ext_46181 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2007-08-17 05:04 pm
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2007-08-17 05:04 pm
Entry tags:
Ficlet: The Place Where You Pray
Title: The Place Where You Pray
Author: Viktoria Angelique (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
v_angelique)
Pairing: DM/EW
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Thoroughly, blissfully untrue.
Summary: I've been kind of stuck for a while and needing to get the juices flowing. Dom and Elijah are easy to come back to, because I think of any pairing they're the closest to being a composite of myself. Therefore, I have no trouble sticking them into familiar, everyday situations—and hence these 490 words set in the shower.
It's like any other morning, but it's not.
It's like any other morning.
The bathroom door doesn't quite shut properly after years of slight expansion and contraction, the joints and the frame protesting in the humidity of the small room that didn't come with a ventilating fan. The rust-coloured towel is tossed from a silver hook on the back of the door to the shower rod, and his boxer shorts fall in a puddle in the corner before he turns on the taps. The water is hot enough to burn, and he scowls at the bit of hair in the drain, the empty container of shampoo, promising himself that he'll take care of it later. He hums lightly under his breath as he lathers and tips his head back into the spray.
But it's not.
He hisses as the burning jets make contact with half-moon arcs of pain he had forgotten about, little pricks left by Dom's fingernails the night before. A bruise on his left shin reminds him of his graceless tumble as he'd tried to hurry for the dresser to get the lube he knew was in there somewhere, left at the back of a drawer after his final teenage masturbatory session before leaving for New Zealand. "Before New Zealand" is a heading in his life, a chapter that could be subtitled Without Dom. And yet he didn't notice how integral Dom was to the picture until they were separated, until they went three weeks apart after wrap and all he could think of was the way Dom's arm would casually drape round his shoulders, the way his fingers would tap out some scherzo rhythm on Elijah's clavicle. Elijah had never had real, honest to God mansex before, and so his cock is already perking up in the cloud of steam, begging to be buried again. Dom's made him promise to bottom next time, though, and Elijah is surprised to find that he isn't dreading it. He reaches back, prods with the tip of a wet finger, tries to push inside. The muscles resist with determination, and up to the first knuckle feels like it’s the whole finger; he frowns and is just starting to worry as the curtain is carelessly flung to the side.
"Whatcha doin', sunshine?"
As water leaks out onto the bathroom floor, Dom's eyes flick pointedly between Elijah's hastily retreated hand and his face, expression pure evil. Then he grins and steps into the tub and presses his naked body up against Elijah's up against the tiles, slick and cold and not altogether clean but still familiar. What is not familiar is Dom halfway to his knees, Dom's tongue on his nipple, the sharp pain as the back of his head makes contact with the seafoam green tile.
Elijah's bathroom in California has been a given part of his daily routine over the years, but until today, it has never been a sanctuary.
Author: Viktoria Angelique (
v_angelique)Pairing: DM/EW
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Thoroughly, blissfully untrue.
Summary: I've been kind of stuck for a while and needing to get the juices flowing. Dom and Elijah are easy to come back to, because I think of any pairing they're the closest to being a composite of myself. Therefore, I have no trouble sticking them into familiar, everyday situations—and hence these 490 words set in the shower.
It's like any other morning, but it's not.
It's like any other morning.
The bathroom door doesn't quite shut properly after years of slight expansion and contraction, the joints and the frame protesting in the humidity of the small room that didn't come with a ventilating fan. The rust-coloured towel is tossed from a silver hook on the back of the door to the shower rod, and his boxer shorts fall in a puddle in the corner before he turns on the taps. The water is hot enough to burn, and he scowls at the bit of hair in the drain, the empty container of shampoo, promising himself that he'll take care of it later. He hums lightly under his breath as he lathers and tips his head back into the spray.
But it's not.
He hisses as the burning jets make contact with half-moon arcs of pain he had forgotten about, little pricks left by Dom's fingernails the night before. A bruise on his left shin reminds him of his graceless tumble as he'd tried to hurry for the dresser to get the lube he knew was in there somewhere, left at the back of a drawer after his final teenage masturbatory session before leaving for New Zealand. "Before New Zealand" is a heading in his life, a chapter that could be subtitled Without Dom. And yet he didn't notice how integral Dom was to the picture until they were separated, until they went three weeks apart after wrap and all he could think of was the way Dom's arm would casually drape round his shoulders, the way his fingers would tap out some scherzo rhythm on Elijah's clavicle. Elijah had never had real, honest to God mansex before, and so his cock is already perking up in the cloud of steam, begging to be buried again. Dom's made him promise to bottom next time, though, and Elijah is surprised to find that he isn't dreading it. He reaches back, prods with the tip of a wet finger, tries to push inside. The muscles resist with determination, and up to the first knuckle feels like it’s the whole finger; he frowns and is just starting to worry as the curtain is carelessly flung to the side.
"Whatcha doin', sunshine?"
As water leaks out onto the bathroom floor, Dom's eyes flick pointedly between Elijah's hastily retreated hand and his face, expression pure evil. Then he grins and steps into the tub and presses his naked body up against Elijah's up against the tiles, slick and cold and not altogether clean but still familiar. What is not familiar is Dom halfway to his knees, Dom's tongue on his nipple, the sharp pain as the back of his head makes contact with the seafoam green tile.
Elijah's bathroom in California has been a given part of his daily routine over the years, but until today, it has never been a sanctuary.
no subject
Dj.
no subject
no subject
I love that bit. The familiarity of it and also, im a sucker for that bone... :-)
Awesome.
no subject
Glad you liked it!
no subject
no subject
no subject
the way his fingers would tap out some scherzo rhythm on Elijah's clavicle.
no subject
You know me, I can't stick with one damned pairing. I'm glad you gave it a shot ;-)
no subject
no subject