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TITLE: Losing Elijah
AUTHOR: Sophrosyne31 - sophrosyne1972 @
ORIGINAL STORY: Close the Chapter by Trianne
PAIRING: Dom/Elijah (Elijah/Sean)
SUMMARY: Sometimes it's best not to look too closely or too far ahead. Angst.
NOTES: Much gratitude to Trianne for the original heartbreaking story, and to "sliceofpi" for the beta.

DISCLAIMER: The author makes no claims or inferences to reality or truthfulness. Moreover, this story is based upon the work of another author and recognises their creation.

* * * * *

It is like blood draining from a face, losing Elijah.

That awkward, frightening, ghastly-familiar sense of being caught, undone. The smile ready to twist onto his face, the recovery and the hitching of shoulders to bear just a little more weight-or a little less.

Where Dom's frame had borne the pleasant burden of love, now there was just the lightness of his own pumice bones. No need to put his arm over, or under, another shoulder. Dom swung his arms freely, and it was as if he'd been released from heavy water, to move so lightly. His limbs ungainly with the liberty, his fingers too loose.

He'd known it was coming, he says. He shrugs. He thinks of it as a gift, as a grace. He likes to be philosophical. He says he's glad they're happy, it's obvious, isn't it obvious? The way they nestle in together. Sean and Elijah, they're like wine and bread together, they are. Like beer and chips. Now there's the chance to try something else. Don't be so fucking stupid, says Billy. Don't nosh yourself. Be angry. Hate the little shit. Just for a while.

Dom is above anger. It's uncool. And Elijah has taught him something about cool. That was the way it had worked; Elijah taught him how to relax, how to unstring; Dom taught Elijah how to be bound. Dom was going to be so fucking cool now, he'd never even flick an eyelash to see Sean enter the room.

The memories of Elijah's lithe body lying over his, of Elijah's voice saying Yes, yes, now, the press of a forearm against Dom's throat, a mouth opening, eyes shocked; those memories are for the moments when Dom curls up, clenched in bed, trying to straighten his limbs into peace, to smooth the tension in his belly. The memories twist, roiling in his guts, bouldering down into his groin.

Dom lies there at night and the memories-Elijah's mouth opening, the gasp he made, the blind shock in his eyes as he came-make something shudder right up inside Dom, a crushing, a tightening. He lays a forearm across his own eyes, turns again, curls; the clock light makes him squeeze his eyes more tightly closed. Pain and pleasure thudding through him. A taste in the cup of his tongue, like something ready to spit.

He refuses to coil like this during the day. In daylight, he relaxes his face and lets it curve in a smile that he hopes is not graceless, is genuine.

* * * * *

Elijah thought they were attracted to each other as soon as they met.

"I just knew straight away, I knew, man, that you-and I-do you remember that time when we were at Billy's, when Orlando broke all those bottles of beer wrestling with Viggo, and you were talking and talking-and Billy said to me later, Dom was just sparking, he was really on. I'm taking that as a compliment, you know. You were sparking for me!"

"I was trying to charm you," said Dom, pushing Elijah's head further across the pillow until there was room for his own, "you idiot." Because he tried to charm everyone. And who didn't want to enthrall Elijah?

That night, only a month or so ago. Dom, raw and ruddy, jangling with happiness to be in New Zealand, dazzled and spangly. His first real film and his first film-star mate. Elijah standing there, giggling, one hip cocked out, puffing on a clove, and Dom taking the cigarette and sticking a tiny hole through it, giving it back, saying, This'll help you smoke more like a porn star, and Elijah looking at the cigarette and taking it seriously, humming as he inhaled. Yeah, it's better like this. Sucking harder and harder for the smoke that wouldn't come. Dom watching, happy.

Dom never told Elijah that he wasn't in love at first. He thought it would be good to kiss Elijah. It would be good to kiss anyone. He liked this strange kid, he wanted a snog. Everyone wanted one. Dom snuck in first, and simply told Elijah, down a dark hallway at a party, that he was going to kiss him, won't you like that, you little bugger, and Elijah had wrapped his hands around Dom's head and kissed him, kissed him so quickly that knees had dropped an inch with the force of it, throats had hummed in pleasure, Dom's hands had forgotten where they were, and that was the first kiss. One big gulp. His heart beating so fast.

Elijah didn't use the word 'love' and that was why Dom never told him. That would have been uncool. Dom didn't use the word 'love' either, except all the time, during the day, with anyone. Come 'ere, love. With an arm outstretched, mocking, comradely only.

