Quite some time ago now, I wrote a fic called Undiscovered Soul, and said that I would expand on it anon. Anon has more or less arrived and this is the next part. Of course, it now seems there will be a third part because I am incapable to leaving well enough alone. It’s AU, Sean/Elijah, and this part deals with the subject of date rape, so be warned, okay?

Pairing – Sean/Elijah Elijah/OMC

Rating – Adult

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

Separate Ways

"I never realised," Sean said in wonder. "Never realised that something could feel so right." He kissed Elijah softly. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Elijah said. "No, really it is." He stroked his hands down Sean’s shoulders and upper arms before running them together to meet in the centre of his chest. "Christ, you feel so good under my hands, under my mouth." He smiled. "You feel - honest, you know?"

"What?" Sean smiled fondly.

"You work outdoors, you know? You’re strong and good and right, not all flabby and pale from working indoors and drinking too much and never exercising. There’s honesty in you because you are what you are."

"Did Mark feel honest?" Sean said, ducking his head to capture Elijah’s gaze. "You never talk about him, did you know that? It’s not so long since you split with him, is it? Will you tell me about him?"

"What do you want to know?" Elijah said, moving his hands from Sean’s chest and moving to hold his own arms, almost as if trying to comfort himself.

"I want to know why you do that when you mention his name," Sean replied, pulling at Elijah’s hands and holding them both in one of his own. "Tell me your story."

*

Elijah raised his hands above his head, eyes closed. He could feel the sweat pouring down his face and his neck, his hair unpleasantly damp against his skin, but he didn’t care. The music was inside him, and as he tilted his head back until the tendons in his neck creaked, he imagined he could feel it vibrating through the soles of his feet. He was aware of other people around him, lost in their own worlds, high on music and drugs, but he didn’t care. He knew the music was for him; only ever for him.

"Hey." The voice insinuated itself into his mind, but he shook his head, not wanting to come back from his magic place. He tilted his head back still further.

"Hey, I’m talking to you." Elijah felt another body press against his, a sweaty face rest against the crook of his neck. "Haven’t seen you before."

"What’s a nice boy like me doing in a place like this?" Elijah said, his body still moving, his mind slowly and reluctantly coming back from his magic place.

"Are you a nice boy?" Elijah felt teeth scraping along his neck, biting gently. "I don’t want a nice boy."

Finally Elijah turned around, dropping his arms loosely around the neck of the man now pressed against him hip to hip. He could feel the hardness of the other man’s cock against his belly and the familiar feeling sent a thrill through him, making him grind his hips obscenely.

"Oh, I don’t think you’re a nice boy at all." The other man put his hands against Elijah’s ass, pulling him close, breath stuttering at the friction it caused. "That’s good."

"Ain’t it just?" Elijah laughed, his blood pounding with the beat of the music, with the man pressed against him.

"Farm boy." He was blond, Elijah noticed finally. Tall and rangy. Elijah slipped his hands under the man’s shirt, hooking his fingers into the top of jeans damp with sweat.

"If you want me to be," he said. "Do you want me to be?"

"Want to party?" The man moved one of his hands, resting it against Elijah’s hip, his fingers tensing and relaxing, making Elijah strain for more.

"What you got in mind?" Elijah asked, raising his head, his lips against the man’s neck, tasting sweat and arousal.

"Come on." The other man turned, and keeping one hand on the back of Elijah’s neck, led them off the dancefloor towards the men’s room.

*

Once there, Elijah was pushed, none too gently, into one of the stalls, his companion kicking down the seat before he pressed Elijah backward until he was sitting down, eyes level with a bulge enticing enough to make his mouth water.

"You want to suck me?" A big hand stroked through his hair, pulling him forward. "Let me see that pretty mouth of yours on my cock. Those lips of yours will look so good … Come on, take it out, suck it…"

Elijah pressed the heels of his hands against the bulge, making the other man hiss out a breath through his teeth, before he reached out and unzipped him, deftly taking out his cock, swallowing at the size of it, before leaning forward and taking it into his mouth, tongue and teeth working on it, one hand clamping it firmly at the root as he moved his head, trying to take in more.

"That’s it." The voice was breathless, hands tight in Elijah’s hair. "Jesus you’re looking good. Fucking hell…"

Elijah pressed forward, trying to fight down the gag reflex, trying to swallow him whole, stopping as he began to choke.

"It’s all right. You look amazing. I could come just by looking at you. Hold still, sugar…"

He held Elijah’s head still until, after another few hard thrusts he came, Elijah swallowing as much as he could before he was released, sitting back against the cistern, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Jesus, look at you… what’s your fucking name?"

"Why do you want to know?" Elijah asked. "We going to become pen pals?"

"Mine’s Mark." The blond man dropped to his knees, unzipping Elijah’s pants. "Tell me yours."

"Josh," Elijah lied, gasping as Mark leaned forward, sucking in his cock. "It’s Josh."

He tangled his hand in Mark’s hair, his hips thrusting forward and up as the vacuum around his cock grew almost painful in its intensity. "Jesus fuck …. God!" He came with a shudder, only pushing Mark away when it began to hurt for real.

"You’re good," Mark said, sitting back on his heels, sliding his hands up Elijah’s neck until his thumbs were pressing against Elijah’s windpipe. "Do you kiss?"

"Not usually," Elijah answered, swallowing past the blockage in his throat.

"But you’ll make an exception?" Mark almost smiled, moving forward as Elijah nodded as much as he could. "Jesus, you’re gorgeous."

The kiss was long and deep, surprisingly gentle after the speed and aggression of what had gone before and Elijah spread his legs as much as he could in the restriction of his pants, leaning back as Mark loomed over him.

"Elijah," he said breathlessly as the kiss ended. "My name’s Elijah."

"Hi, Elijah." Mark smiled for real, and Elijah pulled him in for another kiss.

*

"Why did you lie about your name?"

"Because that’s how it’s done," Elijah replied. "There are certain bars you go to when you want a nameless fuck, when you just don’t want to be alone, and this was one of them. I didn’t mean to tell him my name, at least not at the start, but then I never meant to kiss him either." He shrugged. "I wasn’t a whore or anything, Sean, it’s just how our life is led, you know? Casual sex is - casual."

