Teaching Elijah 9
Pairing: Ian/Elijah
Disclaimer: Don’t know these people. No offence intended or money made.
Ian watched as Elijah polished off the food in front of him, shovelling it down as if he thought it was going to be taken away from him before he had finished. Ian had a sudden mental image of trying to take the plate away, and Elijah hanging on for grim death, refusing to give in, and he coughed to cover a very unrefined laugh.
"I thought I’d taught you better than that," he said finally. "I thought you had at least learned how to eat properly. How can I possibly take you out in polite company?"
Elijah paused, fork suspended in mid-air, a look of vague surprise on his face.
"You mean I have to be polite even when I’m at home?" He paused. "Crumbs."
Ian gave in, and laughed. "Don’t say ‘crumbs’, you strange man; nobody says ‘crumbs’. It makes you sound like you belong in a Famous Five book – and no, I am not about to tell you who the Famous Five are." He picked up his coffee cup and smiled warmly at Elijah, the casual use of the word ‘home’ lighting a fire somewhere in his belly.
"Were you planning to take me out into polite company?" Elijah asked, continuing his shovelling. "I thought I was your love slave."
"Well, you are, amongst other things," Ian agreed. "But you have to keep your strength up, or what good would you be to me?" He paused to take another drink of his coffee before putting the cup carefully back down on its saucer. "Are you all right, Elijah? You’ve had a tough couple of days, and you seemed a little – distracted – when you got here."
For a second, Elijah considered not telling Ian about his conversation with Sean, but then remembered another lesson: never keep secrets in a relationship, it doesn’t ever work.
"Had a bit of a face to face with Sean before I left – nothing bad," he hastened to add, watching Ian’s face. "He was just being himself – y’know, all concerned and stuff. He’s looking out for me."
"You have a good friend there," Ian said gravely. "Did you explain everything?"
"Enough," Elijah said after a pause. "He knows enough now."
"Good."
*
After the meal, they retired once more to the lounge to indulge in what Elijah was coming to consider his favourite hobby, and he was soon lying back amongst the cushions, his head tipped back as Ian slowly licked down the soft white flesh of his neck.
"I don’t understand," Ian mumbled, his voice sending a delicious vibration through Elijah’s body. "I haven’t done this kind of thing for years – I’m far too old and genteel to lie on a sofa like this. I much prefer the comfort of my bed. But then, I have discovered the joys of doing this…" And tailing off, he slowly slid his fingers underneath Elijah’s t-shirt, stroking the soft, almost hairless flesh gently.
Elijah, predictably, moaned softly and pushed into the touch, at the same time reaching up to rest his hand on the back of Ian’s neck, keeping him in place. He knew that Ian didn’t really like that, didn’t like the feeling of being controlled, but he couldn’t help himself, and Ian, although he grunted slightly, didn’t stop what he was doing.
"I like it," Elijah finally managed to moan. "I like coming here and being with you, talking to you, and then doing this … fuck! - with you. Can’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing." His voice trailed off into an inarticulate moan as Ian moved his fingers lower, sliding his hand between Elijah’s legs, his thumb stroking against the rough denim, exerting just enough pressure to make Elijah’s eyes want to roll back in their sockets.
"Ready for your next lesson?" Ian’s voice was smooth and deep, rich like chocolate, and Elijah felt his body respond, his hips pushing forward, his head tilting backwards, his hands clenching into fists. He bit his lip, trying to keep silent as Ian’s fingers trailed their slow, tormenting path away from Elijah’s legs and up onto his belly and chest.
"I thought I was having it." Elijah shifted slightly, trying to increase the contact between his crotch and any portion of Ian’s anatomy he could reach, but Ian refused to play. In fact, he pulled back completely and sat up, smiling in a way that could be best described as evil.
"No, no. I told you it was a sensory lesson."
"But touch is a sensory .. I mean, sense," Elijah protested, struggling into a less compromising position himself. "So what’s the lesson?"
"Finish your coffee," Ian said blandly, smiling at the scowl it produced. "And for goodness’ sake, remember patience!"
Elijah stuck his tongue out at Ian, but smiled, and finished his coffee, sighing exaggeratedly as Ian positively sipped own drink, without a doubt dragging out the act.
