Title: Blow the Candle Out
Disclaimer: These men aren't mine, and this story isn't true.
Elijah catches his eye across the room. He feels the familiar flutter-tingle of arousal lodge itself in his belly, and then twist its way downward, settling heavily in his cock. He shifts his hips a little, just out of view, so that Dom won’t notice. Not that Dom is even looking at him, but he has no doubt that if anyone would notice, it’d be Dom. He seems to have some sort of sixth sense – some little alarm that dings in his head, letting him know loudly and clearly that Elijah is horny. And of course, being Dom, he would then feel the need to broadcast it about the room.
And yet, still. Elijah can’t bring himself to be sorry.
He knows what is coming. And he knows that it is gonna be fucking good.
“Got plans?” Billy asks him, one raised eyebrow mocking Elijah. He blushed, wonders if Billy had followed his gaze. He decides that probably not, because Billy isn’t cruel (Billy isn’t Dom), and if Billy had, he probably wouldn’t have pointed it out. Sometimes pulling is just pulling, and sometimes its more.
“Maybe.” Elijah smirks, and steps away, onto the dance floor. The club is crowded and New Zealanders know how to pick their music. Elijah is sort of grateful for that – because this is music he can move to, he doesn’t feel out of place at all. Doesn’t feel like the awkward, fumbling 20 year old that he is deep down inside. He can act here – act like he’s smooth and knows what’s what.
“Hello there,” A soft, milky smooth voice whispers into his ear at about the same time strong arms encircle his waist. He feels himself flush immediately, an immediate reaction, just the same as the way he leans back. “How are you? Haven’t seen you all day.”
Elijah closes his eyes and smiles. “I’m good,” The room sort of shimmers and all he can smell is Karl’s cologne. “You?”
“Good…” A finger hooks itself into an empty belt buckle and Elijah finds himself being turned and positioned and pulled. “Lav,” Karl says, a brisk explanation for his behavior. “That all right?”
Elijah doesn’t even think to disagree. He’ll take being fucked by Karl any way he can get it – he proved it just the week before, he thinks, slivers of memory making him short of breath. Leather and lube and the thick smell of arousal and the carpet rough beneath his knees, chafing and burning, and Karl’s hands on his cheeks, Karl’s cock sliding between his swollen lips.
“Fine,” He says, but its belated, and they’re already at the bathrooms. The line is short and Karl locks the door behind them. Elijah is a quick learner – he stands very still and breathes very quietly, eyes averted.
“Pretty,” Karl sighs, a slow smile curling his lips. Elijah feels weak in the knees. “Knees,” He says, voice low but above a whisper, calm and always controlled. Karl is fond of short commands, and always graces Elijah with a kind and approving look when Elijah is quick to obey. The tile thuds when Elijah’s knees bend down to it. He tilts his head up and waits.
“Shirt off.” Karl is just standing there, golden tanned cheeks plumped with the hint of a smile, a messy scatter of stubble on them. “Skin like a fucking baby,” He says, curving a palm over Elijah’s thin shoulder, pushing the pad of a thumb into the curve below the collarbone, where the skin is thin and easily marked. The bruises have faded, but Elijah is certain that there will be more to come. “Undo my trousers. Like you did before,” Karl says. Elijah feels another surge of pride – it’s a trick that he’s rather proud of, being able to undo pants with his teeth. Karl had loved it before – said it was such a fucking hot thing to do, shouldn’t have been surprised, though, coming from you.
Elijah manages to snag the tab on the zip between his front teeth and yanks down, leaving the button done for the moment. Karl isn’t wearing any underwear, just like before, and Elijah’s tongue goes straight for the prize, nudging at Karl’s slowly hardening erection. Karl lets him, for a few seconds, and then pulls away. “The rest,” He says, tilting his hips forward again. He’s not wearing a belt, and Elijah is grateful, because he’s not sure if he could have managed that. A button, though, is simple work. He prods at the plastic disc and tugs the material with his teeth until it pops free. The material flops to the side, and Karl’s cock hangs free. Elijah’s mouth is water to taste it, but fear of reproach is a stronger propellant.
