Pairing: Elijah Wood/Dominic Monaghan
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: No profit is made, no knowledge is claimed, no profit is made.
AN: This is fluffy domlijah, very AU.
Feedback: Always appreciated - perhobfan@yahoo.co.uk
Warnings: Only for what passes for humour. The term "American" is used here, not merely as a useful way out of the old he/he syndrome, but quite deliberately. The school portrayed is not only fictitious, it's positively unrealistic.
It is a fact universally acknowledged that pinching it adds spice. This applies to stealing cakes cooling on a windowsill, pick'n'mix when you're six - and sex..
Pinched sex: i.e., sex stolen, surreptitious and clandestine, frantic fumblings in dark corners and alcoves and walk-in stationery cupboards.
Dominic Monaghan adhered to this theory wholeheartedly. Through the shelf-lined walls he could hear heavy feet pounding down the school hall, shrieks and giggles - receding, thankfully.
"We haven't got long, Lij," he said, hoarsely. The American smiled out of the gloom, all moist eyes and bright white teeth. Dominic threaded his long fingers through spiky dark hair and breathed in soap and spearmint gum. He couldn't get close enough.
"Then let's make the most of the time we have, Dom," Lij replied casually, slipping his sweater over his head, hair crackling with static from the nylon mix.
Dom could not believe his luck. Into rainy, boring old Manchester comes this exotic creature - into his very school, into his very life. He stood out like a peacock in a yard full of dreary chickens; he had strutted over to Dominic Monaghan and claimed him, right there in the playground, right next to the fag-end encrusted sandpit. It was raining, of course. Rivulets of rainwater were running down from that wayward hair, catching in those lashes, cascading down those cheeks...
Dominic Monaghan - whose only sexual experience at that point had been with uninspiring, slack-knickered girls, and that one time with Mrs. Dunstruther (Domestic Science) - was putty in those skilful foreign hands. Behind the bike sheds, nothing too adventurous or steamy - they could have been interrupted at any time and besides, they were both testing the water. So, it was swapping histories and likes in music and did he really eat hamburgers for breakfast lunch and dinner? Dom had told him about Germany, how great it was, how he was due a visit soon; about the girl he had got engaged to when he was eleven and a half, and who expected him to go back and claim her. At some point in Dom's gushing account of the last United game he'd seen, Elijah took hold of Dom's hand and sucked the fingers one by one into his rapacious mouth, never blinking or looking away until Dom had no choice but to growl and push him hard against the corrugated metal.
The bell signalling end of break cut through their play; Dom, rock hard and mid-grind, pulled away from Elijah's tender neck and tried to recapture his breath. For his part, Elijah looked surprisingly serene, as if merely willing himself back into a state of calm was sufficient. He squeezed Dom's hand once, brushed down his pants, and then sauntered out into the yard to join the noisy throng crushing back into school.
Dom had to wait an extra five minutes before he dared follow, for fear of being caught in possession of a rounders bat down his trousers.
Later, in the hall, he had tried to catch Elijah's eye but the American was being pursued by every damned boy, girl and teacher with a pulse, it seemed. He appeared to be enjoying the attention, patiently answering inane questions about the States.
"Moths to a flame," the smoky voice of Mrs. Dunstruther, which at one time had been enough to bring him to his knees, now rang tinny in his ear, but he smiled politely and edged away from her, the smell of the onions she had been chopping for Class 3C overpowering her Lilies of the Valley cologne. "He'll break some hearts, that one, oh yes." Dominic agreed with her one hundred percent but said nothing. He's already breaking mine and he's only been here half a day, he thought.
"Meet me after school. Come out with me, tonight. Pictures, pizza, anything you like," he had said, despising his eagerness, having finally cornered Elijah outside the headmaster's office.
"Can't, sorry. Got a visit lined up with my aunt's cousin once removed. Promised I'd call in while I was over here." Dom had listened, his hands in his pockets, one eye on the headmaster's door. Mr. Pennington was an evil git at the best of times, no point in getting on his wrong side.
