Book 3, Chapter 6: The Gloaming (2/2)
Title: The Gloaming (2/2)
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Dominic/Elijah
Word count: 3782
Warning: Slightly dub-con.
Summary: follows from here.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Dominic freezes, afraid suddenly as he hasn't been since the last time he'd spoken to Billy. He's aware that Elijah is waiting for an answer--not just waiting, but breathless in his anticipation, and it makes Dominic tremble to know absolutely that Elijah knows. Must know. He takes a deep breath and slides his hands down Elijah's torso then back up underneath Elijah's shirt, touching skin. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he says against Elijah's neck, unwilling to look up.
"Bullshit," Elijah says, his accent flat but his voice eager, gleeful. "Professor Boyd. Who doesn't know, man." Dominic's finally forced to raise his eyes, and Elijah smiles. "Don't give me that look. I'm not the one who can't keep your secrets."
"Orlando." Dominic breathes out the name, sure of another betrayal and sinking into himself, painfully aware that Elijah's unwittingly become the only lifeline he has left.
"There's no point getting mad at him, Dom. It's your fucking professor who's fucked you over, not anybody else. You think you're the first? I heard about a grad student last term, some blonde chick--" Dominic shoots a harder glare Elijah's way, but Elijah just shrugs. "Look, you got taken. It's not a big deal unless you make it one, and you have been. I'm here to help, man."
"Help?" Dominic spits out, despair and shock melting into anger though he finds it hard to hold onto, the pills and beer and weed robbing him of the strength to do so. "Dammit," he whispers, easing onto his back in the grass and covering his face with his hands. He wants his anger back, wants the energy to be angry with Elijah. He looks for the words that would defend Billy and himself, words that would defend what they had together.
"You've got no idea, Elijah," he starts, but Elijah laughs again, not half as maliciously as Dominic would prefer.
"Maybe not, but I know enough, don't I? Are you gonna tell me I'm lying? C'mon, Dom. When we fuck do you pretend it's him? And when you kiss me, do you wish it was him?" When Dominic starts to sit up, indignation written all over his face, Elijah presses his hand hard to his chest and guides him back to the ground. Elijah's touch softens as he smooths his fingers down to Dominic's stomach, where they waste no time creeping under his shirt. Dominic's too distracted to move away from the touch, too busy sill absorbing the hit in Elijah's every word.
"You want me to help you, right? I need to know if you're still pining for the asshole." Elijah leans in to brush his lips over the dimple in Dominic's chin. "Because I can definitely get you over him. Trust me."
"Trust you." Dominic laughs, the spell broken again as he reaches for Elijah before he can pull away again. Realizing that Elijah isn't going anywhere, Dominic lets go of him and lets his body relax. The ground is a bit cold, but he decides he doesn't really care, which makes him laugh again. He again wonders briefly what Elijah had given him, and then, with the restless warmth of Elijah's body beside him, decides he doesn't care about that either. Closing his eyes, he thinks about being in love, about the only time in his life he's ever been in love, but was too afraid to even say the words, though of course Billy must have figured it out. Why else would he have ended it? If Dominic had been better about keeping his feelings hidden, he thinks, they would still be together. He'd be with Billy now, in his home, in his kitchen, his bed--anywhere but here. The pill Elijah has given him has begun to fuzzy the edges of his perception, and he can't stop picturing Billy, probably sitting at his desk now, or on his couch, reading papers or making a dent in the tilting pile of mail Dominic had seen him ignore for weeks. Probably grateful for the lack of distraction Dominic always represented.
"Is that all you want to know? If I still love him? Of course I do. You don't understand, Elijah, because you've never loved anyone like that. I don't think you'd know--how. Or why you'd bother. But I--" Dominic thumps himself on the chest with his outstretched hand for emphasis. "This doesn't go away just like that. It's not going to go away. Don't fucking call it stupid, right? I don't need to hear it from you. Or anyone else."
Dominic pushes Elijah off him again, then rolls over onto his hands and knees, crawling to where the bottle of beer lays to pick it up. He drains it of the few swallows left, then tosses it away. Struggling up to a crouch, he pulls his shirt off, mumbling, "'m fucking hot."
"Dude, that is not a good idea--"
"Shut it." Dominic throws another glare Elijah's way, and then swallows hard. "I'm not saying his name, right. I'm not giving you details. I'm not saying it even happened. Did you know, Elijah, that he fucked me in his office the first time? That he would fuck me anywhere he could? Whenever he could--wanted me." Dominic takes a few staggering steps away from Elijah, but returns, dropping to his knees. "Wanted me like no one has ever, ever wanted me. I believed--"
Dominic's voice trails off as he remembers moments spent with Billy--memories he both loves and hates. Crawling closer to Elijah, Dominic presses his hot face against the cool skin of Elijah's neck, whispering. "'s my fault. I fucked it up, and he figured it out, and I just. I deserve this. This and more, I deserve it."
