This is – oh the surprise – not the jolly PWP it was supposed to be. Do you remember Swansong – the fic I wrote about Ian/Elijah/Sean? This is sort of an alternative ending – what if it hadn’t all been as polite and thoughtful as Swansong?

An Unfortunate Conclusion

Elijah/SeanA – hint of Ian

Rating: Adult

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

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An Unfortunate Conclusion

"The point I’m making…" Sean leaned forward eagerly.

"You’re not making one point," Elijah protested. "You’re making five hundred points, only you haven’t actually made one yet. You just keep saying that you’re going to make one and then don’t." He paused. "It’s really irritating."

"Well stop interrupting me," Sean replied, grinning widely. "The point I’m making is … fuck me."

"Well, that’s not a point is it? That’s a request." Elijah put down his bottle of beer. "Come on."

"No, I didn’t mean that." Sean shook his head. "I mean, fuck me, I’ve forgotten what the original point was."

"Okay. That’s sad. How about making one of the other four hundred and ninety-nine points?" He leaned forward, and Sean shook his head, laughing. "What?"

"You. You know perfectly well what you’re doing, and don’t pretend otherwise. Superfly."

"Stop calling me that." Elijah put his hand to his head, just managing to stop the movement as he began to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, only too aware of just how much of a girl that would make him look. "I’m a leader of fashion."

"If you say so," Sean answered, the smugness of his smile making it clear exactly what he thought. "We could sell those dead animals on the side of your face. We’d make a fortune."

"Who from?" Elijah put his hands over his cheeks in a manner best described as possessive.

"Stuffon cushers." Sean paused. "Nope, not quite right." He looked at the number of bottles on the table and tried again. "Cushion suffers."

"Suffers?"

"Stuffers," Sean enunciated carefully.

"Sean, you’re drunk," Elijah said amiably. "I told you not to have that second bottle." He laughed out loud as Sean, with a mock-growl, threw himself at Elijah, pinning him on the floor.

"Now," he said, his lips against Elijah’s ear. "Start wriggling."

"What?" Elijah laughed again, the sound ratcheting up into a full-fledged giggle as Sean nipped him gently on the neck. "Start wriggling?"

"Well I’d be happy to do the wriggling," Sean said. "But I think I hurt my back when I landed."

"You certainly hurt my back," Elijah said consideringly. "And I don’t choose to wiggle. Wriggle."

"You’re no fun." Sean moved, settling himself more comfortably atop Elijah, who made his feelings clear by muttering a well-chosen obscenity.

"I am fun," he said. "I’m am so much fun that people would pay good money to be around me." He put his hand on the back of Sean’s neck, his fingers stroking gently. "And don’t forget it." Idly, he reached up, nuzzling at Sean’s throat, loving the snuffling laugh the action produced. "I think we’re drunk," he continued, letting his head fall back onto the rug, and moving his hand so that he could stroke his fingers over the spot his lips had just caressed.

"You’re right, Superfly, we are." Sean grinned down at Elijah. "But I don’t really care."

Choosing to ignore the new nickname, Elijah winced, the floor hard against his spine, and Sean pushed himself up immediately, holding out his hand.

"Sorry," he said.

"I’ll live." Elijah moved close to Sean, ignoring all concept of personal space. "How drunk are you exactly?" Sliding his hand between their bodies, he squeezed experimentally and then nodded, pleased. "Not too," he said. "Excellent." He pulled away. "Come on." He led the way out of the room, not bothering to check whether Sean was following, simply knowing that he would be.

"It’s been a good day, you know?" he said as he walked up the stairs. "I feel as if things are finally starting to work."

"What do you mean?" They reached their bedroom, and Sean reached out to turn Elijah around. "What things are starting to work?"

"So much." Elijah leaned his head briefly against Sean’s shoulder. "The new house. Us. Getting away from that fucking hobbit. I’m even enjoying not working."

"Don’t make a habit of that," Sean laughed. "I don’t make enough to keep us both."

"No? Pity. I kinda like being a kept man." Elijah pulled away and then reached out, linking his fingers through Sean’s and raising their joined hands, studying them carefully.

"What?" Sean raised his free hand and tilted Elijah’s face. "What?"