But finally, he put the empty cup back on the table, and stood up, stretching, and then reached out a hand, which Elijah took eagerly, letting himself be led upstairs and into the bedroom.
"One question; how much do you value that t-shirt?" Ian asked, looking at the offending garment somewhat disdainfully. "I can’t believe that it means a great deal to you, but you can never tell. Maybe it has some sentimental value?"
"No," Elijah answered, curiosity in every line of his body. "It’s just a t-shirt. Why?"
Ian smiled at him before leaning forward for a long, tender kiss, which left Elijah with his eyes half closed, a smile on his face, and his question unanswered.
"Let me tell you what I always say before a lesson," Ian said softly, guiding Elijah to the bed. "This is all for you. If at any point you want me to stop what I’m doing, just say. "
"Have I ever asked you to stop? Have you ever done anything I don’t like?" Elijah lay back on the bed, and reached out, his hand stroking Ian’s leg. "What are we going to do?"
Ian sat on the bed next to Elijah, fingers once again sliding under the hem of his t-shirt, his eyes so intense that Elijah squirmed, unsure suddenly of where this was going. Ian’s hand began to move, and Elijah, a creature of touch, revelled in the contact, his eyes sliding closed as he relaxed back onto the bed.
"Keep your eyes closed," Ian whispered, both hands now on Elijah’s belly, gently stroking. "This is where your lesson begins. You already know about touch, now I want you to learn about trust."
"But I trust you," Elijah said softly. "I’ve trusted you right from the very beginning."
"I know. And I’m honoured, but you have to let me do this, you have to understand how deep trust has to go."
Elijah felt the bed shift and sag as Ian moved away, and he half turned, making a noise of protest in his throat.
"One minute," Ian’s voice was soft and soothing. "Just keep your eyes closed, all right?"
"All right." Elijah turned over onto his side, eyes closed, listening as Ian made his quiet way around the room. He buried his face in the pillow and inhaled, revelling in the scent that was so very Ian – rich and refined, and very comforting. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he let himself begin to fade out – a skill he had learned as a child when he wanted to rest without actually sleeping. He was still fully aware of what was going on around him, but to a casual observer, he would seem to be asleep.
Ian wasn’t a casual observer, not of anything, and particularly not of Elijah. As he continued to move around the room, gathering what he needed, he was constantly aware of the small, still figure on the bed. That something had happened with Sean was undeniable; the Elijah who had turned up on his doorstep had looked ragged, as if he had been put through a wringer. Without speaking, he had walked into Ian’s embrace and for what seemed to be a long time had stood silently, before, with an effort so great Ian could feel it, he had pulled back and smiled.
Ian knew perfectly well that Elijah wasn’t fragile, either physically or mentally, but his looks were against him. Ian suspected that sometimes he got a little bit tired of always fighting to prove what kind of person he was.
Having finally located everything he needed, Ian sat on the bed and stroked Elijah’s cheek, smiling as Elijah pushed into the touch.
"Sweet Elijah," he whispered. "Are you ready for your lesson?"
Covering Ian’s hand with his own, Elijah nodded, straightening his legs and turning over onto his back. "Kiss me," he said softly. "Just for a second could you just kiss me?"
It was said in such a simple, heartfelt tone that Ian felt his eyes sting, and berated himself for his foolishness, and setting aside his ‘props’, he lay next to Elijah and pulled him close.
"Keep your eyes closed," he whispered, his lips just brushing Elijah’s. "I want to take away your sight tonight, teach you about touch, about trusting someone so much that you don’t need to watch them." He kissed Elijah, feeling long, dark lashes flicker against his cheek as Elijah fought against an immediate and automatic reaction to open his eyes.
With a soft groan, Elijah wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue searching out Ian’s taste.
"Are you all right?" Ian asked finally, trailing his lips down Elijah’s cheek, revelling in the warmth and almost constant vibrations of energy coming at him. "You want to tell me?"
"Nothing to tell." Elijah shifted his head so that he could kiss Ian again. "Nothing that I can’t sort myself, you know?"
"I know. But if you need to tell someone…"
They lay in silence for a second and then Ian dropped a gentle kiss on each of Elijah’s still-closed eyes, the nervous fluttering of the thin skin forcing him to bite down on a ridiculous urge to pull Elijah close and never let him go.
