Waahooo!

[bluetears07]

Disclaimer: Ever so sorry boys…the stuff in here never happened.
Series: Preordained
Paring: Sean A./Elijah
Summary: AU: Some things are just meant to happen while others are simply ripples off of one small mistake that change us forever. (Read AU Description, and also AN; behind cut)
AU Description: Same as before. (Refer to the “Prologue’s” AN for information mentioned previously.)
Rating: R (over-all) Chapter Twenty-Three: NC-17
AN: (Warning: Illegal Drug Use) Lyrics are from Beyond the Sea sung originally by Bobby Darin. A lot of this chapter is based on the pictures from this time period back in August of 2004, especially this photo and this one
Guide: ‘Thoughts’
Memories
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Preordained

Chapter Twenty-Three: Beyond the Sea

Away from the dying end of one cigarette, a small fleck of sooty ash fell as it was pressed gently against the tip of another, a final puff of hazy smoke pouring from the used end. The moment a spark flew from one cigarette to the other the young man pulled the filter to his lips, inhaling the first plume of clove scented smoke. Pale, dark stained fingers fumbled nonchalantly with the filter of the spent cigarette as Elijah dropped it on to the unfurnished floor of the old run down car that he had spent half of his time in Prague nearly living in during the seven to nine hours he was on the Illuminated set. There was a slight tremble of instantaneous withdrawal that laced the young actor’s every movement in the split second between lighting up one cigarette with another. Slumping in the bucket seat, he tipped his head back to rest against the padded cushion of the cramped backseat. Sleep deprived from endless nights of insomnia spent tossing and turning in an unconscious search for a certain cologne that once laced the fabric of his sheets and not finding it, Elijah’s eyes fell shut. Inhaling a deep breath of clove-tinted air, quickly sputtering into a short coughing fit; Elijah pressed the filter against his lips. With the lit cigarette clutched securely between his lips again, the young man tugged the large, black frames away from his face, leaving the straight bridge of his nose free to be pinched between thumb and forefinger. He gently tossed the glasses onto the front seat. The familiar burning sensation filled his chest and buzzed in the back of his throat. Elijah held his breath for a moment, forgetting to breathe as the nicotine slowly worked its way into his bloodstream, quashing the build-up of anxious energy that had been coursing through his body all week. Then, slowly a thin stream of smoke rushed out from the small part of curved lips, for all the world sounding like a heavy sigh that seemed to be a release of hours upon hours of pent up frustration.

The young actor sat alone in the virtually dilapidated car, inhaling the same old toxic smoke that had accumulated from his near hour long session of chain-smoking while the rest of the cast and crew were on their lunch break being social. During the first week of filming Elijah had, as was expected of him, been very social and congenial. He chatted politely with everyone and anyone who he was introduced to, even a few fans who recognized him on the streets of Prague, though he still had not found anyone who he really connected with—he did not know if it was a bad thing or good. He wanted to utilize this time, making friends and broadening is horizon, making a certain someone across the pond proud. After the shellshock of jetlag and the natural high of a new working environment and people had worn off, he could no longer deal with the expectation of constantly being accommodating to everyone, save of course himself, Elijah began to stay on the set during lunch while everyone else went to eat at the local restaurants. However, no matter how much he might wish he was not, Elijah was an interdependent young man and the self-imposed solitude was starting to get to him. But instead of going to lunch with his costars when invited, he would get an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach and decline, remembering the pressure of stilted conversation he would have to engage in…it was never like that during the filming of The Inevitable. He always ended up staying on set and smoking almost three packs in the hour and a half in place of food.