"We fit," Elijah said, raising their hands by way of explanation. "Don’t you think?"

"I’ve always thought," Sean answered, leaning forward and kissing Elijah’s slightly parted lips, his body relaxing completely at Elijah’s immediate and complete surrender, the way his lips seemed to become more pliant, and his body softer, losing the sharpness it sometimes carried now. He pulled his hand free so that he could raise them both, pushing Elijah’s hair back from his face so that he could trail his fingers down Elijah’s cheeks, over the ridiculous sideburns, and then back, delighting in the noises Elijah began to make.

"That’s it," he whispered, breaking the kiss, watching Elijah’s half-closed eyes flicker open, his expression showing that he was already beginning to lose himself in Sean. "Need you soft again." He chuckled at Elijah’s expression. "Not everywhere," he amended, and Elijah smiled. "You have sharp edges now," he continued, his lips once again on Elijah’s face, brushing across his lips and chin and cheek, pulling back when Elijah suddenly turned his head and bit him sharply. "Sharp teeth as well." He reached down and slid his hands unceremoniously into the loose waistband of Elijah’s jeans, watching as Elijah’s eyes widened before he grinned.

"Nice and hot in here," Sean said, watching Elijah’s face, his palms against Elijah’s belly, fingers rubbing against coarse pubic hair. "Nice and hot and hairy."

Elijah, his body being rocked with each movement, muttered something, his head dropping back until he was looking at the ceiling, letting the rhythm and the feel of Sean’s hands lull him, relaxing him. He raised his own hands to pull at the hem of Sean’s sweater, both of them getting tangled up until Sean moved just long enough to shrug out of the sweater before he put his hands back where they had been, this time pausing just long enough to unfasten the first buttons of Elijah’s jeans.

"Nice," Elijah sighed, letting Sean’s movement bring them closer together. "That feels nice." He put his own hands on Sean’s belly, fingers hooking into the waistband of his pants.

Sean was always amazed at how much he loved Elijah’s body. He knew he loved it, of course; it was the depth of that love that still stunned him. He loved the paleness of it, the smoothness, the way it had matured, so masculine that it took his breath away, whilst remaining as pliant as the boy’s body had been. He moved his hands lower, listening to the breath hissing between Elijah’s teeth as he kept up his rhythmical stroking, his fingers moving to tease the very top of Elijah’s groin, feeling the growing heat there.

The ringing of the phone made both of them jump, Sean’s nail accidentally catching the sensitive flesh of Elijah’s groin, making him yelp and pull away, landing on the bed so hard that he bounced off the far side, and Sean laughed so much that by the time he picked up the phone he suspected his face had turned blue from lack of oxygen.

"What have you been up to, you dirty little sod?" Ian’s voice echoed loudly down the line. "Are you having carnal relations again?"

"Not quite," Sean amended. "But thank you for asking. My god, Ian, why does it sound as if you’re next door?"

"Technology, Sean. One day I’ll explain to you the mystery of the wheel and possibly the horseless carriage. What are you doing?"

"Standing here watching Elijah get off the floor."

"That seems cruel when you have a perfectly serviceable bed." Ian paused and then his voice softened. "How are you, my dear friend?"

"Very well." Sean sat on the edge of the bed. "And you?"

"As well as can be expected at my age," came the reply. "And how’s that beautiful boy of yours?"

"He’s not a boy, Ian," Sean chided gently. "And I don’t think he’d like you referring to him as one."

"He’s old, everybody’s a boy to him," Elijah said, moving across the bed and draping himself across Sean’s shoulders. "Say hi from me."

"Hi from Elijah," Sean relayed. "And he says…"

"I heard him. Whippersnapper." Ian sighed theatrically. "And yet it’s true."

"Where are you?" Elijah asked, putting his head close to Sean’s. "We haven’t seen you for ages."

"Well it just so happens that I’m in your delightful city for the next few days," said Ian. "I was hoping we could see each other, have a little dinner … and such?"

Sean glanced at Elijah, who grinned wickedly, and nodded.

"Sure," Sean said. "That would be great. When do you want to get together?"

"Tomorrow?" Elijah asked before Ian could speak. "C’mon, Ian. Come by and see us tomorrow."