"Then say you'll meet up with me tomorrow - here. Say it, Lij," he had pleaded, his fingers, inside his trouser pockets, edging slyly towards his cock.
Before Elijah could reply, the door to the headmaster's study was swinging open. Dom's natural instinct was to run for it. He called over his shoulder, as he made his getaway, "tomorrow, Lij!"
"Tomorrow, Dom!" came the reply, accompanied by a John Wayne salute. Which was cute.
The storeroom was dark and spiderydusty. Reams of paper, artists materials, gum, easels and other paraphernalia were piled high on all sides. A naked light bulb swung from its socket and cast strange shadows across the caretaker's little kingdom, now a rather gloomy little love nest.
"Do me, Dom," whispered Elijah, his eyes unnaturally wide in the half light. It was break time, they had only fifteen minutes to consummate their union, down on the floor between a stash of Christmas decorations and a box of magic markers. The clock was ticking.
Dom wondered whether American sex was different to British sex. Elijah's language was different - he had funny words for taps and sweets, for starters - so probably the sex would be alien, too. Not that Dom was in much of a position to compare - only having had sex with a few slack-knickered girls and Mrs. Dunstruther (Domestic Science). But he knew that sex with Elijah would be better than anything, better than the Beatles played really really loud; even better than footie, may he be struck down dead for even thinking such a blasphemous thing...
American skin was soft like that squishy tissue you wrap presents in, he decided. His fingers liked American skin, his tongue liked it, too. And judging by the sounds emanating from Elijah's mouth, American skin really liked to be caressed and licked by an English tongue.
"Dom, come on.." Elijah was panting now, his fingers scrabbling across Dom's hip, his head thrown right back onto the dusty floor. Dom slid all the way down on top of Elijah, pinning him, grinding his hips into Elijah's. He knew he was grunting, knew it must sound pretty revolting, but couldn't help himself. Elijah's nipples felt so good between his finger and thumb, his neck so warm and suckable.
Elijah struggled to make some space between them, enough for him to unbuckle Dom's ridiculous belt with the snake clasp, and then pull down the zipper of Dom's pants, being ultra careful not to entrap the delicate English foreskin for that way lay not only pain but deep, deep disappointment.
Dom felt himself being divested of his trousers, peeled like a ripe banana, and the cold air hit his bottom with a physical smack. He knelt over Elijah like a derrick over an oil well, all ready to drill for ecstasy. "Get your knickers off, Elijah," he breathed thickly. Elijah complied, working his briefs down past his slender hips and thighs to his ankles, where they came to rest, hooked rather rakishly on one foot, and stayed there.
Dom dipped down to kiss Elijah. He felt good now, in control. He was the one on top, after all, and how naturally had that happened? He shifted over the slight form beneath him, his mouth glued to Elijah's, his cock grinding happily against Elijah's hip.
Dom's tongue inventoried Elijah's mouth; all his teeth accounted for, no nasty gaps or holes or crevices. Sweetcute gap in the upper front, unbelievably erotic inter-dentine spatial anomaly which was perfect for pressing into and pushing through. He felt Elijah's insistent fingers pulling at his head, his hair, his neck; could not ignore the American's pudgy hard cock which was thrusting up, clamouring for some action. He was sweating, they were both sweating, and their contortions had caused the magic markers to spill out of their carton all over the storeroom floor; they were rolling to and fro - pink and yellow and emerald green in the dim glow of the 40 watt bulb.
