Teaching Elijah 3
Pairing: Ian/Elijah
Disclaimer: Don’t know these people. No offence intended or money made.
I'm in hell, Elijah decided. I did something terrible in a previous life, and this is my punishment. He sighed and looked down at his feet - well not his feet; Frodo's feet, hairy and dirty and beginning to come away at the ankle. Elijah blew out a despondent lungful of smoke and then ground out his cigarette, probably damaging the prosthetic, but finding it hard to care for a bit of latex.
Two days. Two days since he had woken up in the warmth and security of Ian's bed after one of the best night's sleep he could remember. He had reached out an arm expecting warm flesh but had met only cool cotton, and just as he had opened his mouth to call Ian's name, the older man had appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, a tray in his hands. Elijah had sighed and collapsed back onto the mattress.
"You should never start work without having something decent to eat," Ian had said, setting the tray down before sitting on the bed next to Elijah, one hand resting on his shoulder, the fingers slowly clenching and unclenching - not quite stroking, but not still.
"What time is it?" Elijah had asked, doing his best to appear indifferent to the soft touch.
"Four. The car will be here soon. How are you, dear boy? Did you sleep well?"
"Very well." Elijah had taken Ian's free hand and placed it on his belly, under the baggy t-shirt, then covered it with both his own hands and smiled.
"Sleep soft," Ian had muttered, making Elijah frown and ask a silent question. "You're sleep soft. You haven't got your sharp edges on yet," Ian explained. "It's the one time when people are at their most vulnerable, when they've just woken." Then he had moved his hand softly on Elijah's belly, and lowering his head had kissed Elijah's chest, through the t-shirt, making Elijah flinch and giggle sleepily.
"Do I get another lesson tonight?" he had asked, surprised and disappointed when Ian had shaken his head. "Why not?"
"Because our next step will be a big one," Ian had answered seriously. "And I want to give you time to think whether you want it to happen."
*
And Elijah had been thinking of little else for the past two days. Days he had spent on his own, separated from all his friends, while he did the loathed blue screen work. They were all in the huge studio, some of them doing motion capture, others working on blue screen in a separate part of the building. But he was effectively alone.
A big step, he thought as his ankle was strapped up for the millionth time that day in order for him to be thrown about above some not very soft looking blue mats. How big a step? What?
"Ow, fuck!" He glared at Adam, the guy in charge of fastening him into the various harnesses he had to wear. "That hurt!" He rubbed his ankle.
"Sorry," Adam apologised. "You okay?"
"Course I am," Elijah smiled. "Over-reacted there. Sorry." He moved his hand and watched as the thick band was tightened.
It was only when he was upside down, starting to feel dizzy as the blood rushed to his brain that he had any respite from the workings of his mind.
*
He was sitting with Sean and Billy as they ate their lunch when he next saw Ian. He was in the middle of a long story involving swinging upside down and the effect it had on various parts of your body, when a hand on his shoulder made him jump.
"Aren’t you eating, Elijah?" Ian’s voice was smooth and Elijah could feel himself reacting. "You should eat."
"No," he answered, his voice remarkably calm. "I’ll end up throwing up if I eat."
"But you have to eat!" Sean looked at Ian pleadingly. "I’ve been trying to get him to have some lunch, but he just won’t shift. Can’t you use your wizardly powers or something?"
"Sean dear, I’m not really a wizard, you know." Ian sat next to Elijah.
"No, and I’m not really a fat hobbit," replied Sean. "You know what I mean. Persuade him."
"Hmmm, how to persuade him, that’s the question." Ian gazed off into the distance, appearing to think deeply about the problem.
"Oh, quit it!" Elijah laughed. "I’m not eating, and that’s an end to the whole thing. I bit one poor guy’s head off this morning; how do you think it would go down if I barfed all over him as well?"
"No, I’m sorry, this won’t do." Ian stood up. "Elijah, come along. We’ll find you something that you want." Without looking back he led the way to the huge array of food dishes, leaving Elijah to follow in his wake.
"What’s that all about?" he hissed as soon as he was in range. "You trying to make me look stupid or something?"
"Far from it, dear boy," replied Ian, picking up a pasta salad and nodding towards an empty table. "I was wondering how you are, that’s all."