Elijah's fingers tug in Dominic’s hair hard as he recoils from an unexpected nip of Dominic’s teeth at his collarbone. Dominic almost laughs, but then Elijah's talking again.
“You think you deserve to fail out of school? Think you deserve to get yourself kicked out on the street because you can't keep up? Because you let a professor do this to you? You really think you deserve that?” Elijah tilts his head, and Dominic allows himself to hear Elijah's voice as compassionate, concerned. “Because I'm guessing that’s what your professor thinks, too. But if you’re going to going to give up on yourself the way he’s given up on you, then this is all just a big waste of my time, isn't it?”
A small but easily ignored voice in Dominic's head questions the words coming from Elijah now. There's something wrong with them, he knows, but it takes too much energy to figure it out. He wants to dislike Elijah, as much as he always has, but it doesn't matter anyway; he doesn't need to like Elijah in order to have this, the company, the fucking, the pills, and everything else Elijah can give him. It doesn't matter. Thoughts of Elijah have yet to drown out the soundtrack of the past few weeks that replays in Dominic's mind: I'm sorry, Dominic. It's for the best. For both of us. Words that make it easier for him to just believe Elijah.
He's still surprised when he turns to find Elijah next to him, to know that it's Elijah's hands on his body. That's what the pills have been good for, Dominic reminds himself. And it certainly doesn't matter any longer whether he is with Elijah or Billy--neither loves him. Neither even wants to be with him, unless there is the promise of sex.
"He wasn't in love with me," Dominic says, his voice flat, resignation gone almost bored. He takes a deep breath that splinters on the exhale, all the emotion he can muster now. When Elijah shakes his head no, Dominic sighs again. "He never said he was. I just thought ... it doesn't matter."
He puts his hand over Elijah's, thinking he'll move it and just lay here and think for a minute, but finds he can't remember what he wanted to think about. He turns heavy-lidded eyes toward Elijah, and really looks at him. Elijah's smaller, younger, with features that remind Dominic of the china doll that his mum had kept high on a shelf, constantly warning her boys away from it, until it broke in the move to Manchester, just like nearly everything else. "You've got beautiful eyes, Elijah."
Elijah blinks and those eyes narrow, and Dominic watches Elijah watch him until the attention's too much and too little all at once. When Dominic finally looks away, Elijah's hands slide up his chest again, and Elijah leans in for another kiss, his lips moving slowly over Dominic's own before they travel to Dominic's throat and neck. Elijah's teeth drag a little across Dominic's skin, and Dominic flinches at the pain that doesn't actually hurt, wishing it were more, wishing it were real. So much for wanting to talk, Dominic thinks, and then finds that he's flexible; it doesn't matter whether they fuck or talk. Talk or fuck. Fucking talk or talk about fucking. Dominic's laughing again, low and throaty even as Elijah's tongue does obscene things to his ear and as those teeth sink into his skin.
"Like that," Dominic says. "He liked that too. Harder, though. Harder. Did you know that, Elijah?" Dominic's voice has gone slurry, the sound of it making him laugh even more. "Get up, get up. I want to show you something."
Pushing Elijah from him, Dominic struggles to his feet where he then stands on wobbly legs. He toes his shoes off, stumbling, before he pushes his jeans down low to show the sharp bones of his hips. "Look at this. Do you see?"
Elijah shakes his head, sitting on the ground looking up at Dominic. Dominic pulls his shirt off, becoming entangled with his arms above his head. He stops, trapped, and forgets what he was going to show Elijah. There's little if any evidence left of anything he and Billy had done, and the realization of that alone would break Dominic a little more now if he let it. Which he won't.
"He liked this, too. Likes." Dominic drops to his knees in front of Elijah, twisting the shirt tighter around his wrists to create a makeshift restraint. "He had ... he was a brilliant top, a brilliant Dom." Elijah's eyes widen just enough at that admission that Dominic smiles and tilts his head a little. "Did you ever do that, Elijah? What are you? I think ..." Dominic crawls back toward Elijah, his wrists still caught in front of him, making his movements even more awkward. "I think ... I think sub, Elijah. Like me. I think you're a sub."
The thought of Elijah crawling around with cuffs on makes Dominic laugh again, but this time low and predatory. Elijah's listening for real now, for possibly the best since they'd met, and Dominic doesn't care about the possible reasons why; the point is that he has Elijah's attention enough now that he might get something out of it, too. Leaning forward, he drags his own teeth across Elijah's bottom lip before taking his mouth in a kiss. "Rather not be, though, wouldn't you. C'mon, Elijah. Show me. Like earlier when you wanted to hit me. You could've. You should've. Don't want to fucking talk anymore."
