Fic: Ten Times
Title: Ten Times
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Email: viktoria_angelique@hotmail.com
Pairing: DM/EW
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The contents of this story are unfortunately untrue.
Dedication: For saura_, my lovely "Brethren" beta, who stuck by me through thick, thin, and two completely random pairings for fifteen chapters of hard work. Here is pure Dom/Lijah PORN for you, sweetheart. Your thank-you present :-)
The first time they fucked, Dom literally had to wrestle him onto the bed.
With Elijah’s wrists pinned semi-securely in one sweaty hand, he rucked Elijah’s trousers down and jammed a finger in, dry. It burned, and it was uncomfortable, and Dom’s open-mouthed wet kiss on his nape was fucking amazing, and Elijah found himself writhing, keening, begging.
The second time, Elijah rationalised by saying it was only fair. After all, Dom had gotten to fuck him once, had humiliated him by getting Elijah underneath Dom’s more muscled frame and reaming him until he begged for mercy, begged to come. Elijah thought it was only fair that he should have the same chance.
Bent over Elijah’s dresser, Dom snickered low in his throat as Elijah spread him with the web of his open hand, penetrated him with a barking gasp of a moan, and fisted his other hand in Dom’s hair in sheer need of vengeance. Dom laughed, because he knew Elijah would be back.
The third time, Elijah actually asked for it. He was smashed, he was practically incoherent, but soon he was writhing with lust, the iron curls of Dom’s porch railing moulding their shape into his tender skin as Dom kissed him senseless. He moaned high-pitched and breathy as Dom licked his palate, flicked tongue tip over his gums, bit his upper lip. He wrapped a scrawny leg around Dom’s denim-clad hip and he dry-humped him, right there on the front porch, until Dom relented and brought him in and fucked him up against a wall, Dom’s name on Elijah’s lips like a prayer as he came.
The fourth time was in the loo of their favourite pub, Elijah’s fingers curling white-knuckled around the top of the stall door, Dom’s cock teasing the spots inside him that sang in acceptance and pleasure as Dom’s teeth rasped against the curl of his ear.
This time, there was no debate over who was fucking whom, nor was there any begging. It was quick and dirty, and Elijah came silently in the cup of Dom’s palm. This time, they both knew how it was going to be.
The fifth time was in the car, on the motorway. They should’ve died that day, and were breaking at least sixteen New Zealand traffic laws. It was nothing but a bloody dare gone too far, but Elijah was so fucking hot and the adrenaline rush too fucking strong to stop himself. He gripped Dom’s shoulders as he rode him, in complete and utter abandon, his knees on either side of Dom’s hips on the leather seat, Dom slumped down as Elijah twisted his body to one side to let Dom see the road.
When Elijah came, Dom breathed in the sweet-sharp tang of Elijah’s Harvard sweatshirt, just to the side of his armpit, his eyes shutting momentarily as he thrust up into the debauched boy that had become his best friend. That time, Dom wondered just who was in charge, here.
The sixth time they were at Viggo’s house. Again, drunk, and someone had been talking about riding bikes for God-knows-what reason, and Dom dug his teeth into the side of Elijah’s neck when no one was looking and whispered “I liked it when you rode me, my insatiable little bitch.” The accented growl had propelled them both into the nearest lockable space, a coat closet.
Elijah couldn’t see a thing as they sunk down into the cramped space, but he could feel. Feel the flex of Dom’s thighs as he sat with his back straight against the wall, knees bent at a forty-five degree angle in front of him, trainers pushing against the opposite wall. Feel the wet whisper of lips on skin as Dom traced and then licked his collarbone, tugging his t-shirt to the side. Feel the possessive bruising grip on his hips as Dom lowered him, moaning, onto his hardened cock. Feel the snapping arch of his spine as he came, shuddering, cursing, praying. Hoping.
