Chapter Text
Dom arches his hips - more - even though he knows that he's defeating the point and he knows that Elijah will only lift his head, because he also knows that he wants, and that seems to override everything else that he's learned. But Dom actually settles, opens his eyes, when he hears Orlando's name. Not like before; now there's anticipation coiling in his belly, because Elijah's breath is still warm on his skin and there's no surprises this time (for now, anyway) and he remembers the salt of Orlando's skin.
There's a stretch of moments (too long) before the door opens and Orlando's head emerges, all dark lush curls and golden skin and darting eyes, zeroing in on Elijah. And Elijah must've done something encouraging (though Dom can't look, because if he looks at Elijah then he's going to break apart, and he can't even take his eyes off Orlando) because Orlando's coming into the room and...
It's the first time Dom's seen Orlando tonight, the first time Dom's seen him like this, long and lean and nude, beautiful even as he practically slinks into the room, tail between his legs (except no, there's something better). And the distress written on his features makes Dom twist with guilt, but more than that, Dom wants to make it better.
"Are you alright?"
The words are in Dom's head at the same moment they're out of Orlando's mouth, and Dom can only let his breath out and smile, lift his hand from Elijah's head to draw Orlando in.
Elijah smiles, relieved and hopeful, as Orlando crosses to them, settles onto the bed beside Dom. Orlando throws a quick, questioning look at him, and then when Elijah doesn't protest or command, he leans in to give Dom a thorough kiss.
There's defiance in his eyes when he straightens from it, a bit, more of a step out of line than an actual questioning of Elijah's authority, and Elijah simply lets his smile become something more wicked, extends his own hand. "Come here," he murmurs, order laced with suggestion. "I haven't tasted you yet." His hand brushes Dom's thigh even as he reaches for Orlando, warning lightly, "No touching, Dom," and then he wraps his arms around Orlando and draws him down into a kiss.
Orlando tastes like honey, like something strong and sweet, almost overpowering, and Elijah follows that thought, half-wondering what Dom will make of it even as he yields. He lets Orlando dominate the kiss and inch him back, fraction by fraction, until he's arched and pliant, purring into Orlando's mouth and playing a slippery game of tag with their tongues. He's never tested this theory before now, but he suspects that the more he allows Orlando to seem in control, the more responsive Dom will be to Orlando in bed. There's a spark there already, Elijah just needs to fuel it. And besides, no matter how hesitantly he started out, Orlando really is an enthusiastic kisser.
Dom almost can't believe what's before his eyes; he's momentarily dumbfounded. Elijah's giving, letting Orlando slide over him like a wave, the curve of their bodies undulating, arching, and Elijah's bending. Elijah. Even more, though, Orlando's taking, pushing, bracing his hand on the mattress, taut corded muscle in his arms and a veil of dark curls that only affords Dom glimpses of lips and tongues, the flutter of Elijah's eyelashes and the press of Orlando's thumb on Elijah's cheek. And Dom still tastes Orlando on his tongue, even as he watches the two of them, and he tastes want. Dom's fingers itch; he twists them in the bedsheets. He wants to call out a name (but which?), he wants to be a part of this, he wants attention...
He wants it all.
Elijah moans, letting Dom have the sound as well as the sight, as Orlando shifts against him and slides, slippery-hard, against Elijah's erection, still trapped and bound beneath the leather trousers. He tilts his head back, letting Orlando feast on his throat, and turns slightly to catch Dom's eyes, to smile knowingly and hum as Orlando's attentions gradually slip lower, unconsciously following the subtle pressure of Elijah's hands, tongue roughly bathing one of Elijah's taut nipples.
Elijah sinks back onto the mattress at Dom's feet, untangling his legs and pulling Orlando with him, drawing him into another slow, scorching kiss. It's all for Dom's benefit, really...Elijah doesn't do anything without Dom being his first concern. But he certainly doesn't mind Orlando's enthusiasm, the way he doesn't even think to wait for Elijah's permission, to even check with him before slipping a hand between them and fingering the zipper of Elijah's trousers, cupping the bulge between his legs. Elijah lets his eyes flutter shut, allowing Orlando to maul him, feeling Dom's eyes on him like burning coals.
It's harder to think in French, with Orlando working his way steadily into Elijah's trousers and mouthing damp heat along Elijah's neck, but Elijah grasps for it anyway, giving Dom the privacy to make the decision without Orlando knowing. "What do you want?" Elijah asks in French, holding Dom's eyes and arching slightly into Orlando's touch as the zipper parts and his erection finally springs free. "Him? Me?" He catches his breath when Orlando slides his hand inside the opened trousers and wraps a hand around his cock, Elijah guiding just enough to keep him moving and reassured.
He relaxes into the tentative stroking, smiling at Orlando and talking softly in French to Dom, twisting Dom's confession into an offer. "Want his fingers? Want him prepping you for me, opening you so I can slide inside?" Elijah makes another soft half-groan and tangles his fingers roughly in Orlando's hair, jerking him down into another kiss as his hips find a rhythm with Orlando's hand. "Want his cock? I could...ah...fuck him while he fucks you, fuck you through him..." He turns his head to the side again, releasing Orlando's hair and winding his arms about Orlando's neck. "Want to suck him off while I fuck you, want to be filled in every way, want us to force you?"
His eyes are dark now, he knows, thoroughly aroused and hungrier for Dom with every sharp breath. He knows what he wants, but the choice needs to be Dom's. He will not push this. He inhales raggedly when Orlando's grip shifts, and his hips push impatiently into the touch. His next words are drawled, liquid-soft and dangerous.
"Or do you just want to watch him fuck me, just like this?"
Qu’est-ce que tu veux? The words are like silk, wrapping around Dom, tying him in knots as he watches Elijah, watches Orlando, this Orlando who seems a bit closer to the haunting image in Dom’s head. What does he want? Chasing through the maze of Elijah’s questions, the French words forcing him to focus, Dom can see flashes of what Elijah’s offering. Some are dead ends, wrong turns that send him skittering in the other direction – not like before, please – but there are some that blossom with colour, spangles of red and orange. The taste of Orlando’s skin, the sound of his moans, the feel of his hands over Dom. Yeah, Dom wants that. More than anything, though, he wants Elijah closer, wants him inside, the strength that overshadows even this new Orlando.
“Je veux toi ici quand il me touche,” Dom breathes. “Inside.” He’s thankful for the concentration the words require, the distraction they create, as much as the privacy; it’s easier this way to stop himself from reaching out. Elijah’s fucking beautiful, and Orlando too, and as much as Dom appreciates that, he wants to be a part of it, not a spectator bound by words. No touching. He wants Orlando’s mouth again, wants to run his hands over Elijah, slip between them and let go. But he can’t touch, not yet, not them, not himself. Christ.
“Bitte," he adds, unable and unwilling to shift his gaze from Elijah’s, drawn by the power and the promise he sees there. Want.
Elijah gently coaxes Orlando's fingers away, laces them with his own and studies Dom. "Let him open you for me?" he asks quietly, bringing Orlando's fingers to his mouth and licking between them, nipping at the webbing but keeping his focus on Dom. "Let him feel you? Let me hold you while he does it?"
