. There, tied to individual feathers, were his valentines. He was aware, on some level, that his mouth was hanging open, but, shit, Elijah had tied the valentines to his wings. Nothing was ever allowed to touch the wings (certainly not since that disastrous never-to-be-mentioned-or-repeated occasion where Viggo had art-fucked the wings). And yet, here they were. Reverently, and in a state of disbelief, Dom reached out, gently running his fingers over one or two of the valentines.
He looked up at Elijah, questions written all over his face, “Lij, your wings? They let you tie string around the feathers?’
“Let me? Hell, Dom, it was their idea. They seemed to be of the opinion that I hadn’t shown you the proper appreciation.” He grinned. “You like it?’
“Yeah,” Dom grinned back, “I do. Tell the wings thanks for me, okay?”
And then they took their time, Elijah and the wings turning and dipping, bringing the valentines into position for Dom to untie them from the feathers and hand them to Elijah, one by one, for Elijah to read them, admire them, praise Dom for his cleverness, laugh at his poems, kiss him for each valentine, and then carefully stack them on the bedside table. But when all the valentines were removed and the wings were shaking themselves back into smoothness, Dom realized that one valentine was missing. It was the very last one he had done, the one on white construction paper, that one that simply said, “Yours. Love, Dom.”
“Hey, Lij, you’re missing one.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. It’s a white one.”
“Not missing. I know exactly where it is.”
Dom gave him a look. “And where would that be?”
“I stuck it on the fridge.”
“Why? It’s the plainest one of the bunch.”
“Exactly.”
“Huh?”
“It’s to remind us that we don’t need flourishes, we just need each other, plain and simple.”
“God, you’re brilliant.”
“I know. Let’s fuck.” And with that, Elijah kissed (and fucked) Dom for half of an eternity.
Epilogue
For the remainder of February 14th and all of February 15th, the phone was unplugged and cells were turned off. The days were taken up with the use of various sex toys and the abuse of bodily orifices.
On February 16th, the phone rang in Hannah Wood’s New York apartment. When she answered the phone, Dom’s voice greeted her in the quietest, sexiest tone she had ever heard him use.
“Hi ya, Han. How are ya, yeah?”
“Dom? So…so, what’s up?” Something was going on, but she couldn’t quite tell what. His voice was so very different from normal, not the least bit frenetic.
“Oh, not much,” And then there was the killer pause, “Cupcake.”
Hannah jerked the phone away from her ear and stared at it in horror.
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ahhh. this brings back so many memories of first being a fan and first getting into fanfiction. really special memories.
finding your stories was a really big deal to me.
this series is so cool. i don't know how you do it. you make these guys, such guys and like, everything's cool, nothing's sentimental. and there somewhere in the story you make me cry. i often resist it in this because this series is so unashamed of its romantic core. these are the luckiest guys ever.
they have so much fun and so much love and romance and GOOD SEX! lucky, bastids.
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i often resist it in this because this series is so unashamed of its romantic core.
that it can come out of nowhere, nothing is off limits, so it can make me uneasy at first, not being used to it, but then they continue and inevitably pull me in and i'm theirs.
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Winged Elijah, oh wow!
Dom/Lijah works like a charm.
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