Togetherness
Pairing: Elijah Wood/Dominic Monaghan
Rating: PG13
Summary: A short piece. EW/DM are prisoners of an unspecified regime
Author's Notes: Just felt the need to put this strange little fic down on paper, it is a one-off perhaps inspired by my reading a leaflet about Amnesty International today, who knows. And yes, I love Dominic too but this just wanted to be done
Feedback: yes, please - perhobfan@yahoo.co.uk
Disclaimer:No profit is made nor offence intended.
The cell is very small, barely large enough to accommodate a cot and a rickety table erupting with mean splinters, and one chair; beneath the cot is the slop bucket. One slop bucket to two prisoners. One chair to two prisoners. One cot to two prisoners.
A solitary window is set too high in the grimy wall to allow a glimpse of a view without repositioning the table, and the table is heavy and cumbersome. The window does allow a little sickly light to enter the cell; it also permits the two prisoners to hear something of the world outside. A little something, not much.
One of the prisoners is recumbent on the cot, his disdain of the filthy sheets and mouldy pillow long a thing of the past. Once he would have died rather than touch this stained and foul bed. Things change.
The second prisoner sits at the rough hewn table and bites his nails.
"Dominic, stop doing that. For God's sake, you used to hate me doing that. Cut it out."
"Leave me be. Its something to do."
Elijah, on the cot, stirs and sits up. He yawns. Dominic, at the table, also yawns in harmony.
They have been in this cell for weeks now. They now think they may never leave it.
"Elijah," says Dominic. Elijah knows this tone. Knows it and it has set off the alarm in his head.
"No," he replies quickly, and he is swinging his legs off the edge of the cot. Suddenly the cot is not a safe place to be. Casting a furtive glance at the small peephole in the cell door, Elijah is relieved to see it is closed.
"Please, please. I can't get through this without it, you know that," pleads Dominic.
"If they catch us they will make it really bad. You know that." Elijah is afraid. He remembers the last time. How he had given in to his lover's pleas, had just started to thrust into Dominic's mouth, Dominic's hands grasping his hips and pulling him in, controlling him, when the door was flung open. It had been very bad.
"If you want to do yourself, lay on the cot with your back to the door and I'll cover for you," Elijah compromises, laying a soothing hand on Dominic's shoulder. Abruptly, the hand is grasped by Dominic's own and then the wrist is yanked and Elijah is pulled down hard. The extra weight causes the chair to topple over and they are both tipped on the floor. Elijah panics, they have made a lot of noise, this cannot be happening.
"Dominic, listen to me, we can't do this. You have to be strong, listen to me!" he is struggling to disengage himself from his lover's arms whilst at the same time his heart is pounding and his eyes are darting to the peephole.
"Elijah," Dominic has hold of Elijah's crotch now and is squeezing, working for the erection, and Elijah can feel it building and wants nothing more than to have hot, dirty sex right here on the floor with the man he loves. But he is afraid, more afraid than at any time in his short life.
"Later, later. I promise, later." But Dominic has heard this before and he is not fooled.
"Will you stay awake all night again, watching me? Do you really think I could do that to you? Do you?" he asks, vehemently. The word "rape" is not spoken.
"No, no, don't say those things, Dominic." Elijah feels wretched and wants to comfort Dominic, to tell him that everything will be alright. But that would be a lie.
Elijah has managed to extricate himself and is standing so the table is between himself and Dominic but the room is too small for cat and mouse games. He watches warily as Dominic slumps against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest and his eyes big and moist and childlike. Elijah feels that he has become the grownup here, and it is sometimes too much to bear.
"Sorry," says Dominic, almost inaudibly, and he sniffles. Elijah's breathing slows down almost to normal and he risks a glance at the peephole again.
It is open.
Eyes, unblinking and unknowable, are fixed on Elijah. This is not fair, he wants to scream, "I tried to stop it, take him!"; he feels his breathing labouring and his knees buckling. Always him. Always the punishment is his.
As the door slowly opens, Dominic casts his eyes downward and hugs his knees tighter.
"Sorry." As Dominic says the word, Elijah has already been taken from the room and the door has closed.
Dominic stands up and shuffles over to the cot. He lies where Elijah had lain and can feel the residual warmth in the hard and grimy mattress.
"Next time, I wont let them take you," he promises Elijah, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He knows that he will, though.
The End