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Title: Schism
Author: kiltsandlollies
Parts: 1/2
Pairings: EW/DM, SA/DM, implied BB/DM
Rating: NC–17, oh yeah.
Summary: This is fucked up, Elijah thinks, and we might be inclined to agree.
Disclaimer: Least. True. Story. Ever.
Author’s Note: Elijah’s POV of Offering, and you really need to have read that first to understand what’s going on here. The disclaimers there apply here as well: mind games, a bit of eventual bloodplay, and a bit of kink. I received a lot of questions about Elijah’s motives in that story, and I’m hoping to make them clearer by posting this and another part later. “Offering” is probably the most uncomfortable story I’ve posted, so I do want to shed a little light on it.


Part 1

Elijah’s made a career out of being understated, underestimated. It’s simple to walk around with those eyes and lips, that taste in music and clothes, and let them serve as things he chooses to share with the world. Elijah knows that he is generally kind, generally intelligent and generally sane, and that should be enough.

Happiness will come when it comes. In the meantime, Elijah’s memorized the OED definition of content, and he repeats it aloud often as he drives around town. Contentment is an achievement in itself, Elijah tells Billy as they walk along the beach, and Billy agrees.

------

Billy would agree, of course. He’s nearly vibrating with words he needs to say, and Elijah waits it out two more cigarettes—Billy watching always with the eyes of one who understands, knows the craving and his own weakness—before he stops walking and lets the silence ease Billy’s way.

Elijah’s somewhat pleased that Dominic is the source of Billy’s discontent. Sure, Dom’s high on the short list of things keeping Elijah from that whole happiness thing, but this is … different.

Different because it seems Dominic’s not content, either, and he believes that Elijah might help him get there.

------

“He wants you,” Billy says, his voice calm and nothing like Elijah’s ever heard before. “I’m not here to question why.”

Elijah’s fingers tremble slightly, lighting the cigarette finally after two aborted tries. Elijah inhales and stares out at the water, gone dark grey–blue and shimmering in the evening darkness—the colour of Dominic’s eyes, Elijah thinks, and shakes it away.

“This is fucked up,” Elijah breathes, and Billy nods.

“I won’t pretend otherwise. I need your answer, Elijah—“

“He needs it–

“Only his wish. My idea.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Billy’s smile is patient, if terribly thin.

------
Sean’s call hours later doesn’t come as a surprise. Elijah reassures him, turning Sean’s attention toward the procurement of a small gift for Dominic, it being his birthday and all—and away from what’s clearly an uncomfortable reality for Sean—that Dominic wants to be fucked, and fucked hard, evidently, by them both.

Elijah spends the next day searching for a bottle of New Zealand firewater to finish off the hobbits’ evening and to start their night. Sean rides with him in silence to the house Billy’s rented, and Elijah feels the adrenaline building before he even opens the door.

------
That bottle is the last of three opened over dinner. Elijah’s eyes move around the table, watching Sean fidget, Dominic grow more unsettled than usual and Billy remain the same even after too many glasses.

A birthday toast reminds them all that there’s more to come, and Elijah reads the mood well enough to pull Sean away from the table. They stand at the kitchen counter, and Elijah’s hands rise gently to Sean’s face, reassuring him anew.

“It’s all good,” he murmurs, the slow, sweet Frodo–smile sliding across his face. “We’re all good.”

Sean takes a breath and nods.

------
In truth, Elijah thinks, there’s little good about this night, including the intention behind it. There’s a sort of noble disgust behind Billy’s impassive eyes, his carefully blank expression. Elijah’s more than once dreamt of breaking Billy’s composure, and tonight just might be his chance.

That he could achieve this goal through Dominic’s desire—and with his unwitting consent—makes Elijah’s blood race even faster.

He lights one more cigarette, sucking it down hard before Sean nods him forward. The walk to the bedroom is the longest Elijah’s ever taken, the creak of the door the loudest he’s ever heard.

------
Elijah’s hands shake, and he forces them calm, flexing and relaxing the fingers slowly. A closed fist, then an open palm—he’s shown them both to Dominic at times, but now they mean something new.

Dominic’s loud, hard swallow makes it clear he understands this.

Elijah smells it on him, then; Dominic’s fear manifests itself in more than the flush that rises to his ears and then falls again, leaving him pale. He sweats more than Elijah himself, and Elijah remembers it well—remembers the scent and taste and feel of it.

He cannot wait to have it all again.

------
There are rules to this game, rules Elijah will have to consider now, while Billy removes Dominic’s shirt and coos softly in his ear. Dominic’s nervousness is almost amusing to watch, but Elijah doesn’t smile. He turns to face Sean—caught between an obvious desire to run from this place and desperate need to throw himself at Dom—and knows that tonight will change everything.

Billy’s voice rises only a little, urging Dominic to let them begin this. Dominic’s hands stretch up and forward, calling Elijah and Sean to him, and Elijah’s only momentarily shocked when Sean wins the race.