Elijah said, You fucking bastard, with a huge grin that showed his perfect gums, and wriggled in Dom's hug. Elijah said Come here, sucker, and grabbed the waist of Dom's pants and tried to tug them down and when they didn't fall, ran his palms hard and quick up Dom's ribs and said, Playing hard to get? I'll give you hard, and snaked his tongue into Dom's mouth and scuffed the back of Dom's head at the same time and skittered away backwards on his heels, smirking.

Elijah grabbed Dom's head roughly in bed and pulled it up toward his mouth, away from his cock, and said You were so far away, too far. Elijah, when Dom said, Turn around, just turn around, now, slithered around and didn't ask any questions, but buckled with anticipation, his spine flexing; slid against Dom's belly like perfection; and his hands were always sure as they felt blindly for Dom's cock.

Elijah never said No to Dom. And Dom knew that meant: Love. That's what he'd meant, in the end, whenever he said Yes to Elijah.

* * * * *

Dom never took Sean seriously. Was scornful of him. He referred to 'Rudy' as 'Prudey', and muttered to Billy out the corner of his mouth about baseball bats and what Sean could do with them. The other man rubbed Dom like velcro, chafing and sticky at the same time. And the more Sean offered friendship in his earnest, sincere way, the crueller Dom felt, and the more abruptly he tackled Sean in a grappling hug for greeting. Anything to give that solid flesh a hard squeeze, and feel the squeeze of disdain within himself, comforting.

Sean said, "So tell me about Manchester."

Dom said, "The only thing you need to know about Manchester is that the boys give better head than any American cheerleader."

Sean flushed and Dom grinned and Sean shook his head and said, smiling, "That tells me all I need to know about Manchester blokes. What you just said. Jeez."

Elijah watched. Dom was glad to see him laughing, to see Elijah's hand come out to rest on Sean's shoulder in reassurance: Elijah's kindness. It made Dom feel better, as if he were magnanimous by proxy.

He liked seeing Elijah with the others; he liked that Elijah had Sean during filming, the softness of them together. And he liked that Elijah came knocking on his, Dom's, door, that night for something harder.

* * * * *

Grabbing and grasping, mouth dry, mouth wetted by Elijah's mouth. Elijah's throat pale as a tree's skin, bared to Dom's teeth. The shove of hips, the melting of bones. Dampness and scorching; flesh slippery and supple in his hands. Dom held Elijah's arm tight and pulled him close. His lips greedy for belly, thigh, ribs, balls, cock. He hadn't yet actually put his cock in Elijah, hadn't dared. Things were slow and delicate sometimes, still, and he wanted Elijah to come to him for that, wanted to see the want. Liked the tease of anticipation, that one day they'd socket in together, and there'd be a circuit like no other. Now he ran his tongue up Elijah's thigh, turned him, just to press against him, feel his cock fit into the sweaty groove between Elijah's cheeks. For now, this was enough, this was so much.

The way a knee fitted against the socket of the back of Elijah's knee.

The way Elijah buckled boneless and said his name in the moment before he came. How Elijah groaned when Dom groaned climax. How sleepily Elijah raised his eyelids, swollen and full, afterwards.

The way Elijah's cheek fitted the hollow of Dom's shoulder. And the other way around.

* * * * *

Billy never asked Dom anything about Elijah and Dom took this as a sign to talk. Diffident, only shyly proud. Dom and Billy sat together in corners of the studio and Billy's lips made a curl of joy for his friend; Dom liked to make Billy's lips curl like that.

"He's like, you know, some kind of colour." Dom had been reading a book that Viggo lent him, about painting. "You know colours? You see red, right, but what it is, it's all the different colour rays, the thing that looks red is absorbing all the red light and what you see is all the other colours, blue, green, yellow, that are rejected. What you see is actually anything but red. Elijah's like that."

"Right." Billy picked glue out of his hairline.

"He's a funny bastard. You think you've got him and he's always more than you think. He keeps me guessing. Like a hologram."

"Like an actor," Billy observed.

Dom bit his lip. "I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Is there a problem with Elijah?"

"It's not a problem. But it's like, do you remember doing myths in school? There was one about a bloke whose wife went to hell, and he went looking for her, and he found her, right. And he was allowed to take her out, but only as long as he didn't look back. He was in front, see. So he's walking ahead, out of hell, and he thinks, I can't hear her. He's wondering, maybe she's not there after all. And he turns his head, just for a second, to see. And as soon as he does, he looks for her, she vanishes, and that's that. Bloke gets his head torn off by wild women and chucked in a river."