‘What would your Sean say if he knew you weren’t eating, Lij?’ The rational half of Elijah’s mind questioned in a chiding tone as the young man shifted his lithe body to sit more upright, straightening his back and staring at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. His face looked thinner than it had before he left Los Angeles a few weeks ago. Once curved, softer lines of his jaw were now all of the sudden hard planes with defined bone structure showing beneath the thin layer of pale skin. After placing the cigarette back between his lips, Elijah furrowed his brow in confusion, cocking his head to the right he traced the sharp line with a nail-less fingertip, still not being able to make the connection between the figure he saw in the mirror and the man he knew himself to be. If not for the liberal amounts of concealer and makeup, there would be the dark beginnings of flushed pink circles rimming his eyes, tell-tale physical evidence of the young man’s nightly bouts of insomnia. Dragging a finger just above the high curve of his cheek bone, beneath the lower lid of his perpetually bright blue eyes, Elijah saw the flushed skin surfacing as he wiped away the small strip of the makeup. He blinked a few times slowly as he continued to stare, smoke leaking from his parted lips as he leaned forward in the seat, his elbows now propped on the backrests of the driver and passenger seats. Finally looking away from the stranger he saw reflected back at him; he pulled the cigarette from his lips to hold between middle and forefinger. He began to idly rub the makeup between his thumb and ring finger, the soft texture and repetitive movement suddenly very calming.

“Sean won’t know…” Elijah whispered aloud to himself as he brushed away a few strands of the jet black hair that had fallen out of the gelled style he wasn’t too fond of-a little too vintage for his taste, but he would not argue. The hair dye the stylist had used a few days prior ended up staining his fingertips a dark color that reminded him of ink. It was a very interesting combination; the deep black color seemed to jump out in shocking contrast to his natural skin tone, emphasizing even more the pale and ashen tint of his flesh. Replacing the cigarette between his lips, turning his gaze back to watch his reflection talk around the filter, bobbing along with the movement of his lips, “He can’t…” In the back of his mind he was a hundred and one percent sure that Sean would know almost instantaneously that Elijah was not eating or sleeping if the older man were to see just one photo of him. Casting his gaze down to glance at the thin layer of used cigarette butts that littered the car floor, Elijah heaved a sigh and nudged the freshest one with the ball of his foot, twisting until he was sure it was extinguished completely. Flopping back against the cushioned seat, Elijah twisted onto his side to lie horizontally across the entire backseat, staring up at the pealing fabric stretched over the metal framework of the car. “He’s got enough shit to worry about right now…” A wash of guilt twisted the words as Elijah threw his arm over his eyes, remembering the last conversation he had with Sean the previous day at four o’ clock in the morning Prague time and seven at night in L.A.

“Elijah…” Sean’s voice faltered for a moment as he spoke the actor’s name before quickly slipping into a more familiar nickname that managed to take away a thin layer of anxiety from his words. “Lij, I’m really sorry about cal-” Elijah quickly cut off the older man with a gentle, “Sean, stop…it’s fine, really,” as the younger man struggled to sit up in bed using one hand, hotel sheets tangled around his legs from tossing and turning.

The voice on the other end of the phone was definitely Sean’s, but there was something unsettling about the apologetic tone that laced his words. Normally whenever Sean called, at least after the first time Elijah had called after landing, the older man was so full of energy and life that Elijah thought to be for his sole benefit, not truly reflecting the weather of Sean’s heart-classic Sean; trying to emotionally support Elijah when he is the one crumbling inside-out alone. A shiver went up the younger man’s spine as his mind began to race with reasons as to why Sean was behaving differently.

“You know you can call whenever…” He added with a melancholy smile that he was sure Sean heard in his voice. Pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping one arm around them, he pressed his cell phone closer to his ear.

‘It’s not like I was asleep…’ Elijah thought silently, listening to the steady puffing of Sean’s breath against the receiver of his phone. In the background he could hear the faint pitter-patter of water droplets hitting glass, overpowering the dull buzz of an engine, ‘Driving alone at night, Sean?’ The constant inhale and converse exhale echoed by the rain lulled Elijah into an intoxicating state of lethargy, almost on the verge of ever illusive sleep. However, at the same time, a rush of adrenaline hit Elijah square in the chest as he realized through the haze of insomnia that he was actually speaking to his lover. “So Seanie,” he drawled out Sean’s name, allowing the drug that was Sean’s synthetic presence work its magic. “What’s the matter?” A sharp intake of breath echoed through the earpiece of Elijah’s cell as Sean began to speak. He could just imagine the tightening of skin around Sean’s mouth as the older man began to chew on his lower lip, the gentle crease between his brows deepening ever so slightly in concentration. If only he could be back there to kiss away the tiny worry lines.