"What, you mean I’m actually invited into your new house?" Ian’s voice was amused. "I thought I would perhaps have to sit on the verandah – I’m sorry – porch – until you decided to notice me."

"Ian, it takes a person about five seconds to notice you," said Sean. "You’re a very noticeable man."

"So it’s been said, and by wiser men than you," Ian replied, and then paused. "You do know what I’m suggesting don’t you? I would hate for any of us to be under any kind of misapprehension."

"We know," replied Sean, glancing at Elijah, who nodded again, bending his head to kiss the back of Sean’s neck, making him arch his back and push into the touch.

"We’ve missed you," Elijah whispered, his lips raising the hair on the back of Sean’s neck.

"We’ve missed you," Sean echoed.

"Come see us."

"Come see us." Sean listened to the silence on the other end of the phone. "Ian?"

"Still working in tandem I see." Ian’s voice seemed to have lost some of its casual tone; Sean could hear the real Ian coming to the surface. "I look forward to seeing you."

"Yeah." The word was nothing more than a whisper as Elijah shifted his position, his lips moving down Sean’s spine, making him arch and tremble. "Come to dinner. You know where we live."

"Are you going to make love now?" This time there was a definite tremble in Ian’s voice. "Make love to that boy?"

"Yeah," Sean whispered again, drawing in a hiss of breath as Elijah’s hand moved, first to rest on his hip and then again until it was against Sean’s belly, his fingers rubbing small circles on the hairy flesh.

"I envy you." Ian’s voice lowered, and Sean’s eyes closed at the tone.

"You should," he managed. "Everybody should."

"I’ll see you both tomorrow." Ian paused. "Kiss him for me."

Sean didn’t answer, simply dropped the phone and fell backwards onto the bed, Elijah moving to one side and then moving back, his lips on Sean’s chest and belly, his hand stroking almost constantly over his hips and belly, struggling with the zip on his pants until finally Sean unfastened it himself. Elijah grunted a thank you and slid his hand inside the now opened pants, making Sean gasp.

"What did he say?" Elijah asked, finally raising his head long enough to speak. "Is he coming?"

"Yeah." Sean pushed the back of Elijah’s head, urging him on. "He’ll be by tomorrow."

"Good." Elijah shifted and licked quickly over a dark brown nipple before scraping his teeth over it, nipping hard enough to make Sean squirm, laughing.

Elijah laughed out loud when Sean suddenly bucked his hips, moving quickly and trapping Elijah underneath him on the bed.

"Gonna suck you," he growled, pulling at Elijah’s t-shirt, growing frustrated when the material, which had somehow become trapped and folded under Elijah, refused to move. "Make you beg me."

"Big man," Elijah laughed. "Christ, Sean… come on, I want it … just fucking tear it."

Growing breathless with need, Sean sat up, pulling at the thin material again before taking it in his big, sensible hands, and neatly ripping it in two, laughing out loud at Elijah’s startled noise. He put his hands on Elijah’s chest, looking down at them, a startling contrast to Elijah’s pale skin.

"Come on," Elijah said, his own hands reaching up, almost in supplication. "Come on."

Sean leaned forward and kissed him hard, and Elijah moaned in the back of his throat, his tongue darting forward into Sean’s mouth making Sean moan in his turn, and then there was an almost-silence for a minute or two as they simply kissed, their hands caressing each other, the stubs of Elijah’s nails digging into Sean’s shoulders whilst Sean’s own hands moved over Elijah’s chest and arms, scraping down the soft flesh of his belly and sliding against into the top of his jeans, this time opening the rest of the buttons, and sliding them down, Elijah raising his hips to help, before kicking them off the rest of the way, letting them pool on the floor.

Sean pulled back slightly, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

"What?" Elijah smiled. "Never gone commando yourself?"

"That’s what I love most about you," Sean said. "You’re always prepared, always willing to give easy access."

"I’m a boy scout," Elijah agreed, his hips rising as Sean’s hand moved. "Oh, fuck!"

"I intend to," Sean said. "Oh, I intend to." He kissed Elijah again, losing himself in the taste, the sensation, once again, of the pliant body beginning to shift underneath his hands.

