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fellowshippers2004-01-02 03:47 pm
abbichicken.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-01-02 03:47 pm
FIC: Clarification 1/1
Okay, this is a variation on the concept of sequel to Scarification and basically contains all the violence and sex and madness I left out of that, on account of trying to write something properly. Without further ado then, here's all the trash in one handy fic:
Title: Clarification 1/1
WARNINGS: VIOLENT SLASH. BLOOD. PAIN. OW. Don't like BDSM? Not keen on abused!Dom? Don't read.
Rating: Very NC-17
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
Archive: Want. Take. Have. Tell me :)
Disclaimer: Check for the scars next time you see either of them naked, and you'll notice they're not there. Because this ain't the truth. Or, I suspect, anywhere near it. It's all in the name of messed up fun and slash.
He laughs, and hugs me back, swearing profusely. I pick up a tissue I soaked in vodka and press it onto the wound. He breathes in sharply again, and I hold it to him.
“Honestly…the things I do for you, Lij…”
He slips his arm around me again, and pulls me right up close. A split second stare, eyes not two inches apart, and then he kisses me full on the lips. Presses onto me like he wants to burn the impression of his lips into mine.
There’s no way he can have missed that convulsion I just had.
“Well…anything I can do for you by way of thanks?”
He pulls back a little way, and cocks an eyebrow at me. Suggestively.
Now I don’t know if you’ve seen Velvet Goldmine, that random Brit-flick, as Lij might call it, but there’s a scene in it where the potential rock star, all suited and made up and prowling, picks up a schoolboy on the street. This kid, just captured by his eyes, shoots him this look where you know that he’d give anything, right then, to have any kind of connection with this extraordinary looking man. He’s probably not thinking sex, hell, when they cut to the bedroom scene, the kid looks like not only has he never been fucked, but that he never knew he could be, but nonetheless he basically wants to do anything he possibly can to get close to this incredible thing of beauty, this bloke. My point here is that this look of Elijah’s, this almost childishly questioning gaze reminds me of this moment. He, to me, looks like he’s truly grateful, truly trying to give me what I want. Like I’m the rock star. Like I’m something…different. Like he owes me and is only too glad to pay. But it’s more, this hint of awe that lurks at the back. Maybe he can’t believe what actually just happened. Maybe he expected me to tell him where to go. Or actually, maybe it’s the way my body shook as he kissed me.
I slip out of feeling self-conscious and constrained and actually thinking about consequences at all, and let the idea of being in charge take hold of me, just for a moment. Staring at Elijah, I flick between thinking he’s being sexy, then that he’s playing innocent, and the harder I look the less I can tell which it is. But something in his eyes sets alight to me, it’s like…like he truly wants a part of me. To…have an impact on me. To…hmm. Well. It’s this look that finally enables me to ask…
“Anything?”
He kind of giggles under his answer; “Yeah. Whatever you want.”
Lava boils over inside me in a split second, like nothing I’ve felt in years. My actions are nothing to do with me now. It wasn’t an idea I had, to clench my right hand round the back of his neck and drag him towards me, crushing his lips against mine. I’m not here, forcing his jaw apart, pushing my tongue around the roof of his mouth and the outline of his teeth. I didn’t just capture his tongue with mine and slip it between my canines, nipping them together and drawing blood. It wasn’t me: I’m feeling it, not making it happen. I can taste, between the hungry gasps for air, the redness of his blood. I can hear, somewhere, this gentle, soft moan. I don’t know if I’m making the sound or if he is. Maybe neither of us. The moan builds, changes, my hands are scrabbling across the naked flesh of his back, nails catching where they will and leaving, I know, thin, jagged train tracks of white, with occasional spills of leaking red. This moment lasts forever, until it passes, when the moan which has become a shout edges into a scream and I break backwards, out of this headfuck, dragging my arms to my sides, and reeling from the overload of sensation and bodily excitement.
I’m not done reeling when the left side of my face shatters into blackness and pain. I dive into the cover of my left arm, hugging it like I just came apart and need to squeeze myself back together. I squint at Elijah through my right eye, trying to look at him like I’m hurt and confused. The innocence has gone from his stare, and it’s all fire there. He’s caressing his hand, which I’m guessing he just cracked into my skull, and shouting, actually yelling,
“What the fuck was that?”
I don’t get a second to answer before he slaps the other side of my face with the back of his hand, a neat slap, but nowhere near as dramatic as the punch. Still, it balances out my head a bit. Just to completely even things out, he stretches forward, hops up onto the settee; crouching over me, reaching round to take a handful of my hair, tugging my head backwards and up, into his face.