“The court date for…” Sean’s voice faded into nothing, catching in the older man’s throat and making him swallow back down the words he desperately did not what to say. “For Ally’s custody is next week.” A cold current suddenly raced through Elijah’s bloodstream up from the tips of his toes to his heart. The realty of Sean’s fragile situation finally registered in Elijah’s mind as soon as those words were spoken.

“Oh.” The younger man barely managed to murmur as he slowly unfolded his legs.

“I mean,” Sean began, his speech quickly becoming rapid and fluid as he got caught up in explaining himself to Elijah. “It’s not that I’m worried Chris will take her away completely…but still…” The fast tempo slowed to a stand still as the words hung in the vast distance between Los Angeles and Prague.

“Oh, Sean…” Elijah whispered as he regained enough of his composure to try and console his writer. The tips of his fingers pressed tight against his cell phone’s receiver, as if he could reach on through to the other side and touch and comfort his Sean. “It’ll be okay, I’m

sure of it.” Pouring every bit of confidence he had stored within his body into those short words, Elijah prayed that Sean believed them. He was surer than of anything in his life that Christine would do nothing to keep Alexandra from her father and vise versa.

“I-I don’t know what’ll happen…” Desperation and fear unlike Elijah had ever heard from Sean, save maybe once before when he had placed his wedding band in Elijah’s car ashtray a few days before the younger man had left. “I’ve never ‘not known’…” It hit Elijah like a sucker punch. A tidal wave of guilt crashed over his entire body. He had been the catalyst to the downfall of Sean’s marriage, and now that things were actually changing, he was not there to be one of his lover’s remaining links to a world unchanged; he realized how much his absence must be paining Sean. How lost Sean must feel, alone while everything around him was shifting and growing, the one constant he has had for almost eight years now in jeopardy. The unadulterated honesty wrapped in Sean’s confession only furthered to swirl the pool of conflicting emotions boiling over in the pit of Elijah’s stomach, making his heart swell inside his chest. In that moment all he wanted-no, needed- to do was envelope Sean in his arms and never leave him, never wanting to hear that tone contorting Sean’s voice again, wanting his writer to always know.

‘What the fuck am I doing here?!’ His mind screamed as his grip tightened on the cell, the flesh of his knuckles turning white. The words were almost on the tip of his tongue, about to tell Sean that he was going to fly home as soon as possible, Elijah stopped. He knew the writer’s answer before he even opened his mouth. The older man would tell him that it is not that simple, just jumping on the next flight home and all their problems would be solved, and of course he would tell Elijah that he would be just fine, period, end of discussion. Elijah loved and hated him for it. So instead, Elijah managed to curb his tongue. “Sean …” He paused, blinking several times as the burning of tears stung just behind his eyes. Suddenly his voice dropped to a murmur as he cupped his hand around the receiver. “I love you Sean, remember that…no matter what.” Elijah was sure he could hear a slight smile through the few wayward tears that had managed to spill over in Sean’s voice when he replied in kind.

Elijah sat for a long time, eyes closed as he listened quietly to the inflections of Sean’s voice as he told the younger man about the rest of his day. Smiling as Sean spoke about Ally attempting to cook him chicken noodle soup to try and sooth the cough he had, Elijah began to imagine himself curled up with Sean in his bed, head resting on his writer’s chest, lulled to sleep by the steady beat of the older man’s heart. He could almost feel Sean’s warmth lying next to him.

