Fic: Chasing Ian chapter 3

[kribban]

3


On Elijah’s list of favourite states of being, post-coital haze is definitely no.1. Stretching his legs and cuddling further down into the soft mattress, he allows himself to feel like a sex god.

Ian sticks his head in the doorway, looking wide-awake, well dressed and, well, well-laid. “I’m making breakfast. Come up in a bit and it’ll be done.” He gives his trademark smile, and is gone.

Elijah reluctantly pulls back the covers and gets out of bed, grimacing as his feet hit the cold floor. Another month, another continent. He pulls on his pants and grabs his sweatshirt on his way out. He can still taste Ian’s come in his mouth.

As always when waking up next to Ian, there had been that initial moment when he didn’t know where he was. It was only after the soft lapping of the Thames had cleared up his confusion that he had directed his attention to his bedmate.

As Ian had turned towards him, half asleep and grinding an erection into his hip, Elijah couldn’t help but wonder, despite first hand knowledge of the male anatomy, just what sordid dreams had fuelled that hard-on.

To his great annoyance, Ian’s eyes had stayed closed even as Elijah wrapped a fist around his cock. Finally, he had had enough, pushed Ian onto his back and crawled down the bed. At that, Ian’s eyes had snapped wide open, and he had reached down to touch Elijah’s shoulder.

“Bad Catholic.“

As he recollects the blowjob, and the one he received in return, Elijah reaches the kitchen with a stupid grin on his face. He grabs a plate and utensils and begins the job of satisfying his empty stomach. Since Ian is cooking, today’s breakfast is very English, toast and soft-boiled eggs.

“I’m getting used to this,” Elijah lets out between bites. He might as well have said “I’ll marry you,” because Ian walks over to him and gives him the kind of kiss that returning war heroes give their waiting brides. The taste of semen mingles with that of eggs and it doesn’t matter, because Elijah is happy, and when Elijah is happy the world looks a lot prettier.

As they eat they chat about upcoming events. Elijah has to read a script, and Ian has a business meeting. They’ve bent over backwards to find five whole days when neither of them works, and it’s a miracle they don’t have more chores to do.

Ian is affectionate, rubbing his foot against Elijah’s calf, holding his hand across the table. He’s been very attentive the last couple of weeks, as if he’s afraid to let Elijah’s bruised ego out of his sight.

“What are you brooding about, Elijah?”

“Nothing. The meaning of life. Sex. Did you like the sex?”

Ian leans forward and pulls on the strand of hair that Elijah has forgotten to rinse. “Allow me to present Exhibit A. The answer is yes.” He frowns. “Why would you need to ask that?”

Elijah sighs and sinks further down into his chair. “Because you kept your eyes closed, and I know that you were tired, and I’m not [really] this fucking sensitive, and I know you liked it, ‘cause you squirted all over me and all, but I like to hear it, anyway.”

Ian tilts his head to the left and furrows his brow. “I have never in my life encountered anyone who didn’t take ejaculation as irrefutable proof of desire before! What a peculiar little thing you are.” He smiles fondly when he says the last bit, and Elijah has no difficulty recognizing the humour.

“It was lovely. It was very nice. The reason I didn’t open my eyes sooner was because I was still sleepy. And because I wanted to savour you.”

Elijah winces.

“Yeah, I told you I knew this already. I just needed to hear it. Or I didn’t really… Dunno. Just… It’s nice. It’s nice to hear you say it.” He shrugs. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Ian looks pensive. “Well, a sex god like you certainly shouldn’t have to feel insecure.”

Elijah shakes his head. “I don’t! Really, I don’t. Jesus! I just thought of this now, you know. It was just a thought. I feel fine. Honestly!”

He squeezes Ian’s hand and opens his mouth to warm, wet tongue and lips.

As eating comes to an end and Ian is prevented from washing up by Elijah simply grabbing his wrist and pulling him away from the counter, the atmosphere is warm and the conversation slides easily from topic to topic. They’re going to a party tonight, courtesy of one of Ian’s oldest friends.

“So what kind of party is this gonna be, anyway? I swear, the second someone asks me what stocks I’ve invested in, I’m out of there.”

Ian giggles and places one hand on his belly as if it hurts. “Oh please, don’t say such things, you’re killing me. You do know my friends, don’t you? No stock brokers. We’re a miserable lot of bohemians, really. The shame of our generation. So you need not worry.” He pulls out a bottle of milk from the refrigerator and gulps all of it down. As Elijah raises an eyebrow he shrugs. “Point illustrated. Besides, you’re a bad influence on me.”