"Teach me," Elijah whispered finally, moving so that his body was pressed full length against Ian, and Ian laughed and pulled away, pushing Elijah over onto his back. He put a hand softly over the still-closed eyes, entangling the fingers of his free hand with Elijah’s.
"What do you see?" he asked. "Tell me, Elijah, what do you see behind your eyes?"
Elijah’s eyebrows quirked slightly, and again, Ian felt the tremble of lashes against his palm.
"Well, I see dark," Elijah said, "or is that really stating the obvious?"
"Nothing but darkness? Describe it."
Elijah sighed, but stilled and lay quietly. "Light," he said finally. "Flashing lights, and shadows, and monsters."
"Monsters?" Ian pulled his hand back, startled, and Elijah opened his eyes, squinting slightly.
"S’okay," said. "I lied about the monsters. They live in closets."
"Minx," Ian laughed. "For that…" He picked something off the bed and held it in front of Elijah.
"Is that … could that possibly be … a cravat?" Elijah reached out and stroked the black silk. "Oh, it is!" He laughed up at Ian. "What? You want me to wear it?"
"Yes, I do." And Ian placed it gently over Elijah’s eyes. Elijah caught his breath, but didn’t pull away; instead he lifted his head so that Ian could tie it securely in place before dropping back down onto the pillows.
Monsters behind his eyes. Elijah hadn’t lied. He hated the dark, hated the feeling of vulnerability it left him with, but there were certain things nobody needed to know. He didn’t consider it as keeping a secret within a relationship; it was his own secret, forever.
Trying to ignore the monsters, he concentrated on the feel of Ian’s hands on his body, arching into the touch of fingers stroking down his chest, brushing his hips, and jumping as lips brushed his neck and throat.
"Don’t be scared," Ian’s voice was soft in his ear. "Remember what I said. If you want me to stop, I’ll stop."
"No, don’t stop." Elijah heard the begging tone in his voice, and mentally slapped himself. But Ian’s hands felt so good, and his voice made Elijah feel so secure … no monsters would get him, not if Ian was there. The darkness was empty.
"Oh!" Elijah’s body jerked as something cold touched his stomach, and an odd noise that he couldn’t place filled his ears, his body vibrating slightly with some kind of weird echo. It was only when the vibration stopped and he felt the cool air against his chest that he realised what had happened, and he laughed quietly.
"Well, you did say that you weren’t too bothered about the t-shirt." Ian’s voice sounded amused. Elijah was trying to form a witty retort, when all thought went from his mind as Ian’s tongue, wet and warm, began to lick its way up the newly exposed flesh of his belly and chest, biting his nipples and making him jump.
"Are you feeling it, Elijah?" Ian’s breath was warm against his chest. "When one of our senses is taken from us, we feel things so much more intensely with the remaining four. Can you feel my breath on you, my hands touching your skin? Can you feel the blood running through your veins, and your heartbeat speeding up?" Elijah felt Ian’s lips against his chest again, and made some kind of guttural, nonsensical grunt. He was hyper aware of the sweat beginning to break through on his upper lip, and he could feel his hips starting to move as his body arched into Ian’s gentle touches and caresses.
"Do you know what one of the greatest erotic tools – and don’t snigger at the word – is?" Elijah squirmed at the hot breath against his ear. "It’s the voice," Ian continued. "The human voice, describing what will happen to you, and how you will feel."
"Oh!" It was all Elijah could manage as Ian’s hands scraped over the waist of his jeans, before sliding back up his belly. "Please."
"Shall I tell you what I’m going to do, how you will feel?"
There was no word to describe the sound that was torn from Elijah’s throat then – it was a sound of need and lust all mixed up until it was nothing more than some kind of primeval grunt.
"I’m going to touch you everywhere," Ian began, his voice so soft that Elijah could hardly hear it over the pounding of his heart. "Everywhere you can think of." Elijah squirmed as Ian’s fingers brushed over his crotch. "And you’ll sweat and beg and wriggle until you feel as if you want to push my hands away and take care of yourself, because I will go so slowly that it will be pure torture for you."
"Can I touch?" Elijah managed to grind out. "Is it allowed? Oh, Jesus!" His whole body arched off the bed as he felt the zip of his jeans being slowly lowered.
