Hello. A bit of Ian/Elijah for you. This came about because I know that Ian is in London at the moment and of course, so is Elijah, so why shouldn't they meet up? Thing is, there are some people who read this who may think that I've made Elijah into a bit of a slut in this one, so before you read it, I just want to clear up how I see him, at least in this one.
Elijah is a beautiful creature, yes? In this PWP he clearly has an ongoing relationship with Sean, and one with Ian, as well as offshoots with various other people, who are never really mentioned. And why shouldn't he? He's young, independent and desired. He's at the age where sex is important, and I think the only real difference between the Elijah of this fic and a lot of other young men of his age, is that he appreciates being loved.
It is perfectly possible to love more than one person at a time.
Oh, and last thing. I once had the sheer joy of working in the same theatre as Albert Finney for a wonderful twelve weeks, and he is loud and funny and crude. For those three months he was, officially, my "Uncle Albert", and I was "the bird from the wrong side of the electric fence". (He's from Lancashire, I'm from Yorkshire - the two counties have had a healthy disrespect for each other since - oh, about 1390).
And after that ridiculously long blathering intro:
In Your Arms
Elijah/Ian
For at least the tenth time in the last hour, Ian picked up the phone and gazed at the receiver before putting it back down with a sigh. Instead, he picked up his newspaper and settled down to do the crossword, but after a minute or two he realised that he hadn't actually read any of the clues, and all his answers appeared to consist of one name over and over again.
"Oh, for the love of - " He threw down the pen and glared indiscriminately around the room. He loved his study; it was calming, full of the scent of leather and old books, the chairs all familiar with the shape of his body, moulding themselves to him, but today he was fidgety and out of sorts.
"Enough!" He picked up the phone again. "You're not sixteen, Ian, and neither is he." He dialled a number that was still familiar to him, even though he hadn't dialled it for some time.
"Hello," he began, when the call was answered, "it's -"
The screech that echoed down the line hadn't changed. It still made him smile and wince at the same time.
"Ian! Man, I've been waiting forever for you to call!"
"You could have rung me," Ian said, relaxing now that he had made contact.
"Yeah, yeah. What you doing, old man? Who you doing?"
Ian laughed. "Vile youth. I rang to ask if you would like to come to dinner while you're here."
"Absolutely. I'm not doing anything tonight, actually, and I need feeding up. I'm wasting away."
"You're very eager to spend time with someone you just referred to as an old man," Ian said, crossing his legs and brushing at an imaginary speck of dust.
"That's different. You're my old man." Elijah's voice deepened and took on a tone that struck a chord somewhere deep in Ian's memory.
The silence that followed was shattered by a voice calling Elijah's name.
"Shit. I have to go." Elijah's voice was muffled for a second and then he was clear again. "How do you want to work this? Want me to wend my way to you? I have always wanted to wend. I'll probably get lost of course, and be found wandering waif-like through the streets - "
"Shut up. There's nothing waif-like about you, you great thug. Where are you filming? I could easily come and get you."
"Okay, it's a date." Elijah paused. "Except I've forgotten the name of this place. Hang on." Again, Elijah's voice muffled, and Ian heard it raised it question. "Okay. If I say Battersea, would that sound right?"
"Well it seems an odd place for you to be, but if you say so. Give me the exact location."
"Hold on, old man. You know what I'm like; I can't even work out my right from my left most of the time. Let me find someone to tell you."
Before Ian could say anything, a new voice, deeper than Elijah's, spoke.
"Hello? Is that Ian?"
"Yes, indeed. Elijah is lost, which is to say he doesn't know where he is. I'm coming to meet him after filming, and would very much like to know where I'm supposed to find him."
"That sounds like Lijah." The voice was amused, and it warmed Ian to know that Elijah was still having his amazing effect on people around him. He could make friends anywhere he went.
He quickly jotted down the directions he was given. "Lovely. If you could tell him I'll be there at - what time? I'm sure by now he's wandered off. Would you mind awfully telling me what time you're finishing today?"
"About 4.30. I'll tell him you'll be here then, shall I?"