"How--" Elijah shifts on the ground, swallowing and blinking again while Dominic waits for him to catch up, to play along. Elijah tugs at the shirt coiled around Dominic's wrists and twists it, nodding when Dominic's body moves against his own a little harder. Dominic can feel Elijah measuring his chances now, wondering what it would like to leave a real mark on Dominic, what it would sound and feel like. "I already told you, Dom, you wouldn't end up--" Elijah takes another breath. "How do I know you won’t hit me back?"
Dominic hides his smile against Elijah's throat, but knows he can't hide the sound of it in his voice. "Is that what you want?"
Elijah takes an angry little breath, and Dominic's not surprised to find himself pushed away, looking up to meet Elijah's eyes narrowed again. "What I want is for you to put up or shut up, Dom," Elijah snaps. "You really want that fake powerplay bullshit? Stop running your mouth and show me, then--"
"Show you?" Dominic laughs, slow and easy, realizing how he's pushing Elijah and undecided yet if he really means to, if he actually wants to watch Elijah lose some of his carefully constructed control. And more, if he really wants to accept the brunt of it. His eyes flicker down Elijah's stomach to between his legs, and Dominic darts his tongue between his teeth. "You're the one sitting there with a hard-on the size of fucking Wales, mate. Look," Dominic pauses, his grin going wide again. "Look what you're showing me."
Seeing a flash of something on Elijah's face, Dominic moves suddenly back onto all fours and advances again on Elijah. "C'mon. Make up and be friends. You want me to shut up and I want to be fucked." Dominic strokes Elijah through his jeans, and leans forward to kiss his neck. "Make me feel something, Elijah. Make me feel anything and I'll do whatever you want."
"Fine," Elijah bites out, rising to his knees and reaching down to grab Dominic's wrist. "Kill two birds with one fucking stone. You want to feel something, and I want you to know it's me you're feeling. And seeing." Dominic stops moving, and Elijah nods again. "You're gonna tell me you love me, Dom, and you're gonna make me believe it. Feel it.”
Dominic watches Elijah quickly unfasten his jeans and free himself, his control returned. Elijah's fingers wrap around his cock, giving the base of his erection a tight squeeze. Dominic's eyes move down Elijah's body, his mind slowed by the drink and the pills, and he tries to force himself to want Elijah for real, to find something about Elijah to love and want more than need. It takes him several long seconds to fumble with his belt and his jeans before he can kick them off and stumble backwards against the tree opposite Elijah, taking his own cock in hand. Dominic bites his lip, twisting and tugging his fingers down his shaft, willing away the thoughts in his head, the way his mind stumbles over the word love almost as much as Elijah's feet had over the rocky ground. "Goddammit," he mutters, his frustration building as he finds it almost impossible to keep himself hard, to fake it, he supposes, until he makes it. His eyes open to see Elijah's own frustration building, punctuated by anger. Dominic opens his mouth to speak, but Elijah rushes him, leaving barely enough space for Dominic to turn, half-facing the tree now and closing his eyes again.
"You can't even fucking pretend," Elijah says, his breath hot at Dominic's ear. "Do what you fucking have to do, Dom; I'm going to."
Dominic nods quickly and shifts, turning fully and bracing his hands against the tree, digging his fingernails into the bark. It hurts and doesn't, the same way the dirt and leaves beneath him both scratch into his knees and yet don't. Elijah's hands land on his hips, and Dominic shivers, vaguely aware of having actually accomplished what he'd wanted, to push Elijah too far. Elijah takes quick, sharp breaths behind him and spits into his hand, and Dominic hisses, knowing this is going to be worse than he'd imagined and hoping that it will be enough to erase everything else.
Elijah's stomach meets Dominic's back, pushing him forward, and Dominic hisses again as his chest hits the tree, the bark tearing at it. A part of him knows that tomorrow he won't remember much about any of this, least of how he took this particular damage, but with effort he might be able to pretend it came from Billy instead of Elijah or anyone else. For now, he feels something lift away from him--as if what he and Elijah are doing is happening to someone else.
He'd wanted this, he reminds himself, and that keeps him from stopping it but also keeps him from enjoying it the way he thought he could. Elijah's doing everything right--if nothing else, he's making Dominic feel something, and feel it hard--and Dominic tries to make himself form the words that would hold up his end of the bargain. He can't, though, and won't, and knowing that won't stop Elijah from continuing doesn't feel like a victory; if anything Dominic feels like he's lost even more ground now, unable to play a role he thought he'd mastered with almost everyone before Billy.