"I haven’t taken away your sense of touch, have I? Only your sight. Do you want to touch yourself?"
"I want to touch you," Elijah answered, with such raw desperation that Ian laughed, and Elijah moaned as he felt his hands being taken and held against Ian’s belly.
"Touch me, then," Ian said, and Elijah let his hands move until they were touching Ian’s cock, his fingers tracing the hard shape even through the material of Ian’s trousers.
"Oh god, I want that," Elijah said. "I want that so much." He tightened his grip, making Ian gasp. "I want it inside me."
He felt the shock of his words reverberate through Ian’s body, and for one terrible second thought he had gone too far. He was about to reach up and pull the blindfold off, when his wrists were taken in a gentle grip.
"Oh, Elijah." There was such – awe – in Ian’s voice that Elijah’s heartbeat, which had begun to slow down, started to thump almost painfully in his chest. "Elijah, you have to understand something. To me, that is the ultimate act of love, there is nothing after that." Elijah’s hands were lifted up and kissed.
"But I love you," Elijah said, straining against the darkness. He pulled his hands free and flailed around until he brushed against Ian’s cheek, then cupped his face. "I have never, ever felt like this."
"You’re not ready," Ian’s voice was soft. "Believe me, you’re not ready. I would never forgive myself if I hurt you, or if we did anything that would hurt you." Elijah felt fingers against the blindfold, and flinched, before stilling as the fingers continued a gentle path down his face, tracing his mouth before dipping briefly inside. He let his own fingers echo the movement until they were resting against Ian’s lips, feeling rather than hearing him speak.
"Soon."
Shifting his position, Ian slowly began to unfasten Elijah’s belt, pulling down the thick denim until the soft flesh of Elijah’s belly was exposed. Elijah’s hands slipped from Ian’s face and moved wildly across the bed, clutching at the sheet, his throat working as he tried to swallow sound after sound. Gently Ian pressed the heels of his hands into the yielding muscle, and Elijah grunted, his teeth clamping into his lower lip.
"For now, let’s do this," he said, pushing the jeans further down. "Lift up your hips."
Elijah did as he was told, gasping as his cock sprang free, the cool air on hot flesh making him shiver.
"That’s it," said Ian, sliding the jeans off completely, taking Elijah’s boxes, socks and shoes with them and dumping the whole lot on the floor, then he knelt back and looked. Pale skin, the colour in his hair and lips almost shocking in comparison. Dark nipples, beautifully contrasting – Ian couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing each one in turn – and his cock. Dark red, almost purple, hard against his belly, and so achingly beautiful that Ian wanted nothing more than to take it in his mouth. But not yet. There was a lesson to continue.
"Can you feel that?" he whispered, pressing his lips to Elijah’s throat. "Feel the air on you, feel how hard you are, how much you want relief? Can you feel the ache building up, the pressure? If I touch you now, you won’t know how to react, what to do because you can’t think straight." He let his fingers gently brush the length of Elijah’s erection, having to pull back when Elijah arched off the bed, making a noise that was little short of a yowl.
"Oh, no more," he begged as soon as he could speak. "Please, Ian…"
"Do you want to come now?"
"Yes … no. Oh god, Ian, please keep going…" Elijah trailed off, twisting on the sheets, practically beyond coherent thought.
Ian smiled and shifted his position, his tongue trailing through Elijah’s pubic hair and dipping briefly into the join of leg and hip. Elijah spread his legs wide open, shameless in his need, and even from his awkward position, Ian could see that the hands clutching the sheets were holding so tightly that they were almost bloodless. Ian reached up and covered them with his own hands, and with a whimper, Elijah released the sheets and wrapped his fingers around Ian’s, tightly enough to make Ian wince.
"Let go…" Ian pulled away and dipped his head, swirling his tongue around Elijah’s straining cock, then moving further backwards to the soft, secret flesh behind his balls.
"There…" Elijah’s voice was a strained whisper. "Oh god, Ian, there…"
For a second Ian hesitated. The boy was so desperate, so certain of what he wanted, and it would be so easy to take him now, to take him so intimately that neither of them would ever be the same again… He let his finger slip further backwards, pushing gently, testing Elijah’s reaction, stopping as soon as he felt resistance. No. Not yet.
