Anniversary

Pairing: Ian/Elijah

Disclaimer: Don’t know these people. No offence intended or money made.

Ian was only too aware that his face had taken on a rather startled pout, but there really wasn’t too much he could do about it. He thought he was out of danger, since he had Elijah tucked neatly against his side, arm firmly around the narrow shoulders, but he hadn’t reckoned with Elijah’s left hand, comfortably out of sight of the people around them.

"Stop it," he muttered as he felt Elijah’s fingers run gently across the top of his belt, gradually untucking his shirt. "I will beat you senseless with this bottle if you keep doing that." He tightened his grip around Elijah’s shoulders. "And then I shall cut the circulation off so that your arm falls off."

"Okay," Elijah said mildly, gazing somewhere into the middle distance, as his fingers found warm flesh, and he rested his palm on Ian’s back.

Ian glanced down at him, his eyes warm. "You are going to pay for whatever you do, you understand? Everything you do that you no doubt find deeply amusing will be paid for." He bent down so that his mouth was level with Elijah’s ears. "Drawn out of you in moans and whimpers."

"Okay," Elijah said again, less focused this time, his shoulders tightening slightly. As Ian straightened up, Elijah turned and found himself very handily placed to reach a nicely erect nipple. All he would have to do is lean forward…

"Don’t even think it," Ian said softly. "If you move one inch closer to me, I will tell Karl what you said about him last night."

"What?" Karl, stirred out of his trance by the sound of his name, glanced over. "What?"

"Nothing," Ian said smoothly. "I was just about to ask whether you knew what time it is."

Karl glanced at his wrist where his watch should be, and shrugged, holding his arm out so that the lack of watch was obvious to both Ian and Elijah.

"Never mind," Ian said. "I’m sure it doesn’t matter." He tightened his arm around Elijah again. "I expect it’s time we were doing something, eh?" With a smile and nod to Karl, he led Elijah away, laughing softly as Elijah’s hand hastily extricated itself from the waistband of Ian’s trousers, smoothing down somewhat rumpled cotton, before coming to rest lightly around his waist.

"So, what do we have to do?" Elijah asked. "Go and smile brightly at somebody? I can do that, see?" He smiled widely and Ian chuckled. "Or I could go and pout at somebody…" Again, Elijah twisted his face into a ridiculous caricature of an expression, and again, Ian laughed.

"Don’t laugh, I was being serious," Elijah said. "Did you know it’s our anniversary today? Did you buy me flowers? Noooo. Did you write me a romantic poem? Doubtful. Did you even agree to do that thing with the flowers and the jar of honey that I think would be really hot? Again, noooo, because it will hurt your back. ‘I’m not as young as I once was,’" Elijah stuck his tongue out, and then subsided.

"What anniversary?" Ian asked into the silence. "I’ve only known you five minutes."

"Six weeks," Elijah said mournfully. "Six weeks since you enticed me, young, innocent and quivering, into your bed."

"Quivering?" Ian asked. "Come to that, innocent?"

"Young, then," Elijah answered. "Not necessarily quivering and innocent."

"I’ll agree with young. Is it really only six weeks?"

"I have the date circled in red in my journal," Elijah said seriously, waving at Dom and Billy, and pulling away from Ian. "I’m going to talk to my hobbits now. Cousins, or something." He began to walk away, and then turned to face Ian. "With a heart."

Ian admired the view for a second as Elijah walked away, and then called his name. Elijah turned to face him, but kept walking, which made Ian wince.

"Seriously?"

"Look at my face," Elijah said. "How much honesty can one person project?" Then he grinned, and waggled his fingers, before turning and breaking into a jog to catch up with his fellow hobbits.

*

Elijah spent the rest of the day with his hobbits, although he was never really out of Ian’s sight for long, and, more than once, Ian found himself distracted by the sight. Young – painfully young – and so beautiful that it was a privilege to see him. But it was more than that – it always had been, since the first day they had met. Elijah loved life; he embraced it with gusto, and it was almost impossible not to be dragged along in his wake as he reeled from one adventure to another.