"Well you know, you could call me and ask. Or you could invite me over and find out for yourself." Elijah planted himself, not very good naturedly, opposite Ian. "Haven’t I learned patience yet?"
"Have you thought about what the next step should be?" asked Ian, not answering the question. "Have you thought where we’re going to take this?"
"You know where I want to take it," Elijah answered, keeping his voice down, even though nobody was in hearing distance. "Ian, please… do you want me to beg you or something, because I will." He looked around, spotting Sean looking at him. He waved and grinned and then turned back to Ian. "I miss what we did. I liked waking up in your bed, and I want more of that. And more of everything." He looked up at Ian, only too aware of how desperate he was sounding, and smiled. Ian was looking at him with such understanding and affection that he suddenly didn’t feel like a kid who had just embarrassed himself.
"Don’t ever beg, Elijah, unless you want to," Ian said. "How long before you have to be back?"
"About an hour."
Ian stood up. "Come with me, then."
*
"Where are we going?" Elijah tried to stop himself whining, but it wasn’t easy. He had followed Ian like a faithful puppy for what seemed like hours and all they had done, as far as he could tell, was trudge along corridors, not actually getting anywhere.
"Here," Ian answered, opening a door and ushering Elijah in. It was a small studio, rarely used; there was no risk of being discovered. "Sit."
Elijah sat, feeling small and hobbity and just a little bit vulnerable as Ian, Gandalf-ed to the nines, stood in front of him. He tried not to speak, just knowing that he would sound like a child.
"It’s been two days, and now I’m not even allowed to touch you." Then he clapped his hand over his mouth to try and stop himself saying anything further.
"When did I ever say you couldn’t touch me?" asked Ian, settling himself on a chair on the opposite side of the room to Elijah. "What I told you was that you had to think about the next step because it will be a big one."
"I know, and I don’t understand. Whatever we do will be great; why can’t we just, you know, go ahead?" He stood up and began to pace around the small room, hands reaching out to play with switches and dials, before pulling back. "The suspense is killing me!" he finally declared, and Ian laughed.
"Dear boy, tell me something. If I touched you now, right now, what would you do? I don’t mean touch you intimately, simply touch you, like this…" And Ian reached out and ran a hand down Elijah’s arm.
Elijah stopped as if he had run into a brick wall, completely unprepared for the feelings that coursed through him.
"Fuck," he finally managed to say, rubbing at his arm where Ian had touched him. "What was that about?" It felt as if every nerve in his arm was tingling. "You are a wizard, aren’t you? You’ve got magic fingers."
Ian waggled his fingers about dramatically, and then shook his head.
"No, I haven’t got ‘magic fingers,’ as you put it. Do you remember what we did when you came round for dinner?"
"Yes."
"What did we do? Tell me."
"You… touched me. We kissed and you touched me. You said you were making me used to being touched." He paused. "And then I slept in your bed. With you."
"Your body remembers the touch," Ian said gravely. "It wants more. Are you sure you want it? Completely sure?" He paused and studied Elijah’s still somewhat confused face. "Because this time I will touch you … intimately."
Elijah could feel his heart speeding up at Ian’s words, the tone of his voice. He could still feel Ian’s gentle hands on him, and his groin tightened pleasurably at the thought of taking it further. He took a step towards Ian, but was halted by the look on his face.
"No. Not here, dear boy." He stood up. "It’s time we went back to work." He stopped very close to Elijah, so close that he could feel the tremendous heat coming off the young man. Heat and energy and youth. A heady combination.
Elijah tipped his head back so that he could see Ian, his eyes huge and dark, his lips parted and moist. Most unhobbitlike. Ian could feel his body reacting, and it was only with a huge amount of willpower that he kept himself from cupping the perfect face in his hands and kissing that full mouth.
"When?" Elijah’s voice was breathy and tight. "Please… when?"
"We’ll go out somewhere tomorrow," Ian said. "I know the place."
"What about tonight? Why can’t I see you tonight?" Elijah was practically vibrating with tension.