“Fuck!” Elijah swore as he focused all his energy on kicking his legs up at the hard roof of the small car, dress shoes colliding with the solid mass of fabric-covered metal framework. The whole car shook, loose bolts rattling quietly in the suspension, as his hips fell back onto the seat cushion, one leg ending up propped on the car window and the other bent. A strange rush flooded his system as he thought about Sean alone dealing with the divorce proceedings back in the States; he felt like destroying something, anything. With his bent leg he kicked at the car door just beneath the window before taking several deep breaths, settling with his arms folded over his chest. On the moldy, stretched fabric he now saw the unmistakable mark his foot had made, recognizing the pattern of the shoes bottom imprinted in dirt on the roof.

He took a long drag off his cigarette, finishing it in one lengthy inhalation before searching in his pocket for the half-empty pack. Finding it and pulling out a new one, lighting the tip with the old cigarette. Similar to the one before, Elijah dropped the used filter onto the floor and snubbed it out blindly with his foot. Before he knew it, after discovering his old lighter he had had forever in his costume pocket, he had the lid open and ran the metallic spinner along his pressed pant leg until the sparks caught the wick. Then, falling back into the old nervous habit, he flicked his wrist and snapped the lid shut, extinguishing the tiny flame. For several minutes he lay in the backseat flicking the lighter on and off, thinking quietly about what Sean had told him before he had left for Prague. Lighter fluid quickly wasted, Elijah resorted to picking at the dirt under his nonexistent nails as he smoked the clove cigarette.

“It’ll be a great chance for you to expand your range…” Elijah murmured Sean’s old words aloud, trying to remember why in the world he had chosen to come to Prague in the first place. “Do something worthwhile instead of just wasting this opportunity…” Elijah chastised himself as he thought of the chance Sean had given to him to grow as an actor and a person. He felt a double dose of guilt raging in the back of his mind. First, he was not there to comfort Sean, though he was not sure if the deal Christine had settled upon would still be in play if he had not taken the job. Second, despite the knowledge that Sean encouraged Elijah to go, even though it would in turn hurt him, the younger man was walling himself off from everyone, making what should be a wonderful experience into utter shit. Anxously, he ran a hand through his gelled hair, cringing as it got stuck in the hardened solution.

‘Open up, Lij. Maybe you’ll have some fun…you remember fun?’ Before Elijah could respond to his inner voice’s snide remarks the backseat car door swung open. ‘Divine intervention?’ A billow of clove smoke poured out of the car and into the crisp afternoon air. Tipping his head back, he saw the upside-down, smiling face of a young woman he recognized. He tried to place her face, he was sure she worked in public relations for the film or maybe something along those lines. Emma. She smiled at him as he sat up with a sheepish smile pulling at his lips, embarassed to be found in such an awkward position. Elijah could feel the back of his neck heating up as a flush crept up to color his ears.

“Elijah,” she began, her accent contourting his name into sounding more exotic that it really was. “Later tonight a few members of the cast are going to a local club…” Elijah knew exactly what was coming next. “I wanted to know if you wanted to come along with as well.” The innocent smile she wore tugged at the part of him that wanted someone he could just talk to. From what he could see in her eyes there was no secrect agenda to attempt and seduce him like other foreign girls had tried to do during filming.

“Sure, sounds like fun.” Elijah accepted the invitation with a small smile turning up the edges of his lips.

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He wasn’t exactly sure just how many drinks he had had. The last he remembered actually counting silently in his head was his third bottle of Rolling Rock. He started losing count when Emma had decided to just keep on taking his empty glass and refilling it before he even needed to ask. Halfway through the evening, she changed his drink from a basic import, in Prague the import being from the good old U. S. of A, to some strange liquid that glowed neon blue in the black lights overhead. The drink had a wicked kick to it that intrigued Elijah enough to ask how it was made while attempting to pronounce the long Czech name in his inebriated state, taking several attempts before Emma realized he was talking about the liquor. Plus, with the pulsing bass echoing through the club, reverberating in his chest and sending the blood pounding in his ears, he did not really care how drunk he got just as long has he had fun doing so. It’d been a long time since arriving in Prague that he had allowed himself to have fun.