The very first day they had met, Elijah had taken Ian’s hand and led him around the set, pointing out his co-stars and telling scurrilous tales of Orlando and the lady Orc, and what they had done that had ruined Legolas’ costume. All the time, he had kept hold of Ian’s hand, and Ian was charmed – and something more – by the openness and warmth of this young man.

And after that, things had moved so quickly that Ian still wasn’t sure his feet had touched the ground. From shy touches to open flirting, and then onto spending days together, ending them with long, goodnight kisses. And then the goodnight kisses had developed into more … Ian closed his eyes, heaving a huge sigh … and now Elijah’s body was his, to do with as he wished.

It was a long day.

*

"I could, of course, recite you a sonnet," Ian said as he opened the front door, preceding Elijah into the hallway. "’Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day…’"

"Oh, please don’t," Elijah mock-groaned. "Because then I would have to kill you." He brushed past Ian and made for the kitchen, opening the fridge and leaning down, offering Ian a very enticing view. "Do you want something to drink? Tea?"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

"Well, you know where the kettle is." Elijah leaned into the fridge to pick up a bottle of water, and then closed the door, leaning against it as he opened the bottle and took a long drink.

Ian stood just inside the doorway and watched the muscles of Elijah’s throat move as he swallowed, watched the way his lips wrapped around the bottle, and gave in to impulse.

He covered the distance between them in three long strides, and before Elijah had time to react, had pulled the bottle out of his hand, putting it on the counter next to the fridge, then he pulled Elijah to him and kissed him, hard and possessively, making Elijah grunt and splutter slightly, before giving in and opening his mouth. Elijah tasted of the water he had just drunk, cool and clear, with the ever-present underlying hint of cloves.

Pulling away, Elijah banged his head on the refrigerator door and very obviously thought about swearing, before deciding it would ruin the moment.

"So, you feeling all manly tonight? Want to do a bit of claiming?" He ran his hands over Ian’s chest, his fingers tangling in the shirt buttons, pausing, but not stopping.

In answer, Ian cupped Elijah’s face and looked at him for a moment, before dipping down and kissing him, gently, tongue softly parting Elijah’s lips then delving inwards, tasting him again. Elijah sighed in pleasure and yielded completely, his fingers pausing for a moment before taking up their steady stroking rhythm once more.

"Do you really want tea?" Elijah asked finally, breaking the kiss more from a need to breathe than anything else."

"What I’d really like to do is to sweep you up in my arms and carry you off into the bedroom, but I’d probably slip and disc or concuss you against the doorframe. So it’s probably safer if we make our way separately to the bedroom."

"Okay. In a second." Elijah began to unfasten the top button of Ian’s shirt. "Been wanting to do this all day." He kissed the flesh revealed, before moving onto the next button. "Been watching you, talking to all the important people and behaving like some tight-assed British stereotype, and do you know what I kept thinking?" He had the fourth button unfastened, and was half crouched so that he could reach the appropriate area with his tongue.

"No, what?" Ian asked, one hand on Elijah’s head, fingers stroking softly through the dark hair. "I was watching you as well."

"I know." Elijah’s voice was slightly muffled. "Most of the stuff I did today was designed to make sure you saw me. That’s why I was loud, you know? So that you would look, and laugh." He glanced up. "I like making you laugh." He unfastened the final button and untucked Ian’s shirt, his hands fisting themselves into the soft cotton.

"I like it, too," Ian said. "Very much." He leaned forward, one hand against the refrigerator, watching as Elijah’s head dipped still lower. "And I like what you’re doing now," he continued. "But I want you in bed, naked, not on your knees like this."

"Why not?" Elijah straightened up. "You like it when I do that."

"I do indeed," agreed Ian. "But I also like it when you are in bed, and, after all, it is our anniversary. I must owe you something by way of apology."

"That’s true," Elijah agreed. "But not a poem, okay?"

"No, not a poem."

He didn’t realise that Elijah hadn’t told him what he had been thinking.

*

Ian sat on the edge of the bed and watched, a small smile on his face, as Elijah stood just out of range.

