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Title: Morning (named by Shirasade)
Author: kiltsandlollies
Pairing: DM/EW
Rating: NC-17
Notes: psst. I wrote some DomLijah. Somewhat w/ teh NC–17. Don't. Tell. Anyone.

Dominic’s not what you’d call a morning person. He can’t really be called an afternoon person either, not with his propensity for waking at five o’clock in the evening and stumbling into the kitchen for food Elijah’s prepared hours before.

But Dominic can be tempted by a few things to open his eyes before sunset, and tops on the list of said things is the feeling of Elijah—always cool to the touch next to Dominic’s overheated skin, always soft against Dominic’s roughened edges—curling up behind him in bed and pressing himself slowly inside Dominic’s body, whispering words that sometimes make even Dominic blush, and finally stilling himself, waiting for Dominic to move or to speak.

More than once, Dominic’s been tempted to feign sleep until Elijah’s patience has worn thin. But it never comes to that. Instead, Dominic pushes back and exhales and murmurs curses and promises of utter violence if Elijah does not continue.

Elijah reaches around, runs one hand lazily across and down Dominic’s chest, leaving scratches that will burn a little later when Dominic leans against the wall of the shower and lets water cascade down his body. But for now, it tickles more than anything else, and Dominic laughs half into his pillow and takes Elijah’s hand, drawing it down lower, exactly where Dominic wants it.

“Fucker,” Elijah breathes. “Expect me to do all the work here—”

“You need the practice,” Dominic smirks, and is rewarded for his cheek by several hard thrusts and those teeth sinking down into his shoulder. Elijah’s fingers close tight around his cock, twisting and stroking until Dominic’s breath catches and he reaches back for Elijah, pulling him closer.

“Are you—”

”Yes. Fucking now—”

It’s hard to say who’s louder, even after a good year of this. They don’t even joke about it anymore, choosing instead to bless the thick walls of the guest house.

Dominic hears Elijah hissing, holding himself back, quickening the pace of his fingers, and that sound is enough to make Dominic himself tense up and cry out, one hand trapped behind him, clutching a fistful of Elijah’s soft, dark hair. Elijah is whispering again, this time yeah, there, Dom, go, and Dominic loses the will to wait. His body stiffens and he comes hard all over Elijah’s hand and his own stomach, and seconds later he’s shaking some more with the force of Elijah coming inside him, his body warm now and slightly abrasive against Dominic’s rapidly cooling skin. It’s so good, though, as it always is, and Dominic has to work to keep from falling back into sleep just like this.

It’s quiet for only a few moments, and then Elijah is speaking again, this time in his cracked–bell voice, and Dominic blinks, trying to form answers.

“Hmm?”

“I said good morning, fucker,” Elijah laughs.

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