Shifting again, Ian spread Elijah’s legs even further apart, and settled between them, stopping when he heard Elijah’s voice.
"No, don’t do that. I want to feel you on me, want you on top of me…"
The tone of his voice punched Ian in the gut, and he moved quickly up until he was lying on Elijah, his fingers trailing through dark hair, his lips just hovering above pale skin.
"You’ve got your clothes on, old man," Elijah said, some of the humour returning to his voice. "Why?"
"Because you haven’t taken them off yet," Ian answered in the same tone, guiding Elijah’s hands to the buttons on his shirt, not helping as Elijah clumsily opened them, sliding the shirt off Ian’s shoulders, and then running his hands over the revealed flesh, stubs of bitten nail and skin catching in sparse hair, making both of them gasp.
Beyond any kind of reasoned behaviour now, Elijah slid his hands down Ian’s body until they collided with the waistband of his trousers, and, blind or no, he unfastened both belt and trousers within a matter of seconds, releasing his grip just long enough for Ian to take them off completely, before dragging him back and sighing in pleasure as Ian’s warm, lean body completely covered his.
He gasped out loud as Ian began to move his hips, the sensation on his over-sensitised flesh very close to pain, but it soon changed, became heat and friction and overwhelming pleasure.
Unable to see, he could feel – feel Ian moving against him, feel his hair being moved by Ian’s breath, feel Ian’s hips snugged firmly against his, their cocks together. He ran his hands down Ian’s back, testing the textures under his fingers. Wrapping his legs around Ian’s hips, he heard the half gasp, half grunt as the pressure changed, and Ian’s steady rhythm faltered.
"My beautiful boy," Elijah could hear the effort it was costing Ian to speak steadily. "My own Elijah. Do you want to see?"
"No," Elijah’s own voice was anything but steady. "Not yet." He pressed his heels into the small of Ian’s back, urging him on. "Harder, please. More."
And he felt Ian oblige, thrusting so hard that Elijah could feel his back move on the sheets, and he grunted his appreciation, his voice a counterpoint to Ian’s movement. He reached up and wrapped his hands around the headboard to stop his inevitable slide into the wall, and dug his heels into Ian’s kidneys, arching his back, wanting more – wanting more than he could ask for.
When he came, it was with a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. He could feel himself shaking, hear the strange guttural sounds he was making. He was aware of Ian coming, gasping out, "Elijah."
The lay quietly for a long time, and Elijah could feel Ian’s fingers stroking him, stroking his face and the corners of his mouth, tracing his eyes through the blindfold, and he wanted to say something funny and clever so that this wonderful man would know how he felt, but as soon as he reached for the words, they slipped away, and in the end it felt better to stay silent.
"Now?" Ian whispered, sliding his finger under the edge of the blindfold, and Elijah nodded. Together, they eased the black silk off his face, and he blinked, dazzled even in the subdued lighting.
"Lesson learned?" Ian asked, his fingers still tracing over Elijah’s face, as if memorising it. "Voice and touch are incredibly sensuous."
"Learned," Elijah agreed, finally moving his legs and giving Ian room to move if he wanted, although he didn’t. "You are …" he tailed off, and shrugged. "Thank you."
"Now, go away and have a shower, young hobbit, whilst I change the bed. Go on…" Ian rolled off Elijah and pointed towards the bathroom. "Go!" He slapped Elijah’s leg, and Elijah giggled, pushing himself off the bed and heading for the shower.
Ian changed the bed, deliberately not letting himself think, and when Elijah emerged, pink and clean, from the shower, he quickly took his place in the bathroom, standing under the water for a long time.
By the time he was out of the shower and dry, Elijah was tucked in bed, fast asleep. Carefully, Ian climbed in behind him, spooning around him, smiling as Elijah, even asleep, grunted and pushed back against him.
"I can’t fight it," Ian whispered softly into the dark room. "Elijah Wood, if any part of your brain is listening to this, I love you. I have fought it and run from it, but the second I saw you tonight, looking so tired and lost, I gave in." He kissed Elijah lightly on the nape of his neck. "I love you." He sighed and settled himself to sleep.
Elijah, curled up and quiet, smiled to himself. Home at last.