“Pwease, Vood…” Emma crooned in Elijah’s ear, her accent thickening with every glass of alcohol, nearly unintelligible thanks to the eight or nine glasses of liquor she had imbibed. A thin sheen of sweat was covering her face and neck, reacting with the overhead lights to create a dull glow coming off her skin. He watched as she hopped off the bar stool, her back to the dance floor and her dark kohl-rimmed eyes flitting over the younger man’s face in an unfocused haze. There was something odd about her eyes-she kept on blinking rapidly, but then again the club was lit with black light and there was a thick haze of smoke that might be irritating her eyes. Biting his lip as she stared at him expectantly, he snubbed out his last cigarette into the glass ashtray. Her small, strangely sweaty hands tugged at his cotton shirt sleeve. “Pwease…” She tried again, widening her eyes and grinning up at him still sitting on the stool with his feet propped on one of the metal rungs. Laughing, uncomfortable, he allowed her to drag him onto the dance floor, into the heart of the sweaty undulating throng.

If he closed his eyes, feeling the beat course through his body, thudding especially loud in his chest, he could almost pretend that he did not exist; blind to everything else save the pulsing music. Twisting his hips in time to the music, he felt the soft fabric of his striped collar shirt ride up, sticking to the damp skin of his waist and exposing the pale skin of his hipbones. The tight jeans, slung low, fell even further, assuring his dance partner that he was indeed not wearing boxers. Just above the waistline of his jeans were the wisps of dark hairs trailing faintly from his bellybutton down beneath the taut fabric. A smile was beginning to pull at Elijah’s lips, a genuine smile of exhilaration. However, as soon as he let out a short laugh and opened his eyes, he noticed just how close Emma was, standing behind with one arm wrapped around his thin shoulders.

Her lips were too close, almost brushing against the shell of his ear as she whispered something about him being far too tense lately and that she could help him relax, if he would let her. Elijah couldn't speak as her slippery fingers sought out his lips, pressing a tiny white pill with a distinct red heart stamped in the middle past his parted lips; she kept on rocking her hips with the music. As soon as she knew he had the pill in his mouth she spun him around and pressed a bottle of water to his mouth. In a thick haze from all the alcohol he had consumed, he drank the water, not considering what exactly it was that she had just given him.

“Little bit o’ E…”

The next thing he knew the dark black light effect Elijah had thought was just for flare began making everything seemed more vibrant and alive. Even the neon glow sticks that Elijah had considered to be very tacky now seemed to be a stroke of genius, far too fascinating to look away. Just as Elijah was about to burst into a fit of high-pitched giggles as he watched a girl wearing an all white velvet sweat suit spinning around and around, he felt Emma’s hand grasp his and place it on the small of her back. Beneath the super receptive tips of his fingers he felt the glide of sweat against soft flesh, ‘soft…’ It was awkward to feel soft skin where he normally felt toned and hard flesh. Her own hands grasped his shifting hips, slippery against the exposed flesh. Still levelheaded enough to be shocked slightly by her assumptions he pulled away.

“I have a…” He began defiantly, wiping his hand off on his jeans. In the pit of his stomach he felt a twinge of nausea. Biting back the rise of bile in his throat he tried to think of what he had been saying before the wave of sickness hit. The club suddenly seemed way too small and way to fucking hot. He couldn’t breathe. ‘A what, you E-tripping fuck? A boyfriend? A lover?’ Ignoring the chattering voice in the back of his head, he wiped away the sweat that had gathered on his cheekbones. Blinking several times, he strung the words together as Emma waited patiently. “A ‘someone’ back in L.A.” A grin pulled up at the corners of Emma’s lips.

“Are they here?” She asked innocently, her voice low and almost inaudible above the blaring music. Elijah watched her head turn from side to side as she glanced around the nightclub with mock curiosity and smirking with self-satisfaction. Looking back at the young actor, she winked and tried to touch his hips once more. “I don’t see ‘em…” The rapid batting of thick, dark eyelashes entranced him for a moment until Elijah’s mouth fell open as soon as the words processed in his mind. Coherent enough to be revolted by her blatant advances, he moved away from her probing hand.