Elijah laughs and lets the water out of the sink. ”So, none of that bourgeois crap then, that’s good news. The bad news however,” he turns to study his boyfriend with a wicked expression, “is that I’m going to be cooped up with a bunch of artistes all evening! Oh Ian, you know, I think I feel a depression coming on! Yes, indeed, I have to find a canvas and exorcise my demons.” He giggles so hard that he almost falls over.

As Ian grabs his wrists and pins them behind his back, Elijah finally stills. It’s hard not to, staring into Ian’s cornflower eyes knowing with certainty that you have his undivided attention. Perhaps a little teasing is in order. Elijah grinds his hips.

“Mmm… Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

Ian sucks Elijah’s bottom lip in between his teeth and bites just hard enough to prove a point. “Don’t badmouth my friends.”

Elijah’s giggles slip out between kisses that are more about nibbling than kissing. “Just keeping you on your toes, old chum.”

He gives Ian’s mouth one last lick and pulls away. “Let me go.” His hands are immediately released, and he smacks Ian’s ass as he steps away. “You have to get going or you’re going to be late.” Ian winces from the impact of Elijah’s palm but obeys nonetheless.

As Ian puts on his jacket and shoes, Elijah stands in the doorway. All set for his study session, a fresh pot of coffee and a pack of Marlboro’s awaiting him, he keeps his eyes on the man no more than a few feet away.

“What’s so amusing?”

The question snatches Elijah from his reverie. He grins wider. ”I’m so going to fuck your brains out tonight.”

****

Elijah doesn’t like the party much. He doesn’t dislike it, per se, but it’s not the way he’d spend his Saturday. Then again, his own parties usually consist of having various combinations of friends over for Chinese take-out and beer.

It’s not that it’s a stuck-up party. It’s quite relaxed, in fact, not a tie in sight. Good food, tolerable music, big comfy couches. The supply of wine and beer seems almost endless, but not one person has made a fool of themselves yet. Come to think of it, Elijah hasn’t even seen anyone who’s really shit-faced. Maybe that’s what constitutes mature partying.

It’s not that it’s a big party. Elijah has known all about handling crowded events since before he got a second digit, and besides, it’s not like he doesn’t secretly desire an invitation to one of Counting Crows’ famous parties. The rather normal-looking two-story flat is filled with people of various ages, genders and, from the looks of it, sexualities. All are talking loudly and laughing.

Ian is eager to make him feel comfortable and has made sure to introduce him to everyone. His attentiveness is almost ridiculous, although very touching, and Elijah has practically had to force Ian to go speak with his friends.

He grabs a drink from the bar and wanders off to smoke. On his way to the balcony he passes Ian who’s standing with a group of people, and he takes the opportunity to sneak up behind him and smack him firmly on the bottom for a second time tonight. He has to hurry away to avoid being sucked into further discussion but Ian still has the time to beamingly boast that Rupert Everett is supposed to be attending.

The balcony is large and surprisingly devoid of people except for said movie star. Elijah lights his cigarette and leans over the railing to smoke when he is interrupted by a sweet, masculine voice.

“You’ve got a light?”

The conversation goes smoothly. Elijah is a sociable person, and the first thing he learned about movie stars is that most of them want to be treated like ordinary people, the ones who aren’t fucked-up assholes, that is.

The man is casually dressed, black chinos, white shirt, smudged eyeliner and a particularly messy version of dark hair that falls into his eyes whenever he nods. Elijah is impressed by his mellow presence and how at ease with himself he seems. He’s a good-looking man, the kind of guy Elijah can imagine being attracted to.

“So, you are the Lord of the Rings, then?”

Elijah grins and picks up another cigarette. “Naw, not really. That would be Peter Jackson. He’s the creator, I’m just the star. Do you want to use this again?” He waves the lighter towards Tall Dark and Handsome and revels in the thick smoke filling his lungs.

“You are one heavy smoker, pretty boy.” The voice is filled with an admiration on the brink of envy, and the smile is warm and friendly.

“Yeah, you know what they say, looks like an angel, smokes like a devil.”

“Shouldn’t that be dances like a devil?”

Elijah almost chokes on his laughter. “Well, yeah. That too.”

“You do know this stuff kills you?”

“Yeah, I know, I know. I plan to quit before I’m thirty.” Elijah shrugs. “It’s nasty, really.”

Rupert regards him silently for a moment. ”Did you see one of your co-stars is here, by the way?”