He sucks one of Orlando's fingers into his mouth and hollows his cheeks, earning a soft groan from Orlando and a whisper of breath from Dom. A hesitation. No, they aren't there yet, but they're closer. Elijah switches tracks abruptly, releasing Orlando's finger with a wet pop and turning to look at him. "Off," Elijah orders, and when Orlando scrambles back he stretches, fitting back into more comfortable skin. The leather clings to him still, but parts around his cock, the opened zipper framing his erection.
"Think about it," he suggests, sliding forward until he's between Dom's thighs, parting them further so the he can massage Dom's perineum. "And in the meantime, you can show Orlando he's forgiven." Elijah switches back to English for Orlando's benefit, his thumb rubbing circles over Dom's entrance. "Orlando, go give Dom something to do with his mouth," he suggests, licking his lips. "Otherwise, I imagine he's going to get loud."
“Je ne veux pas penser,” Dom murmurs, and he’s already halfway there – Elijah’s touch has him squirming, setting off the pent-up energy from moments ago, from watching Elijah bend. Watching Orlando take.
Orlando, there he is, eyes glittering like Elijah’s do when he wants Dom, and before Dom can blink Orlando’s closer, there, and there’s no hesitation when he presses his mouth to Dom’s, hard and earnest, tongue sliding along his top lip, oh. It’s easy now to let go, sink into Orlando’s hands curving around his neck (sliding across leather), cupping his head. Dom’s lips part on a moan and Orlando pushes in, tongue twisting around his own (and this is what Dom remembers, yeah, only better, Christ). Dom’s stretched between Orlando’s mouth and Elijah’s fingers, nerves singing with heat; Orlando tips Dom’s head back, angling deeper, murmuring, “So good, Dom,” and Dom shivers at the words, at Orlando’s voice. Without a thought, his hands come up, seeking warmth and skin, Orlando, even as Dom’s hips arch helplessly toward Elijah.
Elijah has to hold off for another moment to watch Dom and Orlando, because they really are that beautiful; complementary, like the sun and the moon, different but equal. And then Dom quivers, a beautiful, full-bodied tremble under Orlando's kiss, and Elijah's thumb stops rubbing and slides in, the length of his nail. Dom tenses briefly - not from pain, most likely, but surprise - and the moment he relaxes again, Elijah's tongue is there as well, licking teasingly at Dom's entrance, his thumb sliding out as the tip of his tongue takes its place, sliding smoothly into Dom's body.
He has to stop after a few seconds, because Dom is starting to squirm and Orlando isn't keeping him under control. "Smack him for that, Orlando," he warns with a smile, curving his hand around Dom's buttocks and digging his nails into the skin as just the first hint of a threat. "Or find another way to punish him. Keep him under control." He spreads Dom's legs further, kissing the inside of his thigh thoughtfully. "Just make sure he doesn't bite," he recommends with a wink, and then shifts back to the task at hand, coaxing Dom open and stabbing deep without warning.
Dom twists with pleasure, unable to hold still under Elijah's onslaught, and for a moment it seems like Orlando didn't hear Elijah, or didn't pick up on the unspoken suggestion that sends Dom's pulse skittering to his cock. Orlando's tongue is still sliding along the roof of Dom's mouth, the back of his teeth, but then Orlando's hands are grasping Dom's, pinning them on either side of his head with enough force to make him blink. And there are Orlando's teeth, sinking into his lip with a bright flash. Dom's panting, trying to catch his breath, caught in surprise by Orlando's strength (though he shouldn't be surprised, really, but it's such a fucking amazing discovery) and he can only stare at Orlando, dark and glistening and hard-edged, a little smirk of triumph on his face.
Dom stills for a moment. Just long enough, it turns out, for Orlando to straddle his chest, dark curls framing Orlando's face as Dom looks up with wide eyes. He never expected Orlando to look like this, be capable of this, sharp and sincere and openly wanting all at once. And when Dom clenches the muscles in his arms, testing Orlando's grip, it holds fast.
Christ.
Dom licks his lips, and when Orlando shifts his hips forward, there's nothing to do but open for him, feel the not entirely unfamiliar weight on his tongue. Dom glances up through his lashes as he closes his lips over Orlando's cock; he can see Orlando's stomach hollowing, up up up to see Orlando's lips parting (and there's sound, too, the rush of breath that Dom wants). And as much as Dom likes to see, he closes his eyes as he curls his tongue around Orlando and hums softly. Without a thought, the flicker of Dom's tongue mimics Elijah's, oh, falling into his rhythm like it's second nature.
Elijah's heart twists when Orlando finally relaxes and takes control, commanding Dom effortlessly without words, holding him until Dom stills and complies. Something else twists, too, and Elijah would smile full of wickedness if he wasn't currently bent on pushing Dom as far as he can go, seeing how well Orlando adjusts. This isn't all about Dom, anymore. It's the three of them, and he almost wants Orlando as badly as he imagines Dom does right now. Elijah listens and watches, feels the shifts in tempo and matches Dom rhythm for rhythm, humming Dom's vibrations through his own lips into Dom's body just to feel Orlando jump in response.
They could both take Orlando, he and Dom...they could share him, the way Elijah and Orlando tried to share Dom and couldn't. Although that would mean giving up Dom, and Elijah has no intention of doing that. But maybe just for a little while...
He waits until Dom has grown languorous and relaxed beneath his ministrations, and then withdraws slowly, enjoying the tiny whimper that interrupts the hum when Dom realizes he's gone. Elijah shifts off of the bed briefly, kicking off his trousers at last, finally naked and completely ready to let go. His eyes catch on the couple on the bed; hold.
Orlando is beautiful, moaning, head thrown back and mouth open as Dom sucks him, hips rocking back and forth with the pull of Dom's pursed lips. And Dom's eyes glint, greedy for more, secure in both ability and submission. Elijah wants them so badly that it chokes him, makes his cock twitch hungrily and suddenly he can't decide what he wants most.
That's a lie. He knows. He slides behind Orlando, straddling Dom's hips, matching Orlando's rhythm and rocking in time with him over Dom's cock. His hands slide over Orlando's chest, possessive and respectful, letting Orlando direct but never granting him complete dominance. Elijah's fingers tweak at nipples, scrape over and between ribs; his teeth close over muscle beneath smooth, tanned skin. Orlando's pulse beats against his tongue as he selects a spot on his throat and sucks, intent on leaving a mark and catching Dom's eyes as he does.
Dom's nearly dizzy with pleasure; he feels fit to burst when Elijah presses against him, setting his toes curling against the mattress. There's no space for breath, even if he tried...Dom's weighed down, and it's better than he could ever have imagined. Elijah's here, so close, and all Dom wants is for it to be him that Elijah marks. A coil of heat unfurls in his belly, though, watching Elijah latch onto Orlando's skin, seeing him like this. Dom feels Orlando shiver, the sensation transmitted from skin to skin, and he imagines he can feel Elijah's teeth on his neck (beneath the collar, and he can imagine the press of leather against the bruise, too).