"And when you met Mark you decided that you didn’t want it casual, is that it?" Sean asked.

"That’s it." Elijah shrugged. "I thought - let myself think - that this was different, that this time I would find somebody who actually wanted me around for me." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "That makes me sound like a loser, I know. But what you have to realise is that people leave me, you know? My parents left me, my brother left me. I just had me, you know? Sometimes, Sean, the world is a fucking lonely place, and a bit of warmth and comfort can go a long way."

"I know that," Sean answered, pulling Elijah close and kissing him.

*

"When I saw you tonight," Mark said later, propped above Elijah, his hips moving tantalisingly slowly, "I had to have you, had to know you. You’re just fucking gorgeous."

"Yeah," Elijah gasped, his own hips raising from the bed. "Whatever. Just fuck me, okay?"

He put his hands around Mark’s shoulders, pulling him down, wrapping his legs more tightly around the lean torso, urging him deeper, gasping his pleasure as Mark began to hit the spot again and again.

*

"Stay," Mark said, his hand running slowly down Elijah’s back. "Stay the night. Stay the week or the month." He kissed Elijah, who sighed his appreciation. "Just stay."

"I like the sound of that," Elijah said when the kiss ended. "Tell me about yourself."

"Not much to tell," Mark said, dropping to one side of Elijah. "I work in the city, I make good money …" He looked around the bedroom, one hand raising slightly to make his point. "My bosses don’t know I’m gay, because they would find some reason fire my ass."

"Really?" Elijah closed his eyes, arching his back in an attempt to get the kinks out of it. "Even now, when gay’s so fashionable?"

"They haven’t even made it to the twentieth century," Mark said ruefully. "They don’t know." He kissed Elijah’s shoulder, then his chest. "Mom and Dad live in the country most of the time, a big rambling house so that they only have to be polite to each other at mealtimes. I have a sister called Louise who is the biggest bitch in this hemisphere, and that’s it." He raised his head. "What about you?"

"Me?" Elijah slowly ran his hands through Mark’s fine hair. "I work on a paper, but I’m writing a novel of course. Parents long dead, one brother who never speaks to me."

"You poor then?" Mark laughed, breath ghosting over Elijah’s nipple before leaning down and taking it into his mouth making Elijah groan.

"No," he gasped. "I don’t just want you for your money. Trust funds, you know."

"So we’re both rich boys," Mark said, his tongue sliding down Elijah’s belly. "Shall we go on holiday to the sun?"

"Not yet," Elijah said. "At least tell me your surname."

"Clayton." Mark looked up. "Any more secrets you want me to tell you?"

"No," Elijah answered, his head tilting backward against the pillows. "Not right now."

*

Elijah got so used to waking up in Mark’s bed that when it was casually suggested he move in, he didn’t think twice, simply sub-let his own apartment and moved his laptop, his books and his collection of CDs into Mark’s huge art deco studio.

"Is that it?" Mark had asked, and Elijah had looked at the meagre collection at his feet and nodded. "You going to write your masterpiece here?"

"I may," Elijah said. "I’m going to one day, so why not here?"

"Because you’ll be too busy sucking me off to even switch that thing on …" Mark tapped the side of Elijah’s laptop.

"Don’t!" Elijah picked up the precious computer. "Hands off the hardware." He looked at Mark from under his eyelashes. "Well that particular hardware anyway."

"Why? Got any other hardware you were you thinking of?" Mark smirked and stepped forward, gently removing the laptop from Elijah’s hands.

*

"Have you written your masterpiece? You’re always working on the laptop, so I’m guessing the answer’s no." Sean rolled over onto his belly, propping his chin on his hands. "Unless you’re writing two masterpieces." He smiled. "Or maybe you’re secretly an expert gardener and you’re writing a cutting piece on how inept I am."

"Damn, and I thought I was being so subtle about it." Elijah rubbed his eyes and then kept his hands over his face. "You’re going to have to teach me about flowers and plants, you know? We’ve got a beautiful garden, and this is our home. I want to be a part of it."

"That would be nice," Sean answered. "Domestic." He reached out and pulled at Elijah’s hands. "You’ve become very domestic, haven’t you? From what you’ve told me so far I wouldn’t have pegged you for this kind of life. You seem to want more. I mean, the only time we go out is when we go for dinner – I’ve never even set foot in a club."

Elijah laughed. "A lot of people say how much they enjoy going to clubs, you know? I don’t think it’s true. I know it isn’t for me. I went to clubs to meet people, to go home with them, or even just fuck them in the men’s room. I wanted the company, that’s all. Now I’ve got the company, got what I was looking for, why would I want to go out again? I used to like the music, like where it took me." He shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "It used to take me to a magic place where nobody could touch me or hurt me, where I was perfect." He slid down the bed slightly and kissed Sean softly. "I’m not going to say it, but you know what I’m thinking."

"Yes, I know," Sean replied. "And I’m glad." He kissed Elijah. "So you never wrote your masterpiece."

"No. He wouldn’t let me. Every time I tried to work he would come in, distract me in some way – don’t look at me like that. Sometimes it would be that, but other times he would just talk all the time, or turn on the tv or his music so that I couldn’t concentrate." Elijah stroked the tips of his fingers across Sean’s chest. "He wasn’t like you. You carry silence in you; he never did."

"How long were you together?" Sean asked, pushing into the touch. "What went wrong?"

Elijah rested his head against Sean’s chest, and was silent.

*

"Don’t!" Elijah tried to pull away. "Fuck, Mark, that really hurts. Get off!"

"You love it," Mark said, the sweat beginning to drip off his chin onto Elijah’s face, making him shake his head, trying to wipe his face on his arm. "You know you do."

"I don’t…" Elijah squirmed, unable to free himself from Mark’s grip, feeling the bruises already developing on his shoulders where Mark’s fingers dug into his flesh. "Come on, get off me… ow, fuck!" He shifted again trying to get away from the pressure of Mark’s cock pressing painfully against him. "Don’t do it, man." He shifted his hips. "You’re hurting me, Mark, come on."

