Disclaimer: This story is a fictional product of its author's imagination and does not represent any actual opinions or events. No profit is made nor offence intended.
AN: It's fluffy and contains (deliberately) icky loveydovey babytalk... Originally written for a Valentine challenge co-ordinated by the wonderful Azhriaz.
Pairing: Sean Astin/Elijah Wood
Rating: PG15
Feedback: Always appreciated - perhobfan@yahoo.co.uk
Elijah's cock is hard and beautiful, smells great, and tastes delicious as it slides into Sean's mouth. His ball sac is hairy and heavy, which makes Sean think of plum tomatoes as it rolls around between his thumb and forefinger; but only for a second because then he's got other things to think about, like breathing. Above him, Elijah is moaning, moaning Sean's name as he weaves his fingers through Sean's hair and tilts his hips to an agreeable angle. Sean holds Elijah's thighs and takes all of Elijah, deep down into his throat and the moaning gets louder and louder and the "Sean!"s get more and more insistent and this is everything he dreamed it would be…
"Sean!" Elijah's shaking him now, gripping his shoulder and my, isn't he the horny, greedy, noisy boy?
"Sean!" It's awesome that he can do this to Elijah, that he can reduce him to this frantic, clawing creature, that he has this power!
"Sean!" Billy shook Sean a little harder. "Come on, man, they're waiting."
Sean blinked and then smiled, a little stupidly. He snatched up his script and held it casually at groin level, then stood up. He felt quite dizzy. "How long was I asleep?" he asked, yawning. Billy laughed and led the way to the gully in which they were filming that day. "Only about ten minutes. It's usually Elijah who nods off, not you, so we thought you must need the kip!" Billy said, over his shoulder. Sean could see Elijah in place already, shrugging his shoulders and yawning, psyching himself up for the scene. They had already done it six times that morning and even if there hadn't been a technical hitch with one of the lighting rigs, they would probably be up to take ten by now. Elijah smiled warmly as Sean approached.
"Sleepyhead!" he said and put his arm briefly around Sean and squeezed.
"Sorry, Mr. Frodo," Sean said, pouting comically. His glance couldn't help but stray down a little, coming to rest on Elijah's crotch, beautifully delineated in plush brown velvet. Oh God. This had to stop.
Dom and Elijah were discussing music. For part of the time, Sean could follow and even contribute. He knew music, he kept up. He wasn't exactly a dinosaur, was he? No. But then the conversation veered off into territory he felt less sure of and he found himself drifting as he nursed his mug of coffee and gave in to just watching Elijah's lips move.
The Mouth opened a little, allowing a glimpse of the Gap in the Teeth, the Tongue flicked out then back in again. Bottom Lip very firm and sort of spongy. The words which the Lips were enunciating were completely lost; he might as well have been uttering Mandarin for all Sean cared. Dom must have said something really funny, because Elijah's Lips were now very mobile and Sean could hardly keep up with the action. Hot, Elijah was so damned hot.
Naked Elijah straddles naked Sean, taking his time getting into position and all the time his eyes never leave Sean's. He's in charge. Elijah is the master and he knows what he wants and what he wants is Sean. Beneath him and inside him. He takes hold of Sean's cock, long and hard and glistening with expectation and he shivers. His eyes are a dark blue which makes the whites look even whiter. His shoulders gleam in the soft light of the bedside lamp as he braces himself, arching his spine like a contortionist, and his head goes right back so that Sean has a good view of the column of Elijah's smooth white throat and his Adams apple. He's grunting a little, gyrating just enough so that his nipples are in full focus and Sean thinks he will come just from looking.
But Elijah is pulling his head back up, very slowly, and his hair is long enough that it falls over his forehead and casts little spidery shadows on his cheekbones. He speaks and with each word, his tongue does a long and mesmerising inventory of his lips: "I'm going to ride you. You are my stallion. I am going to ride you until your cock is so sore, big boy, that you won't be able to take a piss without thinking of me." Elijah lifts himself up and then, with one fluid movement, he impales himself fully on Sean. Sean gasps, incredulous as he watches his cock disappear inside this beautiful, gorgeous …
"Boy, I think we'd better have a word with Christine!" It was Dom and he was grinning. "She must be wearing you out, man; you were out like a light – again!"
