ext_16110 (
seraphinhunter.livejournal.com) wrote in
fellowshippers2004-03-30 07:13 pm
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usually
dom/elijah
leave it alone, ok?
note: many thanks to
The only part of Elijah's large DVD collection that Dom is actually interested in is rather small and limited to the movies Elijah plays a part in himself. Dom likes to watch those DVDs at night, with Elijah curled up next to him on the sofa, because Elijah looks much younger when he sleeps. And if Dom is lucky, Elijah will rest his head in Dom‘s lap and murmur 'old' lines from Huck Finn. That‘s when Dom usually wakes Elijah and fucks him right then and there, eyes fixed to the muted TV where eleven-year-old Elijah is carried away by a grown man.
On Dom‘s 27th, birthday Elijah dresses up as a schoolboy. Dom thinks that this is the moment he finally falls seriously for Elijah, because Elijah doesn‘t ask any questions and simply nods and kisses Dom when Dom wants to fuck him for the third time that night.
The next morning Elijah mentions age-play but Dom shakes his head, eyes drifting to the ground by sheer habit. That's not what it is. Not in the least, Lij.
And it isn‘t a lie then, because Dom simply likes his boys... young. Yeah, young. That‘s it. Nothing more. Leave it alone, ok?
Sometimes Dom notices a slight tremor in his right forefinger. It jabs lightly against the smooth cotton of his over-worn jeans, tab-tab, until Dom balls his hand into a tight fist, fingertips dragging pale half-moons into the sweaty skin of his palm, hurting and grounding him at the same time. And only then Dom dares to look up again, smiling into the face of a young fan; usually a boy, barely fourteen.
Dom knows to keep his fingernails short.
disclaimer: this never happened!

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Ooh this was very thought provoking in just a short fic. Very good. I like things that make ponder.
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This was interesting, and I had to reread it once or twice to get it. I enjoyed this, it is very unique and that's always a good thing in my book.
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You capture loads in a relatively small amount of words, and the whole thing makes me take a deep breath and then read it again.
It jabs lightly against the smooth cotton of his over-worn jeans, tab-tab, until Dom balls his hand into a tight fist, fingertips dragging pale half-moons into the sweaty skin of his palm, hurting and grounding him at the same time.
Descriptive, visual, and complex, yet simple.
The ending is that last delicious hit.
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