"God, you’re boring!" Mark pulled away and collapsed to one side of him. "I was just trying to instil some excitement into our love life."

"It’s been less than a year," Elijah protested, sliding away and rubbing his shoulder, frowning at the way it screamed a protest. "Not even that, maybe six months, yeah? Long enough for you to realise that I don't want you to do that, okay? I don’t do rough stuff."

"You should," Mark said, covering Elijah’s hand with his own. "You should at least try it." He kissed Elijah’s cheek. "Don’t be boring all your life."

"Fuck you!" Elijah slid away and sat up. "Just because I don’t want you to fuck me dry doesn’t make me boring." He stood up, rubbing his hands over his face. "Fucker."

Ignoring Mark’s voice, Elijah made his way out of the bedroom and into the big main room where he sat in front of his laptop, staring at the blank screen for several minutes before switching it on and beginning to type, slowly at first but then more quickly as his muse began to speak to him.

"Oh, what?" Mark’s voice brought him back to the present, and he sighed quietly. "Are you sulking just because of a little bit of rough stuff? Going to sit and write the great American Novel?" Elijah didn’t turn around, just listened as Mark approached him, feet whispering against the wooden floor.

"Come on." Mark’s lips were soft against Elijah’s neck. "I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"You shouldn’t have done it," Elijah said. "I said no, and you should have listened."

"I did listen," Mark’s voice was soft and persuasive. "I stopped didn’t I?"

"You listened, but you didn’t hear," Elijah said.

"Oh stop it." Elijah’s chair was spun around and Mark dropped to his knees, pushing Elijah’s legs apart. "Do you have any idea how amazing you look? You’re fulfilling just about every fantasy I have, you know. You naked against black leather." He pressed his fingers into Elijah’s thighs. "Come back to bed."

"No, I want to write for a while," Elijah said. "Just for a little while."

"Come on." Mark pushed Elijah’s legs further apart. "Why are you bothering?" He lowered his head and Elijah, somewhat reluctantly to begin with, rested his hand against Mark’s head, watching the ripple of muscles in his arms and shoulders.

"I want to write," he said, his thighs beginning to tense and move, his voice trailing off into a groan when Mark said something around his hardening cock, all coherent thought leaving him.

*

"Is that when you started to wonder about him? When he began to want the rough stuff?" Sean looked down at the last part, embarrassed, and Elijah smiled, shaking his head.

"No. He wanted that almost from day one and he just kept trying, even though I always said no. I don’t even know if I ever wondered about him." Elijah was silent for such a long time that Sean finally looked up. "I didn’t know him well enough to wonder about him. I lived with him, but I didn’t know him."

"What do you mean?"

"He hardly went to work, preferring to keep me with him and fuck me as often as he could. I would sometimes see him on the computer and I guess that’s how he did his work, made his deals, but when I asked I was just told that he was "in finance", and I never bothered to find out more." Elijah sighed. "I guess I was never really that interested." He smiled at Sean. "I know all about you. If somebody stopped me in the street to ask me obscure questions about you, I would get a hundred percent. If somebody asked me Mark’s birthday I’d just look at them."

"And you hate gardening," Sean said. "I know that."

"No, I don’t hate it," Elijah corrected. "I’m just no good at it. I love watching you out in our garden though; love watching you kneeling on the grass, doing that thing with the weeds."

"Weeding?"

"Yep. You look amazing."

Sean laughed and rolled over onto his side, his hand moving to pull Elijah close.

"Not as amazing as you." He lowered his head, licking at Elijah’s ear, making him sigh and arch his back. "Tell me more later."

*

"Hello, stranger." Elijah walked into the main office and raised his hand in the direction of the voice, moving towards his own small cubicle, groaning as he saw the pile of work sitting on the keyboard, held down by a large paperweight which looked unamusingly like an erect cock. No doubt somebody somewhere thought it was hilarious.

"So how’s loverboy?"

Elijah turned around and smiled vaguely at Stuart, his colleague, who was leaning against the partition that separated his office from the rest of the room.

"He’s fine, thanks," Elijah replied. "That paperweight must be your idea."

"What makes you think that?" Stuart asked, his smirk giving it away.

"Because only a certain brand of fuckwit would think that was funny, Stu, and it has your fingerprints all over it."

"How do you know that? Have you dusted it?" Stuart’s smirk grew into a grin.

"Oh, once again I’m stunned by your wit." Elijah picked up the paperweight, holding it out to Stuart as if it were a particularly disgusting fish. "Here, keep it so that you can amuse me again in the future."

"Okay." Stuart took the paperweight and looked at it, chuckling slightly, and then glanced back at Elijah.

"Oh you’re still here," Elijah said. "Why?"

"I’m curious." Without being asked, Stuart perched on the corner of Elijah’s desk. "We haven’t seen you for days. How’s loverboy?"

"Fine, thanks." Elijah looked pointedly at Stuart, who didn’t react.

"So how long’s it been now?"

"Six months," Elijah answered.

"Do you think that this is the one? True love?" Stuart moved the pile of papers with his index finger and Elijah just managed to catch them before they cascaded to the floor.

"Stuart, what do you want?" Elijah asked. "You’re bugging me, man." He gestured at the papers. "Got a lot of work to do."

"So what do you see in him? Is he gorgeous?" Stuart paused. "I want to know. If you met the man of your dreams I want to know how and where and I want to know everything about him so that I can go to the same place and find one."

Elijah shook his head. "Fuck’s sake. Okay, he’s tall, handsome, got a gorgeous apartment - where I now live, can I just add - he’s hung like a donkey and fucks like a dream." He paused. "I may have said that last part a little bit too loud."

"Yep," came the laconic response from the cubicle next to Elijah’s.

"Fuck off, Stuart," Elijah said, pulling out his chair and sitting down. "I’ve got work to do."

"You only had to say," Stuart said, finally taking the hint and leaving Elijah alone with his thoughts.

He picked up the first of the papers on the pile and gazed at it, not really taking it in. Stuart, irritating as he undoubtedly was, had set him wondering. Was Mark the one? Sure, he made Elijah laugh, and the sex was amazing, but … Elijah shook his head, trying to clear it of such thoughts. He wasn’t a girl and he didn’t intend to start thinking girly thoughts.