They were still in the canteen, still in costume… though at least one of them was now straining the tweedy cloth of his hobbit pants with an enormous woody. Sean sighed and tried to think of something to dampen his ardour. He got an image fixed in his mind that usually did the trick, as long as he could avoid looking directly at Elijah for a few moments.
They still had hours of shooting ahead of them, technology willing. Dom went back to picking at his lunch, some hideous cheese concoction. Billy had gone off to get his feet fixed, it seemed. And Elijah was looking at Sean with concern etched on his face.
"You alright, Sean?" he asked, quietly. "You've hardly eaten."
Sean picked up his fork and shovelled some stringy cheese into his mouth and made a big show of chewing, his eyes rolling. Elijah chuckled lightly and then went back to his own lunch, but Sean could tell he wasn't satisfied, that there would be more questions later.
"Lij, you were going to lend me that adaptor, remember?" Dom said, between mouthfuls of lunch.
"Oh yeah, I forgot. I have an appointment later, but I can give you my key and you can let yourself in. The adaptor's on top of the laundry hamper," Elijah said, bending down to rummage in his bag. Sean and Dom exchanged glances – laundry hamper? But they let it go. They both knew Elijah well enough by then not to question him too closely about his domestic arrangements.
"Shit," Elijah said, straightening up. "I shut the door and forgot to pick up the key. It must be on the kitchen table. Shit."
Dom sniggered into his melted cheese, "'S’okay, Lij, " he said, straightening his face. "No worries. It'll do another time."
"But I can't get in the house!" Elijah said, "and I need to get in the house at some stage. I mean, my bed's there. And my beer." He looked so forlorn that Dom put down his fork and laid a hand gently on his sleeve. "You can always kip at mine and share my beer. No greater love hath a man for his fellow man than to giveth of his ale to his mate. Even when said mate is a right fucking plonker," he said, sweetly. Elijah made a grimace and shrugged off Dom's sympathetic hand.
"I'll see to it, Elijah, don't worry." Sean hadn't even thought of offering but the words were issuing out of his mouth and Elijah was looking at him with such gratitude that he couldn’t help beaming. "You go to your appointment and I'll have a locksmith round to change the lock. By the time you get back, it'll be done. I'll leave the spare key with your neighbour, the one with the dog, okay?"
Elijah turned to Dom and raised his eyebrows. "See, this is a friend, Dom. This is what a friend does. Sean is my friend. You are just my mate," and he turned his back theatrically on Dom and winked at Sean.
"Whatever," Dom replied. "We can't all be Sam to your Mr. Frodo, Elijah. There's only room in this world for one Sam." He was smiling at Sean.
So why did Sean suddenly feel as if he were naked in the dark?
Rivulets of water are gushing down Elijah's back, diverting into tiny eddies as they negotiate each of the knobbly vertebrae on their way down to the firm globes of his ass. Elijah lifts a leg and soaps his thigh, sandalwood bubbles caressing the soft dark hairs on his calves, his hands massaging the tight smooth skin. He looks up and smiles, eyes hooded and wanton. It's all very slow and soft-focused and in the background Sean can hear the theme from Sesame Street and Elijah's hands begin to explore his body, tracing languid pathways across his nipples and down to his belly and then he's taken hold of his cock and he's performing for Sean and it's beautiful and ...
Sesame Street? What the fuck. He needed no one to wake him up this time, his conscious self did the trick. He was hard, rock hard, and it was a good thing he was sitting in his car and it was just getting dusky. The locksmith had been and gone and in Sean's hand lay the key.
And a spare.
He had a spare key to Elijah's house.
It was several minutes before his erection had disappeared and he could get out of the car without risk of arrest. Sean made his way up the path to the house next door to Elijah's and knocked on the door. Inside, he could hear the dog yapping and then the door opened and the elderly gentleman was holding the dog's collar and trying to keep him back long enough for Sean to explain that he had the key to Elijah's house and to then hand it over. He stooped to pat the dog, but it bared its teeth and he thought better of it. "Down, Fufu!" barked the old man, yanking the poodle's collar.
