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Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial, non-profit work of fiction under the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged or condoned by the persons whose names are used without permission.

High Altitude

Author: stormatdusk
Original Story: Attitude Adjustment by chaosmanor
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: adult
Summary: AU. Orlando thinks Elijah is out of reach.
Post-reveal Notes: Beta: alliwantisanelf


al·ti·tude [al-ti-tood, -tyood] -noun
1. the height of anything above a given planetary reference plane, esp. above sea level on earth.
2. high or important position, rank, etc.

So I'm watching Elijah.

We're all in the staff lounge at Wellington International and we're packing up to head down the jetway. I'm trying not to be obvious, but I'm watching him, like I always do.

Rather, I'm watching them. Because Dommie -- excuse me, Captain Monaghan -- is alllll over him. Billy's slumped harmlessly in a corner, sipping some weird concoction to try to finish off the last of the hangover from when we all hit the town last night. But Dom? Dom's practically rolling around the floor with Elijah. They're slapping at each other and pinching each other and laughing, and their flirting is, as usual, fucking killing me.

He's just so perfect, Elijah is. I admit it: I've got him up on a bit of a pedestal.

But he's... well, he's amazing. He's pale, glowing skin, like when I was a kid and my dad would catch fireflies and put them in our shirt pockets and we'd run around glowing and laughing in the dark. And he's those eyes, eyes bluer than the cleanest crystal sky you'll ever see from the cockpit. They drill right through you, threaten to take all your secrets, make you want to drop to your knees and beg for him to kiss you just once.

Okay, maybe I've got him on a pedestal on a rooftop.

But he's also that dark, silky, just-the-right-amount-of-gel hair, that short, tufted kitten fur that I'd kill to run my fingers through. And he's those amazing lips, lips that get me completely hard whenever they form the words, "Hi," or, "Peanut butter," or, "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome aboard British Airways. This is First Officer Wood speaking. If there's anything we can do to help make your flight more comfortable today, please let one of our flight attendants know...." Lips I'd die to feel under my mouth, around my cock, god, wherever he wanted to put them, just, yes, yes please, Captain Wood.

Okay, maybe it's a pedestal on a rooftop on Mount Fucking Everest.

But it's justified, because he's totally out of reach. I've flown with this crew for months now, Heathrow to Wellington route, and we hang out together, hit the pubs. We've all four become good friends, great friends. But Elijah and Dommie? They're fucking made for each other. They're the Captain and his First Officer, Romeo and Juliet, Aragorn and Arwen. Or Aragorn and Legolas, really, because everybody knows Aragorn and Legolas were totally made for each other. Only they're Aragorn and Legolas and I'm Eowyn, on the outside looking in, and when he's got Legolas, no way is Aragorn ever going to look my way.

So there's Elijah, sitting up there on Mount Everest, and it's a race to see who can get to him first. And Dommie's like a mountain goat, scrambling up the rocks like it's nothing at all, and he's got all the latest climbing gear and an oxygen tank and energy bars and probably one of those Sherpa guys to guide him. And I'm some sloth with a broken ankle, hanging around alone down here at base camp with crutches and maybe a pack of chewing gum.

So we get boarding out of the way, and take-off, and the first round of drinks served. So far there don't seem to be any arseholes or extra-needy passengers on the flight, so I can relax some. Billy's back chatting up the hot blonde in 34B, so I take some coffee to the cockpit. I put on my game face before Elijah checks the peephole from inside and lets me in. I always have to, or he'd see it written all over me, how fucking much I want him, and did I mention he and Dom being perfect together?

I squeeze in and Elijah locks the door behind me. He's rubbing his ear and Dom's giggling; musta been another Wet Willy. Lovely: Dom's been touching him again. Hell, Dom's spit's been touching him. I just want to sink through the floor, though at 31,000 feet that'd be a really bad idea.

It's tight in here, of course, and Elijah's standing so close, still smelling of the cigarette he always grabs last minute before coming into the airport. He thanks me for the coffee, that little gap between his teeth teasing me, and I can feel my knees trembling and my mask slipping, that mask I always put on around him, the one that says, Yeah, you're just a mate, Elijah, and I don't lie awake at night wishing you were wrapped around me.

