ext_104510 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
indriyani.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-03-11 05:10 am
indriyani.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-11 05:10 am
another Ficlet.
Title: Sandalwood.
Pairing: DM/EW.
NC-17
AN: No beta, again. Also written at 4am, please excuse me.
After Elijah left, the smell was gone too. Completely erased from pillows, the living room missing the familiar scent of Cloves.
Dom knew this was the reason he stole Elijah’s habit as he brought the cigarette up to his lips.
To smell Elijah.
He was more or less calm that morning, he had gotten a good fuck out of his system. Though, he paused and exhaled a twirl of smoke, he couldn’t tell you her name. He rubbed his hands over his face, cigarette dangling between his index and middle finger with disinterest. The prickle of sharp stubble was inviting against his sweaty palms.
The phone ringing was a distant noise, humming in his ears. Its objective muddled with his increasing lethargy. He could only stretch and take another drag. His eyes found his bedroom, the door halfway open. Had she left without a morning fuck?
Elijah’s fingers were always agile, quick to please and anxious to continue without interruption or restraint. Dom could only relax with a smile, open his heavy-lidded eyes halfway, and enjoy. He reached his hand out, touching the back of Elijah’s neck softly, feeling the warmth impressed there from their bed sheets.
The morning sun always strewn delicately over Elijah’s pale skin, illuminating the austerity of its colour even further. Dom admired the way Elijah’s back arched against him, but he could only lay smug for so long before he felt abrupt fingers grasp onto his erection without hesitation. A quick intake of breath and then, a graze of softened lips replaced the rapidity of the touch. Dom visibly reacted, clutching at Elijah’s bed-matted hair with impatience and bringing him up to meet him in a kiss.
Elijah always smelled exotic in the morning. A musky scent -- deep and enhanced with an almost sandalwood kind of aroma. Dom liked to breathe him in, every inch of him. It was sweet, Dom pulling Elijah to him and stroking him softly, nuzzling him just to smell his intimate scent without embarrassment. But it would grow more desperate after a while. They would cling to each other and all Elijah would have to do is touch him and suddenly the sun’s heat was absorbing a fresh sheen of sweat on Dom’s back as he drove in and out of Elijah’s small frame. Elijah’s reaction was always fragmented; heavy breathing at one point, soft, broken begging usually following and eager appreciation within curt gasps as the finishing result. Dom had a preference for all three in their own separate ways. He enjoyed hearing Elijah breathe violently with anticipation. The soft begging combined with concise panting always nearly killed him. They were usually accompanied with aching tremors that pulled him further inside of Elijah, bringing him closer to the edge every time.
Dom would grip the sheets as he came, shuddering with each spasm and placing his cheek against Elijah’s heaving chest. He would vaguely hear the sound of Elijah’s heart, only noticing that it matched the speed of his own. He would smile with happiness, with love, and he would pull out of Elijah to hold him properly.
The phone rang again, this time more conspicuous as it invaded Dominic’s reverie. He looked down at the ashes on the tile of his apartment
When had it become his?
and silently cursed himself for the discomfort he was now feeling in his boxers. Wishing that maybe the girl he had slept with last night was still in his bed.
In their bed.
He got up, stubbing his cigarette out ineloquently into his ashtray and answered the phone.
“Dom.” A small voice.
Normally, his reactions to Elijah’s phone calls were always cheerful. They had gotten over it, gone to premieres without so much as cringing. They were friends, first and foremost.
But Elijah’s voice now.
He could only breathe into the phone and wait.
“Dom?” He sounded so doubtful and insecure.
“I’m here.” His response was raspy with morning-voice and tobacco, but steady at the same time. He wanted to give Elijah assurance.
“Dom.” He said again, with more assertion.
“Yes?” Dom couldn’t help but smile, almost bitterly, but with humour at the edges.
“I’m, I’m moving back. To L.A., I mean. I’m moving back,” he paused, Dom stiffened, “I’m moving back, to you. If you want. For you, really. For us.”
Dom felt around for another cigarette.
Pairing: DM/EW.
NC-17
AN: No beta, again. Also written at 4am, please excuse me.
After Elijah left, the smell was gone too. Completely erased from pillows, the living room missing the familiar scent of Cloves.