"Ah, the good old days." Billy put his arm around Dom. "You worried?"

"He's too good to be true, mate." And Dom let Billy hug him, and he thought of all that was still to come with Elijah, and the way Elijah's mouth had opened wetly that morning when they were kissing in bed, and Dom was full of a fear that was almost delight.

* * * * *

Dom stroked the fabric of Elijah's jeans one day, where it dipped between the cheeks of his arse. They were standing in a corner, watching Viggo and Orlando shoot a scene, and Ian strolled by giving them a raised eyebrow, and Dom's hand strayed below Elijah's belt and ran his thumb down the softness of Elijah's pants at the back. There was a space, where the material stretched away from the cleft, and into that space Dom longed to run his finger, his tongue; he felt Elijah hitch his pelvis forward, just a little, for better access; Dom smoothed and smoothed and Elijah stood there very still, his breath shallower. And Dom thought, He's ready now.

That evening Dom took his time. He waited all evening, through the video they watched sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, through a few beers. All through the shooting and shouting on the telly, he resisted going to the bedroom for the paper bag he'd brought home from the shops. And then he couldn't wait any more, and he went and got it.

Elijah's lower jaw was loose and his eyes were squinting tiredly at the screen when Dom returned. He took Elijah's shoulder in his hand; dangled the tube of lube in front of his face. Not the most romantic thing to do, but Dom was too afraid of looking stupid to try romanticism. Better to make this clean and clear, to make things happen now. He was flushed hot with the thought of the lube, so satin and transparent and promising, how it would feel cool on his cock, how soft Elijah's arsehole would be, how good it would be to push.

Elijah was looking up at him and Dom saw desire in his eyes. The boy'd gone pale with it, and his skin was so sweet, and Dom dropped to his knees and kissed him. Kissed him till his tongue melted, and there was no breath, only Elijah melting too, both of them, and red behind his eyes, scarlet all around as the two of them fell back on the carpet and Dom's skin dissolved.

There was a moment of yanking clothes off, not looking at each other, of Dom wishing the overhead light were off, and Elijah being very quiet, as he tentatively kissed Dom's temple, lingering. Then Dom kissed him again, and blindly fished for the condom he'd brought, and the tube of lube. One-handed he squeezed some out, more than he expected, and he was slathering it on himself; Elijah went to wank him, his glistening smooth cock, and Dom stopped him.

"Not for that," he said, and kissed Elijah again, again, because he didn't want to say it, didn't want to turn his head from kissing Elijah to see the look in his eyes. Surely the kiss would say everything.

His fingers found the sweet soft hole, teased it with tiny strokes; Elijah didn't move. He plunged lube inside. Elijah inhaled, and his lips went slack on Dom's. It was so hot inside there. Dom's cock jerked, and his other fingers clenched around Elijah's hips, pulled him closer, pushed him down.

And then he was in, slowly easing in, and it was just like he'd known it would be, better than it'd ever been with anyone, was anyone ever this hot? Hot as hell. Sweet as fire. His heart felt like it was on fire too. So much emotion, breaking up through him like sweat. Elijah. Dom's face was in the shape it made for pleasure and for crying. He couldn't keep anything back now.

"I love you, I love you," he said, and he heard his voice breaking and he thought, This must be true.

He pulled back and pushed in, with a groan.

"Yes," he said.

"Yes," he said.

And Elijah was tight around him, his arms tight too, his lips tight; Elijah gasped and moaned, muffled, and Dom wouldn't stop kissing him, it was too strong. He was rocking into Elijah, getting deeper and deeper, every stroke deeper and there was no end to it, there was no air, just slip and flesh. Elijah stroked his back, long and smooth, with every thrust, and then his hand was a nub between their bellies, working on his own cock-Dom thought of that, what Elijah must have been feeling. And this was only the start of a whole new world for them. The horizon burned in his mind.

He quickened the pace. Hitched Elijah's legs higher, plunging further, always further in.

When he came he jerked his face away from Elijah's, to see him, but the world was stained crimson and he couldn't see anything, he just thought he heard Elijah say I love you. But he wasn't sure. It was just a whisper, far away, lips moving against his throat, such softness.

* * * * *

The next day Dom's bones felt feeble with joy and his skin was chafed. He wondered what Elijah felt, whether he was sore, and he could hardly wait until there was a break and he could go and find his beautiful boy, wrap himself around him, see the same joy of discovery and satisfaction in Elijah's eyes. It wasn't the world, fucking Elijah, but that day it seemed like a new horizon.

