Current mood:

groggy

Title: Boys’ Night In (part three)
Author: mirith
Group: Dom/Billy/Elijah
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Elijah needs to lose control.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them; they own me. This is completely fictional, but there's a crispy five-dollar bill in it for them if they make it happen.
Warnings: BDSM. Some breath play, which is always dangerous, so don’t do it. Hot men, who are also dangerous, but should be done anyway.
Feedback: The people who write it rule my universe.
Written: 8/30/04-9/13/04
My sister in slash: Is honey lamb sweetie pie lil’ ever-lovin’ jellybean, aka snoopydance4me. Thank you for your support, corrections, and inspired perversity. Love you always.



The world returns to Elijah in stages. First there is scent: earthy, male, heavy with desire. Next comes feel: the warm body sheltering him, the gentle lips against his throat, the fingers—too slim to be Billy’s—caressing his thigh.

“Up you get, princess,” says a voice straight out of Manchester. “Let’s make you tidy.” Footsteps retreat across the carpet. A shower turns on.

Groggily, Elijah lifts his head from the crook of Billy’s shoulder. He presses his mouth to Billy’s neck, then pulls out. He rolls off the recumbent form and on to the bed, where he fixes the ceiling with a grateful stare.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“It was good, wasn’t it?” Billy strokes the younger man’s cheek. “Was it really your first time?”

“With a Scot? Yeah.”

“Daft Yankee.” Billy ruffles his hair. “With a man.”

“Yeah.” Elijah turns his head and licks Billy’s hand. “First time. But not my last.” He has seen Dom ask Billy questions without speaking, and now he searches for the channel that will allow him to do that, because there’s something he wants to know.

“You learn fast,” says Billy, evading the question.

A wet facecloth lands on Elijah’s shoulder with a resounding splat. “Hey. Cuddle-bugs. Rise and shine.” Dom is standing in the doorway to the bathroom.

“Why do we have to bathe him?” Billy wants to know. He nestles his face in Elijah’s armpit and inhales. Elijah can feel Billy’s lips curve in a smile. “I’ve just put all that effort into getting him to smell just right. Come here, smell him.”

“I can smell him from here, thank you. It’s like a screaming army of well-lubed Picts has had him. Now do you want to see him wet or not?”

Billy rises from the bed, then extends a hand to the American. “Come on,” he says. “Let me show you how nice the bath is. The tub is huge.” He pulls Elijah up, places a hand on his back, and squires him to the bathroom. Elijah considers bringing the washcloth, but decides he’d rather use his hands. Or someone else’s.

Dom is now leaning back against the counter, his legs spread. “You,” says Billy, frowning at him. “When are you taking those trousers off?”

“When I have a reason to,” says Dom, his grin the definition of cheeky. He puts his hands in his back pockets and lets his hips roll forward.

Billy sizes up the situation, or perhaps just Dom, and quirks an eyebrow in Elijah’s direction. A week ago, Elijah would merely have returned the gesture, but now he kneels in front of the half-clad man and nuzzles his leather crotch. Dom pulls Elijah closer and grinds against him, moaning.

A few moments pass. “Now,” revises the Englishman. “I’m taking them off now.”

Eager to please, Elijah puts his hand to Dom’s buttons, but the older man swats him away.

“God, no. Don’t make them any tighter on me than you already have. They’ll explode.” He begins to wrestle with the buttons himself.

In terms of “boxers or briefs,” Dom has chosen “C, none of the above,” and Elijah deems it an excellent choice. He hasn’t had time to study Dom’s equipment in detail this evening, because it’s been either in his trousers or down somebody’s throat. But now the last of Dom’s clothing falls to the floor, and Elijah’s mouth goes dry.

“Bottle blond,” Billy remarks, fondly.

“Hush.” Dom swats him on the arm. “I’ll make him lick your armpits out; don’t think that I won’t.”

“Wanker. You love it.” Billy herds Elijah into the rear end of the shower, away from the spray. “And do something about that tongue. I know where’s it been.”

“Right,” snorts Dom. “I’m here with a chain-smoker and a man who eats haggis, and I’m the one who has to do something about his tongue?”

“Yes, you are. Put down my toothbrush. There’s mouthwash on the counter.”

“You just want to get him alone in the shower,” grumbles Dom. He gargles anyway.