The seventh time, Elijah started to wonder how casual this really could be. During a football match on television, Dom shoved him to his knees, still munching on his fish and chips, unzipped his fly, and offered his cock one-handed to Elijah, who took it greedily, letting precome slick his lips like a seasoned whore. When Dom finally turned away from the game, Elijah fluttered his eyelashes at him once, twice. He found himself bent over the arm of the sofa, Dom wrenching his neck around at an awkward angle to deliver a searing kiss that tasted of greasy batter and lemons. The stain never quite came out of the upholstery.
The eighth time was during one of the worst storms Elijah had seen in New Zealand. Dom had invited him over for a beer, and the power went out by ten pm. The whole street was dark, everyone huddled down in their houses, and so Dom threw open the front door and shoved Elijah out into the driving rain. Dom took him right there on his hands and knees on the muddy lawn, the street lamps all blown out, holding him back by the hood of his sweatshirt at the last minute to mark a savage bite on his neck, pushing up with powerful thighs as he pushed down with his hands on Elijah’s shoulders. Elijah had the smell of wet grass on his mind for days.
The ninth time, Dom started talking. Sex was usually silent for them, but here they were, in the bloody shower, and Dom couldn’t shut up.
Elijah had been wanking alone one morning under the steady pounding flow when Dom showed up in his bathroom, never mind that it was four am and Dom hadn’t spent the night, charging into the shower in all his clothing.
Wet denim rasped against Elijah’s bare hipbones as Dom spun him around, shoved him against the tiles, and whispered roughly in his ear.
“Take it, Doodle, fucking take it, damnit, so fucking pretty, so tight around my cock, were you thinking about me, were you, were you, fucking hell, take me Lijah, take me, love me, oh fuck!”
Elijah spent the rest of the week in a daze.
The tenth time was different.
The tenth time, Dom made love to Elijah, in a bed, fully naked, face to face. He whispered in Elijah’s ear and licked a path from navel to breastbone. He clutched the stark white sheets in his fist, all bunched up at Elijah’s hip, and suckled Elijah’s bottom lip between his own. Elijah’s eyes rolled back in his head when he came, and Dom mouthed Elijah’s name against his throat like a benediction.
The tenth time, Elijah fell in love.
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Email: viktoria_angelique@hotmail.com
Pairing: DM/EW
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The contents of this story are unfortunately untrue.
Dedication: For saura_, my lovely "Brethren" beta, who stuck by me through thick, thin, and two completely random pairings for fifteen chapters of hard work. Here is pure Dom/Lijah PORN for you, sweetheart. Your thank-you present :-)
The first time they fucked, Dom literally had to wrestle him onto the bed.
With Elijah’s wrists pinned semi-securely in one sweaty hand, he rucked Elijah’s trousers down and jammed a finger in, dry. It burned, and it was uncomfortable, and Dom’s open-mouthed wet kiss on his nape was fucking amazing, and Elijah found himself writhing, keening, begging.
The second time, Elijah rationalised by saying it was only fair. After all, Dom had gotten to fuck him once, had humiliated him by getting Elijah underneath Dom’s more muscled frame and reaming him until he begged for mercy, begged to come. Elijah thought it was only fair that he should have the same chance.
Bent over Elijah’s dresser, Dom snickered low in his throat as Elijah spread him with the web of his open hand, penetrated him with a barking gasp of a moan, and fisted his other hand in Dom’s hair in sheer need of vengeance. Dom laughed, because he knew Elijah would be back.
The third time, Elijah actually asked for it. He was smashed, he was practically incoherent, but soon he was writhing with lust, the iron curls of Dom’s porch railing moulding their shape into his tender skin as Dom kissed him senseless. He moaned high-pitched and breathy as Dom licked his palate, flicked tongue tip over his gums, bit his upper lip. He wrapped a scrawny leg around Dom’s denim-clad hip and he dry-humped him, right there on the front porch, until Dom relented and brought him in and fucked him up against a wall, Dom’s name on Elijah’s lips like a prayer as he came.
The fourth time was in the loo of their favourite pub, Elijah’s fingers curling white-knuckled around the top of the stall door, Dom’s cock teasing the spots inside him that sang in acceptance and pleasure as Dom’s teeth rasped against the curl of his ear.