------
Elijah sits back, his smile returning. When Sean demands Dominic’s silence, Elijah feels a rush of strange power and jealousy at once. No one’s kept Dominic quiet—and for one night with the guy, who would want to? But it’s smart, and Elijah will grant Sean that.

If Dominic cannot speak, after all, he’s no longer really Dominic. The absence of his snarky, slutty purr means that he’s no longer their friend—the person Sean will see again in two weeks and embrace for cameras, for fans.

It’s not as subtle as Sean probably thinks, but it makes perfect sense.

------
Elijah watches as Billy knots the scarf that’s meant to keep Dominic’s quiet or at least muffled. Dominic’s really begun to sweat now, and Elijah wipes his own mouth, ignoring the impulse to bend down and lick. To taste and bite and take.

Dominic looks good gagged this way, and Elijah wonders why he never thought to do it himself. Perhaps it’s because he always wanted to hear Dominic sigh—hear him scream, hear him surrender.

It’s been a long while since Elijah heard any of these things. If Dominic’s lucky, he thinks, tonight won’t be the last time, either.

------
It’s a waste of time and fabric, Elijah muses as Dominic gets accustomed to the taste in his mouth. The scarf would serve better elsewhere.

And at his suggestion, Elijah feels the room spin, just enough so that even as his hands soothe Sean, his eyes meet only Billy’s. Billy, seething already but keeping silent; fighting every second of this but unable to stop it.

When Sean hands him the rope, Elijah acknowledges the gesture, lowering his eyes reverentially while Dominic’s tongue slides across his lip in anticipation.

You have no idea, Elijah thinks, weighing the material in his hands.

------
There’s too much hesitation, and in the next breath, too much rushing. Elijah slows Sean down, all in the name of making this good for everyone, naturally, and then sits back, reveling in the power of Sean’s body—watching the need wash over Dominic.

But Elijah’s never really cut it as a voyeur. His hands fall on Sean, removing his clothes with only slightly proprietary care. When Sean’s own hand travels down Dominic’s body, fingers tangling in and tugging at the dark hair between Dominic’s legs, Elijah shivers—then recovers impeccably.

“No,” he whispers, calmly but firm. “That’s for me.”

------
Sean is both eager to be in control and to be directed. The conflict would be fascinating to watch if Elijah hadn’t seen it so often before. Sean is in fact so distracted that Elijah speaks again, teasing, but excited, too, if he’s being honest.

“Gonna fuck him dry?” he asks, memory of how it wouldn’t be the first time Dominic’s been taken so flooding his mind. Sean’s face flushes when Elijah takes his hand, lets those tanned fingers disappear into his lush mouth.

Elijah’s keeps his moan of pleasure to himself. He cannot be expected to share everything tonight.

------
He will, of course, share Dominic. It’s intoxicating to watch Sean stretching him, preparing him with a certainty Elijah knows all too well.

That knowledge reminds him that Dominic really can’t understand what he’s about to receive. And so Elijah urges Sean to do more, press harder, better, further. Four fingers, and Dominic’s gasp makes Elijah want to fall upon him like an animal—

When it is the right time to do so.

For now he will act only as an accomplice, dipping his head to taste Dominic at last, abetting in this crime against this almost pathetically willing victim.

------
Elijah’s hands never leave Sean’s back, through every hard thrust and twist of Sean’s hips, every strangled cry from Dominic’s mouth, every sharp inhale of Billy’s breath.

Until Dominic moves, reaching for Sean.

Elijah knows that anger is supposed to feel like heat—a fire unlike anything else. But in this case it does not. It feels like a rush of cold air freezing his heart and blood, spurring him to act, to slap Dominic’s hand away and to hold him down.

“You don’t get to touch,” Elijah says, his voice as thin as Billy’s days ago on the beach.

------
Dominic relents—what else was he going to do, after all?—but his eyes are hard, glittery dark blue at Elijah. Elijah takes hold of Dominic’s cock gently, as if to temper his words somewhat.

It is likely the most careful Elijah has ever been with Dominic. He strokes him in perfectly imperfect rhythm with Sean’s thrusts. Dominic’s eyes close, and Elijah watches a drop of sweat trickle down from Dominic’s already–matted hair down his forehead, the side of his face and to the pillow.

Elijah’s so absorbed by the sight that he almost forgets his role as saboteur.

------
Sean’s not what Elijah would call a thing of beauty when he comes—at least when it’s like this. Yes, when Sean’s on his stomach, his face turned to the side and his eyes wide and soft, he can be surprisingly gorgeous—lit up from the inside by the last, deep red remains of some inner fire. But when Sean’s doing the fucking, Elijah’s found, the guy never reaches that same sort of release, that comfort—

No matter how fantastic the partner.

Elijah’s learned this lesson rather well, but to see it taught this way makes it easier to swallow.