“Emma, would you excuse me, I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.” Elijah yelled over the music, pointing in the direction of the skuzzy bathroom.

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The metallic stall door banged shut behind him, listing to one side, requiring that Elijah knock it into place before he could lock it shut. Ensuring that the door was secure, the young man turned to look at the filthy toilet and graffiti-covered walls that made up the dimly lit bathroom. Thankfully, the bathroom had been completely empty when he had walked in to splash cold water on his face. Sighing, he pulled his hand inside his sleeve and wiped off another few beads of sweat mingling with droplets of tap water that were rolling down the back of his neck.

“Why is it so fucking hot?” He questioned as he slowly began tugging at the collar of his shirt. In a thick haze of languid movements and uncoordinated actions, Elijah unbuttoned the cuff-and-collared shirt. For some reason his hand kept on getting stuck in the arms of his shirt, but that only sent a bout of giggles spilling from his lips as he struggled to get the shirt off. He eventually dropped it onto the grime-covered tiled floor. Before moving on to unbuckle the taut jeans he ran his fingers over the defined lines of his hipbones. Ever since he was a teenager he had been rather skinny but he had never seen the crease of his hips so vivid before. Gently, he traced down the line on both sides as it led straight down to the waist of his jeans. His fingers slipped against the sweaty flesh. The pads of his thumbs ran over the soft hairs that led down his stomach to the same destination. Blinking the sweat away from his eyes, he focused on unbuckling the seemingly too heavy silver buckle that kept his jeans from completely slipping off his narrow hips. Just as he dropped the leather belt onto his shirt and had managed to unsnap the button clasp, being as careful as he could unzipping his jeans, he felt the hard bulge of his cell phone in his pocket.

A manic grin spread over his lips, licking them once with a dry tongue as he pulled the phone from his pocket. He stared at the illuminated screen for a few moments, giggling as he moved the phone around in a slow circle, watching the ghosting blue light following the cell. Snapping back into reality, controlling the slight twitch his thumb had developed in the past ten minutes, he held down the number one until he heard a louder than usual beep and the trilling of his cell calling L.A. The moment he heard the click of someone picking up, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Lij.” Sean’s voice sent an almost sobering calmness through Elijah’s anxious body, brining him almost back down to earth. Though a bubble of euphoria was exploding in the pit of his stomach, the natural joy of his lover’s voice heightened by the synthetic high of ecstasy. His hearing seeming to improve beyond what he had every thought possible; Elijah heard the engine of Sean’s car fade as the older man shut it off.

“Sean…” Elijah whispered reverently; if he spoke any louder it would have hurt his highly tuned hearing. The younger man’s free hand was pressed tight against the trembling flesh of his lower stomach, thumb stroking the soft skin stretched beneath his navel. His head tipped back until it was pressed against the stall, eyes falling shut as he concentrated on picturing the older man’s face. A welcomed shiver tore through his body as his hand slipped a little lower as he listened to Sean.

“Mmhmm?” Sean murmured distractedly as a faint click of a car door opening echoed loudly in Elijah’s sensitive ears. Imagining the buzz of sound trapped in Sean’s mouth as he hummed his reply, Elijah was sent nearly into a frenzy of suppressed lust and sexual frustration. It’d been nearly a week since he’d actually jacked off while talking to Sean on the phone. Recently he found that it was difficult to get hard just thinking about the writer, he need the man’s low, sultry voice to drag him under the wave of pleasure and release. Maybe that was why he had begun to shut himself off? But then again it was entirely possible that it was the E making his mind tie everything back to fucking.