"Because you're going out with Orlando and Billy tonight, remember? You're planning some kind of revenge on Dominic." Ian smiled. "I may be old, dear boy, but at least my memory's not going. Unlike yours." He stepped back and nodded towards the door. "Go out, enjoy yourself. And tomorrow we'll take up where we left off."
"Do I at least get a kiss?" asked Elijah, visibly trying to relax.
"No," replied Ian. "I'm not sure Gandalf should go around kissing Frodo. There's something - odd - about that."
"You are a tease, old man." Elijah started to smile, and the smile became a grin. "But I'll get my revenge on you."
"I look forward to it, dear heart."
*
It took Elijah a long second to realise that the aggravated wasp flying around his room was in fact the phone ringing, and another eternity to actually find it, since he tended to throw the handset onto whatever handy surface he could find. As a result, he spent a great deal of time trying to locate it.
"’Lo what?" he snapped, not pleased at being woken at the ungodly hour of - he checked the clock by the bed - oh.
"Good afternoon, Elijah." Ian’s voice, as smooth as honey, brought the previous day’s events roaring back, and every bit of Elijah’s ill temper vanished in a wave of what could possibly be called, well, lust.
"Hi," he replied, clambering out of bed and going to the window, squinting as he pulled the blind to one side. "How are you?"
"I’m as fine as can be expected, bearing in mind that I’m sitting in a car on a blazing hot day. A car without air conditioning, which quite frankly is nothing short of a sin in this day and age. And yourself?"
Elijah began to smile. "Fine."
"That’s marvellous then. We’re both fine. And now, would you like to get yourself out of that pit of a bed, have a shower, generally spruce up, and get your pert little backside out here within the next, oh 10 minutes or so? Any longer than that and I’m afraid I shall melt away to nothing."
"Where are you?" Elijah peered out of his window but couldn’t see any sign of Ian.
"If you would open your front door we could perhaps wave." Ian laughed and then obviously decided that he had played the old queen for long enough. "Come on, Elijah. Time for your lesson."
Elijah hung up, revelling in the way that one simple word made him feel. After one of the fastest showers in history, he flung open his front door, sunglasses firmly in place, and smiled at Ian, seated in a red sports car, reading a broadsheet, a hat keeping the worst of the sun from his face.
"At last!" Ian carefully folded up his paper and then threw it into the backseat. "In." He leaned across and opened the passenger door, and Elijah obediently slid into the seat.
"How are you really?" asked Ian, his voice slipping into the deep, calm tone Elijah loved to hear. "Second thoughts?"
"No," Elijah answered immediately. "None. Where are we going?"
"Up into the mountains, I thought. Just a little way. I’ve taken the liberty of packing us some provisions …" He gestured over his shoulder at a huge picnic basket, which, when Elijah opened one corner, proved to be packed with bread, cheese and fruit, with a bottle of champagne nestling safely in its own compartment.
"Champagne?" Elijah asked. "You’re not telling me that you’ve taken up drinking?"
"You’ll see," Ian replied mysteriously. He put a hand on Elijah’s leg and smiled. "I would very much like to kiss you," he said. "Would you mind?"
"I could stand it." Elijah leaned over and Ian gently reached forward and kissed him, soft and sweet, his tongue delving briefly into Elijah’s mouth, making Elijah lean further into the embrace.
"Now, no more," Ian said, pulling back. "The last thing either of us needs is to be all over the front page of some ghastly tabloid tomorrow morning."
"How about a non-ghastly tabloid?" Elijah sat back, feeling slightly giddy and silly.
"No such thing, believe me. And only use the word ‘ghastly’ if you’re speaking with an English accent. It’s not a word to be used successfully with any other accent."
"Snob." Elijah muttered, turning his head away from Ian.
"Or that one. You are going to go back to America with the strangest vocabulary. An American accent and very English words. I blame Monaghan."
"Most people do," Elijah agreed.
"But then, that’s because it’s usually his fault." With that Ian put the car into gear and pulled smoothly away.
*
It was a beautiful day, and Elijah relaxed in his seat as the car sped smoothly along the road leading out of town. He jumped slightly as he felt the soft pressure of Ian’s hand on his thigh, but relaxed almost immediately, tensing his leg slightly and then relaxing the muscles. It felt nice. This was going to work out just - well, there was a good chance that it was going to be neat.