Elijah's almost finished, Dominic can tell; he's sweating as hard as Dominic now, and his thrusts are arrhythmic and heavy, uncoordinated and needy as his body surrenders to something Dominic knows Elijah would never let his heart or mind accept. One harsh movement leaves Dominic's cheek scraped against the tree, and he releases a gasp that seems to break Elijah, stilling him and then pushing him over the edge. Dominic feels the sticky release of it between his own legs as Elijah moves again almost involuntarily, and Dominic ducks his head in relief and frustration, too; at no point did he become fully hard, at no point did he feel anything given instead of simply taken from him. He retreats into himself immediately, shutting down, but unable to find even in his own head the peace he'd demanded for himself afterward with others.
Dominic doesn't know how many minutes pass before Elijah finally pulls out roughly and exhales, weighing heavy on Dominic's back until he regains his strength. It might as well be forever as far as he's concerned, and when Elijah does move Dominic shivers again, aware of the night's chill sweeping over his body. Dominic can hear the mild disgust in Elijah's sigh as he cleans up with whatever he's found in his pockets, and the little grunt he makes as he tugs his jeans back up.
It's minutes more before Dominic smells the scent of smoke drifting around him as Elijah nears him again, the cigarette caught tight between Elijah's lips as he gets closer, more like a curious animal than a friend. Dominic doesn't move; he concentrates instead of keeping his weak hold on the tree and catching his own breath, counting out reasons why it would be just as unsafe to run from here as it is to stay. He flinches only when Elijah's hand rests on his back nervously, the palm flat and then dragging down his spine.
"Hey," Elijah says quietly. "Hey. You okay?"
Dominic doesn't respond--there's no way to answer that one well, much less truthfully. Elijah huffs behind him, and then Dominic hears him scrabbling on the ground again, looking for something else. Before long Dominic feels his own shirt being pushed over his head and down his back, and then Elijah's shifting him backward, getting him on his knees.
"Hey," Elijah says again, this time a little more concerned, a little more frightened. "Come on, Dom. It wasn't that bad. You know you've done a lot worse, right? Made you feel something, didn't I?" Dominic's eyes fly open and Elijah sits back a little until they close again, and then Elijah's hands are on Dominic's face, almost cradling his cheeks if Dominic could believe it actually felt that good.
“I’m sorry, all right,” Elijah says softly, and Dominic tries to shake his head, not wanting to hear it, but it takes too much out of him, forcing him to just comply as Elijah continues, working Dominic's jeans back on his body nervously, too quickly. “You went nuts and you pushed me too far.” Elijah leans closer, until Dominic can feel his warm breath against his skin once more. “You want to go back? Home? I mean back to campus. We'll go back. We'll get something to eat and just go back. To your room, or mine, whatever. Whatever, Dom, just--”
"Home," Dominic whispers, pushing the word from his lips. The sound, barely spoken, ricochets in his brain as though he's shouted. Everything feels thick and dark. There's a dull pain in Dominic's back and he can't seem to open his eyelids though he's aware of something, someone near him. He has a moment of panic, fearing that he's dead or dying--that he won't be able to see Billy again. The last time he'd felt at home was in Billy's. He can imagine Billy's bed, and the way he could so easily fall asleep there, listening to Billy's heartbeat. He can imagine too Billy's reaction to him now, the shock of it, and how Billy would drag him from here, away from Elijah and all of this, if he knew, if he cared as much as Dominic wants to believe he had. "I'm sorry," Dominic rasps. "I just want to go home."
In the morning, Billy would hover restlessly, scolding Dominic furiously but still caring for him, forcing Dominic into bed, if not for the reasons he might once have. He'd build a fire later, after Dominic had rested and promised him everything in exchange for being allowed to stay. He would speak just so Dominic could listen to the sound of his voice. The thought of what those words might be, of Billy's frustration, makes Dominic's stomach churn suddenly, and he crawls forward a few feet before he empties its contents.
Dominic feels Elijah's hands on him again, holding him with short, blunt nails digging again into the skin covering his ribs. Once Dominic's finished, he feels almost human again. Strung out, exhausted, hungry, and ruined but human, if barely.
Elijah helps Dominic to sit up on his knees, and Dominic closes his eyes against the sick on the ground, against the smell that stings his nostrils. The breeze is colder now, brushing against him where Elijah hadn't been able to push his shirt down all the way, and Dominic catalogs the feeling, wishing it better or worse and not this miserable in-between. The sky is darkening, the sun mostly down, and he wonders where the rest of the early evening went before he closes his eyes and leans against Elijah. "I'm sorry," he whispers again. "I want to go home."
"Not with me," Elijah says to the sky, low enough that Dominic chooses not to hear it. "You will, though, Dom. You will."