"Want your cock," Elijah gasped eventually, pulling away, almost clawing at Sean’s shoulders. "God, want it inside me." He reached down with one hand and pushed at Sean’s pants, making Sean laugh when he raised his leg and pushed them down using his heel. "Don’t laugh. It’s a talent."

"It is," Sean agreed, kicking until his pants slid neatly off his legs, joining Elijah’s on the floor. "A gift." He moved his hand, cupping Elijah’s balls, stroking them, squeezing softly watching as Elijah’s eyes flickered closed. He used two fingers to press against the soft skin just behind them and Elijah keened, his mouth opening, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips, and the sight caused Sean’s cock to twitch hard against his belly. He moved again, his fingers gripping Elijah’s cock, moving fast and hard, twisting at the end of each stroke in the way he knew would drive Elijah half crazy, and sure enough Elijah was soon clawing at the sheets, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. Sean lowered his head and, with perfect timing, whispered, "Come for me."

Elijah, with a final buck of his hips did just that, spilling into Sean’s hand, reaching out to pull him down, but unable to find the motor control to kiss him, instead just lying there, his mouth open under Sean’s, breath catching high in his chest.

Sean could feel his own orgasm building from the small of his back and he moved quickly, desperately, spreading Elijah’s legs wide and moving between them, his hands sticky with come fisted against Elijah’s belly as he began to move, his cock sliding awkwardly against Elijah’s thigh and groin.

"No," Elijah gasped. "Fuck me, please." He reached out, flailing slightly and Sean, understanding, moved again, opening the drawer in the nightstand and finding the lube.

Knowing he didn’t have long, he quickly prepared himself before sliding a finger into Elijah, who twisted away, his eyes open now, full of fire.

"Just fuck me," he said. "Just do it."

"Elijah…" Sean hesitated, desperate to do as he was asked, to plunge into Elijah’s body, but unsure, not wanting to hurt him.

"You won’t hurt me," Elijah said. "Please."

"Tell me if it hurts," Sean said quietly, shifting himself onto his knees and pulling Elijah forwards, sliding into the yielding body, stopping when Elijah panted and flinched, before continuing, his mind beginning to short circuit, not sure if he could stop now, even if Elijah begged for mercy.

But he didn’t. Instead, he panted and writhed and swore, pressing himself down against Sean’s cock, his hips pumping as he fucked himself until, with a groan, Sean came, the muscles in his arms trembling so hard his hands slipped off Elijah’s hips, moving to clench the sheets as his body spasmed over Elijah’s.

"Fuck," Elijah said finally, shifting his hips until Sean pulled out and moved to lie next to him. He rolled over so that they were pressed together and shared a deep kiss, breaking only when they needed to breathe. "Spectacular."

"Not bad for a couple of drunk guys," Sean agreed, kissing Elijah again. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," Elijah answered. "How could I not be?" He grinned up at Sean, his eyes full of a satisfied lethargy, and Sean smiled in return, his fingers tracing Elijah’s swollen lips before leaning down to kiss him very gently, making Elijah sigh his satisfaction before he burrowed closer, Sean wrapping his arms around him, pulling him into as tight a hug as he could, making them both grunt and then laugh.

"Thank you," Elijah muttered, and Sean could hear the sleep dragging at his voice, and he quickly moved until they were both in the bed, wrapped in warmth and comfort.

"We should shower," he muttered, and Elijah made a negative noise in the back of his throat that made Sean smile and close his eyes.

*

Sean woke to the delightful sensation of Elijah’s mouth on his cock, suckling him and making him raise him hips in an erratic series of lazy thrusts until he came, a gentle morning orgasm that left him smiling and loose limbed, finally opening his eyes to see Elijah sitting back on his heels at the foot of the bed.

"Hi," he said. "Good morning."

"It is," Elijah agreed. "How are you? Not too hung over after your mad drinking bout last night? Both bottles?"

"Oh be quiet," Sean kicked out idly, laughing when Elijah caught hold of his ankle before he connected with anything, and began to idly trace patterns on the top of his foot.

"Have to go to work soon," Elijah said. "By which I mean you have to go to work soon, since I’m a kept man."

"It means that you have to do the cooking," Sean answered. "Which should be entertaining." He flexed his toes against Elijah’s thigh. "I don’t want to go. I want to stay here all day with you." He reached out a hand. "Come here."