"If you would. Thank you - " Ian let the silence develop.
"Charlie. My name's Charlie. I'll tell him, no problem."
"Thank you, Charlie. Goodbye."
"Bye."
Ian replaced the receiver, only too aware of the foolish smile beginning to spread across his face.
*
Ian arrived promptly and made his way through the chaos of the film set, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. A few people caught his eye and smiled, recognising him, and he smiled back but didn't stop. Eventually, one of the faces didn't just smile, but tilted to one side in silent direction and when Ian followed the gesture he saw Elijah surrounded by people. He smiled more widely realising that the vast majority of the people who had recognised him would be able to work out why he was here.
He approached the noisy crowd of people, opening his mouth to call Elijah's name, when its owner, alerted by that amazing sixth sense he had always had, looked over, his face lighting up.
"Ian!" He barged his way through the mass of people and threw himself at Ian, hugging him fiercely, perhaps no longer with the abandon of an eighteen year old, and that was how it should be, but he certainly didn't suffer from the blasé attitude of some of his `cooler' contemporaries.
"My dear boy." Ian pulled Elijah close for a long minute and then held him at arm's length, making a game of studying him minutely. "Have you grown? Or are you just wearing heels? I've told you before, those things will ruin your instep. Flat feet are most unattractive. If you keep growing at this rate, you may reach the giddy heights of, oh, 5' 7" at least."
"Shut up." Elijah smiled. "I'm petite. Neat - "
"Short." A new voice joined them, and Ian tore himself away from Elijah's eyes and gazed at a tall, blond man who had joined them. "You're short, Elijah. Truth hurts."
"Ian, this is Charlie." Elijah put his hand on Charlie's arm as he introduced them, and something about the gesture made Ian look more closely at them. There was nothing obvious, but Ian knew that gesture -
"Charlie. A pleasure." Ian shook Charlie's hand. "Thank you for the directions. If I'd relied on this one to help out, I would have been in some godforsaken part of Acton by now." He smiled to take the sting out of his words. "I know you of course. All of you, if you'll pardon the expression."
Charlie laughed. "I know. That programme introduced more than my face to a lot of people." He smiled at Elijah, and again a chord struck in Ian's mind. "It's a pleasure to meet you, it really is. This `un has been burbling on about you all day. Have a brilliant time, and I'll see you tomorrow, Lijah."
Elijah nodded and watched as Charlie walked away, turning back and meeting Ian's direct gaze. "Oh stop it! I can look, can't I? And admire?"
"There's more to it than that, I suspect." Ian looked around. "But this is neither the time nor the place." He looked back at Elijah. "Tell me, darling, are you planning to spend the evening dressed like that? And the make up? The orange look doesn't suit you."
"I know, I know." Elijah tucked his hand under Ian's elbow. "I've just got to go to the trailer and get changed and stuff. Did you notice how I said `the trailer'? Only got one and it's great. This is how it always used to be."
"Happy to be doing this again?" Ian asked, and Elijah nodded furiously. "Go on, get changed. I thought we'd have an early dinner, and then see where the evening takes us. Does that suit?"
"Of course." Elijah released Ian's arm and began to trot toward the nearby trailer. He turned around, but kept walking, making Ian wince inwardly. "Man, it's good to see you."
"And you. Very good. Now go and get ready."
Elijah had never been one for taking long when it came to dressing, and it was only ten minutes before he reappeared, pink and well-scrubbed, his jeans and jacket combo only slightly grubby.
"It's that damn leather jacket again!" Ian exclaimed. "Are you going to have to be surgically removed from that?"
"It keeps me warm," Elijah protested. "Hey, if I'd known an English Knight of the Theatre - I'm using capital letters here - was going to take me out for the evening, I would have made an effort. Y'know, worn the new one."
"Come along, scruff. Let's go and throw you in front of a cab, see if they'll stop. If we can find a cab south of the river."
"Want me to stand on a street corner and wait for one?" Elijah offered.
"Oh my god, no!" Ian looked vaguely horrified. "Although I would no doubt earn a fortune from you."