Elijah coughs to cover the laughter trying to escape. “Yeah, I know.”

Rupert shrugs. “I was quite surprised to not see him out here.”

“Yeah, he quit… Or so I heard.”

“Well, hooray for that. I guess you really can teach old dogs new tricks, after all.”

Elijah looks down at the floor. “Yeah… He must have had a good reason.”

Rupert raises his glass. “Well, here’s to us mortal sinners.”

“Cheers.”

The overwhelming sweetness of the Pina Colada sticks to Elijah’s throat, and he feels his body finally climbing over the edge to inebriation. Girly drinks will do that for you. “Well, he’s the epitome of sobriety nowadays. Neither smoking nor drinking doesn’t leave much to do at parties.”

Rupert gives him a thoughtful glance. “Trust me, it leaves lots of things.”

There’s something in the tone of his voice that leaves Elijah undoubtedly uneasy. He rubs out his cigarette and gulps down the last of his drink.

“Do you know him?”

“Huh?”

“Sir Ian. I know you’ve worked together, but do you have a personal relationship? Are you friends?”

Elijah grins. “Well, actually…”

“‘Cause for a moment there I thought you were the new boyfriend or something.”

“Uhm…”

“He’s quite the charmer isn’t he? He’s hot still, but he used to be a [real] looker. Quite the perv too.”

Elijah finds his words suddenly caught in his throat. He feels like confessing to his relationship with Ian, to set things straight right away, but he doesn’t. Instead he simply raises an eyebrow.

Rupert moves closer to him and leans against the railing. “I could tell you a thing or two. Do you?”

“What?”

Rupert’s eyes narrow. “Do you know him?”

Elijah swallows. “Oh… uhm… not that well.”

Rupert’s entire face lights up in a smile, and he gets an almost conspiratorial look in his eyes. “He’s cool. He’s quite a piece of work. [I] know him … Or, I did. We kind of had a thing going on. For about fifteen minutes. Jesus, but was he a good fuck!”

Elijah feels suddenly dizzy, like the ground has been snatched from under him. He fingers his empty glass nervously. “That’s… that’s cool. When did you, uhm, when did you meet?” Rupert just throws his head back and laughs.

”It wasn’t like we were bloody dating or something.” He shrugs. ”We met when I was in Drama School. I had a phase when I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. As an actor I mean. I was very taken with him, quite infatuated. So, I sought him out and begged to pick his brain. He was very accommodating, very helpful. And well, one thing led to another. He’s very friendly, really generous. He’s a great man, really. Very charming.” He smiles endearingly and inclines his head as if he is telling Elijah something he doesn’t already know.

“And, as I said, very talented in all sorts of ways. He’s calmed down a bit nowadays, though. It seems the years have changed his perspective in a lot of ways. He’s nothing like he used to be.” As if to avoid any misunderstanding he quickly adds: “I don’t mean that in a bad way. It [is] more than twenty years since I had him, but I’m sure he’s still every bit the lover he used to be. I simply mean that he doesn’t [quite] engage in the activities he used to. Not that he was ever anything but discreet, dear God no, but he was more into… certain things then. More frequently anyway. But you can’t say that he was very outrageous, no more than the rest of his lot anyway.”

“That generation of actors,” Rupert adds as a reply to Elijah’s puzzled expression. “He started out as rather timid when I come to think of it. Not that he was ever ashamed of anything, just… he was a bit shy, a side effect from the repression of those days I think. But he relaxed about sex once he’d found his friends and achieved professional success. Or so I’ve heard. I was hardly born then.” He shrugs again. “He certainly wasn’t timid when [I] knew him. But he’s changed now. You don’t hear things anymore. Then again, you don’t hear many things nowadays.” He sighs.

“What changed him?”

Rupert throws out his hands and sighs. “Age. Fell in love. Grew bored. Who knows with Ian? He does whatever he wants to. Always has.” Suddenly his eyes light up as if he remembers something. “He’s had his moments in later days, though. Want to hear?”

Elijah can feel himself nodding mechanically. He knows he should stop this. He knows he should take his glass, say his goodbyes and walk away, but it’s as if his limbs have lost the capacity of movement and his brain its capacity of command.

Rupert’s excitement is hard to miss. “I only know about this because a mutual friend told me. As I said, Ian’s very discreet. Always has been.” He lights another cigarette and takes a long, slow drag on it.