Billy climbs into the shower after Elijah and closes the curtain behind him. Water runs down his body in rivulets, caressing his hair, his strong shoulders, his chest. Elijah follows a single drop with his eyes, watching as it shimmers down Billy’s resting cock. Wherever it passes, the skin glistens. When it reaches the tip, Elijah falls to his knees and catches it in his mouth. Billy tastes salty and sweet.

There’s a gasp, then strong hands haul him up by his armpits. “Easy, sweetheart. Not all of us are ready to go after five minutes. Have mercy.”

“Feel free to call for reinforcements,” gurgles Dom.

“You can come in when you’re hygienic.” Billy gives Elijah a smile and a bottle of liquid soap. “Here, keep yourself occupied.”

Elijah slicks his palms with soap, then sets the bottle down on the side of the tub. He slides his arms under Billy’s, then reaches back to soap Billy’s drenched shoulders. They feel hard and smooth against his fingers.

“Is it…,” he begins.

Billy sighs with contentment and sinks a little deeper into the massage. “Yeah. Do it harder.”

Elijah kneads and rubs. The pressure he’s exerting knocks the other man off balance, and he ends up with an armful of wet, naked Billy. And now Elijah is wet too, and whimpering.

“Do NOT let him fuck you again,” instructs a voice from the other side of the shower curtain. “Jesus, I’ve never seen such perverts. I’m putting my trousers away, and when I come back, I want a turn.”

Unfazed, Billy leans back against the shower wall. “Stand in front of me,” he says. Quick to obey, Elijah stands sideways under the showerhead. His skin tingles on the side that is catching the bulk of the spray.

“What do you want to do with me?” asks Billy. “Bearing in mind that I’m not letting you fuck me just now.”

“You could do me,” says Elijah, but he sees the head shake coming before it arrives.

“I have done. Something else.”

His eyes locked on Billy, Elijah picks up the bottle of soap and pumps a generous dollop of the creamy liquid onto his hands. The other man edges closer to him. As he brushes up against Elijah’s body, spray rains down upon him, wetting him from chest to feet. Then he leans back against the shower wall, out of reach of the spray.

“Where are you going?” Elijah asks. In answer, Billy grabs hold of Elijah’s wrist, then places the soapy palm directly on his own dripping chest. The gesture is simultaneously submissive and dominant. Elijah doesn’t know whether to be more thrilled that Billy is offering renewed access to his body, or that he’s directing the action, showing Elijah how and where he wants to be touched.

“Fucking hell,” says the dark-haired man, inadvertently imitating his partner’s speech patterns. As soon as he feels Billy’s heart beating against his hand, he drops the bottle.

“Fast, yeah?”

Elijah nods. Billy’s skin, soft, wet, and lightly furred, is interfering with his ability to speak.

“Put it down to seeing you naked. Let’s see if we can make it faster.”

Slowly, Billy drags Elijah’s hand over his body. Elijah gasps as his slender fingers are made to circle a nipple, and the rosy flesh hardens against his touch.

“That’s it,” murmurs Billy. “Mmm, where will I put you next?” He guides the hand over his rib cage, spreading the soap around. The hand moves where Billy wants it to – his belly, his armpits, his muscular thighs. Everywhere, thinks Elijah, but…

The lure of the sweet, slippery skin is too strong. Elijah pulls out of the other man’s grasp, then uses the successfully extricated hand to hold Billy’s pelvis against the wall. He wraps the other arm around Billy’s neck and grinds his hips against him. Although Billy is not getting any direct spray, water has been reflecting off Elijah’s body and onto him. Elijah licks it from his shoulders, his collarbones, the hollow of his throat.

Licking gives way to sucking. “Fuck, yeah,” moans Billy, and his voice is sin and butterscotch. “Oh fuck, fuck…” Their bodies press against each other, and their mouths meet, separate, and meet again.

Elijah makes stuttering groans in the back of his throat. He pulls back to catch some spray on his tongue, then lets it drizzle from his mouth to Billy’s. The Scot breaks away from the kiss and slides down the length of Elijah’s body, transferring his lather and wetness to the younger man’s chest, belly, legs. Then he slides back up, stopping to nuzzle Elijah’s cock. The younger man closes his eyes and tilts his head back. His lips part in a silent acknowledgement of readiness, and the water trickling down his face spills lewdly into his mouth.