Dom's losing focus, nearly forgetting the task at hand until Orlando's cock twitches in his mouth, and he readjusts, taking Orlando in deeper.
But he never stops watching Elijah.
"That's it," Elijah murmurs, shifting against Dom's trapped cock, teeth scraping across Orlando's jaw. "Choke him with it, make him beg for you with his eyes..." He rocks again, grinding pressure, and smiles at the way Dom's eyes widen, rhythm stuttering slightly. "Going to fuck you, Dom," he sings out softly, one hand reaching behind him to gather up Dom's balls and twist, slowly...and the rhythm breaks, falling apart until Orlando moans in frustration and Elijah laughs.
"Come help me," Elijah suggests slyly to Orlando, buoyant with the promise of Dom's body, hard and tight with anticipation. He slides off to the side, stretching out beside Dom and taking over the job of restraining from Orlando, massaging Dom's wrists with his thumbs while his fingers curl around and hold. Orlando moves as well, and as soon as Dom's mouth is free, Elijah lays claim to it, licking the taste of Orlando from Dom's swollen lips. "Let's try this again," he murmurs, outwardly relaxed but inwardly vigilant, waiting for any sign that this isn't what Dom wants. "Lube, Orlando. One finger."
Dom relaxes, just a fraction, when Elijah moves; it's a chance for him to focus, pull back from the edge and control himself (but it's so hard when Elijah's fucking relentless sometimes, and it's so fucking good). He welcomes the pressure of Elijah's hands, smaller than Orlando's but more practiced, and the stroke of Elijah's thumbs brings a low moan to Dom's lips. He gives it to Elijah in a kiss, gives him everything else, too. Yours. Want you, want you. Dom's lost; his world narrows to Elijah's touch and the seemingly endless buzz of pleasure, nerves tingling with anticipation.
The next thing he knows, somewhere back beyond Elijah's overwhelming presence, his mouth and hands, there's the press of a fingertip against his body, slippery and warming on his skin. Dom arches into the touch without thought, and even the belated realization, Orlando, doesn't faze him. Elijah's here, and Elijah's promised him, and everything will be alright.
Things are easy, good now. The slow push of Orlando's finger makes Dom twitch, hot and fierce, and he nearly bites down on Elijah's lip (but he catches himself just in time, and who says he doesn't have willpower?). Dom shifts, trying to bring them closer – Orlando, Elijah, everything – but Orlando stills him with a hand on Dom's thigh, pressing him to the mattress.
"Good," Elijah purrs, to both of them; Dom holding himself still and yielding, Orlando taking control and keeping Dom in check. He slides a hand down Dom's stomach, over his hip, skirting his erection, and smoothes his fingers over Orlando's wrist, guiding him in and out of Dom's body. Elijah licks the shell of Dom's ear and hums in pleasure at how well Dom is taking it, and then he gives Orlando's wrist a tiny squeeze and says, "Two."
Dom doesn't really need this; Dom has had Elijah's tongue, and most nights that would be enough for them to at least get started. But it's different, tonight, and Orlando should be involved somehow, even if he won't be the one inside Dom after all. Besides which, Elijah doesn't want to push Dom further than he's ready to go. They've crossed that line already tonight, and Dom is still jumpy.
"Three," Elijah orders, and the hand not covering Orlando's moves up to trace Dom's jaw line, fingers creating a path that his tongue follows a second later, from ear to chin, into the hollow of Dom's throat. Elijah closes his teeth over the skin there, the thin, fragile tendon, and curls his fingers over Orlando's wrist, silently telling Orlando to do the same, to curl inside of Dom.
He rolls the tendon gently between his teeth for a moment, letting Dom get used to the new stretch, the skitter of Orlando's fingertips over his prostrate. And then he releases it, bathing the mark once with his tongue-tip, shifting back to cover Dom's lips, licking them apart but not deepening the contact into a proper kiss. "Four," he commands softly, eyes on Dom's, fingers following the bones of Orlando's wrist to his palm, to his knuckles, to where his fingers are pushed into Dom.
Elijah breathes into Dom's mouth, offering and promising, if Dom is only patient enough. Obedient. "Show me how much you want this," he whispers to Dom's lips, watching Dom's glassed eyes and feeling his fingertips brush Dom's skin as Orlando slowly sinks forward. "Show me that you want me inside of you."
Oh god. Dom can't speak, can barely move; if he does, if he shifts just a little bit, into Orlando's fingers, sparking hot and bright, oh, he'll come undone. Dom's breath stutters in his ears, loud and uneven, and there's enough fire in Elijah's eyes to burn him in an instant, envelop him in glorious heat and blazing pain. He can only look at Elijah, I'm trying, and bite down on his lip as Orlando curls his fingers slowly. Dom trembles, his eyelashes shiver, and he reaches for Elijah.
Dom can do this, he can, ride the stretch and the spangle of pleasure until it borders on agony, the tension of want and need wound tight around each and every muscle in his body. Touch Elijah's shoulder, contact; remember what he wants.
"That's it," Elijah murmurs soothingly, stroking Dom's jaw again and glancing down at Orlando...who is trembling slightly, staring at his fingers disappearing into Dom, looking like he's either going to come or be ill. "Easy..." He shifts, scooting down slightly, and gives Orlando a reassuring smile. "Enough?" he murmurs softly, waiting for the shaky nod of affirmation before he holds out a hand, pulls Orlando up so that he slides free of Dom and half-into Elijah's arms.
Elijah flips him onto his back, a tiny feral grin on his lips when he leans in to brush a kiss over Orlando's lips. "You're doing well," he encourages, supporting his weight on his arms so that his hips can slide, cock dragging over Orlando's slowly as his stomach hollows. "You're very good with the lube." He flashes a quick smile at Dom with that comment, including him in the jest.
His attention is mostly for Orlando now, though, because Dom should have enough to hold him until Elijah gets there, and if he takes Dom too soon, they'll never last more than thirty seconds. Dom is too keyed up, hanging on by a thread that Elijah isn't ready to break. Elijah shifts his weight enough to reach for Dom's hand, holding it as he resettles over Orlando. He rocks back and forward again, hot friction, and watches Orlando's eyelashes flutter in response. "Care to share the talent?"
Orlando laughs, a little breathless, and when Dom blinks the stars out of his eyes, shifts with the tug of Elijah's hand, he sees the curve of Orlando's lips, parted and inviting. Nerves still twanging, Dom rolls onto his stomach and snakes his head closer to kiss Orlando, stealing breath and whatever answer Elijah was going to get, Dom's tongue tracing Orlando's teeth, teasing. Dom squeezes Elijah's hand and grins against Orlando's mouth.
Pulling away with a last lick to Orlando's bottom lips, just a moment before Dom thinks Elijah's patience will run out, he turns his head toward Elijah and gives him a wide (hopefully angelic) smile.
"Don't you think he's worked hard enough?" Dom wiggles his ass, grimacing in dramatic fashion (and trying to ignore the friction of his cock against the mattress, fuck yeah). "Maybe he deserves a little attention," Dom says, lilting the last words – a request, a question, a desire. He looks to Elijah for the final verdict, though he can't stop his free hand sliding over the sheets toward Orlando's hip.