With a smile, Elijah did as he was told, nestling against Sean, twining their legs together so that it felt to Sean as if they were one person, one entity. He loved feeling like that, and it had only ever happened with Elijah.

"You ready for tonight?" he asked. "Ready for Ian?"

"He may want us both," Elijah said, rubbing his head against Sean’s shoulder.

"You know that’s not true," Sean corrected. "He’s coming to see us both, but he only want to be with one of us."

"Be?" Elijah moved his hand against Sean’s belly. "What does that mean, be? Is it another way of saying fuck?"

"Yes." Sean sighed softly and kissed the top of Elijah’s head. "He just wants to fuck one of us."

"Do you mind?" Elijah propped himself up and peered into Sean’s face, squinting hard. "If you mind then you know that nothing will happen."

"Of course I don’t," Sean said immediately. "I just … Lij, I’m getting to the stage where I don’t want to share you; not even with a great guy like Ian." He paused and studied Elijah’s eyes. You could always tell how he felt by looking at his eyes. "I don’t want to crowd you, tie you down, you know that. But this past few days when it’s just been us …" He reached up to touch Elijah’s face. "This is how it should always be." He paused. "Have I blown it now? Scared you away?"

Elijah’s eyes were soft.

"Nah," he said. "Of course you haven’t. It’s nice – it’s more than nice that you feel this way, and I’m more than honoured that I’m the one who you want to be with. Shall we see how it goes tonight? If you don’t want me to be with Ian, then we’ll tell him, both of us. I like the old guy, you know I do, but …" He trailed off and shook his head. Sean could see the tell-tale blush creeping up his neck, and he smiled.

"It’s all right," he said. "I won’t make you say it."

"Man, we’ve changed." Elijah moved again, always restless, his head now against Sean’s chest. "Remember when this was just for fun? When we thought it’d all end as soon as filming stopped?"

"I remember." Sean twined a strand of Elijah’s hair around his fingers and didn’t say what was on his mind.

*

When Sean finally got back from the studio, from endless meetings with blank-faced executives, Ian was already there. He heard Elijah’s laughter as soon as he opened the front door – loud and free, and he smiled, unable to help himself. It sounded as if he had been sampling the wine he had been planning to use in cooking their dinner.

"Hi." He put his head around the kitchen door and Elijah glanced up from the stove, his face flushed and his eyes alight, confirming Sean’s suspicions. "Hi Ian, it’s good to see you."

Ian was perched on one of the bar stools, a glass of wine in his hand.

"Sean, dear thing!" He held out a hand, and Sean obediently took it, not surprised when he was pulled into a firm hug, the kiss that only just missed his mouth dry lipped and soft. "It’s very good to see you." Ian pushed Sean away but kept hold of one hand. "You’re looking marvellous. Marvellous."

"So are you," Sean answered, although privately he thought Ian looked tired, the bright eyes no longer quite so bright, the mobile mouth downturned. For the first time, he looked old, and Sean felt a pang of something inside him that was almost pity.

"And you." He pulled out of Ian’s grasp and walked over to Elijah, spreading his arms. Elijah moved willingly into the embrace, tilting his head for the kiss that followed, gentle and familiar, and again Sean felt something inside him, but this time it was a feeling that he didn’t want to name. "How are you?" he whispered when the kiss finally broke.

"Good," Elijah answered. "Glad you’re home." He said the same thing every night, so there was no reason for Sean to read any more into it, but even so he couldn’t resist a sharp glance at Ian, who was sipping his wine, his eyes fixed on the tableau in front of him.

"Ian’s been telling me about his pantomime in England," Elijah said, pulling away and moving to sit on the stool next to Ian. "He gets to dress as a woman. It must be like coming home to you."

"Cheeky sod." Ian smiled. "If I dressed as a woman, I’d like to think that I would have more taste than that. You should see the outfit they’ve put me in. I should have brought it; I could have modelled it for you. Of course, if they’d stopped me going through customs it could have been a challenge to explain away." He reached out and stroked Elijah’s hair and Sean, who for some reason couldn’t settle, thought he saw Elijah tense slightly.

"Tell me," Ian continued. "When you go out, I hope you have a velvet suit with wide lapels. That would just complete your look."

"What look would that be?" Elijah asked.