"Oh, would you be my pimp?" Elijah tucked his hand under Ian's elbow again as they walked away from the set. "Why is it always me who has to sell my body? Why can't we sell yours?"
"Because you are Harrods, my boy. I, on the other hand, am more along the lines of the local discount store."
"Don't." Ian glanced over at Elijah, taken aback by the serious tone of voice. "Don't say that. You're fantastic."
"But no longer young or beautiful." Ian put his hand over Elijah's, squeezing gently. "And you are both."
*
A cab was eventually hailed, the driver pleased enough to have a fare as he made his way back over the river, and dropped them off in Shaftesbury Avenue.
"Would you ever do theatre, Elijah?" Ian asked as they made their way through the bustling streets. "It's something everybody should try."
"I guess so," Elijah said thoughtfully. "I mean, it's not something I'm deliberately avoiding, you know?" He paused. "On the other hand, there are a dozen girls walking towards us in a very - definite - fashion. I would like to ddeliberately avoid those. Shortcut, Ian?"
"Down here." Ian pulled Elijah down a side street, and then turned a sharp left, both of them glancing over their shoulder and starting to laugh, treating their unexpected detour as a silly adventure.
"Does that happen much?" Ian asked. "People recognising you?"
"Not so much, but I still get a bit freaked, even though I know I shouldn't. I guess it was rude of me to avoid them like that, but sometimes they just look so - desperate." He shrugged. "They're better here, more casual about it, I guess."
"Here we are." Ian gestured to a building next to him. "Let's go and eat. I hope you're hungry."
"I'm always hungry."
*
"Tell me about Charlie," Ian said, after watching Elijah work his way through a quite remarkable amount of food. "My god, you really were hungry, weren't you? You must have hollow legs."
Elijah leaned back, a self-satisfied grin on his face, and belched slightly, putting his hand over his mouth.
"Oh, `scuse. That was good."
"Charlie?" Ian picked up his coffee and took a sip. "Another on-set romance for you?"
"He's nice," Elijah admitted. "Big. But then, everybody's big compared to me." He laughed, then shook his head. "No, no romance there. I'd be willing, don't get me wrong, but Charlie's not like that - straight as something very straight, is our Charlie."
"That hasn't stopped you before." Ian held out the dessert menu which Elijah took and began to study. "Dear Sean, if I may just remind you?"
"Sean? True, the straightest straight man ever." Elijah grinned wickedly and Ian laughed at the sight of it. "Shall I tell you the difference though? Love. Sean loved me. Loves me still, truth be told." Elijah shrugged. "I love him so damn much you wouldn't believe. He's like my brother and my father and my lover all rolled into one thing, which is both fantastic and vaguely disturbing."
"Do you see him much?"
"Not enough. Some. More now that I'm back in LA. I'll never lose him, I don't think." He looked blankly at the dessert menu. "I've been so fucking lucky."
"And Charlie doesn't fall into that category?"
"No. Charlie is great and would be a great fuck, but he's not interested. He doesn't love me enough; not like Sean loves me."
"You are lucky, Elijah," Ian said, reaching across the table and taking the menu from Elijah's hands and setting it on the table between them. "And I freely admit that I miss you. I am so thrilled that you're here, but shall I tell you something? I was almost too nervous to ring you."
"Why?" Elijah's voice was slightly louder than he intended, and he dropped his head slightly. "Sorry. Why?"
"You're moving on so fast," Ian said. "I see pictures of you and you've changed, grown. Now sitting this close to you, I can see the changes in you. You're growing."
"It's inevitable," Elijah said, a puzzled look on his face. "It doesn't mean that I'll grow away from you. We don't see each other all the time now, but it doesn't mean _ I'm glad you called."
"Ian!" A booming voice made both of them jump and look up.
"Albert!" Ian stood up and embraced the newcomer. "How wonderful to see you." He stepped back and gestured to Elijah. "Let me introduce you. Elijah Wood, this is Albert Finney, a dear friend of mine."
"Sir." Elijah stood up and Ian watched as his small hand was engulfed in Albert's huge paw. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"And you. I have to say that once I saw those films I became very jealous of Ian; I would have very much liked to work with you."