"Orliorliorli," Elijah says, grinning up at me sweet and open, and my world narrows to that perfect face. I barely hear when Dom makes some crack from his seat, probably keeping up whatever cutesy flirtation they had going when I came in, and I hope he doesn't have his headset turned on or the tower's going to freak. I say something back to Elijah, I don't know what, just something to try to keep my head together so he doesn't see, so he doesn't figure it out, or my world will end.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, just fucking kiss him, all right?" Dom hisses back, and if we didn't need him to fly the fucking plane, I'd kill him right now.

But Elijah's not laughing it off, not backing away. No, Elijah is looking up at me, murmuring something, and his breath is heavy and hot on my face. My pulse is pounding in my ears too loudly for me to make out what he's saying. Then somehow I'm leaning down and he's leaning up, and his lips are on my lips, and he's warm and rough and Elijah, and I breathe him in. He grabs onto my arm, squeezes tight, and it occurs to me that this is no accident, and then we're kissing harder, really kissing, and I want to drown in him.

"Auto-pilot's a handy invention, eh? Going for a piss. Five minutes, Captain Wood," Dommie says, taking the coffees from our hands as he squeezes past us, and Elijah mumbles something into my mouth and reaches to lock the cockpit door behind Dom, and fuck oh fuck, every damn Wellington layover for the rest of my life, I'm going to go to El Horno to get Dom his favorite vegetarian nachos. And I'll serve it to him on a silver fucking platter, too. On my knees even.

Oh hell, and there goes Elijah, down to his knees, on his knees in front of me, and I must be dreaming. His fingers are small and quick on my belt, and I'm so turned on I'm afraid I'm gonna lose my load right fucking there. I drop down to him, run my hands through that sweet kitten hair, press my tongue into his mouth, kiss him like crazy.

There's no room but we don't need it, we're so close, kissing and pawing. Somehow Lij gets his pants down and then he's pushing me back against the door and scrambling up my chest, trying to straddle me, feeding me his cock. I open my mouth for him, can't wait to taste him, and he just shoves in, not much for polite introductions at the moment, just pushes right in. He hits the back of my throat and I force away the gag reflex, not wanting anything to stop him. He tastes so fucking good, and it's not enough; I want to savor him and learn him, but not now, not here. Now and here, it's full speed ahead, and he's so needy I think I must be in heaven.

"Gonna come, Orli," he warns, breathless and hushed and jerky, and I grab onto him harder, hug his little arse; I can cover practically all of it with my two hands, and that goes right to my cock too, like everything else. I try to look up at him while I suck for all I'm worth. His face is pink and beautiful and twisty just like I imagined it in all those wank sessions he's starred in. And then he's shooting into my mouth, shoveling in, and it's so fucking good.

He pulls out, curls down to me, drops kisses on my forehead while we're both puffing and panting, and I love that he's so small that I can hold all of him like this. Then he's smiling and laughing and sliding down to my crotch and I'm helping him get my zip down and open as far as we can. My other uniform is in my bag but it's totally wrinkled, and British Airways probably wouldn't appreciate it too much if I served dinner to first class with a big come stain on my trousers.

He yanks them down so I'm sitting bare-arsed on the scratchy carpet, and then his sweet pink lips are sinking down over my cock, and his fingers slip down under my balls, and I'm done, just done. I don't even have time to warn him; I just start pumping it out, and Elijah grabs it all.

We're both panting and gasping, and I'm tempted to pass out from pleasure overload, but Elijah's crawling back up into my arms and snuggling in, and there's no way I'm gonna miss one second of him. His face is buried in my neck and he smells like smoke and come and sunshine, and I shove my nose into his hair and drink it all in.

The clock is ticking, we both know it, but I don't wanna let him go. Still, this isn't exactly regulation, fucking around in the cockpit while the plane's on auto, so after a minute we struggle to our feet and start zipping and straightening.

"So, are we a thing?" he whispers. My heart jumps again, because I've been in love with him forever, and it's all I can do not to grab him and kiss him and hump him all over again, not that there's room or time for that.

"A thing?" I whisper back. "Could be, as long as it's the sort of thing that involves a lot of sex." I gotta keep some semblance of suave about me, don't I? The fact that I can't get the huge stupid smile off my face probably shoots that plan all to hell, though.

Dom taps at the door then, and I check the peephole. Elijah grabs my hand on the knob before I open it, reaches up and gives me another quick kiss.

"Wanna stay in my room tonight?" he asks, and his eyes are blue and bright and happy.

I smile back, 'cause there's nothing I'd like better.


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