“Now there’s a pretty picture,” states a familiar voice. “Nasssty hobbitses.” Elijah opens his eyes to find that Dom has drawn back the shower curtain in order to get a better view. The younger man looks down, trying to avoid the gaze, but only succeeds in getting an eyeful of his own gleaming hips pressed against Billy’s; his own dark, sopping curls tangling with his partner’s light brown hair.

“Just keeping him warm for you,” says Billy, his fingertip tracing Elijah’s spine.

“You’ve certainly kept him wet,” says Dom. “Back up against the far side of the tub, and take him with you. I’m getting in.”

Billy backs up, as requested, and guides Elijah into position, facing him. Elijah goes willingly, eager for more contact with the other man’s skin. Not waiting for a sign, he pins his lover’s wrists against the wall, then traps him there with his body. Billy moans and shifts. He needs more room to accommodate his growing arousal, and he struggles to get it. Elijah is enjoying the thrashing when he feels a hand stroking his hip from behind.

“I’ve never seen anyone who needs cock more,” says a voice next to Elijah’s ear. “Let’s finish with the washing up. This is going to be a beautiful evening.”

Elijah loses his grip and stumbles backward, partly out of surprise, and partly because, when Dom’s vocal cords are near, the rest of him can’t be far behind. He is rewarded by the feel of sturdy arms closing around his waist.

Dom presses his hardness against the younger man’s cleft. “Is there something you want?”

“Oh, Jesus…” There are many things that Elijah wants, but for now, Dom is soaping him, and Billy is helping. Elijah’s eyes stop focusing, and he gives himself up to it: the teeth at the nape of his neck; the mouth blowing the bubbles from his upper thigh; the slippery, probing fingers exploring him from every direction.

“Unghhh,” manages Elijah, as Dom’s slender fingers penetrate him. Thicker fingers caress the head of Elijah’s cock. “Yeah, good…touch me…ohhhh…”

“You sound like a man who wants to be fucked,” muses Dom, trailing the fingers of his free hand over Elijah’s chest. “Is that what you need? A good, hard working-over?”

“Oh, God, yes…”

“I can’t hear you. The water’s too loud.”

“Yes, please, yes…”

“Complete sentences, Elijah, or I’ll have no idea what you want.”

“Fuck me, Dommie; I need you to fuck me…”

“I can’t fuck just anybody. I have a boyfriend, you know. You’d have to ask him.”

Elijah is very much aware of Dom’s boyfriend, because he’s currently dragging his short, neat fingernails over Elijah’s testicles. “Billy…fuck’s sake…don’t let him keep me on edge…”

“Why not?” Billy wants to know. He moves his hand further back, looking for the spot that will make Elijah gasp. He finds it.

“Because…guhhh…Jesus, Bill…my fucking balls are indigo…”

“I’m looking right at them. They’re a healthy pink.”

“Then…” Elijah wracks his brains. “Because…I’ll…I’ll give it up however he wants it. No, however you want it. Any way you ask me to. You know I will.” He only half-knows what he’s saying, and he’s already leaking pre-come.

“Tempting offer,” Dom remarks.

“I don’t know,” comments Billy. “He’s very tight. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself pushing in.”

“Billy…” Elijah’s pleading is curtailed when Dom drags him backward, under the spray, and the air in his mouth is replaced by water. He sputters, dimly aware that the soap is streaming off him. Billy follows him. Their lips meet, and Elijah no longer needs his own air supply, because Dom’s boyfriend is breathing into him. Wet hands navigate his hips. After a few moments, Billy hauls him back out of the hot spray.

“Right,” he says, unexpectedly businesslike. “Dominic, put the stopper down, and boost the temperature. I wouldn’t want him to catch a chill.”

“Are you sure? You know how pretty he is when his nipples are hard.” Elijah is confident the argument is just for show, because Dom obeys before he even finishes making it.

Billy arranges himself in a sitting position against the far end of the tub, then leans back, legs apart. Elijah recognizes Billy’s gaze as an order, and he eases himself into position, letting his back and ass come to rest against warm, drenched skin.

Dom crawls over Elijah. His arousal is dragging over Elijah’s body, but his eyes are on Billy. “Can I have him?” he asks.

Elijah’s head flops back against Billy’s shoulder, and he feels the Scot nod against his cheek. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“You can fuck him as hard as you like, but you can’t touch him with your hands.”

While Elijah wriggles, the blond considers this. “I can’t…you know…toss him off?”