"Oh, thank you." Elijah smiled. "Well, I hope one day we get the chance. It would be a real pleasure to work with someone like you."
Ian had to fight down a ridiculous surge of paternal pride. Elijah was so comfortable like this; polite but far from daunted. He was comfortable with his own talent and knew he had nothing to fear from the most exalted company.
"That would be splendid." Albert looked back at Ian. "I won't disturb you any further; I'm sure you have lots to catch up on. Elijah, a pure joy. Ian, you old queen, give me a ring."
"I will." The two men embraced, and Albert vanished into the growing early-evening crowd.
"What?" Elijah asked as Ian stared at him.
"You have a charm about you, did you know that? He will go back to his friends and tell them that he has met you and that you were charming and polite, and more people will fall under your spell." Ian reached over and put his hand over Elijah's. "I wish we could bottle whatever magic it is you have."
Elijah smiled, turning his hand over so that his fingers were against Ian's palm, stroking gently.
"What now?" he asked. "You want to go to the movies? A show?"
Ian was silent, his gaze fixed on their hands, and Elijah ducked his head. "Tell me." After another moment's silence, he smiled and pulled his hand away. "Let's go."
*
By the time they reached Ian's house it was getting on for 9pm. The meal had been a long, drawn-out affair, with story after story being told and re-told, laughter breaking out on an almost constant basis, and when they had left the restaurant, they had walked quietly through the streets of Soho for a while, talking occasionally, but mainly just touching at arm and thigh, brushing against each other. Each time Elijah touched him Ian felt it as a jolt through his whole body, and although he chastised himself for behaving like a lovesick fool, it didn't do any good.
*
"Oh, this is nice!" Elijah said approvingly, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it in the vague direction of a chair. "Very you."
"Meaning?" Ian picked up the jacket and hung it on a peg, along with his own. He raised an enquiring eyebrow as Elijah glanced back at him.
"Meaning it's classy. Why? What did you think I meant? It's old?"
"Will you stop calling me old, you little sod." Ian reached out and flicked Elijah's nose, making him squeak in a way that made him sound about ten.
"Don't do that! It's fucking cold out there and I'm a fragile American flower." He rubbed his nose, eyes practically crossing as he tried to see if any damage had been caused.
"Oh, stop it you big girl. Do you want some coffee?"
The teasing remark seemed to relax them both and Elijah willingly followed Ian into the kitchen, complaining quietly and constantly.
"You're not impressing me, you know," Ian said, rummaging about in the cupboard. "Whatever it is you're saying is fading into the background. You and the fridge are becoming one."
"What have you got to eat?"
"Elijah! You've just eaten enough to feed most of this country for a year."
"Didn't have dessert," Elijah pointed out reasonably. "I never feel right until I've had - " he opened the freezer and moved things about in a hopeful fashion.
"Until you've had what? Indigestion?"
"Ice cream!" Elijah held up the tub with an air of triumph. He looked at Ian. "Want me to eat it or wear it?"For a moment, Ian was speechless, and then he began to laugh, quietly at first, but then more and more loudly until he was practically guffawing. Elijah watched him with a slightly bemused expression, finally putting down the tub and walking over to stand in front of him.
"My boy. My dear, dear boy." Ian, gasping slightly, wiped his eyes. "You do me so much good." He held out his arms and Elijah moved into them willingly, pressing himself against Ian in a way that was painfully familiar. He tightened his grip and Elijah grunted his appreciation, his nose pressed against Ian's throat.
"I've missed you," Ian said again. He ran his thumb along Elijah's jaw, familiar and painfully new at the same time. Stronger now, the man finally breaking free of the boy.
"Mmm." Elijah tilted his head until his breath was warm against Ian's skin. "Same here." Ian moved his hands and Elijah sighed, his lips parting in invitation, and Ian dipped his head, his eyes closing in pleasure. Elijah tasted of - Elijah. Of long evenings of laughter and drink, and ridiculous stories and utter contentment.