“It was, what, twelve years ago? It was at a party, a New Year’s Eve party if I’m not mistaken. Ian had rather recently become single again, and he’d only been out of the closet a short while. He was happy, I hear. Not drinking, of course, but making people laugh, chatting with everyone and having a blast. He’s like a fish in the fucking water at these things, and he throws the greatest parties. You should really force him to invite you some time. Great food, great drinks, everyone enjoying themselves, and it’s funny how he always finds the time to talk to you and make sure you’ve got everything you need. He has the loveliest house overlooking the river, you really must go there.”

Rupert stops what is becoming a rant when Elijah gives him a stern look.

“Anyway, so he’s at this party. One of his friends was throwing it. I [think] it was Lizzie, but I’m not sure… I can hardly keep track of that crowd. Anyway, the point is, Ian caused quite the stir that night. It was his attitude that was the coolest part of it all, I think. How he revelled in the attention, all pride and confidence. I heard he loved every minute of it. Walked on clouds for weeks afterwards.”

“What did he do?”

Rupert smiles and studies Elijah mischievously. “You’re straight enough, you must have wanked off to ‘Anything that moves’ half a dozen times.”

Elijah feels himself yet again nod and watches Rupert let out a long stream of grey smoke.

“You know the bachelor scene? Well, Ian pulled off a similar stunt that night. Right there, with everyone watching. Almost brought down the ceiling. God, he knew how to entertain.”

He says the last words sadly, as if he’s dreaming back to a world with brighter colours and more orgies.

Through a mist Elijah can hear himself speak quietly, with a voice he wished didn’t tremble so much.

“How… how many were there?”

Rupert shrugs. ”Three. Maybe four. I don’t remember. He was the one who initiated it. Made them draw straws. He really did love it, kid, he smiled through the whole thing.”


Through a daze that’s making his head spin, Elijah manages to take his glass, murmur a polite farewell, and walk away. A minute too late.

As he walks back to the party he can feel tears burning behind his eyelids, and he curses himself. He bites his tongue hard enough to hurt and keeps his focus where he’s heading.

He slams his glass down on the counter and pours a shot of Vodka straight into it, not caring that it’s the wrong type of glass and it still has the stupid stick in it.

He finds Ian in the kitchen, as usual blabbering away with some friends. He lights up when he sees Elijah and is just about to include him in whatever conversation he has going when Elijah interrupts him.

“I want to go back.”

“Elijah?”

“I want to go back to your house. I’m feeling a bit tired.”

Even though it only lasts a second, Elijah can still see that cursed concern filter Ian’s gaze. “Are you all right?”

He snorts. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

”Should I call for a taxi? Or do you want the car? I can find a ride home.”

Elijah shakes his head. “No, I’ve been drinking. I want to go home with you. I want you to drive me.”

Ian’s brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”

Elijah grabs his wrist rather brutally. “Nothing’s wrong. I just want you to go home with me. Now.”

Puzzled, and with a worried look on his face, Ian quickly kisses his friends goodbye and tells them to give his regards to the hostess. Elijah keeps his grip on Ian the entire way out of the building.

As they stand outside on the snow-covered pavement, with the noise and warmth of the party behind them, Elijah begins to take in the peculiarity of it all. The windy chill of a London winter usually has a cooling effect on the mind. He hears his boyfriend whistle, and within seconds he finds himself pushed into the backseat of a taxi.

“I forgot that I had lost one of my contacts. We spent half an hour looking for it. Sarah said I could leave the car and pick it up in the morning,” Ian says as explanation. “Now, what’s wrong?”

Elijah turns to look out through the window. There really is something special about snow-covered concrete. ”Nothing’s wrong.”

“Why did you suddenly become so tired?”

“I just did.”

“Why couldn’t you go back ahead of me?”

Elijah turns back to meet Ian’s gaze. “Why did [you] want to stay?”

“Because I wanted to be with my friends a bit longer. Is that so bad?”

“I wanted to go home and relax. Is [that] so bad?”

Ian smiles. ”Not at all. Of course I want to be with you if you’re feeling bad.”

”I’m not feeling bad.”

“Are you sure?”

“The driver.”

“Is the driver feeling bad?”

“No, you senile fuck. The driver could be listening.”

Ian studies the cabbie from behind and winks at Elijah. “I don’t think so. She doesn’t seem to be the type.” He takes Elijah’s limp hand and pulls it into his lap where he holds it discreetly. “You never answered.”

“Huh?”

“You never answered me if you are sure you are all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re drunk.”

Elijah chuckles. “That I am.”

There’s a moment of silence before Ian opens up again. “It was a lovely party, wasn’t it? At least I thought so. You must tell me if you hate these things, because then I’ll make sure not to drag you to them in the future.”