“I’m fucking bleeding Dom! Fucking hell!”
He spits, right in my face, bloodied saliva hitting the side of my jaw.
I want to say sorry, say I didn’t mean it or something, just…carried away…just…I don’t know. But what comes out is a smile. A twisted, crooked smile. It’s a bad plan, which I didn’t concoct, and I couldn’t explain what the hell I meant by it. Just an instant reaction. Talk about red fucking rags; before I know it, Elijah snaps like a taut elastic band; kicks my legs up onto the length of the couch, laying me out like I’m a doll. Fuck knows where this tiny American got all his strength from now, it’s like being strapped down by the toughest leather, having him stretch over me, each of his limbs catching each of mine and pinning them back into the contrasting softness of the cushion covers, pretty much helplessly. I don’t fight. I couldn’t, I’m stuck and stunned and in pain, as his fingers claw into my upper arms and his knees deaden my thighs.
“Fuck you Dom, I ask you to do one thing for me, and you fucking take advantage, you fucking cunt, you…piece…of…” his words tail off and – ah! – fuck, his teeth drag across my bruised jawline, tagging the skin down my neck and fixing on my collar bone, gripping it hard enough to mark before taking hold of the neck of my t-shirt, which I actually kind of like, and, like a dog worrying a stick, clenching it between his teeth and stretching stretching tearing ripping it off one shoulder. He sinks his bite into my naked shoulder, and my body spasms in panic as one of his incisors punctures the skin. I can feel his tongue licking quickly like a cat’s at the wound, opening it, searching in me for…fuck knows. Adjusting his weight to make sure I’m still immobile, he looks up, straight into my eyes again and laughs wildly, running his tongue round his lips and displaying the blood around his mouth.
“How does it feel on you? Fuck’s sake…”
I go to speak again, but he lifts an arm and belts me across the face again, knocking my teeth into the side of my cheek. Blood trickles out of my mouth and he laughs again. A thousand lightening bolts are flashing in front of my eyes, and if I had enough breath to hyperventilate, I might. Lij’s eyes are flashing that fire, this pure, dangerous fire you only see in madness, and if he was taking the trouble to look hard enough into my eyes, he’d see in the back of them that he’s fucking freaking me out. Except that’s not all he’s doing to me, for my sins, better or worse, I’m torn into two shades of pain. And I think he’s concentrating more on this other side of things. His hand crashes down through the remnants of my shirt – I did like it, you know, the shirt… – and down, catching on the waistband of my jeans, where the presence of his fingertips shoots like lasers into the sensitive areas of my side.
My legs have no feeling, my shoulder canes and bleeds and my left arm is blue – I take advantage of having one free hand and go for where I hope it’ll hurt the most, scraping my nails through the now congealing and sealing burn on his chest. Tiny pinpricks of blood poke through as Elijah literally shrieks at me;
“Give up already! This is my game now, just fucking stop it!”
I’m not going to argue with a guy on top of me, close enough to my balls to cause permanent damage, when he’s got that fire in his eyes.
I nod, trying to look meek.
And now he smiles, well smirks. This is because he’s discovered the thing I was trying to hide, the fact that, not despite of, but…yeah…because of…this, I am currently experiencing one of the most fervent and pressing erections I can remember ever having. His hand snakes under the top of my jeans, undoing the buttons from the inside and stroking, so softly gently compared to the brutality of the rest of his actions, my cock through the thin material of my boxers. Tiny, tantalising electric sparks are dancing across my exposed skin as I fight the confused feelings of thrills, pain, cramp, bleeding and fear. I’m swallowing blood twice a minute as it leaks into my mouth. And I’m getting impossibly harder every second.
Lij is murmuring to himself as he slips his fingers around me, pushing away the cotton that is doing a very poor job of containing my excitement. As his hand slides rhythmically across my cock, I relax back, concentrating for all I can on the sensations of his touch, trying increasingly hard to ignore the growing pain in my legs, where his knees press onto me. And then again, he takes his unoccupied hand from my arm, and slaps me, reopening the decreasing flow of blood into my mouth, and making me glare at him.
“You weren’t watching,” he explains. Oh. Sorry.