------
What is significantly harder to take is the fact that Dominic almost got Sean there. Almost made him fall down a rabbit hole only Elijah’s meant to create for him, meant to occupy. The shocked but nearly sated expression on Sean’s face turns something in Elijah’s gut so hard that he doesn’t regret his next move, his sudden decision. His hand curls around Dominic’s cock violently, just as Dominic’s eyes dilate and his body goes almost frighteningly taut.

“Second rule,” he hisses, and the words fly out before he knows what he’s saying. “You don’t come until we allow it.”

------

Billy’s expression is the only thing keeping Elijah’s smile from reappearing, creasing his face and breaking this newer, harder tension. It occurs to Elijah that he’s been staring at Billy even as he’s addressed Dominic—and Billy has not exactly enjoyed the attention.

“Let him go,” comes the voice, thicker than before. Billy’s accent is something to behold when he’s just in the beginning stages of anger (or drunkenness, two things that occasionally go hand in hand, but not often), and Elijah cedes control again, backing off Dominic slowly.

He still has Sean to tend to, anyway. That’s really enough.

------
And so he does, kneading the muscles of Sean’s back and shoulders, soothing him again however he can. “So fucking good,” he sighs in Sean’s ear. “Love to see you like that.”

Elijah tries not to notice how slowly Sean’s beginning to resurface, or the way Sean’s eyes flit back to Dominic. But it’s not like he can look away either, not when Dominic’s already bruised so beautifully from Sean’s wide, hard grip.

“It’s alright,” Elijah coos, feeling Sean relax against him. “It’s all good.

“I can’t—“ Sean whispers, and Elijah nods, a finger to his lips.

“I know.”

------
Elijah can’t really hear the gentle words Billy’s saying to Dominic, or even Dominic’s response, but he doesn’t care. The way Billy suddenly recoils from Dominic’s desperate attempt at a kiss tells him that he and Sean have already left their mark.

Elijah reaches for Billy now, gathering up those long, thin fingers in his own.

“Water? Wine? Maybe both?” he asks, and Sean’s demand for both makes him smile. Elijah releases Billy’s hand, but only to trail his fingernails down Dominic’s hard stomach, relishing Dominic’s little gasp.

“You won’t regret this, Dom,” he says kindly. “Won’t forget it, either.”

------
Once safe in the kitchen, Elijah can allow his legs to shake. He can plant his hands on the counter and bow his head to take deep, shuddering breaths. You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, he screams to himself in utter silence, and thanks several saints that his body’s the one in charge here tonight, not his racing, reeling mind.

Finding glasses and a new bottle is a distraction—granted, less powerful than that of Billy’s steely glare or Sean’s broad back or Dominic’s pouty fucking mouth, but a distraction nonetheless—and Elijah takes it with both hands.

------
He stands outside the bedroom for a moment, letting his features slide back into calm position. Elijah sees them long before they see him, and the sight of Dominic kissing and touching Sean like this—with Billy’s obvious approval (encouragement?)—is something Elijah would rather have never seen.

It’s not supposed to happen this way.

Billy notices him first, and Elijah thrills to the tiniest of motions now, watching Billy’s hand flex around Dominic’s. Again he pretends not to see, choosing instead to hand Sean his glass, to press a kiss to his tan forehead.

“So what did I miss?”

------
Not that he’s really expecting an answer.

When none comes, Elijah crawls up the bed to present another glass to Dominic, raising him to sit and drink. He’s mildly pleased when Dominic drinks the wine hard and fast, knowing how much easier that will make everyone’s lives. It’s not that Dominic’s a particularly randy drunk, but he does become more … agreeable the more he swallows down.

And Elijah rather prefers Dominic as agreeable as possible.

Still, he’s not about to wait any longer. The moment Dominic relaxes, Elijah is upon him—

And to no one’s surprise, Dominic doesn’t fight.

------
Memory tastes like this, Elijah thinks. It’s New Zealand wine, green grass, dusty pink mornings and deep purple nights all wrapped up in Dominic’s lips and teeth and tongue. It’s so good it shouldn’t hurt, but it does—and Elijah’s in the mood to share that pain.

He scrapes his body hard against Dominic’s, until he knows Dominic is in agony. It’s worth it, even when Dominic fists his shirt and yanks at it, showing his teeth and daring Elijah to push him just that bit harder—just that bit further.

And Elijah suddenly finds that can be agreeable, too.

------
No one’s ever called Elijah’s hands dainty. And no one would, if they could see those hands at work now, one clenched around Dominic’s balls and the other planted firmly at the base of his throat. Somewhere beyond the reach of Elijah’s mind, Billy is speaking, warning them both.

“You don’t touch me,” Elijah pants. “You don’t—“ Another breath, and then another. “Do anything until I tell you. Until I let you, Dom.” His hand flexes, gripping Dominic’s balls tighter. “Are we clear?”

Dominic nods and Elijah retreats, just for a moment. “Good … hands above your head, Dom.”


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