Stories For A Winter's Afternoon

Pairing: Sean/Elijah

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

"It's bloody raining again," Elijah grouched, pulling the curtains slightly apart and peering out, looking, Sean thought to himself, like a slightly retarded tortoise. A slightly retarded tortoise who still had a lot of Englishness about his speech.

"Well come back to bed then," he said, slithering under the duvet. "We don't have anywhere to be until tomorrow - and tomorrow night at that - so let's make the most of our free time."

"What, going to museums, that kind of thing?" asked Elijah, turning his back on the weather and crawling under the duvet, wrapping his chilled body around Sean and making him squeak in protest.

"Well, you could if you wanted," Sean said, laughing at the feeling of Elijah's cold nose pressed into his neck, "but I was thinking more of staying in bed all day -" he glanced at the clock. "- well for the rest of the day anyway."

"Thank god for that," muttered Elijah. "I know I say things like let's go and visit a museum, but I don't actually mean it, you know."

"Oh, I know that. You wouldn't even know where the museum is. Or maybe where they are. I don't know how many of them there is. Are." He hugged Elijah closer. "Let's not go any further, eh? We'll get stuck in terrible grammar."

"Terribler than usual?" asked Elijah.

"Much more terribler. Shut up."

"What are we going to do all day then?"

"Well...." Sean snorted when Elijah kicked him. "All right, all right. Do you know, there was a time when you wouldn't have been satisfied with just the dozen or so - oh, what's that word you like so much? Dozen or so - shags, that's it! The dozen or so shags we've had today, but you must be getting old."

"Dozen?" Elijah raised his head and looked down at Sean, laughing. "Somebody else must have been here as well then. I distinctly remember ..." he looked into the distance, pretending to concentrate. "Two. Well three if you count that pretty half hearted attempt just after we'd woken up. Who was the lucky recipient of the other ... er, ten?"

Sean pushed upwards and tipped Elijah over onto his back, kissing him. Then he pulled back and began to bite Elijah's neck, making a noise Elijah could only think of as a grunt.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm being a wild animal and ravishing you," explained Sean patiently, raising a somewhat pink face. "Why? What did you think I was doing?"

"I'm sorry, I thought you were being a pig." Elijah patted Sean on the head. "It was a very good pig," he added.

"All right, you're not in the mood," Sean said, not moving. "What do you want to do?"

"Dunno." Elijah pulled the duvet tightly around them both, and they lay quietly for a long minute, listening to the rain hammer against the window.

"Once there was a boy called Christian," Sean said softly, and Elijah smiled, but didn't say anything.

"Christian was lonely, and he lived inside his own head a lot of the time, dreaming about what it would like to meet someone, fall in love and live with them for ever, but he knew it would never happen because he was a dreamer, and dreamers could never manage to make their dreams come true. Or at least that's what his parents used to tell him."

Sean slid to one side of Elijah, keeping the duvet tightly around his shoulders so that they trapped warmth in the bed.

"People said that Christian was a good looking boy. He had sandy hair and eyes that never seemed to settle to one colour." Sean put his hand on Elijah's chest. "Not the tallest person in the world, but a nice body, even if it did run to fat sometimes." He put his fingers over Elijah's mouth to still any protests. They had had this discussion too often.

"His parents got sick of him hanging around the house, always dreaming, and so they sent him away to the city where they hoped he'd learn about real life, and find a nice girl to settle down with. He didn't mind going because it would at least get him away from his parents.

The absolute last thing he expected to happen, happened. He was walking through the market one day, his arms full of shopping, his mind full of dreams, as usual, when somebody walked into him and he dropped all his purchases everywhere. All set to give this clumsy person a mouthful, he looked up into the biggest, deepest eyes he had ever seen.

"Stuart," said the stranger.

"I know," answered Christian.

Sean pushed himself further down the bed, taking the duvet with him, straddling Elijah and watching as he shivered in the not-really chill air of their room.

"Whatever Christian had imagined, it was nothing to the reality of Stuart in his bed, touching him and kissing him ..." Sean suited action to words, running his hands across Elijah's belly and leaning down to kiss his chest.