"Enjoy it," he muttered. "Just enjoy it."

The phone rang as he was once again gazing into the middle distance and, startled, he dropped the receiver on the first attempt, smiling as he heard laughter, tinny but still familiar.

"Shut up," he said. "I nearly broke something trying to catch the idiot thing before it hid the ground."

"Well, just don’t break anything important, that’s all," replied Mark. "Listen, Davey’s just called. He’s back in town after too long away. You haven’t met him yet, and I want you to. Want to show you off so make sure you get home early. You said you may work late since you haven’t been in too much recently. Don’t, all right? Come home as early as you can. We’re going out tonight."

"Mark, I can’t." Elijah cradled the receiver on his shoulder as he quickly logged in on his computer, wincing at the number of e-mails demanding his attention. "I shouldn’t have stayed away so long. If I don’t catch up, my ass belongs to Parker."

"No, your ass belongs to me," Mark replied. "Just do as much as you can, and get home by 5, okay? Don’t let me down."

The dial tone sounded in Elijah’s ear and he put the receiver down with a sigh. Sometimes Mark had an attitude he really didn’t like, but it wasn’t worth the hassle of saying anything.

*

It was in fact closer to 6pm by the time Elijah got home, and he barely had time to close the door before Mark appeared, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him down the hallway to their bedroom.

"Ow! Christ, Mark, will you just for once stop grabbing hold of me? I’m already covered in bruises from your pathetic attempts at rough sex." He pulled away, stopping in the hallway, scowling at Mark. "I’m not some kind of baby."

"Oh come on," Mark said impatiently, not releasing his grip. "You’re late as it is and Davey doesn’t like to be kept waiting."

"Mark, get off me!" Elijah practically dug his heels in trying to stop his headlong progress towards the bedroom. "Christ, stop always pulling me about."

"Stop being a fucking baby then!" snapped Mark, turning to face him. Out of the corner of his eye Elijah caught a movement and glanced down.

"What? Are you planning on beating me into submission or something? I tell you right now, you lay one finger on me and I’m out of here." He glared at Mark. "Understand? Stop always trying to be such a big man with me. It doesn’t impress me." He looked at Mark’s hand again and then back into his face.

Mark’s clenched fist relaxed.

"I’m sorry, sugar, " he said, raising his hand to caress Elijah’s face. "I just … want to show you off, and Davey really hates to be kept waiting. You know I’d never hurt you."

Elijah thought briefly of the bruises on his body that gave the lie to that statement, but then he pushed it away. He had talked himself into being in love with Mark and he didn’t want to take out the feelings and study them too hard for fear of what they might look like in the cold light of day.

*

"Why?" Sean asked, his fingers tracing the shape of Elijah’s cheekbone. "Why did you stay with him? Were you ever happy?"

"Because he made me feel like I mattered," Elijah answered. "For a little while there, I had a base, had roots."

"And that’s important to you?"

"God, yes." Elijah turned, resting his lips against Sean’s shoulder. "My parents - I never knew them, don’t remember their faces, barely remember their names. I just wanted someone to come home to." He shook his head. "God, that sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?"

"No," Sean replied. "It’s understandable. You were lonely and Mark showed you all the attention you could ever need, made you feel special and wanted."

"Never loved though," Elijah said thoughtfully, raising his head from Sean’s shoulder. "That didn’t happen until much later."

Sean moved his hand, running his fingers over Elijah’s pale skin. "I would never bruise you, you do know that, don’t you?" He wanted to say more, wanted to say that he loved Elijah, would never leave him, would make sure he was never unhappy again a day in his life, but somehow the words seemed wrong just then, and they stuck in his throat as he tried to speak, so instead he kissed Elijah until they were both breathless.

"I know," Elijah said, breaking the kiss, his hand resting on Sean’s shoulder. "I know."

*

"Wear the leather pants tonight," Mark said, perching on the edge of the bed as Elijah rummaged in the closet. "And the sheer shirt. You look unbelievable in them."

"What? We’re going to meet friends of yours," Elijah protested. "I don’t want to come over like some cheap little whore."

"You make a glorious whore," Mark protested. "Please, Elijah."

Shaking his head, Elijah pulled on the required clothes and turned to Mark, arms spread wide, bowing slightly when Mark applauded enthusiastically.

"Fucking beautiful!" He stood up and pulled Elijah into his arms, kissing him hungrily. Elijah leaned happily against him, letting the kiss carry him away, blinking dazedly when Mark pulled away, unfastening the shirt Elijah had just put on.

"What are you doing?" he said, pushing at Mark’s hands. "I thought we were late … ow!" He flinched away as Mark’s teeth sank into the soft flesh just above his nipple. "That really hurt." He looked down, closing one eye as he squinted at the damage. "That’s another bruise." He looked at Mark. "I can’t wear the shirt now, you do realise? That’ll show."

"I know," Mark said. "That’s why I did it." He reached out and grabbed Elijah’s hips, pulling him forward. "Now I just have to fuck you before we go."

"But we’re late," Elijah protested half-heartedly, backing towards the bed. "What will Davey say?"

"Who?" Mark laughed and began to unfasten Elijah’s pants.

*

"Didn’t you realise that you were being used?" Sean’s hand rested against Elijah’s hip, making him feel ridiculously warm and comfortable - safe. "Surely even if he made you feel wanted, there came a point when you realised what was happening, realised that he was using you, hurting you?"

"He didn’t hurt me," replied Elijah immediately, knowing even as he said it that he was lying. "Or at least, he never meant to."

Sean didn’t reply, but the hand on Elijah’s hip tightened.

*

Davey, Elijah decided very quickly, was a dick. He sat next to Elijah, obviously either stoned or drunk, and held court, telling the rest of the group --Elijah, Mark and two other couples - how he earned more money than they could imagine, lived a life they could only dream.

"Really?" Elijah said finally, goaded beyond patience. "So they pay you well for being a prick? You’ve certainly cornered the market." He took another mouthful of his drink to hide his smirk, Mark’s half-shocked, half-amused "Elijah!" being drowned out by Davey’s, "…the fuck?"