"Here," Ian said, beckoning. "Closer."

Elijah smiled and took an apparently reluctant step closer, then another, until he was close enough for Ian to suddenly reach out and take hold of a handful of shirt, pulling him closer, making him stagger and put his hands on Ian’s shoulders for balance.

Ian pushed Elijah’s shirt up and out of the way, taking countless layers with it, before resting his lips against pale, warm flesh.

"Mmm," Elijah, sighed his approval, and pushed into the touch. "That’s nice." He sighed again as Ian’s hand slid around until Elijah could feel them in the small of his back, forcing him closer, until he was forced to shift awkwardly, glancing down so that he could keep control of his feet. He ended up straddling Ian.

"Sit down," Ian whispered, pulling away from Elijah’s tempting skin. "Please."

Elijah did as he was told, shifting until he was almost kneeling on the bed, his legs either side of Ian’s thighs, their bodies pressed tightly together. He moved his hips experimentally, and was rewarded with a soft grunt and a reciprocal shifting. He lowered his head and kissed Ian, at the same time sliding the shirt from his shoulders, and pushing into him so that they were both lying on the bed.

"Hi," Elijah said, his lips nuzzling at the point just under Ian’s jaw which was always guaranteed to send him out of his mind. "I’m kinda stuck right now. In fact, if you were standing behind me, I would be presenting a really easy target."

Ian’s hands were on Elijah’s back again, pulling at the hem of his shirt, then scraping his nails softly over skin, just enough to make Elijah squeak and pull back.

"Take off your shirt," Ian said, pushing at Elijah’s shoulders, and Elijah willingly sat up and dragged his shirt and assorted layers over his head, throwing the bundle of clothing over his shoulder and hardly wincing when it hit something that clunked. Reaching down, he picked up Ian’s hands and placed them on his belly, keeping his own over them, and pressing down, he began to move his hips again, the layers of clothing between them making it a sweet torment.

"Six weeks," he said, his breathing beginning to speed up. "Feels like six years, or six minutes. I never thought, you know? Never thought that you’d be interested."

"What?" It was almost enough to distract Ian from the enticing pressure in his groin, from the smoothness of the skin beneath his palms. "What do you mean?"

Elijah shrugged. "Well, you know. You’re so experienced and lordly, and whatnot, I’m just a farm boy from Iowa – ah." He pushed Ian’s hands down until they were against the rough denim of his crotch, and Ian’s fingers curled as much as possible around the wonderful hardness he could feel.

"Whatnot? If you insist." Ian squeezed slightly, and Elijah’s head tipped back as he gasped, his hips starting to move more strongly now.

Ian unzipped Elijah’s jeans and pushed them down as far as his restricted position would allow, his fingers brushing over sparse pubic hair. He could feel the heat radiating from Elijah’s cock, but couldn’t quite reach it. With a frustrated grunt, he arched his back and pushed until Elijah slid from his perch onto the bed, where he was divested of the remainder of his clothes in short order, then wriggled backwards on the bed as Ian removed his own trousers before climbing on the bed with him, settling between Elijah’s upraised knees, both of them flinching, then smiling as highly-sensitised flesh met.

Reaching between them, Ian took hold of Elijah, stroking him firmly, bringing him close to the edge, watching as Elijah’s body began to shake, his eyes close. He only stopped when Elijah’s head tipped back so far that his back began to arch, which was a sure sign that he was close.

"What?" Elijah said breathlessly. "Why’d you do that?"

"Because I like to see it," Ian answered, his lips just brushing the corner of Elijah’s mouth. "Because there is nothing on this earth that can match the sight of you when you are like this." He squeezed again, and Elijah groaned, his legs shifting to wrap around Ian’s back, his ankles locking.

"Look at you," Ian said softly, moving his lips to Elijah’s ear, his tongue stealing out to trace the delicate whorls. "So beautiful, so young, with a spirit that can move mountains. You harness that spirit, my darling boy, and you will rule this world."