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Dominic/Elijah
Word count: 3782
Warning: Slightly dub-con.
Summary: follows from here.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Dominic freezes, afraid suddenly as he hasn't been since the last time he'd spoken to Billy. He's aware that Elijah is waiting for an answer--not just waiting, but breathless in his anticipation, and it makes Dominic tremble to know absolutely that Elijah knows. Must know. He takes a deep breath and slides his hands down Elijah's torso then back up underneath Elijah's shirt, touching skin. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he says against Elijah's neck, unwilling to look up.
"Bullshit," Elijah says, his accent flat but his voice eager, gleeful. "Professor Boyd. Who doesn't know, man." Dominic's finally forced to raise his eyes, and Elijah smiles. "Don't give me that look. I'm not the one who can't keep your secrets."
"Orlando." Dominic breathes out the name, sure of another betrayal and sinking into himself, painfully aware that Elijah's unwittingly become the only lifeline he has left.
"There's no point getting mad at him, Dom. It's your fucking professor who's fucked you over, not anybody else. You think you're the first? I heard about a grad student last term, some blonde chick--" Dominic shoots a harder glare Elijah's way, but Elijah just shrugs. "Look, you got taken. It's not a big deal unless you make it one, and you have been. I'm here to help, man."
"Help?" Dominic spits out, despair and shock melting into anger though he finds it hard to hold onto, the pills and beer and weed robbing him of the strength to do so. "Dammit," he whispers, easing onto his back in the grass and covering his face with his hands. He wants his anger back, wants the energy to be angry with Elijah. He looks for the words that would defend Billy and himself, words that would defend what they had together.
"You've got no idea, Elijah," he starts, but Elijah laughs again, not half as maliciously as Dominic would prefer.
"Maybe not, but I know enough, don't I? Are you gonna tell me I'm lying? C'mon, Dom. When we fuck do you pretend it's him? And when you kiss me, do you wish it was him?" When Dominic starts to sit up, indignation written all over his face, Elijah presses his hand hard to his chest and guides him back to the ground. Elijah's touch softens as he smooths his fingers down to Dominic's stomach, where they waste no time creeping under his shirt. Dominic's too distracted to move away from the touch, too busy sill absorbing the hit in Elijah's every word.
"You want me to help you, right? I need to know if you're still pining for the asshole." Elijah leans in to brush his lips over the dimple in Dominic's chin. "Because I can definitely get you over him. Trust me."
"Trust you." Dominic laughs, the spell broken again as he reaches for Elijah before he can pull away again. Realizing that Elijah isn't going anywhere, Dominic lets go of him and lets his body relax. The ground is a bit cold, but he decides he doesn't really care, which makes him laugh again. He again wonders briefly what Elijah had given him, and then, with the restless warmth of Elijah's body beside him, decides he doesn't care about that either. Closing his eyes, he thinks about being in love, about the only time in his life he's ever been in love, but was too afraid to even say the words, though of course Billy must have figured it out. Why else would he have ended it? If Dominic had been better about keeping his feelings hidden, he thinks, they would still be together. He'd be with Billy now, in his home, in his kitchen, his bed--anywhere but here. The pill Elijah has given him has begun to fuzzy the edges of his perception, and he can't stop picturing Billy, probably sitting at his desk now, or on his couch, reading papers or making a dent in the tilting pile of mail Dominic had seen him ignore for weeks. Probably grateful for the lack of distraction Dominic always represented.
"Is that all you want to know? If I still love him? Of course I do. You don't understand, Elijah, because you've never loved anyone like that. I don't think you'd know--how. Or why you'd bother. But I--" Dominic thumps himself on the chest with his outstretched hand for emphasis. "This doesn't go away just like that. It's not going to go away. Don't fucking call it stupid, right? I don't need to hear it from you. Or anyone else."
Dominic pushes Elijah off him again, then rolls over onto his hands and knees, crawling to where the bottle of beer lays to pick it up. He drains it of the few swallows left, then tosses it away. Struggling up to a crouch, he pulls his shirt off, mumbling, "'m fucking hot."
"Dude, that is not a good idea--"
"Shut it." Dominic throws another glare Elijah's way, and then swallows hard. "I'm not saying his name, right. I'm not giving you details. I'm not saying it even happened. Did you know, Elijah, that he fucked me in his office the first time? That he would fuck me anywhere he could? Whenever he could--wanted me." Dominic takes a few staggering steps away from Elijah, but returns, dropping to his knees. "Wanted me like no one has ever, ever wanted me. I believed--"
Dominic's voice trails off as he remembers moments spent with Billy--memories he both loves and hates. Crawling closer to Elijah, Dominic presses his hot face against the cool skin of Elijah's neck, whispering. "'s my fault. I fucked it up, and he figured it out, and I just. I deserve this. This and more, I deserve it."