"Do you really want your ice cream?" he asked as he broke the kiss, watching the fine skin of Elijah's eyelids tremble, his eyes opening slightly to give Ian a hint of blue before sliding closed again.
"Do you really want your tea?" Elijah whispered, his lips against Ian's jaw. "This is what I've been waiting for since you turned up on the set."
Ian tilted his head and kissed Elijah again, his tongue flicking out gently to tangle with Elijah's.
"You're not the only one," he said as they parted again. He ran his hand down Elijah's back, coming to rest on one angular hip. He could feel the need to touch Elijah's skin growing in him like some kind of living being. To see him spread naked on the cotton sheets, open to him - Ian swallowed and cleared his throat.
"What?" Elijah's head was tucked comfortably under Ian's chin, body resting full length against his own, absolutely at ease with the situation.
"You've grown your hair again," Ian said and then cast his eyes to heaven at the sheer inanity of the statement.
"Well spotted." Elijah pushed himself up, sighing hugely, and blinked himself back to the present. "Of course, somebody who knew me really well would realise that in fact it's actually been cut a little bit. I didn't think a football hooligan would want to spend thirty minutes doing his hair. And just think what would happen during a fight - " A horrified look crossed Elijah's face and both hands went to his head. "Mind the hair! Fine, kick the hell out of my face, but don't touch the hair!" He dropped his hands and shrugged. "See?""Idiot." Ian ruffled Elijah's hair, ignoring the offended look he was given. "You didn't answer my question."
"No. I don't want the ice cream." Elijah grinned and reached up to catch Ian's hand, bringing it to his lips. "Let's go."
*
"You've changed this since I last saw it." Elijah paused in the doorway, looking at Ian's bedroom. "I like it."
"Don't hover on the threshold," Ian said, moving around the room, switching on a lamp, and drawing the curtains. "Come in." He turned and looked at Elijah, his face stretching into a smile as Elijah took a step into the room, and then another. "You're beautiful," he said, hardly more than a whisper. "You were a beautiful boy, and the man is going to be just as stunning." Elijah smiled and wrinkled his nose, not speaking.
"Stop there," Ian said, holding up a hand and stopping Elijah at the foot of the bed. "Would you...?" He moved his hand in a gesture that made Elijah laugh softly.
"You always did like that," he said. "I remember the first time you asked me to do it, how embarrassed you were." He shook his head. "How embarrassed I was."
Ian didn't answer, simply tilted his head and watched as Elijah slowly began to unfasten the buttons on his shirt, letting his fingers linger, seemingly stumbling over such a simple task. As he unfastened the last one, he let his arms drop to his side, the shirt gaping slightly, giving Ian a glimpse of the next layer.
"Take it off," he whispered, and obediently Elijah shrugged out of it, letting it pool around his ankles.
"Remember?" Elijah said, his voice slurring slightly with remembrance. "You said you wanted to worship me." He untucked his t-shirt and pulled it slowly over his head, emerging rumpled and blinking. "I think you just wanted to try and put me at my ease."
"You were so young." Ian's voice was quieter still, the atmosphere in the room building as memory layered on memory and merged with the present. "So perfect."
"Not so young now." Elijah's hands rested on the waistband of his jeans.
"Still perfect, though." Ian took a step forward.
"In your mind." Elijah laughed and began to unfasten the buttons one by one until Ian covered the ground between them, putting his hands over Elijah's, then moving again and gathering him into his arms, his eyes closing in pleasure at the sensation of warm, soft skin beneath his palms, running his hands over Elijah's back, making Elijah sigh his pleasure and press closer, his hands trapped between them as he began to unfasten Ian's shirt.
"It's been a while," Ian said, his lips against Elijah's temple. "I hope you're ready for my wrinkly old body."
"More than ready," Elijah assured him fervently, and then looked up, pulling back slightly. "You don't mean that, do you? Man, it's not like you to lack confidence over anything, especially this."
"I'm not Sean."