Elijah was shooting a scene with Sean, on a set of craggy polystyrene rocks. They were both covered in fake dirt and grime, and Elijah's eyes were glowing with fatigue above the grey-green of his costume. Sean looked like he'd been crying, but then he often looked like that these days, shooting the scenes he did. Dom would never forget the days of shooting the Grey Havens, and how bruised they'd all been, crying for hours on set, and then Sean, already tremulous, faltering under the other hobbits' ire at having to reshoot, and crying his heart out in Elijah's arms. Elijah was so quick to forgive. Dom had hated Sean that day, and then loved him for his remorse.

He watched the crew moving around, the actors talking to Peter, then to each other, smiling and quiet somehow. He saw Elijah notice him.

It was so easy to love Elijah, as he saw him say something to Sean, something quiet, and start walking towards him in his big hobbit feet. Sean watched him too. Elijah took Dom by the shoulder and steered him away from the crew into the parking lot outside the studio.

Dom pressed close.

Elijah pulled back. There was a moment, in the gaze between them, when Dom already knew.

He was only aware of the way the smile skewed on his lips, even as he leant forward to kiss Elijah. Lips met lips, just softly, just for a moment, and Elijah was there with Dom, his Elijah, and then he was gone.

"Dom, there's something-"

Dom looked at him.

"Dom, last night-"

Dom looked at the ground.

"I don't want-you know? I." A hesitation. "You're too good for m-"

Dom said, "I knew it. I fucking knew it." His body was all stiff; he shifted his heel on the asphalt. It was rough under the hobbit foot. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

"I think I have to be on my own for a bit," Elijah said, and Dom knew he was lying.

"Last night, I thought you said you," and he stopped, because he knew that if he said the words, he'd cry. "It's alright," he said. "It's alright."

Elijah rubbed his arm. Dom let him, and he hated that hand. "Dom. Oh, Dom."

"It's alright."

Then he walked away without looking back and went to his trailer, and sat there for a while, not turning his head even when there was a knock on the door.

* * * * *

The filming is nearly over, that's the blessing, and Dom sets himself to get through it and be cool. Elijah and Sean hang with the others just as always, and Orlando keeps Dom laughing and Billy keeps Dom feeling loved, and all the others muck in, and it's not too hard, sometimes, for Dom to see Sean and Elijah together and squash down the coil in his guts.

He can't help thinking that Elijah's missing out on something. He watches the two of them, how affectionate and tender they are, and he knows that Elijah loves tenderness but he also loves a palm over his face. He likes to giggle, but Dom knows he also likes to be pressed against a wall, and he doubts Sean is that kind of guy.

These thoughts, almost spite, edged with envy, keep Dom consoled.

And Sean keeps on being nice, and Dom keeps on talking to him, and it all kind of smoothes out. Because it has to. What else can it do?

Dom fucks a girl, and a boy, while he's waiting. But it's just for fun, and he makes sure they know that he's only in it for a shag. He doesn't mind, really, that he looks like a heartless prick for it. Billy knows he's not. So does everyone who matters. Elijah says nothing. Elijah just goes on laughing and talking and being tired and charming everyone and Dom gets used to that. Elijah gives him a mix cd. All happy songs.

And when the filming is over, and the hugs have been hugged, and there's the big blow-off party and the next day they're all flying off home and the long adventure is over (though there are rumours of pick-up shooting still to come, and many chuckles over that idea), Elijah comes to Dom and says, "You should come over. To see me. There's room at my mom's house."

And Dom says, "Sure."

He says, "Will Sean be there?"

And Elijah looks at him, and says, "You dick."

He slaps Dom on the arm and give him the kind of look that old lovers can give, the kind that says, You and I know. Dom looks back, steadily.

"This isn't Sean's idea, is it?" Sean's compassion, his solicitousness, the greasiness of that idea. For a moment Dom bristles all over. It feels like a tired sensation. And then he thinks that perhaps he's not angry any more. It's the end of a whole life, right now here in New Zealand, and it's time to chuck the anger in the river. It's worse, thinking of going home to England and being alone. Perhaps he's ready to be loved again.

His voice is low and rough and he doesn't mind sounding quiet when he says, "Even if it is. I'd like that. Come stay with you for a while?"


"A whole new world," says Elijah. "Come on, man."

"Sure," says Dom. "You bet, brother."

Elijah walks off, and Dom doesn't look, but stares straight ahead, absentmindedly thinking of a horizon, the long level line of it, the radiance beyond.

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