"1970s porn star," Ian answered immediately. "You look as if your name should be Rock or Wade or Dick, and I mean that exactly as it sounds."

"I do, actually," Elijah said. "I have a velvet suit. I have two. Green and blue. Not both at the same time, obviously."

"Odd boy." Ian cupped Elijah’s face then, turning him so that they were face to face. "You are extraordinarily beautiful still, even with the ridiculous hairdo."

"Why do people keep saying it’s ridiculous?" Elijah said plaintively. "I think it’s wonderful."

"And that’s all that matters," Ian said, his eyes moving towards Sean, the lid of one drooping in the smallest of winks, and Sean smiled, feeling himself relax. It would be fine; it wasn’t as if Ian wouldn’t do whatever Elijah asked of him.

"Are we going to eat?" Elijah asked softly, leaning forward on his stool, and Ian smiled fondly.

"Later, I suspect." He looked at Sean. "May I?"

Sean nodded, and watched as Ian turned back to Elijah and leaned forward as well, covering the ground between them and settling into a gentle kiss that made Elijah shift and move even further forwards until Sean winced, just waiting for him to fall off the stool. Instead, and unusually so early in the proceedings, Elijah reached out a hand to Sean, who immediately moved to take it, resting his other hand on Elijah’s back, certain this time that he wasn’t imagining the tension he could feel there. He watched as Ian’s hand raised to rest on Elijah’s shoulder, the long fingers digging into the worn material of his shirt, and his own hand stroked Elijah’s back, trying to make him relax.

"Shall we move this into the living room, or whatever you call it?" Ian asked, pulling back from the kiss but not moving his hand. "One of us will slip a disc if we’re not careful, and annoyingly enough I suspect it won’t be you."

Elijah laughed and slid off the stool, Sean watching as Ian took his hand and pulled him forwards. His own hand slipped away from Elijah’s back and Sean felt the separation as a physical thing. He shook his head, not understanding why he felt like this.

"Sean? Come with us." Elijah looked back at him, all eyes. If Sean didn’t know better, he would swear that Elijah was nervous.

"Yes, dear. Come with us." Ian stopped and looked back, holding out his other hand, and Sean smiled, stepping forward.

"It’s a beautiful room," Ian said approvingly, looking around. Elijah had switched on the lamps and they cast a soft, warm glow across the room, the soft tones of the walls and furniture catching in the light. "I always thought of you more as a purple walls and red carpet man." Ian shook Elijah’s hand. "Sean’s influence must be rubbing off on you."

"Guess so," Elijah said with a laugh, sitting on the couch beside Ian, and Sean didn’t understand why Ian couldn’t see it; couldn’t see the reluctance in every line of Elijah’s body. Unable to stand it any longer, he said Elijah’s name.

"It’s fine," Elijah said. "I’m fine."

"You don’t owe anybody anything," Sean said, and Elijah nodded.

"What?" Ian looked up, pulling himself out of Elijah’s eyes.

"Nothing," Elijah said. "Sean’s just been a – what’s Sean being?"

"A worrywart, I expect, bless his heart," Ian answered, leaning toward Elijah again as if he were hypnotised. Sean watched Elijah’s eyes flutter closed as Ian’s lips touched his, and the way his hand moved slowly to the back of Ian’s neck, fingers moving gently, and he relaxed. He was just being foolish. Foolish and possessive.

He moved to sit by the couch, watching the two of them as they kissed, unable to stop himself reaching out to stroke Elijah’s back, watching the way he arched at the touch, and swallowing down a wave of emotion – jealousy, he knew. Jealousy and need.

Elijah whimpered softly as Ian pushed him down onto the couch, flailing one hand out until it connected with the side of Sean’s head. Sean grabbed his hand and held it against his lips, wondering if he had ever truly enjoyed watching this, and if so, why. How could he enjoy watching Elijah being with another man? He must be mad.

Ian’s hand slowly worked its way inside Elijah’s shirt, and Sean could see the way his fingers moved, sliding up Elijah’s ribcage until they reached his nipple, pinching and stroking, making Elijah whimper again, and tighten his hand in Sean’s.

"Lij…" Sean leaned close and whispered. "What’s wrong?"