"The thing is, Davey, that you talk a real good talk, can’t deny that." Elijah leaned against Mark. "But I wonder if you can walk the walk. Can you? Shall we compare bank balances?"

"Why?" Davey demanded. "You telling me that a whore makes more money than me?"

"Don’t know," Elijah said, clamping down on his anger. "But if anybody’s in a position to know about whores it would be you, since I imagine that you have to use them most of the time."

"Drink," Mark said, lowering his lips to brush against Elijah’s ear. "Bad man." He reached out for Elijah’s drink, handing it to him. "You want another?"

"Mmmm." Elijah finished the last of his beer, grimacing at the slightly bitter taste. "Yuck. That one had settled. Need another one to wash the taste away." He sagged backward as Mark moved away, barely able to catch his balance.

"Not too good at holding your drink are you?" Davey asked, pushing his own, untouched beer toward Elijah.

"I’m fine," he replied, picking up the bottle and raising it in a sarcastic toast before raising it to his lips and draining half of it before setting it back down again and reaching out for a handful of chips from the basket on the table to take away the bitter taste. Obviously the bar had bought in a whole batch that had settled.

*

He was aware of being half carried from the bar and put into the back of a cab, hemmed in by Davey and Mark.

"I haven’t drunk that much," he protested, trying to clear his head.

"It’s not how much you drink," Davey purred, his lips close to Elijah’s ear, making him squirm and try and move away. "It’s what’s in it."

"What?" Elijah struggled to understand. "What?"

"Just relax, sugar." Mark’s voice was low and calm. "We’re going home and we’re gonna have some fun, okay? You’ll love it, you know you will."

Elijah felt a hand cup his groin, and looked down, blinking foolishly, trying to clear his mind. The hand moved, cupping and squeezing, before slowly unfastening the zip on Elijah’s pants and sliding inside, making him draw in a breath as he felt hot skin against his cock.

"Don’t…" he said. "Stop it." He paused, swallowing hard. "Could you maybe open a window? It’s stuffy in here."

"We’ll be home soon and then you’ll be fine," Mark said. "Don’t worry about it. Just let Davey touch you. I want to watch him touch you."

"No …" Elijah knew he should push Davey’s hand away, make the cab stop, but he couldn’t seem to get his limbs to work. He felt as if someone had stuffed cotton wool into his skull in place of his brain. He felt…

"What have you given me?" he said finally, trying and failing to move Davey’s hand. "What have you done to me?"

"Just a little something to help you relax," Davey said. "You’ll thank us in the morning."

*

"Oh, Elijah." Sean buried his face in the pillow next to Elijah’s head. "Oh, no…."

*

Elijah was completely unable to make his feet work properly when the cab stopped and so had no choice but to be helped out and walked unsteadily to the apartment.

"Don’t," he said as he was laid on the bed, Mark slowly unfastening his shirt, exposing him. "Mark, I don’t want this." He tried to move, but could hardly turn his head on the pillow to gaze at Mark. "Please. I don’t want this."

"Yes you do," Mark said soothingly, quickly kissing his forehead. "You just don’t know it."

"Did you bruise him?" Davey asked, running his fingers over Elijah’s skin. "Nice work."

"I never meant to hurt him," Mark replied, and whatever part of Elijah that wasn’t screaming in fear hung onto the tone in his voice. "He didn’t want the rough stuff and he bruises easy."

Davey lowered his head and bit softly at Elijah’s neck. "Well, you can be as rough with him as you like now. Nothing he’ll be able to do for the next few hours except lie there and take it."

Elijah was aware, at a great distance, of the small, panicked noises that were escaping him as his shirt was pulled off, then his pants, leaving him naked and helpless on the bed. He tried to move his hand, touch Mark, escape from the nightmare, but his arms and legs were too heavy to move. Mark turned his head and they looked at each other for a moment before Elijah closed his eyes. There was no escape there.

*

"Don’t tell me," Sean said, putting his hand over Elijah’s mouth. "If you tell me how much they hurt you then I will hate myself."

"What?" Elijah pulled Sean’s hand away. "Why?"

"Because I should have been there to save you. Should have been able to ride in like some kind of hero and take you away from it." He cupped Elijah’s face. "I should have helped you."

"Only one person could have helped me," Elijah replied, his fingers tangling in Sean’s hair. "And that was me. I shouldn’t have got into that situation, shouldn’t have let it happen."

"Of course," Sean mock-agreed, his eyes angry. "Because of course you should have been on your guard when you go out with the person who claims they love you, the person you should trust more than anybody else. You should go out and be on your guard in case they decide to drug you and share you with their friend." He stopped, swallowing, and Elijah stayed silent, his eyes focused somewhere in the region of Sean’s chin. Taking a deep breath, Sean continued.

"Nobody deserves that. Nobody, do you understand?" He rolled away from Elijah and sat up, not noticing the way Elijah’s eyes closed in momentary fear. "Our bed isn’t the place to talk about this." He stood up and then turned around, leaning over to kiss Elijah. "Our bed is for sleeping and loving and talking about good things, or about the shopping list we forgot to make. Let’s go downstairs."

Obediently, Elijah pulled on his clothes and followed Sean downstairs into the chaos of their new home - bought with the proceeds of selling Elijah’s house. Sean’s wife and children still lived in their old home, only a twenty minute drive away. Sean saw his kids every weekend, going there in the morning and not returning until evening when, his face and eyes sad, he would sit quietly in the kitchen watching as Elijah cooked their dinner. Elijah had to work hard on those nights to bring Sean back from the sad place he had gone.

He sat on the floor, watching as Sean opened the first box he came to, pulling out clothes and, oddly, pots and pans, looking around before putting them on the floor by his feet.

"I didn't pack properly," he said. "There's no order in anything. Why have I got three cups and - hang on - five plates - in here? And shirts." He stopped unpacking and shook his head. "I was in too much of a hurry."

"I understand that," Elijah said softly, his toes flexing against the softness of the carpet. He stared at Sean's back, watching the broad shoulders tense before slowly relaxing again.

"This is our home," Sean said finally. "So much has happened to us; we've both come so far. It's barely six months since you invited me in for a cup of coffee. I don't know you, you don't know me."