"Nobody had ever touched him so gently, yet with so much strength," Elijah took up the story, his eyes closing as Sean's hands moved softly. "He could feel his soul ache every time Stuart looked at him, as if it was new every time and yet familiar ... oh yes, Sean, *there*"

Sean smiled and pressed the heels of his hands against Elijah's belly, watching as Elijah's head rocked back against the pillow and his hands grabbed at the sheets.

"Go on," he said softly. "And open your eyes." He let his hands splay over Elijah's belly, tracing lines down to his hips, his touch featherlight, making Elijah arch his back to try and deepen the contact. "Go on," he said again. "Tell me what Stuart would do to him."

"He would kiss him everywhere, kiss his neck and his shoulders - oh god!" Elijah's head went back again as Sean did just that, paying special attention to the spot below and behind Elijah's ear, which was always guaranteed to freak him. "He would... *fuck* ... he would run his hands down Christian's arms until he could hold him against the bed, watching as he struggled to get free."

"But never hurt him," Sean added, his lips still against Elijah's neck. He let the tips of his fingers run down Elijah's arms until his hands were locked loosely around his wrists. Elijah tensed his arms briefly to test the strength of Sean's grip and then relaxed again.

"No," he agreed. "Never hurt him."

"Did anybody else know about them?" asked Sean, nipping the lobe of Elijah's ear. "Or did they have to keep it secret?"

"Their friends knew," Elijah said, raising his head from the pillow so that he could kiss Sean's chest. "Not all their friends, and they were sad about that, because they didn't like keeping secrets from anybody, but sometimes people don't like things they don't understand." His head dropped back against the pillow and he groaned as Sean shifted position, lying full length on him. Elijah parted his legs, resting one foot on Sean's calf, and stretching the other out straight.

"Stuart liked it when Christian held him," Sean said, letting go of Elijah's hands and smiling as they wrapped immediately around his back. "It felt like there was a connection then, as if nobody could ever drive them apart."

"Nobody ever could," Elijah replied, digging his nails into the skin of Sean's back. "They were ... god, what's the word? One entity."

"Gestalt," muttered Sean.

"Gazundheit," Elijah said, his hands reaching lower, pressing into the small of Sean's back, pushing them even closer together.

There was silence after that while they kissed, Sean's elbows framing Elijah's face, hands tangled in the dark hair. Elijah ran one hand along the curve of Sean's neck, his fingers tracing each of the verterbrae at the top of his spine. The other hand curled around Sean's hip, neither holding him there or pushing him away. Just resting.

Finally pulling away, Sean rested his forehead against Elijah's.

"Stuart was a bit orally fixated - and don't look at me like that, Wood. He liked to kiss ..." and he kissed. "And lick..." He licked. "And bite..."

"Get off!" laughed Elijah.

"And he liked to taste." Sean licked the tip of Elijah's nose and then worked his way lower, stopping off at Elijah's neck, nipples and belly.

Once again putting his palms flat against Elijah's belly, Sean paused and looked up. Elijah, his body starting to tremble under all the attention, met his gaze.

"He liked to taste," Sean repeated, then ducked his head and licked his way up Elijah's cock.

Elijah grunted and bucked up from the bed, but Sean's hands kept him more or less in place.

"Are your eyes still open?" he asked, his voice a bit muffled.

"Oh yes, you bet," Elijah lied happily, and Sean laughed, making Elijah quiver all over again. Sean pressed down with his hands and Elijah automatically moved his hips; feeling Sean's hands there was an amazingly intimate sensation. Although the feeling of Sean's mouth on his cock was never less than wonderful, Elijah found himself concentrating on those hands. He came, and it was slow and sweet, no bells or flashing lights, just him and Sean hiding from the world.

"And one day Christian realised that he didn't have to rely on his imagination to be happy anymore, or to get what he most wanted in life," Sean said after a few minutes, resting his head against Elijah's chest. "Because what he had found in the real world was so much better than anything his imagination could ever offer."

"There wasn't a better feeling," Elijah picked up the tale again, one hand resting on Sean's back. "Imagination is a wonderful gift, and everybody needs to have dreams, but imagination can't supply every detail, and dreaming is good, but you have to wake eventually."

"Did they live happily ever after?" asked Sean.

"I think so. They've lived happily so far anyway," replied Elijah.

Sean smiled and turned so that he could kiss Elijah's chest.

"One down," he said. "Nine to go."


The End

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