I stare instead at the fact that he is indeed going to develop a fine scar on his otherwise perfect chest. A single trail of blood has escaped, run down his naked body, and no, it’s too opportune, I reach up, take him by the shoulders, and in one movement, lick at the trail, until it smears away. Just the contrast of the colour on his skin. Couldn’t help myself. Elijah stops dead, and right away I ache. Fuck, fuck, come back… But then, almost a better feeling, he moves his knees off me, and nudges forward to straddle my chest. I put my hands behind my head and look up at him, trying to be casual like there’s nothing unusual about the severe pain he’s been causing me. Lij shakes his head.
“You just don’t fucking listen, Dom!”
Then, his waist moves in front of my eyes, a hand forces my jaw open like you’d open a horse’s mouth to take the bit, and I gag, as he forces his cock in my mouth. I didn’t even see him take his jeans off, let alone expect this. It’s long enough and thick enough and solid enough to choke me, and I try not to retch, as he pushes in and out of my mouth with increasing vigour and speed, one hand keeping my teeth apart to stop me biting him, the other wrapped around a section of my hair, holding my head still as he fucks my mouth like I honestly can’t say anyone ever has before. I reach up and place my hands over his hips, trying to steady him, slow him down so I can breathe, at least occasionally. But it doesn’t last long – the harder I clench at his body, the harder he pumps, until, catching on, I rake my nails into him, along that smooth skin that even under these circumstances still feels ice cool…once…twice…three…times…and then he’s not holding back, but instead shoots right down my throat. I can’t taste it, couldn’t spit if I wanted to, but I feel the heat of his cum move through me. It’s almost soothing, compared with the numbness of my lower half and the constant aching of my own hard on. His body convulses under my hands and, I swear, it passes right through me as he emits the smallest sounds of satisfaction.
He rests above me and inside me for another moment, and my tongue cleans the final drops of cum as they seep from him. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he moves off me completely, and drops his body flat onto mine, falling onto a kiss, crushing my straining cock between us. He’s kissing me loosely, breathing into my mouth. I can still taste the smoke on him, and all I can think now is that I have to come soon… I wrap my arms around his body, and he reciprocates now, not with evil, not with malice, but with strength. I’ve imagined holding him like this – like this, not like when we’ve hugged and stuff, but naked, proper… - but I never dreamed his body would feel so solid, his hands so safe, and so dangerous, as they trace the muscles in my arms, pinch and scrape at my contours, every gash in my skin sending new streams of liquid lightening through me. I press myself onto his flat stomach, grinding my cock against his hip bones, desperately, desperately trying to get myself off, and scratching and tearing at the already marked skin on his back, my fingers slipping on the blood as he just weighs down on me, like if he holds me tight enough, our bodies will mesh. Stuck together by our sweat and blood and my pre-cum, this isn’t an unbelievable option as…ah…the twitching starts in my spine again…ah…and Lij leans up to my ear, bites my ear lobe, and whispers into my mind…oh Christ…“Fucking hell Dom…” and I come with as much force as I ever have, with the loudest of shouts, recoiling from the instant warmth and stickiness between us but moving again towards Elijah, torn between voluntary and involuntary actions, clinging around him though, searching for his mouth. I barely notice as he bites my lip and eases still more blood from me with his hot, hot tongue; like I have much left to give. I lie there, still quivering from my aftershocks as the fluids between us dry, and I slowly, slowly drop my torn and soiled limbs back flat onto the couch.
Elijah is reaching away from me, for a cigarette from the table, which he lights with the last but one remaining candle. And he lies back, breathes in deep and, clouds of smoke issuing forth with each movement, begins to giggle.
Yeah.
It’s not quite the sound I expected either.
I prop myself up on an elbow, and scrutinise his eyes.
They’re sweet, shining, soft. Strange. Normal. The fire there dissipated like a fleet of engines hosed him down. And – just then – there it is again, that look, that fucking look, like a kid who hopes he pleased you. His giggle becomes a laugh, which escalates into the kind of cacophony only Elijah could pull off.
Naked beside me, bleeding and dirty, burnt and bruised, he laughs, moving his fixtureless gaze to me, and eventually, choking out the words, saying…
“Are you okay?”
I suffer myself to check I still have two arms, two legs, my cock, at least the important parts of my face and no broken bones. All present and allegedly correct, if not bleeding, bruised, fucked…
“I’ll live…” I cough.
He exhales another stream of blue smoke, and runs a hand gently, gently down through the congealing blood on my arm.
“Oh Dom… I did enjoy that… Did you believe me?”
Believe him?
“What d’you mean?” I ask, confused.
My split mouth leaks open as I ask the question. I must look rough as hell.