Karl leans back against the wall, ignoring the knock on the door. This isn’t the only toilet, and he’s not overly concerned with anyone’s bladder, not when there are more pressing matters here in front of him, eager to be dealt with. “Are you hard?” He asks, though Elijah knows all he has to do is look down at the tent in Elijah’s loose jeans to see the answer.
Elijah licks his lips (pink, wet lips) and nods, closing his eyes and tilting back with a soft little whimper. He hears the catch in Karl’s breath. “Are you?”
He hopes speaking is allowed. Karl hasn’t said, and he assumes that if he weren’t, Karl would let him know. “Getting there,” Karl sounds amused. Karl always sounds amused, except in those seconds before orgasm, when he just sounds like sex. “Maybe you can help me along. Give me a little show?”
Elijah’s undoing his jeans before Karl even finished speaking. He pulls out his cock and starts jerking it slowly, squeezing at the length and milking it, closing his thumb and forefinger around the tip to watch the head swell and darken, grow damp and shiny with precome. He’s really getting into it – hips swaying and grunting a little – when Karl reaches out and stops him. Karl’s hand is on himself, and Elijah wonders how he missed that, and then remembers that his eyes had been closed, and he wishes they hadn’t been. He feels cheated, having been denied the subtle change in Karl – the very moment when it started to click and the Karl that everyone else sees took a very definite backseat to the Karl that is going to fuck Elijah until he can’t breathe.
And oh, Elijah hopes that happens soon.
Karl keeps him on his knees and doesn’t make a move to take his own trousers off, or to tell undress Elijah further. Elijah’s chin tips forward greedily, tongue poking out, but Karl shakes his head. “No. Not now. Not here. That’s for later. I just want to watch you, now.”
Elijah whinges, but is quickly silenced by the look Karl gives him. He lowers his hand back to himself, wishing he could touch his balls, but not wanting to use more than one hand, or to make it look like he’s satisfied with this. He wants more, much more, Karl’s cock and Karl’s hands and Karl’s mouth.
It shocks Elijah how quickly he’s become addicted to this.
Karl isn’t jerking himself any more, he’s just watching Elijah, but his cock is hanging with a heavy arch outside of his trousers, thick and full but not completely hard. Elijah’s breath is coming at a pant now, quick and short, and he curses his body for being so damned eager. He wants Karl to tell him that he can stop, and his eyes are doing nothing less than begging for it, but Karl remains silent. “No,” He says, when Elijah looks as if he’s going to stop anyway. “You’re going to come right now, without me touching you.” His eyes have gone from light and happy to dark and feral, something deep-rooted and serious in them. “And then we’re going to go back out there, and you’re going to party with your mates, and I’m going to dance some more, and in a few hours, I’ll take you home, and I’ll give you the working over that you want. This,” He grins, and the flash of white teeth makes Elijah moan and buck into his own fist, “This is just to tide you over.”
And then Karl raises an open hand to Elijah’s mouth. Elijah is unsure, but he sticks his tongue out, and it must be right, because Karl nods. Elijah licks it, leaves a full, wet stripe down the middle that Karl uses to slick himself up. Elijah realises that Karl is only doing this for his benefit, but he’s thankful nonetheless, because it only takes about 3 seconds of watching Karl wanking himself for Elijah’s balls to tighten and spasm almost painfully, and then there’s a splatter of come against the floor and against Elijah’s hand and bittersweet relief shakes him all over, the feeling that it should have been more, but physical satisfaction still presiding.
Karl barely gives him time to recover. He wraps his fingers around Elijah’s bicep and guides him up, onto shaky feet. Elijah’s wrist is caught next, and raised, so that Karl’s clever tongue can scoop at the bittery stuff spilled there. Elijah wishes that he had this moment on film, so that he could go back and watch it on repeat.
But then Karl is handing Elijah his shirt, and stuffing his own hard cock back into his trousers, and Elijah tastes the impending dismissal like acid on his tongue. He feels sort of dirty, sort of used, and he loves it.
Karl leans in for the briefest of kisses, transferring Elijah’s come back to him with a brush of tongue on tongue. “At midnight, come and fetch me, and we’ll go back to mine.”
He turns and flicks open the lock on the door. Like magic, he’s back to normal, though Elijah thinks he can still sense something dominating in his voice when Karl wishes him happy birthday.