"No, you're not," agreed Elijah. "You're Ian, and you know how I feel about you." He finished unfastening Ian's shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, then deliberately took a step backward and let his gaze rove across Ian's chest and belly. For a moment, Ian hated being this old; fleetingly wished he was thirty again, firm and supple, but then Elijah raised his eyes and Ian realised that maybe that wasn't necessary. Experience was something he could bring to their relationship, and Ian knew that was the reason Elijah had chosen him. Elijah didn't do anything without a good reason.
He sucked in a breath as Elijah's hands began to move against him, running across his belly and chest, fingers digging into flesh.
"Oh..." The word was little more than a breath of sound as Elijah leaned forward and kissed his chest, tongue gently touching a nipple, sucking at it until Ian's breath caught, before moving slowly across his chest and latching onto the other. Ian could feel himself beginning to twitch and harden, and he tangled his fingers in Elijah's hair, the soft, unwaxed strands forcing another memory to the surface; a nervous nineteen year old boy, willing to learn but still clumsy, panting in amazed joy, his hair soft under Ian's fingers.
The feel of Elijah's tongue slowly running down his belly brought him back to the present, and he pressed his hips forward slightly. Elijah looked up briefly, the light in his eyes almost unholy as his hands reached up and began to unfasten Ian's trousers.
"Bed," Ian muttered. "I'm sure you and Sean have sex standing up all the time, but I fear that my back would go completely if I tried such a thing."
"Stop comparing yourself to him," Elijah ordered, straightening up and leading Ian toward the bed. "Unless you want there to be three people in this room."
"You're right." Ian stopped as his knees bumped the mattress. "I'm being foolish." He pulled Elijah to him, kissing him soundly, making Elijah snort in surprise. "It's seeing you, remembering things." He kissed him again. "Let's enjoy tonight, and who knows, maybe tomorrow?" He turned the last word into a question, smiling when Elijah nodded vigorously.
"I'm here for a few weeks." He stroked Ian's cheek, his hand as cold as ever. "I've missed you, and I don't plan to spend tonight - or the next however many nights – alone and analysing whatever we have." He glared, and Ian smiled. "Okay?"
"Okay."
Ian took charge, turning Elijah around and pushing him back until his knees connected with the edge of the bed and he landed full length with a giggle that was pure Elijah. Ian laughed as well and gently lowered himself until he was lying full length on Elijah, pressing him down into the bed, watching as the ridiculous eyes closed in pleasure. He felt Elijah fidgeting and was about to ask what was wrong when he heard a dull thud, followed almost immediately by another and then he understood as a be-socked foot rested on the back of his thigh.
Ian moved his hips experimentally, and Elijah gasped, his eyes opening again, locking with Ian's.
"So responsive," Ian whispered, his lips brushing Elijah's. "I've never known anybody like you."
"Show me," Elijah answered, lifting his head so that he could deepen the kiss, one hand on the back of Ian's head. "Show me how much you've missed me."
Willingly, Ian lowered his head, his tongue working gently over Elijah's skin, nipping at an earlobe and making Elijah grunt and tip his head to one side so that Ian had better access. Softly, Ian ran his tongue around the delicate whorls of Elijah's ear, concentrating on the sounds Elijah was making, the way his body tensed and shifted. He was aware of one of Elijah's hands beginning to fist against the sheets, the fine cotton being crumpled beyond hope.
Reluctantly abandoning the ear, Ian gently sank his teeth into the skin at the point where Elijah's neck joined shoulder, and he had to hang on as Elijah's body arched, a muffled cry of "God..." making him smile.
"Ready for more?" he asked, rolling off to one side and resting his hand against Elijah's belly. "Take the rest of your clothes off and get into bed. I'm not going to writhe about semi-naked."
Without a word, Elijah shrugged off his jeans, boxers and socks and was under the sheets grinning, before Ian had even stood up.
"Eager?"
Elijah turned over and closed his eyes, a huge grin on his face. "No," he said. "Just tired."
"Ah. In that case I'll just pop and get you a cup of hot chocolate, shall I?"
"Do that and I will make you pay." Elijah's eyes slitted open. "Get your clothes off and get into this bed."