“F-f-f-fuck…” A car door slammed shut. The swear was drawn out in a husky laugh as Elijah gave in to temptation, his hand finally finding the sweltering source of his nearly searing skin. Skin rubbing against the rusted metal teeth of his jeans, he traced the heavy length; his normally deft fingertips were now fumbling along the hot, stirring flesh of his flushed, half-hardened cock. The coarse denim fabric slipped lower on his hips, bunching at his knees. A quiet whimper slipped unchecked from his lips. Biting the yielding flesh of his lower lip, Elijah leaned back against the cold metal wall of the bathroom stall. “S-s-sean what’d ya miss most about m-me…?” Elijah asked quietly, a sudden undercurrent of melancholy lacing his question; a strange tone of lust mingling with insecurity forcing the words to the surface.

“I miss your smile and your contagious laugh…” Sean began, his voice dropping low enough to sound normal in Elijah’s ears. A bittersweet laugh, tweaked slightly by a low moan, echoed the older man’s statement. The young man squirmed, hips twitching constantly as the few drops of pale precome dripped onto the hot flesh of his palm. Sliding his lubricated fist back down the shaft, he felt his hips buck into the tight ring of flesh created by thumb and forefinger.

“I miss hearing my name on your lips.” Holding his breath for a moment to bit back the answering whimper of Sean’s name, Elijah felt the flat pad of his thumb slide slowly up to his cock’s head, rubbing the slit with the tiny calluses at the corners of his nails he usually chewed off, creating an incredible friction. Though he tried, he could not hold back the muffled moan of Sean’s name as he rubbed harder against the scorching flesh, apply a sinfully sweet amount of pressure to the shaft with the squeeze of his fingers. Everything magnified twofold by the spinning world of ecstasy, Elijah felt as if he was going to come hard and fast any split second with no one he loved around to catch him when he came back down.

“I miss that split second in the morning haze when I’m not sure whether you’re part of my world or one beyond.” A shiver shot down Elijah’s spine, adding to the white-hot pressure building up at the base of his spine, curling it back like a taut bow. His fist pumped faster and faster as his hips thrust in syncopated time. Over the speakers in the bathroom Elijah heard the fast dance mix slow into something a little classier, “Somewhere beyond the sea…” In the back of his mind, buried deep beneath every last brain cell that was focused on release, he was sure he had heard the song somewhere before but he simply could not place it

“I miss the vibrant glow of your skin bathed in moonlight when I touch it.” Elijah could hear the tightening of Sean’s voice as he realized his breathy moans had probably put his lover in a very similar state with no one to catch him. Dragging his nail-less fingers back down the shaft, his sticky skin stuck uncomfortably. Quickly shoving his fingers into his mouth, pressing against his dry tongue and the soft flesh of his cheeks for any saliva he could use as lubrication. Fingers slippery, he jerked his fingers along the length one last time with a snap of his wrist.

“I miss your warmth…” Again Sean’s voice cracked as Elijah imagined the older man shifting in the driver’s seat, pressing his hand against his constrained cock, unsure what propriety dictated as to jacking off in the car while pillow talking with your gay lover, who was in a foreign country. That vision scorched into his mind's eye brought him under the tidal wave of pleasure and surrender. The song hummed in the background, “Somewhere waitin' for me, my lover stands on golden sands…” A thousand colors Elijah had never seen before swirled together as his knees buckled and his whole body shivered in orgasm. Searing, sticky come dripped over the pale skin of his knuckles, slowly falling in droplets onto the fabric of his shirt that lay forgotten on the floor.

“Above all, Elijah, I miss the feeling of…” A moan low in the back of Sean’s throat leaked through the cell phone, Elijah couldn't help but to smile in his post-orgasmic haze, mingling with his synthetic high. “Completion.” Sean’s final word came out in a husky tone, dripping with what Elijah had always thought to be pure sex. The old song crescendoed and slowly faded away in to nothingness, “We'll kiss just as before, happy we'll be beyond the sea…”As he slumped against the stall wall, the cold bite of steel pressed against the flesh of Elijah’s back.

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AN: I'm sooooo sorry about taking so long and to anyone who takes offence to Elijah and the use of drugs...On a happy note though, I want to thank the wonderful, empressaurelius for beta reading again, *snuggles*. And of course big thank you to all ya'll still reading! *hugs*