Dom knew this was the reason he stole Elijah’s habit as he brought the cigarette up to his lips.
To smell Elijah.
He was more or less calm that morning, he had gotten a good fuck out of his system. Though, he paused and exhaled a twirl of smoke, he couldn’t tell you her name. He rubbed his hands over his face, cigarette dangling between his index and middle finger with disinterest. The prickle of sharp stubble was inviting against his sweaty palms.
The phone ringing was a distant noise, humming in his ears. Its objective muddled with his increasing lethargy. He could only stretch and take another drag. His eyes found his bedroom, the door halfway open. Had she left without a morning fuck?
Elijah’s fingers were always agile, quick to please and anxious to continue without interruption or restraint. Dom could only relax with a smile, open his heavy-lidded eyes halfway, and enjoy. He reached his hand out, touching the back of Elijah’s neck softly, feeling the warmth impressed there from their bed sheets.
The morning sun always strewn delicately over Elijah’s pale skin, illuminating the austerity of its colour even further. Dom admired the way Elijah’s back arched against him, but he could only lay smug for so long before he felt abrupt fingers grasp onto his erection without hesitation. A quick intake of breath and then, a graze of softened lips replaced the rapidity of the touch. Dom visibly reacted, clutching at Elijah’s bed-matted hair with impatience and bringing him up to meet him in a kiss.
Elijah always smelled exotic in the morning. A musky scent -- deep and enhanced with an almost sandalwood kind of aroma. Dom liked to breathe him in, every inch of him. It was sweet, Dom pulling Elijah to him and stroking him softly, nuzzling him just to smell his intimate scent without embarrassment. But it would grow more desperate after a while. They would cling to each other and all Elijah would have to do is touch him and suddenly the sun’s heat was absorbing a fresh sheen of sweat on Dom’s back as he drove in and out of Elijah’s small frame. Elijah’s reaction was always fragmented; heavy breathing at one point, soft, broken begging usually following and eager appreciation within curt gasps as the finishing result. Dom had a preference for all three in their own separate ways. He enjoyed hearing Elijah breathe violently with anticipation. The soft begging combined with concise panting always nearly killed him. They were usually accompanied with aching tremors that pulled him further inside of Elijah, bringing him closer to the edge every time.
Dom would grip the sheets as he came, shuddering with each spasm and placing his cheek against Elijah’s heaving chest. He would vaguely hear the sound of Elijah’s heart, only noticing that it matched the speed of his own. He would smile with happiness, with love, and he would pull out of Elijah to hold him properly.
The phone rang again, this time more conspicuous as it invaded Dominic’s reverie. He looked down at the ashes on the tile of his apartment
When had it become his?
and silently cursed himself for the discomfort he was now feeling in his boxers. Wishing that maybe the girl he had slept with last night was still in his bed.
In their bed.
He got up, stubbing his cigarette out ineloquently into his ashtray and answered the phone.
“Dom.” A small voice.
Normally, his reactions to Elijah’s phone calls were always cheerful. They had gotten over it, gone to premieres without so much as cringing. They were friends, first and foremost.
But Elijah’s voice now.
He could only breathe into the phone and wait.
“Dom?” He sounded so doubtful and insecure.
“I’m here.” His response was raspy with morning-voice and tobacco, but steady at the same time. He wanted to give Elijah assurance.
“Dom.” He said again, with more assertion.
“Yes?” Dom couldn’t help but smile, almost bitterly, but with humour at the edges.
“I’m, I’m moving back. To L.A., I mean. I’m moving back,” he paused, Dom stiffened, “I’m moving back, to you. If you want. For you, really. For us.”
Dom felt around for another cigarette.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Chrissy.
no subject
no subject
Loved the explanation of why Dom took up smoking to his visceral memories to being hit by the wall of emotion at the end.
Yeah, I had to tie in his new habit in there somewhere, and this seemed like the perfect place to do it.
Thank you.
Chrissy.
no subject
So lovely.
More?
no subject
It's possible ... I really enjoyed writing it.
And sandalwood-smelling Lij just seems a little irresistible at the moment.
Anyway, thank you.
Chrissy.