Elijah raises an eyebrow, amused. "Feel like helping?" he drawls, rolling to sit up and smacking Dom's upturned ass over the welts Orlando left earlier, hand snapping out to catch Dom's wrist, bringing it up to his mouth so that he can turn it over and kiss the pulse-point. Dom's eyes are full of mischief, and Elijah suddenly wants nothing more than to shove Dom onto his back and fuck him until they both scream.
But there's still Orlando.
"What do you say?" Elijah asks him teasingly, sliding to the far side of Orlando so that he's trapped between Elijah and Dom - and thank goodness that they have a king-sized - and nudging with his hips until he isn't in as much danger of falling off of the edge. "Do you want attention?" His lips suckle-nibble at Orlando's earlobe, and he releases Dom's wrist, lacing their fingers together and dragging their combined hands over Orlando's tensed thigh, slowly trailing towards where Orlando must want attention the most.
Dom grins, his face nearly all teeth, and he drags his thumb across the inside of Orlando's thigh. He's rewarded with a moan that's a shade away from a yelp, and Dom's eyes dart to Orlando's face, and then to Elijah's, just a few inches away.
"I think that's a yes, 'Lijah," Dom confides in a stage-whisper. He giggles, mind racing with possibilities, and scoots closer to Orlando. He dips his head, opens his mouth to lick a wide stripe over Orlando's nipple; pulls back just enough, and blows gently, watching Orlando's skin twist and pucker. Orlando squeaks (squeaks!) and this is all too easy, really, to wind him up, and it's fun, kind of like when they're at the pub, taking the piss out of one another, a never-ending game of one-up-manship, only this is a different kind of challenge.
Dom closes his mouth over Orlando's nipple, sucking lightly, laving with his tongue. He raises his eyes, finding Elijah, and Dom quirks his eyebrow, a silent communication of amusement and daring. Dom urges their linked hands a little higher, until he can brush Orlando's balls with his thumb, feel Orlando twitch beneath them.
Elijah smiles and nudges Orlando with his nose until he turns enough for a kiss, and Elijah flays him with it, taunting and taking until Orlando is responding mindlessly, whimpering as Elijah's tongue dips and retreats. He keeps Dom more or less at bay by tugging their hands down just low enough that fingertips can brush Orlando's balls, butterfly-light, but nothing else. Nothing more, which Orlando so obviously wants, his hips pushing up as he quests after Elijah's elusive tongue.
"Pass," he murmurs, smiling, and reaches over Orlando's body to bestow an equally heated kiss on Dom before leaving the playing field open. His lips explore other territory then, nipping at collarbones and pectoral muscles, keeping Orlando swamped in sensation and unable to relieve the pressure.
Dom takes a moment to breathe, to watch Elijah flash over Orlando, twist him inside out with a flick of his tongue, touches here, there, everywhere (been there, mate, fucking deadly). The sounds coming from Orlando - needy, thoughtless - are familiar too, and Dom gravitates towards them. He stretches, nuzzling his nose into the hollow of Orlando's throat, feeling the vibrations, bumping over his jaw.
"Hi," Dom murmurs, a smirk and a laugh hiding just below the surface. Orlando blinks in greeting, mouth half-parted and soundless on the intake of breath. Dom kisses the corner of his lips; trails the tip of his tongue along Orlando's top lip, just waiting for him to come out and play. And he does, and there's the aftertaste of Elijah, in the taste of Orlando's tongue and the way he opens for Dom, automatically giving. Dom chuckles, pressing closer. He wriggles his free hand from beneath his stomach and finds Orlando's, spreading his fingers open and sliding easily between; their palms slide together, and Dom's hands are full. What more could he handle?
By the looks of it, Orlando can't handle much more. His eyelids flutter, his breath is coming short and fast against Dom's cheek as he kisses Orlando's face. Dom throws a questioning glance at Elijah, trying to guess how long he'll string Orlando out, and his cock twitches in sympathy as Orlando bucks beneath their hands.
Elijah smiles, shaking his head slightly at Dom's inquiring glance, continuing to torment Orlando with feather-light brushes of his fingers against Orlando's balls. He slides a fraction of an inch closer so that he can press one blunt fingertip against the vein on the underside of Orlando's flushed cock, stopping the restless movement of Orlando's hips instantly.
"You should know the rules better than this," Elijah murmurs teasingly, licking cat-like along the shell of Orlando's ear with tiny flickers of his tongue. "If you want something, you have to ask. Or demonstrate adequately that you deserve to get it." He continues to apply pressure to Orlando's cock, moving slowly up the length of it, letting Dom's fingers brush and flutter over the shaft. His hips rock forward slightly, pushing against Orlando's thigh just as he bites down on an earlobe. "Prove you want us, Orlando," he whispers into an exquisitely curved ear. "Beg."
Bitte, Dom thinks, mouthing the word over Orlando's skin, but he doesn't say it. It's not for him, not right now, even though he can't help bending to the tone in Elijah's voice. Dom's fingers tighten briefly around Elijah's, and there's the smooth heat of Orlando's cock on his fingertips, too, leaving an imprint even as he grazes over the skin. He wants to help Orlando, show him how to be good for Elijah. Dom slides his lips over Orlando's jawline, the mild scrape of evening stubble, and his eyes flicker up, meet Elijah's over the profile of Orlando's face.
"Say please," Dom murmurs into Orlando's ear, watching Elijah. He lifts his thumb to skirt beneath the head of Orlando's cock, just a light touch, but Orlando's grasp on his hand clenches and he groans, neck arching, pulse hard in his throat.
"Oh god - " and that makes Dom smile, just a little, hidden in the curve of Orlando's ear. Indeed. C'mon, he urges silently, willing the words to spring from Orlando's lips. Listen to Elijah. Trust me. "Please," Orlando grinds out, a shudder making its way from one of Dom's hands to the other. "Please."
Elijah meets Dom's eyes briefly - Your turn next, don't think I'll let it slide - and then gives Orlando what he wants, winding his fingers tighter with Dom's and setting a rhythm for him to follow, fast and rough. Orlando's already close, all he needs is a little push...
Elijah rolls, supporting himself with one elbow, and leans down to nuzzle one of Orlando's nipples. Orlando can't give him anything besides moaning and desperate thrusting, so he looks across to Dom with a grin and raises one eyebrow, licking the top row of his front teeth suggestively and glancing down meaningfully at Orlando's heaving chest, the dark buds of his nipples. Two of them, and Orlando is already a heartbeat away, won't last long now. Just a little push...
Dom mirrors Elijah without a thought, and at his order (for that's what it is, and Dom's pushed his luck far enough tonight, from the look in Elijah's eyes) Dom snakes his head low and bites Orlando's nipple, sharp and without warning, following Elijah's lead. At the same moment, he twists with Elijah's grip, and Orlando fucking keens, his whole body arching taut, and Dom pushes through it, feels the pulse of Orlando's orgasm in his palm, keeping with Elijah's pace until Orlando sinks back onto the bed, shuddering and spent. His fingers loosen from Dom's grip, and Dom eases the back of his fingers over Orlando's arm, tracing light patterns as he disentangles his other hand from Elijah's, sticky and warm and deliciously messy.