Elijah shrugs. “It was all right, really. I mean, it wasn’t my kind of bash, but I didn’t hate it or anything. I do really like your friends Ian, they’re all cool. I just get a little lost at these parties. Not my crowd. Except at your parties of course,” he quickly adds. “Your parties are perfect.”

Ian lights up like a Christmas tree and looks a bit like a mother cat showing off her new offspring. “Well, if you say so… Did you see Rupert?”

Elijah turns to look out through the window again. “Yeah, I saw him.”

“Was he nice?”

“Yeah, he was nice. I gave him a light.” He can see Ian’s smile reflected in the window and he wants to wipe it off.

Ian chuckles. “He’s still smoking then. You miserable bastards.” He leans forward and presses a palm against Elijah’s chest. ”Those poor, poor lungs of yours. But I shouldn’t say anything. I used to be the worst case of them all.” The sadness in his eyes seems to be genuine. Elijah turns back to look at him.

“Did you really quit for my sake?”

“Yes.”

“Why? I smoke.”

Ian fingers a strand of Elijah’s hair and answers very quietly. “Because I don’t want to leave you any sooner than I have to.”

Elijah swallows uneasily. He hates this fucking topic. It doesn’t come up very often, but he hates it when it does. He wants to say something, to reward the noble gesture, as if speaking the magic words will ward off the reality that is to come.

“I love you.”

Ian removes his hand. “And I you.”

They sit in silence for a while. Elijah looks again out the window. ”Why didn’t you tell me that you’ve had an affair with Rupert?”

Ian looks startled for only a brief moment before he answers with the sincerity that always leaves Elijah baffled. “I didn’t think about it. Of course it was in the back of my mind, but I didn’t think it was important enough for me to tell you.”

Elijah leans back in his seat. “What?!”

”I didn’t even reflect upon it. Elijah, it was over twenty years ago! I don’t even think about him in that way anymore. He ceased being ‘former fling’ and became ‘acquaintance’ a long time ago.”

Ian shrugs.

“Besides, what was I supposed to do? Tell you that ‘Oh by the way Elijah, my old acquaintance with whom I happened to have a five minute indiscretion in the seventies that I don’t ever think about anymore and who I am not the least bit attracted to is in the same building as us?’ Wouldn’t that make you think that I [do] still think of him in that way? Because otherwise I wouldn't have felt it necessary to mention it, would I?”

He leans back and smiles mischievously. “Besides, you didn’t ask. I was quite surprised by that actually! I thought you were going to give me the third degree about every person there.”

Suddenly, the driver pulls over to the curb and to a halt. “We’re here, ‘fellas.”

They step out and Ian gives her the money with a hefty tip and a ‘Miss,’ returning to Elijah’s side as she pulls away. “What did he tell you?”

”Only nice things about you.”

“I mean, besides telling you that he and I socialized once, what did you two talk about?”

”Uhm, the movie. ‘The Rings’ I mean. Smoking. How cool you are.”

Ian chuckles as he sticks his arm under Elijah’s, walking the short bit to his front door. “Well, I think that’s exaggerating a bit. Both you and he are light-years cooler than I. What did he say about me?”

“That you are generous and friendly. That you throw good parties and that he’d fuck your house if he could. And well… he said you’re a perv.”

Ian stops walking. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I wonder on what information he based that assumption.”

Elijah sighs. “I don’t know, Ian.”

“Did he tell you anything?”

“He told me nothing. He just called you a perv. What the fuck do I know, people say things.”

They walk in silence until they reach the heavy front door of Ian’s house.

It’s not until they’re in the second floor hallway that Elijah speaks again. “I still can’t understand how you could do those things.”

“Come again?” Ian steps out of the bathroom after washing his hands. Elijah doesn’t answer. “You said you wanted to get cosy. Do you want some tea and toast? Some incense or music perhaps?”

Elijah shrugs. “Whatever’s fine with me.”

Ian leans against the doorframe. “What things have I done?”

“Oh, orgies, threesomes, public sex, sadism, role playing, being a general fucking pervert. I can make the list longer if you like.”

Ian sighs deeply. “Oh, [those] things! I’d almost forgotten!” He pins Elijah with his gaze and says sternly: “What did he tell you?”

The authority in Ian’s voice pisses Elijah off. “It’s not what he told me, it’s what you told me. Remember? And I’m sorry if I’m being a prude, but I can’t understand what kind of person would do all that.” He leans back against the wall and realises he really isn’t in the mood for tea or music.