*
Ian stopped the car in a secluded little clearing and then, demanding Elijah carry the heavy picnic basket, led them a little way into the trees where, much to Elijah’s delight and amazement, the woods had formed a beautiful natural dell, full of soft grass and dappled sunlight.
"Oh man, this is gorgeous!" he said, putting the basket on the grass and executing a full turn, trying to take in all his surroundings at once.
"Viggo told me about it." Ian was digging in the basket, and finally produced a blanket, which he spread on the ground. "He spends a lot of time tramping through these woods." He paused. "There’s a joke there, but I can’t quite find it." He patted the blanket. "Come and sit down with me."
Elijah did as he was told, reaching over to poke about in the basket, before having his hand slapped away.
"Honestly, the young are always hungry," laughed Ian. "Do you have a patient bone in your body?"
"Yes." Elijah was surprised to discover that Ian’s casual comment had stung. "But I’m only 19, you know? I can’t be expected to just sit on my ass and wait for things to come to me."
"I thought age wasn’t an issue with you?" Ian checked behind him and then leaned against a fallen branch, his gaze level and piercing.
"It isn’t." Elijah swallowed anything else he may have wanted to say and threw himself down next to Ian, resting his head in the older man’s lap. "This another of your lessons? Patience? Any second now you’ll give me two rags and go and tell me to clean your car."
"Pardon? Oh, never mind." Ian ran his fingers idly through Elijah’s hair. "Calm down, all right? Remember how you enjoyed the silence the other night? Just lie still for a minute and listen again."
Elijah closed his eyes and relaxed as Ian continued to stroke his hair, sighing as the fingers started to wander, gentling down his face and across his lips.
They stayed like that for a long time, Elijah half asleep, his head in Ian’s lap, whilst Ian’s soft voice told him ridiculous stories of his youth, shamelessly dropping names from a great height. They weren’t all recognisable to an American teenager, but there were enough familiar names mentioned to make Elijah laugh out loud on more than one occasion.
He was startled out of his doze when Ian shifted suddenly.
"What?"
"Nothing," Ian assured him. "Just stay there."
Elijah did as he was told and grinned hugely at the sound of champagne cork being popped. There was a moment of brief fussing, and then Ian’s voice, deeper this time, more seductive.
"Try this. I don’t imagine you’ve ever tasted this."
"It’s a strawberry, Ian. We have them in my country, you know." Elijah yelped as Ian flicked the tip of his nose, and obediently opened his mouth. The taste exploded on his tongue and up his nose, and he sat up, spluttering.
"You were saying?" Ian said placidly.
"That’s… that’s …. fuck me!" Elijah paused. "What is it?"
"It’s a strawberry, dear boy, as you so cleverly noticed. "But it’s been dipped in champagne, and that makes all the difference." As Elijah watched, Ian dunked the remains into the champagne and, eyes firmly fixed on Elijah, slowly put it into his mouth. Then, without pause he reached out and hooked a hand around Elijah’s neck, pulling him until their mouths were crushed together. Elijah, one hand on Ian’s thigh to steady himself, decided that he had never tasted anything so wonderful as strawberries, champagne and Ian.
"Tell me the second you want me to stop, do you understand?" Ian whispered seriously, pushing Elijah away and stroking the long throat with gentle fingers. "I refuse to take this past the point where you want to stop."
"I know…" Elijah tipped his head back so that his neck was accessible to more than Ian’s fingers, and couldn’t help the noises he began to make; breathy gasps, almost whimpers, the hand not on Ian’s thigh reaching out and looking for a handhold. Ian reached out and took it, holding Elijah still as he worked on the pale flesh.
"Oh, fuck!" Elijah pulled away and knelt back, looking at Ian out of eyes that would barely focus. "How long is this going on for?" He put both hands against the bulge in his jeans, rubbing hard. "Kissing is just fine and dandy, don't get me wrong, but ... I'm going cross eyed here."
"I thought you wanted to take your time?" Ian asked, smiling slightly and trying to ignore the painful evidence of his own arousal. He reached out and pulled Elijah close, kissing him again, then forced him onto his back on the blanket. "Next step."
