Title: "Calling Home"
Author: Uluviel (uluviel@fourhobbits.net)
Pairing: Dominic/Elijah
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: RPS
Spoilers: None
Archive: Four Hobbits only. Others ask.
Summary: Elijah calls home from the set of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Disclaimer: It never happened. I don't own Elijah and Dominic.
Story Notes: For Piccalo, who requested smutty drabbles. But I've never been able to stick to 100 words, so here's ten times more.
* * *
As soon as the director had yelled, "Cut!" on their last take, both Elijah and his costar had muttered "Good job", "Thanks, you too" to each other and headed straight for their respective trailers to get some warmth.
Elijah scanned the small room to find his cell phone while rubbing his hands together and blowing on them in an attempt to get some feelings back in his fingers. He saw his phone in the back of the room, on the stool under the table. He took it and pushed "one" on the speed dial - home. He knew the number by heart but he wasn't sure his fingers would cooperate in pushing ten buttons in a row.
Dom answered. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's me."
"Hey, you. How are you?"
"Good. I tried calling earlier, you weren't there."
"Yeah, I know, I got your message. I was by the pool, I forgot to bring out the cordless."
"The pool? I hate you. It's below zero here, I'm freezing my ass off."
Dom laughed teasingly. "I was sunbathing. Wearing nothing but a bathing suit."
"Hmm. Wish I were there. What an image... You, laying by the side of the pool, your skin glistening with tanning oil..."
"Actually, it's not so much tanning oil as FPS 30 sunscreen, but whatever works for you, Lij."
"I'm just trying to picture myself back in L.A. and warm myself up by the simple power of the suggestive mind."
"Oh, ok, I know how to get you warm," Dom said. "What are you wearing?"
"Um, jeans, sneakers, a shirt, a small jacket, and my winter coat over that."
"The blue one?"
"Yeah."
"Take it off."
"How's that supposed to help? Wait a sec," Elijah said. He put the phone down while he removed his coat. "I'm not any warmer." He said as he picked it back up.
"Not yet. Now, get up, go lock the door."
"Do-om." Dom could hear the smile of realization in Elijah's voice. "I can't do this here," he whispered.
"Tut, tut. Door, lock, now. I don't want anyone but me seeing this kind of thing."
"Are you still by the pool?" Elijah asked as he got up to lock the door.
"No, I'm in front of the telly, the weather channel's on. Hey, did you know it's currently 85 degrees in L.A.?"
"Fuck you, Monaghan. Ok, door's locked, what next?"
"Sit on the couch. Sideways, legs along the length of the couch, back against the armrest."
"Done."
"Unzip your pants. Lower them a bit, no more than a couple of inches, just enough to give you room. Are you wearing underwear?"
"Dom, I'm on the set. Of course am I."
"Boxers?"
"Yeah."
"Slip your hand inside them. Are you hard?"
"Not yet."
"All right. Relax. Close your eyes. Imagine I'm right there with you. I'm sitting behind you, my arms around you... It's my hand down your pants, squeezing you -- Are you squeezing yourself?"
"Yes," Elijah said. His tone had gotten slightly breathy.
"No, you're not. It's me, it's my hand on you. I'm kissing your neck. I lick behind your ear then bite the earlobe gently. Your skin tastes like... God, you turn me on so much. Can you feel my dick, pressing against the small of your back?"
"Hmm."
"Pull your pants and boxers down, mid-thigh. Spread your legs. Come on, give me room."
The reply was mumbled. "Yeah, room." Elijah squirmed on the couch, lowering his pants.
"Are you hard now?"
"Most definitely."
"Great. I take you in my hand. I stroke once, twice. Sloooowly." Elijah ran his tongue over his lips as he put Dom's words to action. "I rotate my thumb over the tip. It's already weeping, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"I run the side of my thumb over the slit. I know that drives you crazy. You make that sound--" He heard Elijah moan softly on the other end of the line. He smiled. "Yeah, that sound. Now I move my hand down to your balls. I cup them, caress them... How long as it been since we've had sex?"
"Too long," Elijah said.
"Almost three weeks now," Dom said, and his voice lowered considerably as he went on. "And you're so randy you're beside yourself. Can you feel my breath against your ear?"
Elijah whimpered softly.
"I wrap my fingers around your dick again. I squeeze then start moving up and down. You thrust up to meet me. You want this so bad. You need to get off. You need me to get you off."
Elijah moaned. "Dom..."
"I'm here. Right behind you. Moving my hand over you, getting you there... You're so fucking hot when you're aroused. You blush, get that sparkle in your eyes... I bet you're like that now. Sprawled on that couch, all wanton and ready to let it all go." Dom groaned. "Oh yeah. That's it, that's it. I'm stroking you faster now. Faster and harder. You're close, aren't you?"
"Yes," Elijah hissed. He pushed his shirt up, exposing his stomach, in order to avoid spoiling his costume.
"I can hear it. Your breathing's loud and quick. When you're right on the edge, you get little spasms in your jaw. I can see it. I lean forward and lick your neck, in one go from the base to your ear. You feel it all over. You're a pressure-cooker, your blood is boiling and you just want to explode. Let it out. Now."
"Oh, Dom!" He let out an explosive moan and thrust his hips in the air to meet his hand as he came.
"Come on, it's a good one, isn't it? Hard and satisfying. Ride the wave. Let it wash over you."
For a moment all that Dom heard was panting, then, "Fuck, Dom, that was... Did you get off too?"
"Oh, yeah." Dom grinned.
"Wish I could've seen that. Or get a description of what was going on on your side."
"Ah, well. Next time."
Elijah smiled. "Yeah."
"So, are you warm now?"
"Actually, I'm kind of starting to get cold again, especially since my pants are still down. But I'm nicely satisfied."
"Put your pants back on, silly boy."
"I am now. Hey, Dom, are you doing anything this afternoon?"
"No, why?"
"Try to figure out how to set up your webcam." Elijah said. "Tonight, we'll chat."
. . .
. . .
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