Mrs. Dunstruther had thighs like hams, thighs which tested Dom's manly strength when he hoisted them up and over his shoulder. He had sunk into Mrs. Dunstruther with more a feeling of relief at finally homing in on something warm and wet, than with any real sense of excitement. Elijah, on the other hand, had slender, muscular thighs which rested lightly on Dom's hips with a butterfly light touch. He was open, wide open and all Dom had to do was-
"Push in, Dom. That's all you have to do…" Elijah said, and his breath was coming in little starts and stutters, his tongue lolling slightly. He slid a finger into his hole - oh God! Dom nearly came there and then, nearly spewed spunk all over Elijah's flat, smooth stomach… "Don't we, you know… don't we need something?" Dom asked, his eyes wide and wild, unable to tear themselves away from Elijah's probing digit.
"No, no! We can manage, Dom. Just push in, come on!" Elijah snapped, taking Dom's cock in his hand and guiding it to the place.
Dominic Monaghan officially joined the great gay at 2.26 p.m. on a dreary Thursday in mid September. In the storeroom. In Elijah Wood.
With each thrust, arrhythmic and of variable depth, Dom pushed himself a little further away from the Mrs. Dunstruthers of this world and a little deeper into his new life. He paused just long enough to hook Elijah's lightweight thighs under his arms and then set to with a vengeance. Beneath him, wriggling and warm and wonderful, his American trembled and clutched and sucked and pulled. It couldn't last, of course. Nothing that incredible could.
"Close?" Elijah asked, his toes brushing Dom's ears, and Dom could barely nod, his face contorted with the pressure on his cock and the sight, glimpsed between half closed lids, of Elijah stroking himself to completion with one last expert tug. Dom plunged in one more time, gnuggggging, and his elbows went from under him. So this was what it was like to really come, to-to-to-
It was with some reluctance that Dom pulled his abused penis out of America and rolled off, wincing slightly as he came to rest upon a wayward magic marker. Elijah was already sitting up, gently disentangling himself from the last of Dom's embrace. He ran his fingers expertly through his damp hair, hooking his briefs from round his ankle and back up where they belonged. He stood up and pulled on his pants, stretching slightly as he did. Dom thought the flush on Elijah's skin was tantamount to criminal - nothing that beautiful could possibly be considered legal in England.
The rotten, cruddy, bell signalling end of break began to pound its way into Dom's ears, possessing his cranium and spelling the end of any languid, post-coital come down.
He glanced at his watch - 2.33 p.m. Already they could hear the rush of feet and the high pitching squawking of scores of elephantine kids pounding down the hall outside.
"Nice?" Dom asked, and was surprised at just how much importance he placed on the answer. Elijah, fully dressed once more and now looking as if he had just spent the last fifteen minutes in some chapel or church or temple, bent down and kissed him softly on his forehead.
"More than nice," he said, and he smiled that full toothed, whiter than white smile which had Dom quivering all over again. But time was their enemy now. Dom stood up, a little shaky in the knees, and pulled on his clothes.
They kissed then, arm in arm, body to body, a kind and sweet joining of lips. Then Elijah cracked open the door and with a last backward glance, slipped out.
Dom waited a full minute, though by now, the storeroom was closing in on him, its very walls crushing him. He opened the door and peered out, then was on the outside, fumbling with the key with sweaty fingers. He took a deep breath and turned.
Mr. Pennington, Headmaster, hovered like a crow at the end of the hall. Dom swallowed, pocketed the key and squared his shoulders.
"We are right out of magic markers, Headmaster," he said, casually.
"Put it down on the appropriate requisition form, Mr. Monaghan," rasped the Head, his mouth twitching. "And hurry along. Classes resumed a full five minutes ago."
Dominic nodded and made his way swiftly along the hall to his classroom, where 3E were awaiting with bated breath his explanation of the repeal of the Corn Laws. On his way, he glanced in on 2C - Drama. His heart swelled with pride as he watched Elijah through the glass, magic marker in hand, mouthing words that held his class in thrall. Turning away, Dom realised he had never envied a classroom of twelve year olds until that very moment.
"Those that can, teach," he thought, humming softly.
The End
N.B - "rounders" is a children's game played in Britain, similar to baseball
The End