Elijah brushes his lips over Orlando's skin while he comes down, humming softly and touching him, keeping them in contact until Orlando blinks and his eyes clear. "All right?" Elijah inquires gently, his fingers softly stroking Orlando's thigh. Orlando nods shakily, still caught somewhere between bliss and shock, and Elijah smiles hungrily, his own cock twitching hopefully as his gaze focuses on Dom. "Good."
And that's all the warning Dom gets, because Elijah is tired of waiting. He pounces over Orlando, rolling to pin Dom flat on his back, knee nudging Dom's thighs apart as his lips reclaim Dom's mouth, drinking in the surprise and arousal. "Mine," he whispers the reminder, and settles closer, skin to skin, his hands finding their familiar hold on Dom's wrists.
"Still able to take this?" he murmurs, positioning himself at Dom's entrance, pushing forward just a fraction. Dom's head tilts back, baring his throat, and Elijah can't resist biting him hard, right above the collar. He tastes leather and sweat, mixed with the sweet submission of Dom's will as he whimpers and yields, and Elijah shoves home in one smooth thrust.
Dom gasps, fuck yes, and even with all the preparation the stretch still burns, narrows his focus to Elijah's cock and inside and yes. There's no air in his lungs, from the force of Elijah's weight and now the collar constricting his throat as he strains, but Dom would give it all up, would stop breathing in an instant, if Elijah asked. If Elijah would only keep doing this, overwhelming Dom with teeth and hands and cock and mere thoughts.
Dom flexes his wrists, wanting the strength of Elijah's grip, and he opens for Elijah, feels every inch of him inside, wanting more. "'Course I can take it," he groans. "Anything."
Elijah hisses, stung by the casual, cocky assurance in Dom's voice, and if that's the way that Dom wants to play this, it's fine with him. "Anything?" he snarls, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Dom's wrists briefly before he lets go with one hand to adjust them - bend, Dom, fucking bend - to hitch Dom's legs higher so that Elijah can drive in deeper, and he gives Dom the false security of a half-dozen hard strokes before he pins Dom's wrists again and just stops.
"What about nothing?" he asks, deadly-serious and quiet, warning in the low tone of his voice. He hopes that Orlando has the sense to stay the hell out of this, because punishment is what Dom needs now, what they both need; for Elijah to prove that Dom is still his and nothing has changed. Dom is being importunate so that Elijah will hurt him, but Elijah isn't going to make it that easy.
"You want to come?" he asks, circling his hips inside Dom once, jarring enough to make his teeth clench. "You're going to have to work for it."
He rolls and takes Dom with him, holding them together with one arm wrapped securely around Dom's waist, and then he snags Dom's wrists and pulls them above his head onto the mattress, so that Dom is stretched taut above him and straining. "Fuck yourself, Dom," he purrs softly. "Go ahead, I want to see you do it."
Dom gasps, the heat of Elijah's cock unfurling throughout his body, the twinge of muscles and joints as he scrambles for purchase (leverage), knees and hands, arching helplessly. Instinctive, futile. Elijah's eyes glint, hard and sharp, as Dom tries to roll his hips down, draw Elijah in, and Dom grunts with the effort. It's too precarious, the shallow curve of his spine, the tension in his shoulders and wrists, barely keeping him from tumbling over Elijah, giving up rather than giving in (and who knows what Elijah would do then).
Dom's cock brushes Elijah's belly as Dom twists, frantic for the merest inch of movement, and something bursts behind his eyes, sharp and hot and far away. Not enough, fuck. He blinks sweat out of his eyes; all Dom can see is Elijah, edged with light, perfectly collected as Dom spins out of control, thrusting uselessly down onto Elijah's cock, little jolts that key him up, fucking sky-high, and stop just short of release.
Dom shakes his head helplessly, his forearms beginning to quiver with strain, and his breath is ragged, whimpers escaping beyond any control.
"Bitte. Bitte, 'Lijah."
Elijah shifts, planting his feet on the mattress and pushing his hips up to meet Dom's next thrust, snapping them together so sharply that he sees stars. His hands loosen on Dom's wrists, providing slack, giving Dom enough room to actually pleasure both of them.
"Tranquille," he murmurs, stroking his thumbs over the frantic pulse in Dom's wrists. He shifts Dom's hands to cover his chest, over his heart, and encircles them with one hand. The other hand drops to fist over the head of Dom's cock, not stroking, but remaining stationary so that Dom's upstroke brings them into contact and friction. "Do it, Dom. Show me."
Dom shivers, the sound of Elijah's voice washing through him like nothing else, quickening the blood in his veins, spurring him on even as the promise of release slides through the marrow of his bones. Elijah's heart beats against his palm, steady even in its heightened rhythm; Dom strokes his fingertips over Elijah's skin, just brushing his collar bone, and he takes a shaky breath, closes his eyes.
Dom shifts his knees, slowly circles his hips, finding just the right angle, the one that brings Elijah's cock in line with his prostate - the one that makes his eyes snap open as bright shocks of colour burst in his mind and heat spangles through his limbs, sending nerves sizzling. There's Elijah, watching Dom, touching him, and Dom pushes up into his hand, rough friction easing away into the most fucking luscious touch, and Dom's caught between Elijah's hand and Elijah's cock. Dom's head drops; rocking, he gives himself over to sensation (been waiting all night for this, want you, 'Lijah) and loses track of time, loses track of everything except Elijah, surrounding him, enveloping him. The rhythm builds like waves, crashing over Dom until they break and he's coming apart in Elijah's hands, gasping and shuddering and giving a harsh cry, fingers scrabbling over Elijah's chest.
Elijah catches Dom as he falls, holds him through the trembling and then rolls them again so that Dom is pinned, blinking dazed eyes as Elijah captures his lips for a brief kiss. "Mine," he whispers, but what he means is yours, and I love you, and a few other words that he can't say with Orlando still in the room.
He's hard, fast, brutal; but only because he knows that Dom is already floating, and because he's been up and down an emotional rollercoaster tonight, they both have, and he needs to just fucking let all of this go...
He doesn't bother to hold Dom anymore, he takes Dom's head between his hands and kisses him, hard, with the reverberations of unspoken words echoing between them with each thrust until he finally can't hold on any longer, doesn't want to, and collapses with a strangled cry into Dom's waiting arms.
Movement catches his attention out of the corner of his eye several dizzied seconds later, and he brushes his thumbs gently over Dom's eyes as he nods at Orlando, who is quietly gesturing something to the effect that he'll crash on the couch. Elijah nuzzles Dom's neck and keeps gently caressing him until Orlando has left the room, and then he relaxes with a sigh, pulling Dom into his arms. "How are you feeling?" he asks softly.