Elijah’s eyes opened and fixed on Sean’s as Ian moved his head, kissing the side of Elijah’s neck and then moved again to cover his mouth. Sean couldn’t name the look; Elijah looked – not frightened, never that; but uncomfortable, almost embarrassed, and Sean’s confusion and uncertainty grew.

As he watched, Ian’s hand slid down Elijah’s hip and then moved around between his legs, expertly opening the flies on Elijah’s jeans and sliding in.

"No, don’t!" Elijah arched so suddenly that all movement stopped, both Ian and Sean looking at him in surprise. Elijah subsided onto the couch, one hand still outstretched and clasped in Sean’s.

"What’s wrong?" Ian looked dazed, his hand still moving apparently of its own accord, and Elijah shook his head, lying very still. "What? Dear boy, have I hurt you?" He raised his free hand, cupping Elijah’s face. "What’s wrong?"

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry…" Elijah tailed off and lay quietly as Ian gently stroked his face. Sean could see that from the set of his jaw that he was more embarrassed than anything else.

"Elijah?" He squeezed Elijah’s hand. "What’s wrong?"

"Could I … could I get up?" Elijah pushed at Ian’s shoulder. "Let me up." When Ian moved off him, he sat up, pressing himself into the corner of the couch, his legs drawn up, clearly warding off both Ian and Sean.

"Elijah?" Ian spoke very gently, but didn’t try and touch him, and Sean was grateful for that. He suspected that if either of them touched him, Elijah would be climbing the walls before they could so much as blink.

"I’m sorry," he said again, his eyes tightly closed, making Sean smile, even through his confusion.

"Don’t," he said. "You haven’t done that since the first night in New Zealand."

"Done what?" Ian asked.

"Closed his eyes like that. He used to use it to try and make the world go away."

"Really." Ian paused and Sean watched as he looked at Elijah and then at Sean. "You know a lot about him, don’t you? All his little secrets."

"Mostly," Sean agreed, not sure what Ian meant.

"You know him better than I."

"Of course," Sean said. "I live with him."

"I can’t." Elijah’s voice was quiet. "Ian, I can’t. I thought I could, thought I wanted to. You know, when you called last night, I would have jumped you then and there, I would have crawled down the phone to get at you, but…"

"But you feel as if you’re being unfaithful?" Ian’s voice was soft. "Oh, Elijah… You’ve fallen in love haven’t you?" Elijah’s nod was slight but emphatic, and Ian looked at Sean.

"We’ve done it before," Sean said, confused. He crawled forward until he was kneeling at Elijah’s feet. "You like it, being with Ian, and I like to watch."

Only not this time, said a tiny voice in his head.

"I do, I did," Elijah said, finally uncurling slightly, and letting Ian take his hand. "I … you’re right, Ian. I feel as if I’m doing something wrong. It’s felt wrong since you arrived this afternoon."

"Really." Ian looked at Elijah’s hand, cradled in both his. "You have such small hands, Elijah." He raised it to his lips, and Elijah’s eyes followed the movement.

"Ian…" Sean didn’t know what he was planning to say.

"Then it’s over." Ian gently lowered Elijah’s hand. "I knew it wouldn’t last for ever, of course I did, but I rather hoped…" He shook his head. "I rather hoped you would tell me before we found ourselves in quite such a compromising position."

"I didn’t…" Elijah stopped and took a deep breath. "I wasn’t going to say anything, I swear. Not this time, maybe just say that we shouldn’t do it again. But when your hand… it just didn’t feel right." He stopped speaking and inspected the frayed knee of his jeans, picking at the threads until Ian slapped him gently on the leg.

"Stop it, darling." With a huge amount of dignity, Ian stood up, as did both Elijah and Sean, Sean feeling like a naughty schoolboy and Elijah the picture of miserable guilt.

"We’re still friends, right?" Elijah said, and Ian snorted delicately.

"Really, what do you think? Do you think we could get over this embarrassment?" He looked at Sean. "Could you ever let me in your house again knowing what I know? Knowing that I know how he looks when he comes? How he sounds when he begs, the noises he makes? The love of your life, and I know his secrets?" He stopped and sighed, nipping the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "I apologise, I sound bitter."

"I don’t want to never see you again," Sean said abruptly. "We both feel that way."