“You know? All that…shouting. And clawing. And…stuff. You know. You know? That is what you wanted…right? In return?”
What I…?
Wanted?
Well. Fuck me.
Title: Clarification 1/1
WARNINGS: VIOLENT SLASH. BLOOD. PAIN. OW. Don't like BDSM? Not keen on abused!Dom? Don't read.
Rating: Very NC-17
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
Archive: Want. Take. Have. Tell me :)
Disclaimer: Check for the scars next time you see either of them naked, and you'll notice they're not there. Because this ain't the truth. Or, I suspect, anywhere near it. It's all in the name of messed up fun and slash.
He laughs, and hugs me back, swearing profusely. I pick up a tissue I soaked in vodka and press it onto the wound. He breathes in sharply again, and I hold it to him.
“Honestly…the things I do for you, Lij…”
He slips his arm around me again, and pulls me right up close. A split second stare, eyes not two inches apart, and then he kisses me full on the lips. Presses onto me like he wants to burn the impression of his lips into mine.
There’s no way he can have missed that convulsion I just had.
“Well…anything I can do for you by way of thanks?”
He pulls back a little way, and cocks an eyebrow at me. Suggestively.
Now I don’t know if you’ve seen Velvet Goldmine, that random Brit-flick, as Lij might call it, but there’s a scene in it where the potential rock star, all suited and made up and prowling, picks up a schoolboy on the street. This kid, just captured by his eyes, shoots him this look where you know that he’d give anything, right then, to have any kind of connection with this extraordinary looking man. He’s probably not thinking sex, hell, when they cut to the bedroom scene, the kid looks like not only has he never been fucked, but that he never knew he could be, but nonetheless he basically wants to do anything he possibly can to get close to this incredible thing of beauty, this bloke. My point here is that this look of Elijah’s, this almost childishly questioning gaze reminds me of this moment. He, to me, looks like he’s truly grateful, truly trying to give me what I want. Like I’m the rock star. Like I’m something…different. Like he owes me and is only too glad to pay. But it’s more, this hint of awe that lurks at the back. Maybe he can’t believe what actually just happened. Maybe he expected me to tell him where to go. Or actually, maybe it’s the way my body shook as he kissed me.
I slip out of feeling self-conscious and constrained and actually thinking about consequences at all, and let the idea of being in charge take hold of me, just for a moment. Staring at Elijah, I flick between thinking he’s being sexy, then that he’s playing innocent, and the harder I look the less I can tell which it is. But something in his eyes sets alight to me, it’s like…like he truly wants a part of me. To…have an impact on me. To…hmm. Well. It’s this look that finally enables me to ask…
“Anything?”
He kind of giggles under his answer; “Yeah. Whatever you want.”
Lava boils over inside me in a split second, like nothing I’ve felt in years. My actions are nothing to do with me now. It wasn’t an idea I had, to clench my right hand round the back of his neck and drag him towards me, crushing his lips against mine. I’m not here, forcing his jaw apart, pushing my tongue around the roof of his mouth and the outline of his teeth. I didn’t just capture his tongue with mine and slip it between my canines, nipping them together and drawing blood. It wasn’t me: I’m feeling it, not making it happen. I can taste, between the hungry gasps for air, the redness of his blood. I can hear, somewhere, this gentle, soft moan. I don’t know if I’m making the sound or if he is. Maybe neither of us. The moan builds, changes, my hands are scrabbling across the naked flesh of his back, nails catching where they will and leaving, I know, thin, jagged train tracks of white, with occasional spills of leaking red. This moment lasts forever, until it passes, when the moan which has become a shout edges into a scream and I break backwards, out of this headfuck, dragging my arms to my sides, and reeling from the overload of sensation and bodily excitement.
I’m not done reeling when the left side of my face shatters into blackness and pain. I dive into the cover of my left arm, hugging it like I just came apart and need to squeeze myself back together. I squint at Elijah through my right eye, trying to look at him like I’m hurt and confused. The innocence has gone from his stare, and it’s all fire there. He’s caressing his hand, which I’m guessing he just cracked into my skull, and shouting, actually yelling,
“What the fuck was that?”
I don’t get a second to answer before he slaps the other side of my face with the back of his hand, a neat slap, but nowhere near as dramatic as the punch. Still, it balances out my head a bit. Just to completely even things out, he stretches forward, hops up onto the settee; crouching over me, reaching round to take a handful of my hair, tugging my head backwards and up, into his face.