“No. I can touch him, but neither of us touches him…here.” He gestures toward Elijah’s shuddering length.

Elijah bucks his hips, hoping to rub against the gesturing hand, but Billy is too fast for him. Optimistic, even in defeat, he inches hopeful fingers closer to the center of his body.

“You either,” says Billy. He catches the younger man’s wayward wrists and places them firmly on his own strong thighs.

Stifling a whimper of protest, Elijah grips Billy’s legs. He wants desperately to be stroked, but he knows he has no say in this. Spring will follow winter; the diminished moon will swell; Elijah’s weeping arousal will go untouched.

Now his legs are being pulled forward, and his ass is sliding along the bottom of the tub. “Scoot down,” complains Dom. “I can’t get at your arse if you’re sitting on it.”

“Fucker,” retorts Elijah. “I’m not sure I can cope with all this romance.” He ends up with his back against the floor of the steadily filling tub, and his head lolling against Billy’s upper thigh.

“Beautiful,” murmurs Dom. At first, Elijah thinks he’s returning the sarcasm, but his eyes are serious. For a moment, Elijah sees himself reflected in the other man’s pupils as a blur of pale skin and disorderly limbs. The centerpiece of the image is his own rigid maleness, enlarged by its proximity to Dom’s hungry gaze. It looks as though half his body is cock. That’s also how it feels, and Elijah almost announces that fact out loud.

“So beautiful,” continues Dom. He looks at Elijah from top to bottom, his eyes lingering on the places that want him most. “You’re a fucking seraph.” He picks up one of Elijah’s legs and positions it over his shoulder, then does the same with the other, calmly laying him out for his own pleasure. Elijah shivers. He couldn’t feel more exposed if he were being sold, naked, at a televised auction.

“Easy, sweetheart,” says Billy, and the prone man wonders why he sounds so soothing, like a nurse whose syringe is out of sight.

Wait. Oh. Dom is pressing his erection against Elijah’s hole, and all the lube is in the adjacent bedroom. It might as well be on Neptune, because Dom shows no signs of getting up to find it. Panicking, Elijah makes scrabbling motions against Billy’s legs with his fingertips.

“Don’t take him just yet,” says Billy. “You’re frightening him.”

“Like hell,” says Elijah, but he’s gripping Billy so tightly now that there are white half-moons under his nails. Steaming water licks his sides.

“Lijah. Relax, now. You knew this was coming. Advanced class, remember?”

“I’m relaxing,” lies Elijah. “For Christ’s sake.” His toes wiggle nervously atop Dom’s back.

“I don’t know what he’s afraid of,” Dom protests. “He’s already got an arse full of Scottish spunk. I’ll probably slide right in.”

“Look, I’ll make this easier,” says Billy. “Dommeh, get your cock in his mouth. That way, any spit that you take away ends up in him.”

“Soft-hearted git,” grumbles Dom. “Next time, I fuck him my way.” But he shimmies out from under Elijah’s legs and leans over him, kneeling. With his cock inches from Elijah’s face, he braces his arms against the wall. The flushed head peeks out from its sheath of skin.

“Oh, Jesus, Dom,” moans Elijah, his fear melting into desire. His fetish for uncut men takes control, and his hips lift and sink as though there is already someone inside him.

Dom guides his cock over the younger man’s upper lip, decorating it with the shiny evidence of his lust. Elijah looks up at him through coal-black lashes and, with deliberate submission, runs his taste buds over the impromptu lipstick. He leaves his lips parted when he’s done.

“Want some more?” asks Dom. “Little slut – of course you do. Why am I even asking?” He presses himself into Elijah’s waiting mouth. “Wrap your tongue around it, baby. We can both see you want to taste it.”

Elijah flicks his tongue against Dom’s foreskin, groaning with pleasure as it retracts further. Then he sets to work on the exposed head. The salty liquid he lapped from his own lips has left him drunk, drunker than he was on Billy’s whiskey, and being penetrated by silky flesh only exacerbates his intoxication.

“Yeah…fuck, yeah,” purrs the Englishman. He stretches and shifts, and Elijah’s mouth turns to honey. “Kiss it. Lick it. Give it some affection. It’ll return the favor as soon as I get it in you.”