Elijah's fingers tug in Dominic’s hair hard as he recoils from an unexpected nip of Dominic’s teeth at his collarbone. Dominic almost laughs, but then Elijah's talking again.
“You think you deserve to fail out of school? Think you deserve to get yourself kicked out on the street because you can't keep up? Because you let a professor do this to you? You really think you deserve that?” Elijah tilts his head, and Dominic allows himself to hear Elijah's voice as compassionate, concerned. “Because I'm guessing that’s what your professor thinks, too. But if you’re going to going to give up on yourself the way he’s given up on you, then this is all just a big waste of my time, isn't it?”
A small but easily ignored voice in Dominic's head questions the words coming from Elijah now. There's something wrong with them, he knows, but it takes too much energy to figure it out. He wants to dislike Elijah, as much as he always has, but it doesn't matter anyway; he doesn't need to like Elijah in order to have this, the company, the fucking, the pills, and everything else Elijah can give him. It doesn't matter. Thoughts of Elijah have yet to drown out the soundtrack of the past few weeks that replays in Dominic's mind: I'm sorry, Dominic. It's for the best. For both of us. Words that make it easier for him to just believe Elijah.
He's still surprised when he turns to find Elijah next to him, to know that it's Elijah's hands on his body. That's what the pills have been good for, Dominic reminds himself. And it certainly doesn't matter any longer whether he is with Elijah or Billy--neither loves him. Neither even wants to be with him, unless there is the promise of sex.
"He wasn't in love with me," Dominic says, his voice flat, resignation gone almost bored. He takes a deep breath that splinters on the exhale, all the emotion he can muster now. When Elijah shakes his head no, Dominic sighs again. "He never said he was. I just thought ... it doesn't matter."
He puts his hand over Elijah's, thinking he'll move it and just lay here and think for a minute, but finds he can't remember what he wanted to think about. He turns heavy-lidded eyes toward Elijah, and really looks at him. Elijah's smaller, younger, with features that remind Dominic of the china doll that his mum had kept high on a shelf, constantly warning her boys away from it, until it broke in the move to Manchester, just like nearly everything else. "You've got beautiful eyes, Elijah."
Elijah blinks and those eyes narrow, and Dominic watches Elijah watch him until the attention's too much and too little all at once. When Dominic finally looks away, Elijah's hands slide up his chest again, and Elijah leans in for another kiss, his lips moving slowly over Dominic's own before they travel to Dominic's throat and neck. Elijah's teeth drag a little across Dominic's skin, and Dominic flinches at the pain that doesn't actually hurt, wishing it were more, wishing it were real. So much for wanting to talk, Dominic thinks, and then finds that he's flexible; it doesn't matter whether they fuck or talk. Talk or fuck. Fucking talk or talk about fucking. Dominic's laughing again, low and throaty even as Elijah's tongue does obscene things to his ear and as those teeth sink into his skin.
"Like that," Dominic says. "He liked that too. Harder, though. Harder. Did you know that, Elijah?" Dominic's voice has gone slurry, the sound of it making him laugh even more. "Get up, get up. I want to show you something."
Pushing Elijah from him, Dominic struggles to his feet where he then stands on wobbly legs. He toes his shoes off, stumbling, before he pushes his jeans down low to show the sharp bones of his hips. "Look at this. Do you see?"
Elijah shakes his head, sitting on the ground looking up at Dominic. Dominic pulls his shirt off, becoming entangled with his arms above his head. He stops, trapped, and forgets what he was going to show Elijah. There's little if any evidence left of anything he and Billy had done, and the realization of that alone would break Dominic a little more now if he let it. Which he won't.
"He liked this, too. Likes." Dominic drops to his knees in front of Elijah, twisting the shirt tighter around his wrists to create a makeshift restraint. "He had ... he was a brilliant top, a brilliant Dom." Elijah's eyes widen just enough at that admission that Dominic smiles and tilts his head a little. "Did you ever do that, Elijah? What are you? I think ..." Dominic crawls back toward Elijah, his wrists still caught in front of him, making his movements even more awkward. "I think ... I think sub, Elijah. Like me. I think you're a sub."
The thought of Elijah crawling around with cuffs on makes Dominic laugh again, but this time low and predatory. Elijah's listening for real now, for possibly the best since they'd met, and Dominic doesn't care about the possible reasons why; the point is that he has Elijah's attention enough now that he might get something out of it, too. Leaning forward, he drags his own teeth across Elijah's bottom lip before taking his mouth in a kiss. "Rather not be, though, wouldn't you. C'mon, Elijah. Show me. Like earlier when you wanted to hit me. You could've. You should've. Don't want to fucking talk anymore."