"With you?" Elijah ground out, trying to pull away from Ian’s tongue, and push into it at the same time. "Want you as well." He moved his hips, pushing into Ian’s grip, and making Ian catch his breath.

Elijah’s hands went into Ian’s hair, anchoring him in place, his breathing taking on a strange, harsh sound, almost begging. "Want this. Want you." His hips moved faster, and again, his body began to shake, and this time, Ian didn’t hold him back or try and stop him. He pulled back as much as he could, and watched as Elijah came, eyes wide open but seeing nothing, his fingers tightening in Ian’s hair to the point of pain.

As it faded, Elijah turned his head and kissed Ian, or at least let Ian kiss him, his own motor functions temporarily out of order, and Ian did what was expected of him, kissing him and calming him, bringing him back.

"Oh, Jesus," Elijah finally managed. "you just … kill me." With a groan, he relaxed his legs, laughing without sound as Ian took a huge breath of relief, and then he slid his hands between them, grimacing slightly at the sticky mess he found there.

"What do you want?" he asked, his hands gripping Ian and stroking softly. "Tell me."

Ian, his own erection painful in its hardness, moved his hips in a way that made his need perfectly clear, and Elijah nodded. "That’s what I hoped you’d say."

With a groan, Ian pulled away and watched as Elijah, with a half-hearted swipe at his belly, shifted even further onto the bed, and turned over, smiling over his shoulder at Ian, knowing exactly the effect this view had.

He rested his head on his folded arms, and listened as Ian bustled around, collecting what was needed. Even so, he still jumped slightly as Ian’s body covered his, warming him when he didn’t even realise he was cold.

"Happy?" Ian said, his breath tickling Elijah’s neck, and Elijah nodded, pushing back as he felt Ian’s cock against his ass, wanting to feel it inside him. "Get ready, then."

He didn’t like the feeling of lube, never had, but Elijah wasn’t stupid enough to want to do without, and so he concentrated on Ian’s fingers inside him, teasing him and stretching him, making him comfortable, and then the brief, horrible emptiness, before the welcome burn of pain, settling to the feeling of fullness and rightness. He grunted, and lay still, while his body accustomed itself to intrusion.

Above him, Ian held all his weight on his hands, watching the tremors run up Elijah’s back, unable to resist glancing down and seeing himself buried up to the hilt in hot, willing flesh. He trembled himself then, almost undone before he had started.

Elijah gave a small twitch of the hips, no more than a slight pressing backwards, but it was enough of a sign, and Ian slowly began to move, his eyes closing at the sensations running through him. But keeping his eyes closed was a bad move, because then he could hear and feel; hear Elijah’s soft, breathy moans of approval, and the obscene squelching of flesh meeting flesh; feel the glorious suppleness of the flesh around him, feel the sweat forming on his body.

It was almost as if he was outside his own body, looking in; he could see them, joined in this most intimate and primitive way, his hips pistoning as he strove towards release; his skin blotching red with desire. He could see Elijah, his body moving helplessly with each stroke, his hands wrapped in the now-ruined sheets, his mouth open in what could almost be called a sneer.

With a wordless cry, he came, his back hollowing, his body slamming forward one last time, wringing an echoing cry from Elijah, and then he sagged forward, having just enough presence of mind, to fall sideways, rather than straight onto the figure below him.

As his heart began to slow, and the sweat began to dry on his body, he heard a stirring next to him, and reaching out blindly, he pulled Elijah to him in a wordless hug.

He felt Elijah’s head rest against his chest, and again he stroked dark hair, sweaty now after their exertions. Ian forced his eyes open and kissed the top of Elijah’s head.

"Happy anniversary, Elijah." He glanced down, just as Elijah glanced up.

"Ian?" Even naked and replete, Elijah managed to look innocent. "It’s not our anniversary."

"Do you really think that I don’t know, to the very second, when we first met, talked, kissed? There isn’t a thing we have done that I can’t pin down to an exact time." He kissed Elijah. "This isn’t an anniversary of anything, I know that." He paused, and smiled. "But happy anniversary anyway."

The End

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