"But what about me?" Ian looked at Sean and then inevitably at Elijah. "At the moment I feel that perhaps we won’t meet again unless we have to." He began to turn away, before stopping and turning once again to look at Elijah, who was chewing his bottom lip. Ian stepped forward and cupped his face tilting his head up and scrutinising his face, memorising it, Sean suspected, and then he leaned down and kissed Elijah very gently on the forehead, the benevolent blessing of a loving uncle.

"I think I should dislike you for embarrassing me," he said softly. "But you make it impossible. And I can hardly blame you for falling in love." He kissed Elijah again, this time on the lips. "I hope we will be friends again."

"We will," Elijah said. "We will, Ian. We are."

Ian tore his gaze away from Elijah’s with an obvious effort, and turned to Sean, leaning forward and giving him the same gentle kiss on the forehead.

"And you," he said. "Remember that you are the luckiest of the lucky to have this boy love you. I envy you."

"I’m sorry, Ian," Sean said. "Truly."

Ian nodded, but didn’t speak, and they stood and watched as he walked out of the room, dignity gathered around him like a cloak.

Neither of them spoke until they heard the soft snick of the front door closing, then Elijah moved, running his hands through his hair.

"Fuck."

"What happened?" Sean asked, reaching out to touch his arm, surprised when Elijah turned to him, practically burrowing into him. "Lij?"

"Fuck." The word was muffled as Elijah appeared to be trying to eat Sean’s sweater. "I don’t know. It just felt wrong from the second he walked in. He wanted – expected – something, and I just found that I wasn’t willing to give it to him anymore." He turned his head, just enough to breathe. "I love that old guy, I really do, and he’s a brilliant fuck, but – he’s not you."

Sean closed his eyes at the words and pulled Elijah closer, his lips buried in the ridiculous hair.

"I feel so fucking embarrassed," Elijah said. "I feel like a kid."

"Why?" Sean attempted to move away, but Elijah dug his fingers in, making it impossible.

"I was going to, no problem," Elijah said. "I like fucking the guy."

"And I like watching you," Sean said. "Or at least I used to."

Elijah did move at that, raising his head. "What?"

"I didn’t want you to," Sean admitted. "Not this time." He tried to smile, but judging from Elijah’s expression, clearly failed. "I don’t want you with anybody else, not even somebody like Ian," he said. "I want you all to myself."

Elijah looked odd for a moment, as if he were startled at the news and was trying to process it, and then a huge smile broke through the confusion, and he lowered his head to Sean’s shoulder.

"I didn’t know how to tell you," Sean said, talking to the picture window and the darkness outside. "I know you hate possessiveness and I’ve tried so hard not to be like that with you."

"You know something?" Elijah didn’t raise his head. "I think I’ve changed my mind about that. Think I’m growing up?"

"Maybe," Sean said, his eyes closing in relief. "Maybe."

"Should we eat?" Elijah asked. "There’s food and it’s still early." He groaned. "God."

"It’ll be all right," Sean soothed him. "We’ll call him in a week or so, send him a telegram for the opening of the pantomime." He pushed Elijah away, not without a struggle and kissed him, noting with pleasure how quickly and eagerly he responded, opening his mouth and pressing forward.

"Should we eat?" he asked finally, fingers brushing Elijah’s hair back from his face.

"No." Elijah shook his head. "I think we should go to bed."

Sean smiled. "Things’ll be fine. It’s a temporary thing, you know that." He stroked Elijah’s face. "You’re with me now. I’ll take care of you. I’ll love you so much that you’ll forget how to breathe."

"I know you will." Elijah smiled at him. "I did the right thing, didn’t I?"

"Of course." Sean kissed him again, unable to help himself. "Ian envies me."

Elijah’s smile widened, with a hint of his usual good humour, and Sean braced himself.

"Of course he does. Everybody does, or will when they realise that I’m with you. Or if they don’t we can tell them. Or take out an ad in Variety, or… mmmph!"

Neither of them spoke after that, or at least not coherently, for a long time, and the food remained uneaten, the wine unopened.

And late that night as Elijah slept sated and silent, Sean lay quietly in bed and thanked Ian with every atom of his being that he had helped Elijah make his choice.

The End