Ian did as he was told, sliding out of his clothes and climbing under the sheets with Elijah, gathering him in until they were pressed together, kissing softly, Elijah rolling slowly onto his back, pulling Ian with him until Ian was pressing into him, covering him and weighing him down.
Sighing his pleasure, Elijah rested one hand on Ian's shoulder, the other moving downward, making Ian grunt and pull back slightly.
Elijah looked incredible. His lips were swollen, parted enough for Ian to see a glimpse of sharp teeth. His eyes were closed and there was a look of total relaxation spreading across his face.
"What time do you have to be up tomorrow?" Ian asked, lowering his head once again and biting softly at Elijah's shoulder.
"Not until the afternoon," Elijah answered, tilting his head backward. "Jesus, don't stop doing that. Do that and more like it."
"So we have all night." Ian let his hand wander down Elijah's side, fingernails scraping over his hip and then moving inward, fingers teasing at the edges of springy hair, moving on again before Elijah could react, dipping obscenely between his legs, cupping his cock, then on again, running down Elijah's leg, now bent and tilted outwards, then back again to rest on his belly.
Elijah sighed again, rubbing the side of his face against the pillow like some kind of favoured pet, arms spread to either side, his bent leg now almost flat against the mattress, cock rising as Ian's fingers moved to grip it loosely.
With his other hand, Ian reached between Elijah's legs, his finger pressing gently, making Elijah arch and yield, his hands again gripping huge fistfuls of sheet.
"More of that?" Ian whispered, releasing Elijah's cock and running his hand up Elijah's belly and chest, splaying wide on his throat. Elijah nodded, pressing down on Ian's finger, making his desires clear.
"We have all night," Ian said.
"Then we can do this lots," Elijah replied, opening eyes already heavy with lust. "Please, Ian." He pressed down again, drawing in a sharp breath and Ian felt his finger slide home.
"Oh!" Elijah's breath stilled and then caught in a huge sigh.
Ian carefully pulled his finger out of Elijah's body and slid up the bed, one knee between Elijah's legs, keeping up the pressure and making Elijah grind his hips, his cock fully hard now, red and proud against his belly.
Opening the drawer in the bedside table, Ian searched around until he found what he was looking for. He could have found it much sooner if he had been able to tear his eyes away from Elijah's face and body, but that wasn't likely to happen any time soon.
"You do it," he said, offering the opened bottle to Elijah who held up a shaking hand so that Ian could pour out some of the contents. After holding it in his palm for a second, Elijah rubbed his hands together and then, with a smile best described as sly, reached for Ian's cock, coating it.
Ian watched those familiar, ragged-nailed hands - little boy's hands - stroke him, teasing him even as they prepared him, and he was completely unable to prevent his hips thrusting forward, pushing into the knowing grip.
Trying to distract himself, he poured some of the lube into his own hands, warming it, then pulling away from Elijah's grip and leaning down for a kiss. At the same time he once again ran his now-slick fingers down Elijah's belly and hip, moving until they were pressing against him, sliding in as Elijah's body yielded willingly, his legs splaying wide, feet coming to rest against Ian's hips.
"Oh..." The noise died away as Ian moved his fingers inside Elijah's body, the heat and the tightness almost undoing him before he began. "Elijah..."
"That feels so good," Elijah whispered, moving his hips. "Christ, I've missed you."
Unable to wait any longer, Ian let his fingers slide out of Elijah's body and positioned himself, looking down at Elijah's eager face.
"Are you ready?" he asked, and Elijah nodded, tilting his hips in open invitation, and Ian, with a sound that surprised himself, slid home.
"God, yes..." Elijah's legs shifted again, his feet settling on Ian's thighs, hands reaching between them to rest on Ian's waist.
"How do you contort yourself into these position?" Ian asked, his hips beginning to move. "Men have probably been unable to perform for you when you do this kind of thing."
"It's never stopped you." Elijah grinned and shifted his feet higher, probably, Ian suspected, simply because he could.
"You think you're very clever, don't you? Well, Elijah, there are certain things that I can do that will make you realise that you don't know it all." He shifted his hips in a certain way, and Elijah's eyes closed, his fingers digging into Ian's flesh. "See?"