"How--" Elijah shifts on the ground, swallowing and blinking again while Dominic waits for him to catch up, to play along. Elijah tugs at the shirt coiled around Dominic's wrists and twists it, nodding when Dominic's body moves against his own a little harder. Dominic can feel Elijah measuring his chances now, wondering what it would like to leave a real mark on Dominic, what it would sound and feel like. "I already told you, Dom, you wouldn't end up--" Elijah takes another breath. "How do I know you won’t hit me back?"
Dominic hides his smile against Elijah's throat, but knows he can't hide the sound of it in his voice. "Is that what you want?"
Elijah takes an angry little breath, and Dominic's not surprised to find himself pushed away, looking up to meet Elijah's eyes narrowed again. "What I want is for you to put up or shut up, Dom," Elijah snaps. "You really want that fake powerplay bullshit? Stop running your mouth and show me, then--"
"Show you?" Dominic laughs, slow and easy, realizing how he's pushing Elijah and undecided yet if he really means to, if he actually wants to watch Elijah lose some of his carefully constructed control. And more, if he really wants to accept the brunt of it. His eyes flicker down Elijah's stomach to between his legs, and Dominic darts his tongue between his teeth. "You're the one sitting there with a hard-on the size of fucking Wales, mate. Look," Dominic pauses, his grin going wide again. "Look what you're showing me."
Seeing a flash of something on Elijah's face, Dominic moves suddenly back onto all fours and advances again on Elijah. "C'mon. Make up and be friends. You want me to shut up and I want to be fucked." Dominic strokes Elijah through his jeans, and leans forward to kiss his neck. "Make me feel something, Elijah. Make me feel anything and I'll do whatever you want."
"Fine," Elijah bites out, rising to his knees and reaching down to grab Dominic's wrist. "Kill two birds with one fucking stone. You want to feel something, and I want you to know it's me you're feeling. And seeing." Dominic stops moving, and Elijah nods again. "You're gonna tell me you love me, Dom, and you're gonna make me believe it. Feel it.”
Dominic watches Elijah quickly unfasten his jeans and free himself, his control returned. Elijah's fingers wrap around his cock, giving the base of his erection a tight squeeze. Dominic's eyes move down Elijah's body, his mind slowed by the drink and the pills, and he tries to force himself to want Elijah for real, to find something about Elijah to love and want more than need. It takes him several long seconds to fumble with his belt and his jeans before he can kick them off and stumble backwards against the tree opposite Elijah, taking his own cock in hand. Dominic bites his lip, twisting and tugging his fingers down his shaft, willing away the thoughts in his head, the way his mind stumbles over the word love almost as much as Elijah's feet had over the rocky ground. "Goddammit," he mutters, his frustration building as he finds it almost impossible to keep himself hard, to fake it, he supposes, until he makes it. His eyes open to see Elijah's own frustration building, punctuated by anger. Dominic opens his mouth to speak, but Elijah rushes him, leaving barely enough space for Dominic to turn, half-facing the tree now and closing his eyes again.
"You can't even fucking pretend," Elijah says, his breath hot at Dominic's ear. "Do what you fucking have to do, Dom; I'm going to."
Dominic nods quickly and shifts, turning fully and bracing his hands against the tree, digging his fingernails into the bark. It hurts and doesn't, the same way the dirt and leaves beneath him both scratch into his knees and yet don't. Elijah's hands land on his hips, and Dominic shivers, vaguely aware of having actually accomplished what he'd wanted, to push Elijah too far. Elijah takes quick, sharp breaths behind him and spits into his hand, and Dominic hisses, knowing this is going to be worse than he'd imagined and hoping that it will be enough to erase everything else.
Elijah's stomach meets Dominic's back, pushing him forward, and Dominic hisses again as his chest hits the tree, the bark tearing at it. A part of him knows that tomorrow he won't remember much about any of this, least of how he took this particular damage, but with effort he might be able to pretend it came from Billy instead of Elijah or anyone else. For now, he feels something lift away from him--as if what he and Elijah are doing is happening to someone else.
He'd wanted this, he reminds himself, and that keeps him from stopping it but also keeps him from enjoying it the way he thought he could. Elijah's doing everything right--if nothing else, he's making Dominic feel something, and feel it hard--and Dominic tries to make himself form the words that would hold up his end of the bargain. He can't, though, and won't, and knowing that won't stop Elijah from continuing doesn't feel like a victory; if anything Dominic feels like he's lost even more ground now, unable to play a role he thought he'd mastered with almost everyone before Billy.