"I know that I want to be with you," Elijah said. "I know that much."

"I feel the same," Sean said immediately, turning around and moving to sit in front of Elijah. "But we have a lot to learn."

*

Elijah flexed his muscles experimentally for the fourth time in half an hour feeling them react more quickly each time. He didn't think they would be back, not now. He could hear the television - could hear them laughing and hear himself making some kind of noise beyond words. He should have realised they would tape it, suspected that he would become part of a much greater library.

Slowly he pushed himself into a sitting position and then sidled toward the edge of the bed. His shoulders hurt, his back hurt, everything hurt. Glancing down as he put his feet carefully on the floor, he was almost amused to see that as well as the bruises and what seemed to be bites on his legs, his feet appeared to be bruised - he had no memory of that happening.

Holding onto the head of the bed, he levered himself to his feet, the breath hissing through his teeth as his body protested. Dizzy, he held onto the bed for a moment longer before letting it go and forcing himself to let go, but having to put a hand on the wall to keep himself upright. He hobbled to the closet and pulled out the first clothes he could find, clumsily stepping into jeans that were fortunately loose-fitting and a shirt that he didn't bother to fasten.

Looking around, he saw his trainers kicked under the bed and slowly and painfully bent down to pick them up, having to stop as the blood began to pound behind his eyes, little flecks of blackness slowly encroaching on his consciousness. When the dizziness had passed, he slipped his feet into his trainers and once more straightened up.

Still moving slowly, although more hampered by physical pain than any effects of the drug, he gathered what he would need, putting a few belongings into a rucksack, and slowly made his way out of the bedroom.

The final thing he needed was his laptop, and that was in the same room as the television. The same room where Mark and Davey were. Elijah closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. But he had to have his laptop.

He stood in the doorway, watching them. By looking past them he could see the television, see what they were watching, but he didn't want to - he could hear himself, hear the sound of his voice, and he didn't want to know what it was that had made him make that noise. Quietly he stepped into the room, moving over to the desk and picking up his computer.

"Elijah." He froze and then looked over, straight into Davey's eyes. "Why don't you come and join us?"

"I don't think so," Elijah replied. He looked at Mark. "I'm not going to be so pathetic as to ask why. I just hope you realise that you're the scum that scum would scrape off its boots." He moved back towards the door. "Do you do it a lot?"

"Elijah..." To Elijah's amazement, Mark looked almost ashamed. "I - we - never meant it to go so far."

"What? You mean you were just going to drug me a little bit? Just fuck me a little bit? Is that what you meant?" He nodded at the television. "Nice to see that you can still bring yourself to watch it, even though you never meant it to go so far." He took a step towards the sofa before forcing himself to stop. "How many other people? How many have you done this to?"

"Only the pretty ones," Davey said, clearly unconcerned. "Get over it, Elijah. It was a bit of fun, that's all. Stop acting as if your opinion mattered."

"Don't be like this," Mark said, standing up and moving towards Elijah who took an involuntary step backwards, cursing himself for showing any kind of emotion. "Come and sit with us."

"Sit with you?" Elijah almost laughed. "You really don't get it, do you? How can you be so stupid?" He looked past Mark and saw that Davey was watching, an amused glint in his eye. "We've been together for six months," he continued. "Doesn't that mean anything to you? Were you just waiting for the chance to do this?" He shook his head. "Am I really so stupid?"

"Guess you are," Davey said, turning back to the television. "Come on, Elijah. You'll enjoy this part."

"Did I last night?" snapped Elijah, turning his attention back to Mark. "Are you really telling me that this is what you've always wanted?"

The slight hesitation before Mark shook his head told Elijah all he needed to know, and he nodded.

"Six months," he said. "I've wasted six months of my life on you. Tell me, why didn't you do this sooner? Then I wouldn't have lost so much time on something that's not worth it."

"Because I wasn't here," answered Davey. "I've been ... away. He had to wait for me to come back before he could do it; he knows the rules."

"Oh, fuck," Elijah whispered, his eyes still fixed on Mark. "Are you telling me that you do this all the time, that you're some kind of serial rapist?"

Mark's "no" was overwhelmed by Davey's "yes".

"No," Mark said again. "I just ... Elijah, it's fun."

"Fun for whom?" Elijah demanded. "For you and for your disgusting friend maybe." He finally looked at Davey. "Where were you for the past year? Away? Away in jail, maybe?"

"Maybe," Davey said, his eyes telling Elijah all he needed to know.

"You know that I'm going to the cops, right?"

"I don't think so." Davey finally moved, standing up and walking over to Elijah, trying to intimidate him. "Why would they believe you anyway? A little fag had a falling out with his boyfriend. He was so upset he went out and got himself fucked. Or maybe he wanted his boyfriend back so bad that he did what was asked of him, and now he regrets it." Davey laughed, the sound incredibly cruel. "They won't give a fuck about you, little Elijah, don't kid yourself."

*

"Did you believe him?" Sean asked, still sitting on the floor in front of Elijah. "You should have gone to the police."

"I should, but I didn't," Elijah replied. "You have to try and understand, Sean. I felt about as low as you could imagine. I was ready to believe that he was right, that I was just a little fag who had gotten himself into a situation that was beyond his control." Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached his hand towards Sean's, stopping before they touched. Sean, seeing him pause, immediately moved his own hand, covering Elijah's.

"You're so cold!" he exclaimed, raising his free hand to Elijah's cheek, cupping the cold flesh, watching as Elijah's eyes closed. "Are you cold?" He pulled suddenly and Elijah, startled, was pulled forward until he was held uncomfortably against Sean's broad chest.

"I'm not cold," he said, relaxing even in his discomfort, absorbing the ridiculous heat that Sean seemed to kick out. He sighed and Sean huffed a laugh, pulling him closer, shifting slightly so that he could lean his back against the wall, keeping Elijah held close.

"Do you think I was wrong?" Elijah asked after a long silence. "I mean, what I did? Did I ask for it?"

"What?" Sean gripped him so tightly that Elijah squirmed in protest. "How can you even begin to think that? You – you have done nothing wrong." He paused then lowered his face against Elijah’s dark hair, loving the softness of it. "Except maybe be a little bit too trusting."