He slowly unfastened Elijah's shirt, watching the goosebumps appear in the relatively chill air, then pushed the sides apart, letting his fingers trail over the smooth pale skin. "I would like to point out that I haven't - frolicked - in the open air for a long time. However, for you I think I can make an exception."
"Oh, I think a frolic is a very good idea at this point," Elijah agreed, somewhat breathlessly, his hips lifting off the ground as Ian's fingers trailed under the waistband of his jeans. "I'm all for a good frolic. People say to me - oh god! - 'Elijah,' they say, 'you look like the type who likes to frolic.'"
"Dear boy, do shut up." Ian shifted until he was on his knees and reached for the champagne. "Now, one of the best uses of this little beverage is this..." And he tilted the bottle slightly so that a dribble of liquid landed in the centre of Elijah's chest, immediately running in all directions. Ian leaned down and lapped at the amount that had pooled in the hollow of Elijah's throat, revelling in the half moan/half gasp it produced. Then he ran his tongue down Elijah's sternum before quickly taking a drink of the champagne and latching onto a firm, brown nipple.
There really was no word for the noise Elijah made as he arched off the ground. The warmth of Ian's tongue and the fizzy alcohol combined to cause a short circuit in his synapses and for a second he honestly forgot how to breathe. When Ian repeated the treatment on the other nipple, he felt something deep inside tremble and his hands clenched into fists against the blanket.
Another mouthful of champagne, and Ian slid his tongue down Elijah's belly before quickly reaching up and kissing him, the last of the alcohol dribbling from his mouth into Elijah's. Elijah was almost past coherent thought, his cock pressing against the zip of his jeans, his hands cramping as they clenched harder and harder into the blankets, his thighs shaking as his arousal grew.
"You," Ian said softly, pulling back and cupping Elijah's face in his hands, "are a wonderful plaything. So responsive.." He dipped his head for another kiss, and this time Elijah managed to get his hands out of the blanket and wrapped in Ian's shirt instead.
"Please," he whispered, his mouth against Ian's. "Please." He pulled Ian's shirt open, forgetting about the buttons in his haste, and ran his hands across the surprisingly firm flesh. He hadn't been too sure what to expect, and was more than pleased at what he found. He moved his head, and kissed Ian's chest, his tongue catching and suckling a nipple while his hands slid around Ian's back, fingers digging into flesh.
Ian enjoyed the sensation for a long minute and then pulled Elijah away, watching the way he hunted blindly for what was being denied him, eyes tight closed, mouth questing.
Like a baby. The thought flashed across Ian's mind but was ruthlessly quashed. This was no baby in his arms; this was a wriggling, needy young man, desperate for release.
"Tell me what you've done, what you know," he whispered, settling Elijah back on the blanket. Elijah's eyes were still tightly closed, his hands clenching and unclenching, his hips moving. The perfect picture of wanton desperation. Ian took the opportunity to shift his position slightly - old bones weren't made for this sort of behaviour, but he was being swept along by Elijah's naked desire and couldn't help himself.
"Nothing, not with men." Elijah shifted his hips. "Just handjobs with men, nothing else." He opened his eyes and reached for Ian. "I want it all."
"And you shall have it." Ian kissed Elijah again. "But you have to calm down first. Just lie here." He pulled Elijah into his arms, holding the quivering, tension filled body close.
Elijah buried his face in the crook of Ian's neck trying to remember how to breathe. His whole body felt as if was on fire, all nerve endings tingling. It did feel different, having a man touch him, it felt right, and he knew that he had made the right choice when he had asked Ian to teach him. He could feel Ian’s hand running down his back, soothing and calming him, and for the first time in his 19 years, he realised that, frustrated as he was, and much as he wanted to come, he wanted this more. The quietness and stillness that seemed to surround Ian served to calm him, and although he was still hard, still needy, he was able to finally raise his head and kiss Ian’s cheek.
"Can we continue the frolic now?" he asked.
Ian smiled. "With pleasure. But not here." He cupped Elijah’s face. "I want to see you come, dear boy. I want you on my bed, and I want to watch you." He glanced around. "Let’s tidy all our debris away and then I’m taking you home."