Elijah's almost finished, Dominic can tell; he's sweating as hard as Dominic now, and his thrusts are arrhythmic and heavy, uncoordinated and needy as his body surrenders to something Dominic knows Elijah would never let his heart or mind accept. One harsh movement leaves Dominic's cheek scraped against the tree, and he releases a gasp that seems to break Elijah, stilling him and then pushing him over the edge. Dominic feels the sticky release of it between his own legs as Elijah moves again almost involuntarily, and Dominic ducks his head in relief and frustration, too; at no point did he become fully hard, at no point did he feel anything given instead of simply taken from him. He retreats into himself immediately, shutting down, but unable to find even in his own head the peace he'd demanded for himself afterward with others.
Dominic doesn't know how many minutes pass before Elijah finally pulls out roughly and exhales, weighing heavy on Dominic's back until he regains his strength. It might as well be forever as far as he's concerned, and when Elijah does move Dominic shivers again, aware of the night's chill sweeping over his body. Dominic can hear the mild disgust in Elijah's sigh as he cleans up with whatever he's found in his pockets, and the little grunt he makes as he tugs his jeans back up.
It's minutes more before Dominic smells the scent of smoke drifting around him as Elijah nears him again, the cigarette caught tight between Elijah's lips as he gets closer, more like a curious animal than a friend. Dominic doesn't move; he concentrates instead of keeping his weak hold on the tree and catching his own breath, counting out reasons why it would be just as unsafe to run from here as it is to stay. He flinches only when Elijah's hand rests on his back nervously, the palm flat and then dragging down his spine.
"Hey," Elijah says quietly. "Hey. You okay?"
Dominic doesn't respond--there's no way to answer that one well, much less truthfully. Elijah huffs behind him, and then Dominic hears him scrabbling on the ground again, looking for something else. Before long Dominic feels his own shirt being pushed over his head and down his back, and then Elijah's shifting him backward, getting him on his knees.
"Hey," Elijah says again, this time a little more concerned, a little more frightened. "Come on, Dom. It wasn't that bad. You know you've done a lot worse, right? Made you feel something, didn't I?" Dominic's eyes fly open and Elijah sits back a little until they close again, and then Elijah's hands are on Dominic's face, almost cradling his cheeks if Dominic could believe it actually felt that good.
“I’m sorry, all right,” Elijah says softly, and Dominic tries to shake his head, not wanting to hear it, but it takes too much out of him, forcing him to just comply as Elijah continues, working Dominic's jeans back on his body nervously, too quickly. “You went nuts and you pushed me too far.” Elijah leans closer, until Dominic can feel his warm breath against his skin once more. “You want to go back? Home? I mean back to campus. We'll go back. We'll get something to eat and just go back. To your room, or mine, whatever. Whatever, Dom, just--”
"Home," Dominic whispers, pushing the word from his lips. The sound, barely spoken, ricochets in his brain as though he's shouted. Everything feels thick and dark. There's a dull pain in Dominic's back and he can't seem to open his eyelids though he's aware of something, someone near him. He has a moment of panic, fearing that he's dead or dying--that he won't be able to see Billy again. The last time he'd felt at home was in Billy's. He can imagine Billy's bed, and the way he could so easily fall asleep there, listening to Billy's heartbeat. He can imagine too Billy's reaction to him now, the shock of it, and how Billy would drag him from here, away from Elijah and all of this, if he knew, if he cared as much as Dominic wants to believe he had. "I'm sorry," Dominic rasps. "I just want to go home."
In the morning, Billy would hover restlessly, scolding Dominic furiously but still caring for him, forcing Dominic into bed, if not for the reasons he might once have. He'd build a fire later, after Dominic had rested and promised him everything in exchange for being allowed to stay. He would speak just so Dominic could listen to the sound of his voice. The thought of what those words might be, of Billy's frustration, makes Dominic's stomach churn suddenly, and he crawls forward a few feet before he empties its contents.
Dominic feels Elijah's hands on him again, holding him with short, blunt nails digging again into the skin covering his ribs. Once Dominic's finished, he feels almost human again. Strung out, exhausted, hungry, and ruined but human, if barely.
Elijah helps Dominic to sit up on his knees, and Dominic closes his eyes against the sick on the ground, against the smell that stings his nostrils. The breeze is colder now, brushing against him where Elijah hadn't been able to push his shirt down all the way, and Dominic catalogs the feeling, wishing it better or worse and not this miserable in-between. The sky is darkening, the sun mostly down, and he wonders where the rest of the early evening went before he closes his eyes and leans against Elijah. "I'm sorry," he whispers again. "I want to go home."
"Not with me," Elijah says to the sky, low enough that Dominic chooses not to hear it. "You will, though, Dom. You will."