Elijah's words ease through the thick sleepy fog of Dom's mind; they call him home. He opens his eyes slowly, blinks, focuses on Elijah, who looks pretty much how Dom feels. "Exhausted," Dom exhales shakily. He manages to lift his arms, heavy and sluggish, to wrap around Elijah, keep his comforting weight there, yes please. Elijah's skin is damp and cooling – is he not as warm as Dom? Is giving all his warmth to Dom?
Dom wants to be warm, he wants them both to be warm, and he wants Elijah. He wants to say that, but words are too hard right now, and it's easier to trace the knobs of Elijah's spine, feel the spread of Elijah's ribs beneath his palms, and just breathe. Dom burrows closer to Elijah, nudging his nose against Elijah's cheek and feeling his eyelashes skate over Elijah's temple. Somehow, he summons up enough energy for another word, one of many questions still in the far reaches of his mind.
"You?"
“About the same,” Elijah murmurs, and he’d be more than happy to just fall asleep like this, in Dom’s arms, except for the nagging feelings of being dirty and sore. “I need to look at those welts,” he reminds them both, but he still can’t quite bring himself to move out of Dom’s embrace. “And we should really wash up...” He manages to tilt his head back far enough to see Dom’s eyes, cloudy with contentment and weariness.
The dark shadow of the collar catches his gaze, and he runs his fingers gently along the smooth leather, flooded with possessive pride. "But maybe we should take this off first." Elijah strokes the soft skin of Dom's throat, slides a finger into the narrow space between flesh and leather. "Are you ready?"
Dom closes his eyes, relishing the taut pressure, the edge of Elijah’s fingernail sliding against his throat. Yours. He doesn’t know how to say it, but Dom knows that he wouldn’t have made it through this without the security of the collar. How a piece of leather can mean so much, how grateful he is for this gift. Dom’s proud to wear it, too, to be Elijah’s, bound freely.
Dom opens his eyes to find Elijah’s, dark and close. He swallows, feels the stricture of the leather, and Dom reaches for Elijah’s free hand, drawing it up to his throat. Brushing his thumb lightly over Elijah’s fingers, Dom lets his own hands fall to the mattress beside his head. Watching Elijah, captivated by the depths he finds there, Dom nods.
Elijah's breath catches, awed by the trust in Dom's eyes. His hands slide to the buckle, working the stiff leather tongue through the metal clasp, and he doesn't realize that he's been holding his breath until the collar slides loose, baring Dom's throat, and he can finally exhale. "Love you," he murmurs, dipping his head to press their lips together for a brief, sweet kiss. "Je t'aime."
He moves away just far enough to place the collar safely on the nightstand, and then he has to strongly resist the temptation to burrow back into Dom's embrace and close his eyes until morning. "Wash," he moans tiredly into the curve between Dom's shoulder and neck, licking at the strip of skin now bared to his tongue, tasting of leather-musk and sweat. A new idea suddenly makes him raise his head again, meeting Dom's eyes with a mixture of hope and curiosity. "How would you feel about a bubble bath?"
"Mmm," Dom hums in affirmation, and there’s a strange freedom, no vibration of sound and skin against his bindings. But Elijah’s still here, and when Dom nods he can press his forehead to Elijah’s, a brief moment of touch before his head sinks back to the pillow. A bubble bath sounds divine, fucking perfect in fact, but he doesn't know if he can muster the energy to move to the bathroom. Funny how it was easy enough hours ago, before this...thing began. When it was just him and Elijah, before Orlando came. Except Orlando must have been there somewhere, waiting. He was there, in the house, in Elijah's head, even though Dom didn't know it. Where was he now?
Dom barely has the energy to think about the questions, or the consequences. They'll come soon enough, too soon, and for now he just wants Elijah, pure and simple. Elijah's hands over him, tending the marks he can see, and the ones he can't; he'll get into Dom's head, and Dom wants that. Needs it, especially tonight.
"How're we gonna make it from here to there?" Dom asks Elijah's hair, not releasing his hold.
Elijah laughs, finding the strength of will to roll to the side of the bed, out of Dom's reach. "I am not fucking carrying you," he warns with a smile, and stretches briefly as he stands, joints popping as they loosen. "Tell you what," he suggests, turning to face Dom, allowing his body to settle into languidity. "I'll just go and run a bath, and you can come join me if you feel like it."
It's playing dirty and he knows it, but that doesn’t stop his hips from swaying when he walks naked out of the bedroom to go run a bath. Lavender salts, that sounds good. And bubble bath. Hell yes. He's confident enough in his masculinity to appreciate girly bath stuff when he wants to. And he wants it right now.
The flicker of desire at the sight of Elijah stretching and slinking out of the room like a sated cat can't quite make it from Dom's brain to his limbs; his arm flops over his face and Dom closes his eyes. Part of it, too, is sheer stubbornness. Elijah just expects Dom to follow him, but Dom's got a mind of his own. Sure, Dom wants a bubble bath (and he always wants Elijah), but it can be on his own terms, and he'll get there in his own good time. Make Elijah wait for once, yeah?
But the bed is cold. Dom grasps at the covers; the fabric is rough against his skin, and Elijah's absence leaves space for thoughts, too much space. Dom shakes his head against the pillow as he thinks of Orlando again, wondering, and he tries instead to see Elijah in his head, matching the sounds of the running taps down the hall (Elijah bending over the tub, laying towels out, thinking of everything).
Elijah, not Orlando, is waiting for him. Orlando's clothes are gone; where did he go? Living room, most likely. When did he leave? Oh... Dom squeezes his eyes shut. Did Orlando see him, see him pushing, see Elijah punishing? Christ, no. Please. The thought is enough to rouse Dom, feet slipping onto the chill floor, body aching. His hand reaches out for the towel hanging on the back of the door, and Dom wraps it tightly around his hips, ignoring the discomfort of friction and movement. It's only a few steps down the hallway, but Orlando's still here, and somehow it's better this way.
Dom peeks around the doorway, left and right. The main part of the house is dark, but the light from the bathroom, and the sounds within, are inviting, and Dom goes.
Elijah has just poured the last capful of bubble liquid into the tub when Dom appears, blinking into the light, towel around his hips; and Elijah just stares. Dom looks thoroughly debauched, red chafe marks still bright around his wrists, bruises just beginning to darken his skin. Elijah swallows, offers a faint smile. "Bath?" he suggests, breaking out of his reverie. "Here, turn around first..."
Dom doesn't protest when Elijah tugs the towel away and drops to one knee, running a cautious fingertip over the welts Orlando left, wincing when he sees the lines crisscrossing his own from the night before. But Orlando hadn't lied; there's no blood, and they should heal within the week. "Good," he murmurs, patting the unmarked flesh of Dom's hip before rising.
Elijah turns off the taps and steps into the tub, sinking into blissfully hot water and leaning back against the side of the bathtub. Dom is watching him, dark-eyed and still, and Elijah's heart lurches unexpectedly. He extends a hand, biting back the nervousness still lurking just beneath the surface. "Join me?"
Dom nods; he tries to speak, but nothing's there. He doesn't know where to begin, and he can't think about the end. This isn't it, he knows, it's not over. But he wants to forget, to sink into the hot water and Elijah's arms and find a moment of peace because he just can't handle it right now.