"But surely that’s the point of being in love? Trust should just be a given, right?" Elijah pulled back, looking up at Sean. "I trust you."

"And I, you," Sean answered immediately. "You humble me, did you know that? How can you trust after a thing like that?"

"Because you’re not Mark," Elijah answered simply. "You’re Sean."

"You told him that you don’t like the rough stuff," Sean said, slightly hesitantly. "Did he ever ignore that – before that night? Did he ever hurt you?" Sean looked down. "I remember that he hurt you on the night he came the house to try and get you back."

Elijah nodded. "Sometimes, I guess, but he always apologised, always said it had been – that he had just gotten carried away, you know?" He smiled, but Sean noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. "I know, I was dumb to believe him."

"Yes," Sean agreed, smiling and reaching out to touch Elijah’s hand. "But I think that’s just how you are. You have a big heart. Maybe you let yourself ignore what you knew was there."

"Maybe I did," Elijah agreed, looking down and then smiling. "Or maybe I’m just dumb."

"Maybe," Sean agreed gravely, pulling Elijah close again, grunting as Elijah settled heavily against him. "You ready to tell me the rest?"

*

"I have to go," Elijah said. "You can keep everything, Mark. I’ve taken what I need, and as for what’s left – I don’t want it, don’t want to ever see it again, ever see you again."

"Come on, Elijah." Mark put out a hand, and Elijah stepped back, trying to keep the distance between them. "It was just a bit of fun. You’re going to feel fucking ridiculous about this if you make the grand gesture and leave. Where would you go?"

"I don’t think that’s your business." Elijah stepped back again, only too aware of the desk very close behind him and not wanting to hit it. "Do you honestly think that once the drug that you gave me is out of my system and I’m functioning properly again, that I won’t mind what you did? That I’ll remember this with some kind of fondness?" He shook his head. "How the fuck I never saw you for real is way beyond me. I thought you loved me, I thought we had something going."

Davey laughed, taking another step forward, crowding Elijah, starting the panicky flutterings in this belly. "Mark only loves one person, and that’s Mark," he said. "It’s how he’s always been. You just lasted longer than most , but that’s maybe because you’re so fucking stupid you never saw what was right in front of your face." He reached out, and Elijah leaned backward, not wanting to be touched.

"Stop it," Mark said, and Elijah looked at him gratefully. "Stop being such a ‘tard, Elijah. It was just a bit of fun, a little fuck between friends."

With timing that under other circumstances would have made him laugh, Elijah heard his own voice over the other, more pornographic noises making up the background to their strange little conversation. His voice was slurred, full of drugs and confusion, and he was begging them to leave him alone. His eyes flickered irresistibly towards the television screen, but he couldn’t make sense of what he saw there, and he moved his gaze away again.

"Doesn’t sound like I’m having too much fun," he said. "Sounds like I wanted you to stop."

"You didn’t know what you wanted," Davey interrupted, still too close for comfort. "Opened your mouth pretty willingly, didn’t he, Mark?"

Elijah looked at Mark, desperate for something, a glimpse of something to prove that he hadn’t been so wrong for so long; proof that Mark had cared for him, but there was nothing, and oddly, that gave Elijah the strength to step forward, pushing between them, surprising them. It was Davey who reached out to grab his arm, stopping him in mid-stride.

"Get off me," Elijah said coldly. "If you touch me again, either of you, I will scream rape, and to hell with the consequences." He looked over his shoulder at them. "I don’t think the cops would have too much trouble finding traces of you, would they? I may not remember much, but I don’t think we just held hands all night." He pulled away and made for the door, feeling his legs tremble with the after-effects of the drug and the adrenaline. He just needed to get out.

"Don’t go to the cops." Mark had followed him down the hall, putting his hand on the heavy door , discouraging Elijah from opening it. He reached out with his free hand and stroked the back of Elijah’s neck. "For me." He lowered his head, his lips brushing Elijah’s ear. "For us."

Elijah looked up at Mark, and spoke very deliberately.

"Fuck off, Mark."

He pulled open the door and headed for the street.

*

"Good!" Sean scowled at the door, his fingers tangled in Elijah’s hair. "You should have kicked him where it hurts, but I’m glad you told him that." He cupped Elijah’s skull in his hand. "You’re shivering."

"I’m cold," Elijah said. He held up his hands so that Sean could see them trembling. "I’m scared."

"Don’t be," Sean said immediately. "You’ve got me now. Don’t be scared."

"That’s what scares me," Elijah confessed, clasping his hands together and pressing them against his chest, only too aware of his heartbeat speeding up. "How the fuck can you want to stay with me now?" He closed his eyes, listening as Sean took a deep breath to speak. "I should have told you all this before, shouldn’t I? Before we bought this place, before you left your wife." He pulled away, or at least tried to, but Sean’s hand, still cradling his skull, tightened, holding him in place.

"What do you mean?" Sean asked.

"You’re way too good for me," Elijah said finally. "I’m just a stupid fuck who let stuff happen, and you – you’re just a good, good person."

"Elijah." Sean’s voice was soft, unreadable. "Look at me. Stop inspecting the floor."

Elijah raised his head and forced himself to look into Sean’s eyes. Such kind, changeable eyes.

"Idiot," Sean said, raising his free hand to cup Elijah’s chin. "I’m not so good. You’re not so bad. Do you think that I would have changed my life so much if there wasn’t a very good reason for it?" He shook Elijah slightly, then leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. "Hello, good reason."

"Not ‘very’ good reason?" Elijah asked, his face feeling stiff and strange as he tried to smile.

"Yes," Sean said, rolling his eyes. "A very good reason." He kissed Elijah again, on the delicate skin below each eye, making Elijah blink and startle slightly, before he relaxed and enjoyed the sensation.

"I’m sorry," he said softly, as Sean’s mouth moved to cover his. "Sorry for not telling you."

"You’re telling me now," Sean said. "And I’m not stupid – Mark raped you in your own home, remember? I think I managed to work out that you didn’t have maybe the most – conservative – background." He moved to kiss Elijah. "Not the most boring of relationships." He didn’t move back, offering Elijah the strength of his body, knowing he had done the right thing when Elijah pressed forward, and once again it struck Sean just how young Elijah could sometimes seem, how lost. He had sometimes seen a look, when Elijah was unguarded, of such loneliness, that Sean had set himself to banish that look forever.

