Disclaimer: No profit is made from this, nor offence intended.
Summary: Sean reflects on a life-altering experience and on his past life.
Pairing: SB/EW
Rating: NC17
Feedback: Always appreciated - perhobfan@yahoo.co.uk
AN: I think its all self-explanatory. From Sean's POV; the paragraphs in brackets, though present tense, are actually a flashback. Just a short story about Sean and Elijah. For beanlijah fans. Bramall Lane is the home of Sean Bean's beloved football club, the terraces are where the fans would stand to watch the matches. And cheese'n'chips is a delicacy apparently known only to Sean's home city.
If I try hard enough I can remember it. Yeah.
1999.
The year Before Elijah. Okay, he was there in the back of my mind, filed away in "miscellaneous" with all the other bright young things, someone you know but don't know really, just a familiar name.
("Sean, does that feel good?" Elijah asks, softly.
"You know it does. God, does it! But tell me about your day, Lij. Tell me what you did today..")
He's a walk in the hills, a Saturday afternoon at Bramall Lane. He's a pint with the lads after a shift spent welding, a beer to chase away the sparks and the dry throat.. See, he reminds me of being a lad. When it was all in front of me. Christ. But I was never like Elijah. Never. Being nineteen, twenty, was about chasing girls from one pub to the next, about the terraces and "them and us". Yorkshire pud and gravy on Sundays with the family, Mam smacking my hand away from the roasters but laughing anyway.. Then, drunk and loud, cheese 'n' chips, waiting for that last bus home. Or maybe not home, depending on how lucky I was. I didn't know what luck was, then.
("Sean, do you want to be inside me?" he asks, and his hands are brushing away damp blond locks, tracing a finger along an eyebrow..)
College opened up a new life for me. A new life which led eventually to Elijah.
("I need it, Sean. Please." He pleads, and how can he be resisted? Sean doesn't want to resist. Resistance is futile. Light petting up till now. Kisses and furtive fondles in dark corners. The tentative scrape of a finger on heated skin.)
I look at him and I see a kid. Christ, I could be his dad! But he's not a kid, is he? He's a man. He smokes like a chimney, swears like a trooper, tells the most disgusting jokes I have ever heard.. and does it all looking like a fucking angel. I swear, even his farts are cherubic. Tell him that and he goes into giggle mode. And that is a sight to behold.
("You won't hurt me, Sean. I know you think you will, but you won't. Well, no more than I can handle, anyway. Please.." But Sean thinks that he will hurt Lij. How can he not? And if he does, how can he live with himself? Lij is so delicate. Well, not fragile or anything. Nicely lean and sinewy actually. But he is small..)
He grew up with the sun on his face. And that sort of warms my heart, knowing that. Look how he turned out.
("Elijah, no," Sean struggles to be the mature one, to keep a level head. It's not easy when Elijah's smooth hand is stroking his cock, when Elijah's warm mouth is breathing rings of fire on Sean's chest. Elijah takes Sean's hand in his and guides it downwards, to the place it can do most good. And it is so very good.)
So, I guess what I am trying to say is that even though he wasn't here for most of it, he has had this impact on my life. And if things don't work out between us, and maybe they won't, then I still thank him. For being Elijah.
(Sean feels hardness, warm and slick, sheathed in Elijah skin; he can see that this is going to be impossible to stop once they get going, maybe they should stop now, before it 's too late. But it is too late. Because now he cannot stop, and he has pinned Elijah beneath him, is kissing him hard, harder than he has ever kissed any woman...)
I need to tell him how I feel. Give him the chance to walk away.
(Elijah is so damned flexible, its beyond belief how he can shift to accommodate the bigger man. A cry catches in his throat as Sean breaks their kiss to look him straight in the eye and ask the question. Elijah, it seems, may be small and young but he makes contingency plans, looks to the bigger picture... there are lube and condoms in the drawer. It takes but a minute. Sean watches with fascination as expert fingers tear the seal, flip the cap, coat and sheath and prepare.)
What we did was just fucking amazing. I had no idea, none. But I will let him go. That's all, I will let him go. He's young and beautiful. He should be free and happy.
(Sean has no idea whether he is supposed to do this with Elijah lying on his back, his stomach, on all fours - he knows he needs to be in there, that is all. Once again, experience wins out. Elijah assumes a comfortable position and all Sean can see is a gorgeous ass, creamy buttocks and spread legs. "Fingers, Sean. Fingers, first," is the instruction. The pupil moulds himself to the teacher, his breath ragged, as he cautiously obeys.)
I'll write it down. Commit to paper what I cannot put into spoken words. See what he makes of it. Of me.
(The roar of the crowd on the terraces, flashes of red and white, his best mate Steve standing next to him, nose red with the cold... Beer and crisps and Status Quo on the juke box after the match... behind closed eyes, Sean remembers. Twenty years old, arrogant and rampant and up for it all! But this, this was never part of that world... the awkward shuddering turning to a rhythmic glide into yielding flesh. "More, Sean, more," the little man grunts, and Sean obliges, the past making way for the here and now.
"Am I hurting you?" he asks, though the words are disjointed and gasped.
"Yes," is the snatched reply.
"Oh God!" Sean stills his hips, though it nearly kills him to do it.
"What the fuck? I didn't say stop!" Elijah snaps, pushing fiercely backwards onto Sean, his hand stroking his own hard, needy cock...)
Cos, it meant something to me. I just need him to know that.
("Oh fuck," Sean connects with his Saxon ancestry, his mind reeling. He must be doing something right, because now Elijah is keening, whimpering and arching his back and that must hurt so much, but he doesn't stop, cannot stop... Elijah gives one last thrust backwards and then falls forward onto the bed, pulling Sean on top of him. He knows he must have made some sort of animal sound, because when his hearing returns Elijah is giggling.
"Are you sure you haven't done that before, Bean?" he asks, twisting to lie alongside his lover.
"Only in a past life, Elijah," Sean replies, his breathing steadying. How incredible it is to watch that face return from wanton lust to sweet innocence in one fell swoop. Elijah discreetly removes the condom from Sean's spent cock, an act which belies that angelic expression.
They lie for a time, Elijah's leg up and cradling Sean's hip. It fits so well.)
The sex is unbelievable, I am hard as iron just thinking about it. Thinking about his skin, his smell, his mouth. But I need more. I need the emotional connection. Okay, I need love.
Talk. We never do much talking. I want to find out all there is to know about Elijah Jordan Wood. More than just his taste in music and his favourite food. Anyone can know that.
I want to know what makes him the man he is.
But, at the end of the day, if the sex is all there is...
Then I'll take it.
The End