Dom takes a step toward the tub and Elijah's watching him, sharp and careful, as Dom reaches out. His fingers brush Elijah's palm, curling over skin, and Dom's inexpressibly grateful when Elijah's fingers close over his, strong and gentle, anchoring. And Dom can move, now, one foot over the side of the tub, and then the other; sinking carefully to his knees, hearing the bubbles whisper, and Dom balances himself between Elijah's hand and the tub ledge. The water is hot and soothing, even as it awakens the nerves of bruised and welted skin, and makes Dom hiss softly as he lowers himself completely, snugging close to Elijah.
Dom closes his eyes for a moment, enveloped by bubbles and secured by Elijah's touch, at last able to relax, let his whole being just drift. But he blinks soon enough, finds Elijah's eyes on him, gauging, waiting for the right moment, waiting for Dom to be okay. And as much as Dom wants to stretch out, let the water wash over them, let the whole world shrink to the two of them, he knows what has to come before that. Tonight, maybe more than ever, he and Elijah need to debrief, sort out the whats and whys and hows, with all the attendant effort and thought involved. Maybe not right now (maybe they could just be, just for a little while), but soon. Elijah won't let Dom fall asleep without seeing this through, that Dom knows.
At least he feels more alert now, with every movement twinging bright under the water, giving him something to focus on. Dom takes Elijah's hand in both of his, opening Elijah's palm, dragging his thumb along the curve of skin, marvelling at the softness there. Dom's lashes flicker; he looks up at Elijah and tries not to plead.
Elijah sighs at the look in Dom's eyes, but he also finds himself smiling, and his fingers run soothing patterns along Dom's ribcage. "Don't look at me like that," he chides gently, pressing a kiss into Dom's sweaty hair. The water is hot enough to create steam, and it's doing a good job of destroying what was left of Dom's usual softened spikes. Elijah has often thought that Dom's hair makes an excellent metaphor for the whole man.
Elijah splashes water absently over Dom's stomach with his free hand, then reaches up to daub bubbles over Dom's nipples. "Talk to me, liebchen," he urges, keeping his tone as light as he can. "Tell me what's going on in that head of yours."
"Too much." Dom gives Elijah a small smile, trying to soften the honesty that twists in his throat. He doesn't even know how to begin to process this. Dom bumps his forehead against Elijah's shoulder, rubbing his nose over the damp skin. He pulls at Elijah's hand, lifting it and ducking his head so he can burrow closer, feel the weight of Elijah's arm on his neck. Dom weaves their fingers together; presses his thumb to the blunt edge of a nail; dips to kiss Elijah's knuckles. Touching helps, yeah, but it's still a distraction technique, and it won't work forever.
"I don't want things to change." Dom takes a slow, measured breath, trying to still the questions racing in his mind. (Where is Orlando? Is he okay? What happens next?). One floats to the surface, and maybe it doesn't even matter, but Dom doesn't have the faintest impression of Orlando's presence after Elijah pounced on him, and that worries Dom. If Orlando was there, when Dom was open (vulnerable, completely), when he was Elijah's, what did that mean?
"Did he see us?"
"Orlando?" Elijah asks, frowning slightly, confused about when, exactly, Dom is talking about. "He was there the whole time, yes. I thought you wanted him to be." Elijah shifts slightly, trying to shelter Dom as much as he can without them ending up at awkward angles. "Is that not what you wanted?"
He lifts a hand to brush water through Dom's hair, massaging his scalp lightly. "And what do you mean, you don't want anything to change? After tonight? You want Orlando to stay?" It doesn't feel right, like Dom, but he's not going to put words in Dom's mouth before he's ready. And he knows that he has a habit of firing off too many questions at once, so he forces himself to stop talking and just strokes Dom's hair. Whatever it is, they have time to figure it out together, before the morning and the inevitable talk with Orlando.
Dom often wonders how Elijah puts up with him at times like this, when Dom gets so frustrated with himself that he can barely stand it; how could someone else? He shakes his head, and takes a moment to gather the words in his head.
"No, I don't want Orlando," Dom says, clamping down on the guilt of having, however unwittingly, brought Orlando here in the first place. "I want to be friends with him again. I want you, 'Lijah...no one else. No more." And Dom looks Elijah straight in the eye, because this is important, and he has to be strong.
Dom tries not to think about Elijah's words (there the whole time). He doesn't want those moments (his moments, his and Elijah's) coloured by a phantom presence in his memory. "I didn't want him to see...afterward. That was," and Dom reddens at the thought of an unintended audience, "private."
Realization finally hits, and Elijah's lips part in surprise. Oh, Dom...
He pulls Dom tighter against him, sighing. "Then we don't do this again," he says honestly, because it really is as simple as that. He aches for Dom, though, for a dream that Elijah caused him to lose. Maybe if he had allowed Dom to cherish it, instead of pushing him to face the possibility, this wouldn't have turned out as it had.
He continues to comb through Dom's hair, looking for the right words to appease him. "Dom, if Orlando hadn't seen that, at the end, you and I," he begins carefully, "I don't think that he would have understood. And as far as he went tonight, I think that he deserved to share in it. He tried, he really did, but it wasn't exactly the best introduction we could have given him." He shifts quickly, forcing Dom's chin around so that their eyes meet. "Not blaming you. I'm just saying. It was rough on all of us, Orlando included."
He softens again, leaning in to brush a kiss across Dom's lips. "Besides, even if it was private...and I think he understand that...you were beautiful. I couldn’t have been more proud of what we are together." He intertwines his fingers with Dom's, squeezes gently. "I'm glad he saw."
Elijah's right (isn't he always?), and just hearing him say those words helps. Besides, there's not much Dom can do now, after the fact, and the water's so warm, wiping away the thoughts that might have been disturbing someplace else, some other time. And Elijah's here.
But it hurts, too, to think about Orlando. Dom didn't mean for it to be like this; it wasn't fair to spring something like that on someone. And Orlando tried, Dom can see that now, and it's not his fault it wasn't enough. Things just got mixed up, in Dom's head, and then in their bed, and if Dom was in Orlando's position, he doesn't know if he could have handled that. How is Orlando handling it? Can they go back to before? Will they be alright?
"I'm sorry," Dom murmurs. "I don't know what happened...back then, now. Will he be okay?" If anybody can fix this, it's Elijah, and Dom fervently hopes that Elijah can help Orlando. Dom feels lucky, sitting here in the tub, bubbles drying on his skin, watching his toes shrivel into raisins. He's got Elijah, and that's probably the only reason he's made it through this night. Exhausting, exhilarating, terrifying, all of it.
"He'll be fine. Talk to me, Dom, stop thinking." Elijah forces the exasperation completely out of his voice, tries to find a way to break Dom out of his own internal whirlwind of doubts and fears. "Tell me about what happened. How did you feel when we started it? Was it what you wanted? Not what you expected?" He splashes the water up over Dom's torso, trying to keep him warm in the cooling water. "Was it wrong from the beginning, or did you like the way Orlando touched you?" He kisses Dom's cheek and then his shoulder, tongue flickering out to capture droplets of water from warm, clean skin as he whispers. "There are no wrong answers here."