This time, there was no debate over who was fucking whom, nor was there any begging. It was quick and dirty, and Elijah came silently in the cup of Dom’s palm. This time, they both knew how it was going to be.
The fifth time was in the car, on the motorway. They should’ve died that day, and were breaking at least sixteen New Zealand traffic laws. It was nothing but a bloody dare gone too far, but Elijah was so fucking hot and the adrenaline rush too fucking strong to stop himself. He gripped Dom’s shoulders as he rode him, in complete and utter abandon, his knees on either side of Dom’s hips on the leather seat, Dom slumped down as Elijah twisted his body to one side to let Dom see the road.
When Elijah came, Dom breathed in the sweet-sharp tang of Elijah’s Harvard sweatshirt, just to the side of his armpit, his eyes shutting momentarily as he thrust up into the debauched boy that had become his best friend. That time, Dom wondered just who was in charge, here.
The sixth time they were at Viggo’s house. Again, drunk, and someone had been talking about riding bikes for God-knows-what reason, and Dom dug his teeth into the side of Elijah’s neck when no one was looking and whispered “I liked it when you rode me, my insatiable little bitch.” The accented growl had propelled them both into the nearest lockable space, a coat closet.
Elijah couldn’t see a thing as they sunk down into the cramped space, but he could feel. Feel the flex of Dom’s thighs as he sat with his back straight against the wall, knees bent at a forty-five degree angle in front of him, trainers pushing against the opposite wall. Feel the wet whisper of lips on skin as Dom traced and then licked his collarbone, tugging his t-shirt to the side. Feel the possessive bruising grip on his hips as Dom lowered him, moaning, onto his hardened cock. Feel the snapping arch of his spine as he came, shuddering, cursing, praying. Hoping.
The seventh time, Elijah started to wonder how casual this really could be. During a football match on television, Dom shoved him to his knees, still munching on his fish and chips, unzipped his fly, and offered his cock one-handed to Elijah, who took it greedily, letting precome slick his lips like a seasoned whore. When Dom finally turned away from the game, Elijah fluttered his eyelashes at him once, twice. He found himself bent over the arm of the sofa, Dom wrenching his neck around at an awkward angle to deliver a searing kiss that tasted of greasy batter and lemons. The stain never quite came out of the upholstery.
The eighth time was during one of the worst storms Elijah had seen in New Zealand. Dom had invited him over for a beer, and the power went out by ten pm. The whole street was dark, everyone huddled down in their houses, and so Dom threw open the front door and shoved Elijah out into the driving rain. Dom took him right there on his hands and knees on the muddy lawn, the street lamps all blown out, holding him back by the hood of his sweatshirt at the last minute to mark a savage bite on his neck, pushing up with powerful thighs as he pushed down with his hands on Elijah’s shoulders. Elijah had the smell of wet grass on his mind for days.
The ninth time, Dom started talking. Sex was usually silent for them, but here they were, in the bloody shower, and Dom couldn’t shut up.
Elijah had been wanking alone one morning under the steady pounding flow when Dom showed up in his bathroom, never mind that it was four am and Dom hadn’t spent the night, charging into the shower in all his clothing.
Wet denim rasped against Elijah’s bare hipbones as Dom spun him around, shoved him against the tiles, and whispered roughly in his ear.
“Take it, Doodle, fucking take it, damnit, so fucking pretty, so tight around my cock, were you thinking about me, were you, were you, fucking hell, take me Lijah, take me, love me, oh fuck!”
Elijah spent the rest of the week in a daze.
The tenth time was different.
The tenth time, Dom made love to Elijah, in a bed, fully naked, face to face. He whispered in Elijah’s ear and licked a path from navel to breastbone. He clutched the stark white sheets in his fist, all bunched up at Elijah’s hip, and suckled Elijah’s bottom lip between his own. Elijah’s eyes rolled back in his head when he came, and Dom mouthed Elijah’s name against his throat like a benediction.
The tenth time, Elijah fell in love.