“Well,” Ian says softly, gracefully manoeuvring his slim body until he is mere inches from Elijah. His eyes are bright and serious, and he asks the following question in a voice that is calm and full of wickedness. “Would you like me to do those sorts of things with you?”

The approach is so candid, and so…. Ian-esque that Elijah completely loses track of what he was going to say.

“Of course not!”

Ian leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, what do you want then?”

There’s only a brief moment’s hesitation before Elijah throws himself at Ian, pulling his head down and pushing into his mouth for a frantic kiss.

The only thing he can think of, as he grabs hold of Ian, dragging him up the stairs and into his bedroom, is to wonder how many other people Ian has done this with. He can picture it if he closes his eyes, so he keeps them open, keeps them wide open as he pushes Ian down on the bed, ripping off his trousers and pulling out the half erect penis, sucking it down his throat.

He wants to brand this body and wipe away every trace of the past. He pulls back and is met halfway by Ian who sits up and throws his arms around him. Elijah finds himself kissed yet again. The kiss is soft, tender and passionate at the same time. He can’t stand the idea of Ian having kissed someone else this way.

As he finally pushes into Ian, a sweaty thigh under his hand, his mind disobeys him and wanders off in directions he wants to run from. And suddenly, he’s fifteen years old, putting in a tape with ‘Anything that moves’ recorded off his friend’s satellite dish. He pushes harder, using a knee for leverage. It’s better thinking of the tight heat surrounding him, or the slippery skin beneath his hand, than on a naked Seleena Steele asking a room full of horny men to draw straws.

Elijah pounds Ian harder into the mattress, faster and faster, sucking his lips into a fierce kiss that’s bordering on violent. His back is aching, but it doesn’t register. Ian’s cock is leaking, but it doesn’t register. All that matters to Elijah is that he doesn’t think about that night, about Ian’s re-enactment of the bachelor scene, that he doesn’t think about gorgeous, ice-cool Seleena, who he’d worshipped as a teen, sucking and fucking the winners of her lottery until the room is going crazy.

In the end, Elijah doesn’t see Ian’s eyes cloud with passion, doesn’t feel the legs wrapping around his waist to pull him in harder. He doesn’t hear the moaning gasps, or his own name being panted as Ian comes. Instead there is only desolation, and the distinct feeling that he has somehow lost.

He pulls out shakily and lays down next to Ian who is giggling softly. “My, my, weren’t we feisty tonight.” Within moments Elijah is hugged and cuddled, kissed and petted.

“Oh sweetie, you didn’t come.”

He can feel Ian’s soft hand stroking his cheek, and when he looks into the familiar blue eyes he wishes for the millionth time that things were different.

”Just relax.” He is coaxed into lying on his back, a warm comforter covering him. “There, there. Just lie still.” He closes his eyes as Ian’s strong fist wraps around his cock and he tries to think of nothing but the almost mechanical pleasure of being stimulated. Yet there is no effect. As Ian starts kissing down his belly, Elijah pulls him up.

“It’s all right. It’s not gonna happen tonight.”

Ian moves up the bed and nuzzles him. “These things happen. Don’t worry, you’ll get yours tomorrow.”

Elijah swallows uneasily and rubs his face against the pillow. His concealer smudges onto the immaculately white pillowcase and his voice shakes more than he thought it would. “Can we turn off the light, please?”

Ian gets up to perform the task, then pulls off his shirt and socks before lying down next to Elijah, who still has his clothes on. For the second time tonight, Elijah feels the back of his eyelids burning, and this time he doesn’t even try to stop the tears. It’s fucking pathetic.

Ian hugs him tight from behind, rubbing Elijah’s belly. “Don’t worry love, things will be different in the morning, you’ll see. You’re just drunk, that’s all.”

Elijah doesn’t correct Ian, but simply takes whatever comfort he can. He closes his eyes and wishes that he was being comforted for the true reasons. In this moment it doesn’t matter that Ian has the wrong idea; the only things that matter are the irreversibility of the past and the futility in wishing that things were different.




Notes on canon: The idea of Ian/Rupert comes from Ian saying on his web site “I first met Rupert Everett in the summer of 1976, when he was a rather discontented drama student. He sought me out at Stratford-upon-Avon after a matinee performance of Macbeth. Actually he was lying on the grass outside the theatre, lank and lovely. We became friends, although I see little of him these days.” An innocent statement like that is all that my filthy, subtext-seeking brain needs. I do realise I need therapy. ;-)