"He didn’t rape me," Elijah said, his voice muffled against Sean’s shirt. "Rape is a thing that happens to victims."

Sean closed his eyes, but didn’t answer. This wasn’t the time or place to get into an argument about something that they both wanted to forget. He should never have used the word in the first instance.

*

How he made it down the stairs and out of the door was something Elijah could never explain. He half expected Mark, or infinitely worse Davey, to grab him, take him back into the apartment.

The air was heavy with the promise of a storm, and Elijah looked around, blinking, unsure. He had nowhere to go. His head hurt, the pounding behind his eyes threatening to turn into a migraine at any second, and he had nowhere to go.

His entire body sagging, he almost turned around and went back until his sense of self-preservation kicked him hard in the shin and he shook his head, taking a step forward and then another, before stopping, indecisive. When a face finally made its way into his consciousness, he groaned to himself and turned left, his steps dragging, his body starting to ache as the drug finally left his system.

A walk that should have taken him ten minutes took him closer to forty as his body began to protest its rough treatment. Elijah was vaguely aware that people were staring at him, taking a wide berth around him, and he wanted to shout at them, tell them he wasn’t some sad lost madman wandering the streets; he had been hurt, and he didn’t have anywhere to go. He didn’t, of course. He just clutched his belonging closer to him and kept plodding along the streets, his body screaming abuse at him to stop, to rest, to forget.

Finally, he arrived at his destination and slowly approached the door to the apartment block, still wishing there was some other way. He pressed the buzzer for the appropriate apartment and rested his head against the cool brick of the wall as he waited for a response.

"What?" The voice was as unfriendly as expected, and Elijah swallowed before speaking.

"It’s Elijah," he said finally. "Could I come in?"

"Why? What do you want?"

"I just…." Elijah paused. He had no idea what he wanted. "I need somewhere to sleep." The silence that met the statement was deafening, and Elijah had almost given up hope when he heard the click of the door opening. He pushed it open and walked slowly towards the elevators.

Once he reached the appropriate floor, he paused again, almost turning around and leaving when a door a little way down the hall was thrown open and a bad-tempered face peered towards him.

"Don’t just hover there, boy. Come on."

"I’m sorry, Uncle Bernard," Elijah said as he entered the apartment. "I just … I’ve had a few problems."

"Fallen out with your queer friend?" Bernard scowled. "Why couldn’t you go back to your apartment?"

"Because it’s sub-let," Elijah explained as patiently as he could. "I can’t just turn up on the doorstep."

"Why not? That’s what you’ve just done here."

"I just need somewhere to sleep for a few hours, have a shower, then I’ll be out of your way," Elijah said, closing the door and finally entering the apartment properly. "I won’t be in the way."

"Well please yourself." Bernard moved down the hall and it was only then that Elijah saw the bags piled on the floor. "Are you going somewhere?"

"No. I just like to give the impression," Bernard snapped. "Of course I am. I’ll be gone a week, maybe a little more. Be gone by the time I get back." He nodded towards the kitchen. "The spare key’s in the drawer under the sink." He stopped and looked at Elijah. "You look like shit, boy. Get some sleep."

*

"It sounds as if you get on with your relatives as well as I do," said Sean. "What next?"

"Not so much," Elijah replied, moving to sit next to Sean. "What was I supposed to do? I ran away, as simple as that. I sold the apartment, I moved into shit lodgings when the week was up, and then I came here." He turned his head to look at Sean. "That was the best thing I’ve ever done. Ever."

"But he found you," Sean said, reaching to take Elijah’s hand. "How did he find you?"

"I don’t know," replied Elijah, suddenly feeling old and tired. "But he did, and it hadn’t changed. He’s still stronger than me, bigger than me, and I just … fighting him only ever caused me pain, and in the end maybe it just seemed pointless."

"Don’t say that!" Sean sounded so angry that Elijah looked up in surprise. "You should always fight, always. Never think so little of yourself." He shifted to his knees. "You must have fought because I remember how bruised you were, how wrecked the house was. Don’t say things like that." He looked shrewdly at Elijah. "I think you’ve missed something out of your story. Have you?"

"Maybe." Elijah half nodded, then stopped himself. "But nothing that matters, I promise you. Just days of worrying and looking over my shoulder and hating myself."

"Where is he?" Sean asked. "Where did he go?"

"I don’t know," Elijah said. "I don’t know exactly."

"Can you find out?"

"No!" Elijah pulled away and stood up. "You’re not going after him, you’re not going to be my knight in shining armour, you’re just not. If anybody is going to find him then it’ll be me." He stopped and looked down at the floor, then back up at Sean. "But I’m not. Because it’s over, and I have nothing to say to him."

"But…"

"No." Elijah held up one hand to stop Sean. "Just …no."

"You know that’s wrong," said Sean quietly. "You know that he’ll only do it again, and who knows what may happen this time."

"I can’t get involved," Elijah answered. "I can’t. I just want to live here with you, make my life with you."

"You’re wrong." Sean’s voice was flat. "He’s dangerous." Finally he stood up as well and moved over to Elijah. "At least think about it, don’t just dismiss it." He wrapped his arms around Elijah, and they stood quietly for a long time.

"I will," Elijah said finally, "I’ll think about it."

*

The new house was beautiful and a far cry from anywhere he had ever lived before, and as Elijah looked around at his belongings, most of them still in boxes strewn around the place, he felt his shoulders finally coming down from around his ears, began to think that he could stop looking over his shoulder all the time. Sighing in relief, he pulled himself onto the kitchen counter, accidentally sitting on the remote for the stereo and almost deafening himself.

"Sorry!" he called when he had finally managed to turn it down. "General grovel to new neighbours. Sat on the remote."

He started slightly when a figure appeared silhouetted against the window, but then relaxed. It wasn’t Mark. It was … he didn’t know who it was, but he looked friendly and had kind eyes. Elijah smiled.

TBC

Home

Feedback would be nice