"That's perfect," Elijah gasped. "It's more than perfect. Jesus, Ian, please..."
Ian propped himself up with a hand either side of Elijah's head, dipping down for a kiss, losing himself in the taste and texture of this beautiful man, who began to make a wonderfully familiar grunt deep in his throat, the noise almost forced out of him in time with each of Ian's thrusts.
Pulling out of the kiss, Ian began to move harder, in answer to Elijah's whispered commands. He felt Elijah's hands move from his waist and watched as he reached over his head, bracing himself against the headboard, his head tilting to one side so that his mouth was against the soft skin of his arm.
Shaking his head slightly to get rid of the sweat, Ian watched in fascination as Elijah's lips began to move against his own arm, half-spoken phrases lost in the flesh. His eyes were closed and Ian could see his eyelashes spiking with sweat, and he moved faster, fascinated by the reaction in the body below his. He could feel the muscles in Elijah's legs beginning to tremble so he redoubled his efforts, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the sheets.
"Come on," he whispered, causing Elijah's eyes to open and his head to jerk around. "Look at me." Elijah's eyes smiled and one hand released its death-grip on the headboard to hook around Ian's neck, pulling him down to kiss him.
It was too much, and Ian felt his back hollow helplessly as he came, the muscles in his arms starting to tremble.
Dimly he heard Elijah's voice saying, "It's all right," and he let himself drop bodily onto Elijah, who pulled him close, legs still tight around him, moving his hips frantically until Ian felt wet warmth against his belly, heard Elijah gasping into his ear.
"All right," he whispered, finding the strength to raise himself on one elbow, using his free hand to push the sweat soaked hair away from Elijah's forehead. "It's all right."
"More than that," Elijah said breathlessly, wincing slightly as he lowered his legs until they were flat against the bed. "God, Ian."
Ian kissed Elijah's cheek and then rolled off him, pulling him close and they lay quietly for minutes, listening to the sound of traffic in the streets. Ian realised, with a surprised start, that it was still relatively early. They really did have the whole night.
A soft snore brought him back to the present, and he shook Elijah, who jerked awake guiltily.
"Elijah Wood, were you asleep? You toad."
"Nope. Not asleep. Resting my eyes." Elijah grinned mischievously and kissed Ian's cheek. "Need a shower, don't we? And the bed's totally fucked. It's not the only thing."
Ian laughed, and pushed Elijah toward the edge of the bed. "Go on, you first. I'll sort this mess out."
*
Warm and cosy, Ian lay quietly, his chest against Elijah's back, listening to the soft sound of breathing, revelling in the warmth of contact.
"Shall I tell you something?" Elijah said softly, picking up one of Ian's hands and starting to play with it. "You don't fuck."
"Pardon?" Ian kissed the back of Elijah's neck. "I thought I just had."
"No, that's not what I mean." Elijah pushed backward. "When I said that thing about the bed being fucked, you know? It was wrong. You don't fuck. You make love."
Ian ran his hand across Elijah's hip, resting it low on his belly, making Elijah move slightly, putting his free hand on Ian's and pushing it lower. Ian smiled to himself and cupped Elijah's cock, moving his hand slowly, and Elijah's sigh turned into a grunt of pleasure.
"Which do you prefer?" he asked. "Do you like to be fucked, or do you like someone to love you?""I like both," Elijah answered. "I like what you do to me, the way you make me feel." He tilted his head and kissed Ian. "I like this."
Ian moved away and pulled Elijah over onto his back, kissing him deeply, and Elijah smiled, his fingers tangling in Ian's hair.
"Go on," Elijah said as they broke the kiss. "I know you're desperate to ask."
"I don't know what you mean," Ian said, feigning innocence. "Are you insinuating that I was wondering what Sean does? Does he fuck or make love? Would I ask?"
"Both," Elijah said. "We do both."
Ian kissed him again, and Elijah arched his back slightly, his hardening cock rubbing against Ian's hip.
"I could fuck you," Ian said softly. Elijah moved his hips again.
"Show me," he whispered.
The End
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