Dom tilts his head back against the warm tile, letting Elijah's touches wash over him like the water, letting everything else go.
"It was a shock, in the beginning. I didn't expect it, yeah?" A chuckle rises in Dom's throat; really, with Elijah, if he'd thought it through, he should've guessed. But Orlando still came as a surprise. "It was okay at first. You were there, and he was still Orli...I knew him. But after, when he hit me...that wasn't what it was about, years ago. Not with him. There's moments, flashes, but it's all unconscious with him. Orlando doesn't know his own power. Doesn't know how to use it." The words are loose, now, and Dom can't halt them, even though his brain is barely half a step ahead of his mouth.
"I can't give myself to someone like that, to anyone, except you. Le meilleur. You're stuck with me, 'Lijah." Dom exhales softly, Elijah's hair tickling his nose. He presses a kiss to Elijah's head.
"It was okay for awhile; I could handle it. But then I lost you, somehow...I don't know. But that wasn't what I wanted, not Orlando, not like that. I'm sorry if I scared you. Scared myself. It hasn't happened in years, and back then I was just figuring things out...I think I safeworded a lot more easily. And you've never given me a reason to. It was strange."
Dom quiets for a moment, words tangling in his throat. "But then you were there."
Elijah bumps Dom, tickles him into turning onto his stomach so that they're nose to nose as Elijah slides further into the water, bubbles sticky and fizzling as they shift, water sloshing over skin. "I'm always here," he murmurs, stretching up for a kiss, drawing Dom down and enfolding him in slippery-wet arms.
"What about later?" he asks, after a brief pause for the exploration of Dom's mouth, familiar and welcoming as ever. "When it was the three of us; was it still not right? Or was Orlando more in the role you expected? When he was with me, with you?" He nibbles on Dom's ear, lazily tracing patterns of foam onto Dom's back. "Was that something you wanted?"
Dom has to force his eyes open; if Elijah's not careful, he'll be lulled to sleep in minutes. He needs to find something to focus on, to counter the soothing invitation of Elijah's fingers grazing over him, the warm water lapping at his sides, the temptation just to sink and sleep. But they're not done yet – focus, focus. Elijah's skin. Dom slips down, and there's the delicious wet friction of his body against Elijah's; he presses his lips to Elijah's neck, and lower, just inches above the water level. Elijah's skin is fresh and clean beneath Dom's tongue, and there's the faint scent of flowers – lavender? It makes Dom smile, and he brushes his nose over Elijah's shoulder.
Dom shifts again, looking up at Elijah, resting his chin on Elijah's chest. He thinks about the questions, and it's odd to try and sort out what was going through his head, figure out how much of what he wanted was Elijah, and what part of it was Orlando.
"I don't think I expected any of it," Dom answers honestly. He can feel Elijah's heartbeat under his chin, steady and calming. "I guess...it was new. It was better after, of course, and I was able to enjoy it well enough, I suppose. But I couldn't let go, knowing he was there."
Dom hesitates. How can he describe what Orlando is – and was – to him, and how things got all jumbled? "Last night," and was it really only last night?, "when you asked me...I wasn't thinking. What happened back then, in New Zealand, it was just a couple of mates having a snog. Things get out of control sometimes, yeah? And I knew what I wanted, and I saw a bit of that in Orli, but it wasn't anything planned. Afterward, nothing happened, and I let it go." That was before Elijah came to him, did what Orlando couldn't or wouldn't, and at that moment Dom knew there was no going back. He didn't want to.
"Maybe Orlando and I could have had something, I don't know. But it wouldn't have lasted. He didn't go after me; he was back to his old self by morning. Potential, but no follow-through. Which was fine, but I guess somewhere along the line it got built up in my head. What if he could have done it? What if he could have been like you?" He tilts his head to look up at Elijah, and even now, in the midst of bubbles and lavender soaps with a lapful of Dom, he's got that power, that strength. So much that he knows when he doesn't need to use it, and it leaves Dom in awe.
"But Orlando's not like you." And it's not really a disappointment, because it's not a surprise. "I knew, somehow, that he never could be, outside of my head. I didn't really want him there, you see? It never existed." Dom's voice drops; he murmurs, "What I wanted – what I want - is you. You know that, right?"
Elijah smiles, moves to stroke Dom's hair and ends up leaving tufts of bubbles in his wake. "I know." He rolls his hips lazily, just to see Dom's look of surprise as the water ripples up around them. "Why didn't you want him to see us together?" he asks curiously, slicking strands of hair away from Dom's face. "I mean, I know it was private - I think so too - but I thought, once he was there..." He leans back with a soft sigh and a contemplative look. "You could have told me, you know. About you and him. I don't mind."
Dom nuzzles Elijah's chest, feeling tiny goose bumps rising in the cooling air. He slides his cheek over skin, breathing deeply. "I would've told you," he whispers, "if I'd remembered."
Dom arches his back, settling further between Elijah's legs with a slow smile. "And with Orlando there, seeing us...well, I know I wasn't on my best behavior." He laughs softly at the glint in Elijah's eye, the one that says he's got Dom's number, and he knew all along. Of course. It's already easier to look back on those moments, the distance of words helping to smooth out the rough edges.
"It was what we both needed," Elijah answers softly, skimming his hands down the sides of Dom's spine. "I don't regret it. Not any of it." He smiles briefly, and then squirms up, tugging Dom with him. "Rinse, and bed. I need sleep, and Orlando might want the shower sometime tonight."
He drains the tub and turns on the showerhead to rinse the suds from their bodies, with just enough energy left to play with Dom, pushing him gently in and out of the spray, up against the wall for a kiss, back under the water just so that Elijah can watch it cascade down his face. The soap-lather job is brief, but at least they're both clean by the time he's done, and Elijah wants nothing more than to snuggle under cool sheets and not think about morning. He'll deal with it when it gets here.
"I'm falling asleep still damp," he announces with a grin, wrapping a towel around his hips and backing out into the hallway. "Deal with it."
Dom halts his attempt at towel-drying his hair and makes a face at Elijah. He takes a step forward, following with squelching footsteps. "I could lick you dry, if you like." He smirks and makes a half-hearted grab at Elijah's towel, just curling his hand around warm skin and terrycloth. "'Course," Dom adds thoughtfully, "I'm so knackered that you'd probably wake up with my drool in your belly button." He shrugs and pulls Elijah closer, dropping his head on Elijah's shoulder.
"Take me to bed?"
"So needy," Elijah murmurs, but he's happy, exhausted and happy, and he loves that Dom needs him like this. Somehow they maneuver their way through the hall and into the bedroom, which still smells of sex and sweat, and Elijah is just too fucking tired to change the sheets, so he pulls up the covers and grabs an extra comforter and top sheet from the closet.
Dom hits the bed with a soft 'whump' when Elijah pushes him, and then they're both tumbling into each other, onto the bed, into dreams.