“I’m fucking bleeding Dom! Fucking hell!”
He spits, right in my face, bloodied saliva hitting the side of my jaw.
I want to say sorry, say I didn’t mean it or something, just…carried away…just…I don’t know. But what comes out is a smile. A twisted, crooked smile. It’s a bad plan, which I didn’t concoct, and I couldn’t explain what the hell I meant by it. Just an instant reaction. Talk about red fucking rags; before I know it, Elijah snaps like a taut elastic band; kicks my legs up onto the length of the couch, laying me out like I’m a doll. Fuck knows where this tiny American got all his strength from now, it’s like being strapped down by the toughest leather, having him stretch over me, each of his limbs catching each of mine and pinning them back into the contrasting softness of the cushion covers, pretty much helplessly. I don’t fight. I couldn’t, I’m stuck and stunned and in pain, as his fingers claw into my upper arms and his knees deaden my thighs.
“Fuck you Dom, I ask you to do one thing for me, and you fucking take advantage, you fucking cunt, you…piece…of…” his words tail off and – ah! – fuck, his teeth drag across my bruised jawline, tagging the skin down my neck and fixing on my collar bone, gripping it hard enough to mark before taking hold of the neck of my t-shirt, which I actually kind of like, and, like a dog worrying a stick, clenching it between his teeth and stretching stretching tearing ripping it off one shoulder. He sinks his bite into my naked shoulder, and my body spasms in panic as one of his incisors punctures the skin. I can feel his tongue licking quickly like a cat’s at the wound, opening it, searching in me for…fuck knows. Adjusting his weight to make sure I’m still immobile, he looks up, straight into my eyes again and laughs wildly, running his tongue round his lips and displaying the blood around his mouth.
“How does it feel on you? Fuck’s sake…”
I go to speak again, but he lifts an arm and belts me across the face again, knocking my teeth into the side of my cheek. Blood trickles out of my mouth and he laughs again. A thousand lightening bolts are flashing in front of my eyes, and if I had enough breath to hyperventilate, I might. Lij’s eyes are flashing that fire, this pure, dangerous fire you only see in madness, and if he was taking the trouble to look hard enough into my eyes, he’d see in the back of them that he’s fucking freaking me out. Except that’s not all he’s doing to me, for my sins, better or worse, I’m torn into two shades of pain. And I think he’s concentrating more on this other side of things. His hand crashes down through the remnants of my shirt – I did like it, you know, the shirt… – and down, catching on the waistband of my jeans, where the presence of his fingertips shoots like lasers into the sensitive areas of my side.
My legs have no feeling, my shoulder canes and bleeds and my left arm is blue – I take advantage of having one free hand and go for where I hope it’ll hurt the most, scraping my nails through the now congealing and sealing burn on his chest. Tiny pinpricks of blood poke through as Elijah literally shrieks at me;
“Give up already! This is my game now, just fucking stop it!”
I’m not going to argue with a guy on top of me, close enough to my balls to cause permanent damage, when he’s got that fire in his eyes.
I nod, trying to look meek.
And now he smiles, well smirks. This is because he’s discovered the thing I was trying to hide, the fact that, not despite of, but…yeah…because of…this, I am currently experiencing one of the most fervent and pressing erections I can remember ever having. His hand snakes under the top of my jeans, undoing the buttons from the inside and stroking, so softly gently compared to the brutality of the rest of his actions, my cock through the thin material of my boxers. Tiny, tantalising electric sparks are dancing across my exposed skin as I fight the confused feelings of thrills, pain, cramp, bleeding and fear. I’m swallowing blood twice a minute as it leaks into my mouth. And I’m getting impossibly harder every second.
Lij is murmuring to himself as he slips his fingers around me, pushing away the cotton that is doing a very poor job of containing my excitement. As his hand slides rhythmically across my cock, I relax back, concentrating for all I can on the sensations of his touch, trying increasingly hard to ignore the growing pain in my legs, where his knees press onto me. And then again, he takes his unoccupied hand from my arm, and slaps me, reopening the decreasing flow of blood into my mouth, and making me glare at him.
“You weren’t watching,” he explains. Oh. Sorry.
I stare instead at the fact that he is indeed going to develop a fine scar on his otherwise perfect chest. A single trail of blood has escaped, run down his naked body, and no, it’s too opportune, I reach up, take him by the shoulders, and in one movement, lick at the trail, until it smears away. Just the contrast of the colour on his skin. Couldn’t help myself. Elijah stops dead, and right away I ache. Fuck, fuck, come back… But then, almost a better feeling, he moves his knees off me, and nudges forward to straddle my chest. I put my hands behind my head and look up at him, trying to be casual like there’s nothing unusual about the severe pain he’s been causing me. Lij shakes his head.