Just when Elijah thinks it’s going to return the favor now, Billy puts a restraining hand on Dom’s hip. “That’s enough,” he says. “You’re plenty wet with his saliva, and you’re going to be wetter with something else in a minute if you don’t stop rogering his throat.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” mutters Dom, but he withdraws his glistening sex. “Fuck sake,” he marvels, looking down. “Even his spit is pretty.”

“It is,” agrees Billy. “You should wear it to the premiere. Now get behind him. He’s ready.”

Elijah doesn’t dispute anything Billy’s saying, just waits for Dom to get into position, then lifts his legs on to the other man’s powerful shoulders. Dom’s spit-shined hardness presses against his entrance, and he sucks in his breath.

“Steady on, now,” Billy comments, running a protective hand over the younger man’s chest. “Breathe.”

“Tell me you want it,” says Dom. “If you don’t want it, I’m not doing you, no matter what Bills says.”

“I…I want it,” manages Elijah. “Even if you’re not going to use your fingers. Just fucking do me.”

Then Dom pushes into him, and Elijah, impaled on the other man’s desire, breathes very fast indeed. Cloven, he thinks, as his body splits in two. Like a hoof, or a cigarette.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Oh fuck…fuck…fuck…” He’s not sure whether it’s a concession to pain or a plea to continue.

Dom looks from his lover to his boyfriend and back again. The portion of his body that is inside Elijah twitches with lust, but the skin between his eyebrows tightens in concern. The one being taken voices a decision.

“What?” Dom asks, amid the roar of the faucet.

“Harder,” begs the riven man, wrapping his ankles around Dom’s neck. “Fuck me harder.” Startled, Dom glances somewhere above Elijah’s head. Billy must be nodding assent, because Dom pulls halfway out of the offered crevice, then plunges back in.

Liquid heat. It’s in and around the trembling man. Water laps at his nipples, his waist, the rift between his cheeks, his swollen cock. Dom thrusts in and out of him, his hips rising and falling like waves. At first, penetration burns, but it’s exquisite, like the smolder of whisky transferred from a lover’s mouth to his own.

“Oh, Jesus, princess…”

Fiery sword, thinks Elijah. East of Eden, there is an angel with a fiery sword…and its name…its name is…

“Dominic…oh, God…Dominic…” Elijah has never called the object of his lust by his full given name before; that’s something he has left to Billy. But Dom is thrusting hard and shallow, at an angle that would stagger Pythagoras, and Elijah’s world is contracting toward a pulsing core of pleasure that one syllable can’t express. He throws back his head and yowls.

“Lijah,” groans Dom. “Lijah…you feel so fucking good around me…so hot and tight and sweet…You make me want to…”

“Enjoying yourself?” asks Billy, mildly. His cock is about an inch from Elijah’s face. Moaning, the younger man turns his head to lick it. Billy whimpers and runs his fingers over submerged nipples. The water is climbing Elijah’s jawline now, and it ripples every time he moves his mouth.

“Unnnhhh,” Elijah says, his tongue still busy. Half of his head is pressed against Billy, so his stereoscopic vision is shot. With the eye facing Dom, he glances down the length of his own taut, shared body. His cock jerks every time Dom enters him, and his balls are tight against his crotch. He watches Dom’s cock disappear inside him, and shudders as it connects with his needy flesh.

“You fucking gorgeous piece of arse,” Dom moans. “Jesus, God, Bills, look at him. Not one hand on his prick, and he’s ready to shoot.”

“If he doesn’t drown first. Elijah, sweetheart, get your head up.”

“Ahhhhh, Jesus, please…fuck me, Dominic…” If Elijah could hear Billy, he would obey. Instead, he hears his own heart beating against his heaving chest, its thudding percussion the accompaniment to his frenzied vocals. For a while now, he has been clenching down on his lover every time he moves to withdraw. He wants to be good for Dom, wants to lavish him with tightness and heat, wants the shock waves inside him to set off the explosion that’s building in them both.

And now he closes his eyes, because he knows it’s coming. In testament to his building excitement, the dark hair on his arms stands up, and it sways like kelp in the currents created by Dom’s thrashing. He wants nothing to interrupt the sensations, not even his breathing, so he cuts the power to his lungs, like a fisherman stilling a motor. The fluid within him rises, like the fluid without. And now the waters close over his head, and he is sea urchin and sea horse, sailor and siren, liquid and light. He is tsunami, and it’s good, so good, so very fucking good. He crests and swells, and Dominic surfs the curves of his heaving body until foam envelops them both.