Sean beat a hasty retreat and climbed into his car. He sat for a moment, hands on the steering wheel. Then he drove home.
With the spare key to Elijah's house.
It was dark, perhaps eleven-thirty. It was one of those rare occasions when Christine wasn't with him in Wellington. She had family business back home but wouldn't be away long. They both hated any separation. He had made himself supper and watched a little TV, caught up on his e-mails and stuff. Then he'd oiled several door hinges - some of which actually needed oiling - and checked the swing in the backyard that he'd bought for Ally. It seemed okay, but he decided to dig the foundations for the uprights a little deeper, just in case. And pour in a little cement to be doubly sure. And install a really thick rubber mat in case she fell off.
Then he got in his car and drove to Elijah's house.
With the spare key.
Elijah's house was in darkness. The house next door was also shrouded in gloom, the killer poodle hopefully chained up safely. Sean sat back in his seat and fiddled with the radio for a few minutes, his eyes cutting to Elijah's front door and then back again to the dials and knobs. He felt at ease with dials and knobs, they were – controllable.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there or what finally gave him the impetus to move. But move he did, out of the car and up to Elijah's door. An owl hooted somewhere and he shivered. It was cold, very cold. He took out the key from his pocket and held it in his hand. In the moonlight, the Yale seemed to blink at him, its brass surface catching the reflections from the street lights.
For a long moment, Sean stared at the key. This was a key he should not have. He had no reason to be in possession of a spare key to Elijah's house. It was wrong on so many levels. It was immoral. It was sneaky. It was very un-Sean.
He turned back to the car, tucking the key into his jeans pocket. Which meant his hand brushed his ever-present hard-on. God, this had to stop. He would make it stop. He would be Sam to his Mr. Frodo. So why wasn't he driving away?
He was putting the key into the lock. Just that. No more. Just putting the key into the lock.
Key.
Lock.
Smooth transition from no key in lock to key in lock, smooth slide of metal into metal enclosed space, penetration of brass into…
He left it there, the key in the lock. Jutting out perpendicular to the door. He stepped back and just looked at it, moving to the side to see it from an angle.
And then he reached out and turned the key in the lock and pushed the door inwards. To whatever awaited him on the other side. He took a deep breath and followed through.
"I thought you’d never get here", Elijah says and he's sitting in the big comfy armchair and the street light illuminates him briefly in a heavenly glow before Sean closes the door.
"You were expecting me?" asks Sean, and he's rooted to the spot in the dark now the door is closed behind him.
"Oh yeah," Elijah replies and he's on his feet and flicking on a lamp. Then he's crossing the floor and reaching up for Sean. "Love me," he says, simply.
"Am I asleep?" Sean asks, as Elijah kisses him so sweetly on the mouth. "Will I wake up anytime soon?"
"Does it matter?" Elijah asks. And then it doesn't matter. At all.
Sean started up the engine and fastened his seat belt, adjusted the rear-view mirror infinitesimally and moved off.
He couldn't do that to Elijah. He couldn't. Elijah was his friend, not even nineteen yet and with all his life ahead of him. He had no right to complicate things, to intrude, to make Elijah go some place he wasn't ready to go. No. Sometimes, being Sam meant doing the right thing by Mr. Frodo.
He'd give him the spare key tomorrow during Feet or something, make out he'd just forgotten he had it. It was the right thing to do.
Fuck it. Fuck it good.
Elijah runs to Sean and snuggles under the leather air crew jacket. "I've wanted this forever, you know that?" he asks, looking up into Sean's misted brown eyes. "Forever."
"I know, baby. Can I make love to you? Can I ride you all night long, baby? Can I?" Sean takes Elijah's face in his hands and leans down to kiss him. He's so much taller than Elijah now, so tall and strong and mature and wonderful.
"Oh God, Sean. Take me."
"Brace yourself, baby lamb, cos your Sam's got you now," Sean says and he's glowing. Actually glowing. And his kiss is rampant and there's a fierce roaring in Elijah's ears and this, with Sean, is everything he ever dreamed it would be…
Elijah's alarm clock hit the floor with a crash. He sat up in bed, in sticky sheets – again. He couldn't go on thinking about Sean this way.
God, this had to stop.
The End