“You just don’t fucking listen, Dom!”
Then, his waist moves in front of my eyes, a hand forces my jaw open like you’d open a horse’s mouth to take the bit, and I gag, as he forces his cock in my mouth. I didn’t even see him take his jeans off, let alone expect this. It’s long enough and thick enough and solid enough to choke me, and I try not to retch, as he pushes in and out of my mouth with increasing vigour and speed, one hand keeping my teeth apart to stop me biting him, the other wrapped around a section of my hair, holding my head still as he fucks my mouth like I honestly can’t say anyone ever has before. I reach up and place my hands over his hips, trying to steady him, slow him down so I can breathe, at least occasionally. But it doesn’t last long – the harder I clench at his body, the harder he pumps, until, catching on, I rake my nails into him, along that smooth skin that even under these circumstances still feels ice cool…once…twice…three…times…and then he’s not holding back, but instead shoots right down my throat. I can’t taste it, couldn’t spit if I wanted to, but I feel the heat of his cum move through me. It’s almost soothing, compared with the numbness of my lower half and the constant aching of my own hard on. His body convulses under my hands and, I swear, it passes right through me as he emits the smallest sounds of satisfaction.
He rests above me and inside me for another moment, and my tongue cleans the final drops of cum as they seep from him. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he moves off me completely, and drops his body flat onto mine, falling onto a kiss, crushing my straining cock between us. He’s kissing me loosely, breathing into my mouth. I can still taste the smoke on him, and all I can think now is that I have to come soon… I wrap my arms around his body, and he reciprocates now, not with evil, not with malice, but with strength. I’ve imagined holding him like this – like this, not like when we’ve hugged and stuff, but naked, proper… - but I never dreamed his body would feel so solid, his hands so safe, and so dangerous, as they trace the muscles in my arms, pinch and scrape at my contours, every gash in my skin sending new streams of liquid lightening through me. I press myself onto his flat stomach, grinding my cock against his hip bones, desperately, desperately trying to get myself off, and scratching and tearing at the already marked skin on his back, my fingers slipping on the blood as he just weighs down on me, like if he holds me tight enough, our bodies will mesh. Stuck together by our sweat and blood and my pre-cum, this isn’t an unbelievable option as…ah…the twitching starts in my spine again…ah…and Lij leans up to my ear, bites my ear lobe, and whispers into my mind…oh Christ…“Fucking hell Dom…” and I come with as much force as I ever have, with the loudest of shouts, recoiling from the instant warmth and stickiness between us but moving again towards Elijah, torn between voluntary and involuntary actions, clinging around him though, searching for his mouth. I barely notice as he bites my lip and eases still more blood from me with his hot, hot tongue; like I have much left to give. I lie there, still quivering from my aftershocks as the fluids between us dry, and I slowly, slowly drop my torn and soiled limbs back flat onto the couch.
Elijah is reaching away from me, for a cigarette from the table, which he lights with the last but one remaining candle. And he lies back, breathes in deep and, clouds of smoke issuing forth with each movement, begins to giggle.
Yeah.
It’s not quite the sound I expected either.
I prop myself up on an elbow, and scrutinise his eyes.
They’re sweet, shining, soft. Strange. Normal. The fire there dissipated like a fleet of engines hosed him down. And – just then – there it is again, that look, that fucking look, like a kid who hopes he pleased you. His giggle becomes a laugh, which escalates into the kind of cacophony only Elijah could pull off.
Naked beside me, bleeding and dirty, burnt and bruised, he laughs, moving his fixtureless gaze to me, and eventually, choking out the words, saying…
“Are you okay?”
I suffer myself to check I still have two arms, two legs, my cock, at least the important parts of my face and no broken bones. All present and allegedly correct, if not bleeding, bruised, fucked…
“I’ll live…” I cough.
He exhales another stream of blue smoke, and runs a hand gently, gently down through the congealing blood on my arm.
“Oh Dom… I did enjoy that… Did you believe me?”
Believe him?
“What d’you mean?” I ask, confused.
My split mouth leaks open as I ask the question. I must look rough as hell.
“You know? All that…shouting. And clawing. And…stuff. You know. You know? That is what you wanted…right? In return?”
What I…?
Wanted?
Well. Fuck me.