by Wax Jism
dale's fault. thanks also to cimorene, calico and buffett.

Elijah had a list, a slightly scrunched slip of plain white printer paper with words in a neat row, arial 14pt, magneted to the refrigerator under the calendar and a sticky note with phone numbers.

Things I've Thought Of But Not Done Yet was typed across the top.

Dom scratched the title out the day after he got there and wrote Ligh's kink list under it. Elijah had written down a few select locations and some none-too-unusual sexual practices. He was out one night and Dom drank the last of their stash of the vile piss Americans call Budweiser and sniggered at the list. Elijah had a black felt tip tied to a piece of string hanging from the fridge handle, and it was tempting, tempting, really bloody tempting. Dom was bored and wrote fuck a sheep under blowjob, movie theater.

Elijah rolled his eyes at it in the morning and drew rough black lines over the sheep-fucking.

"Why a list?" Dom asked him then, not really mourning the sheep.

"Just to know where I stand."

Dom looked at the list. First off was just blowjob. "You never had one?" Elijah really was young. A whole four years was more than it looked, Dom thought.

Elijah twisted his mouth and said, almost unembarrassed, "Given one."

"Oh," Dom said. He studied Elijah's mouth - small and soft and somehow childish, oh so wrong - and decided to offer his services for Elijah to practice his services on. Sleeping on the futon in his living room and all, it was only fair to give something back. But what he said instead was, "I'm gonna go put on some tea."

He went to the kitchen and thought about Elijah's mouth some more. He'd slept with plenty of his friends, why not Elijah? Long dry spell before he'd come here and now he just followed Elijah around. A man cannot live on masturbation alone.

"Plenty," in his case, meant one who never talked to him after, two who turned into girlfriends, and a few acquaintances.

Good point, he told himself. It's a gamble. Wouldn't want the Woodster to turn into my girlfriend.

A few days later, Elijah edited the list down to only the most basic things, just get laid topping it, and then:

blowjob, give
anal, pitching
anal, catching
handjob, outside
blowjob, outside
fucking, outside

"That's not even kinky."

"I'm not the one who calls it a kink list," Elijah said.

"Pissing in a fountain is more kinky than fucking outside," Dom said, and had a thought. "I have a thought," he told Elijah and wrote golden shower under the fucking.

"Would you do it?" Elijah said.

"Piss on you?" Dom asked and quirked an eyebrow at him. Elijah snorted, snort turned to high-pitched giggles and Dom walked away in triumph.

He'd thought about it before - about the list and perhaps Elijah getting things crossed out. One morning he'd woken up after Elijah, because he'd been into the Budweiser again and Elijah had not, and he'd walked into the bathroom and found Elijah there.

"I'm sorry, I'm takin' a piss," Elijah'd said, a little sleep-slurred still. Not long out of bed, his hair standing up in unruly tufts and his eyes a little puffy. Dom had backed out, but he'd stopped for a second and watched the stream - golden, indeed, it was - plunk and splash into the bowl.

Dom always closed the bathroom door when he had business to attend to.

Weeks later, things still weren't getting crossed over. Dom had a mental list of his own now and things weren't getting crossed over there, either, but Elijah couldn't see it. No skin off Dom's back, then. He added fisting and scat to Elijah's kink list one late night after Elijah had nodded off in front of the telly. A slightly daft but somehow sweet habit of Elijah's - he'd put on a movie and after it ended, just sleep with some talk show rerun in the background. Dom used the time to print out internet porn and pin it to Elijah's wall. He even found a page with watersports. Elijah didn't take down that particular print-out. It was on the fridge in the morning, next to the list.

"You cunt, you're not even trying," he told Elijah when Elijah whinged about his lack of success. "You could've had the bloke with the glasses." A tall skinny one with bad skin but not a bad face at all, and he'd been drooling into Elijah's beer and hanging on his every word. Elijah had seemed not to notice.

"I could not," Elijah said and got a beer, a proper one. Guinness because that's the only ale you could get in these parts, but still, a drink that tasted like home to Dom. He wouldn't tell Elijah that he missed Manchester because Elijah would either mock him about being homesick or feel guilty somehow. Elijah was a strange little fish that way, unpredictable in his reactions. Another good reason not to just grab him and make him crack the first entry on his list.

"You're afraid," Dom said because just because he couldn't do anything about it didn't mean he was about to let it go.

"Am not," Elijah said. "And you're not pulling, either. You're a fucking nun, mister Not Such A Love God."

"I don't have a list," Dom lied. His list existed, it even had a title: Things I'm Doomed Never To Do To The Yankee. By D. Monaghan. "I've had my share."

Once they got back home, they'd had an hour or so of drinking slowly and watching one of Viggo's old films, something strange and seemingly drug-addled, with little boys playing with the mummified remains of an aborted child - Elijah had been watching, enraptured, and Dom watched Elijah watch. Elijah's cheeks blossomed soft red when he was drunk, like a stroke of blush over the cheekbones.

"I'm not afraid," Elijah said, as if he'd not been watching the film after all, but thinking along whatever strange paths his mind liked to wander. Dom was surprised because he hadn't noticed any thinking happening. He hadn't been thinking for sure. Watching Elijah's eyes move. Drinking. Not thinking.

On the sofa, then, with Viggo's film rolling and Elijah not paying attention to the film nor really to Dom, Dom said, around a swallow of Guinness, "I just choose not to fuck around. You have a mission. You'll never get to the end of your list at this speed. You've not even got past the blowjob yet. You're gonna have to suck--" oops "--my--"

"I'm not going to the end," Elijah said, thankfully pretending as if he'd not heard that last part. "Not your end. Not past the golden shower, anyway."

Dom's hand with the glass stopped halfway along its table-mouth trajectory. "You'd do that, though?" He wiggled the glass so the murky liquid splashed thick and dark against - and over - the edge. In his murky, Guinness-coloured brain, tiny sparks flew.

Elijah was about as deep into his drink as Dom, but Elijah's little American body had no tolerance to speak of and he'd moved on from 'tipsy' and probably well into the foothills of 'drunk'. "Well," he said, "it's kinda. Dunno. The thought is kinda hot." Which was not what Dom had expected. He thought about the thought of it. Elijah pissing in the morning with his hand curled lazily around his cock. Piss on skin, ooh, not going there, but Dom's brain of course took the next step. Elijah had wonderful skin, pretty much all over - which Dom knew because of surfing and swimming and changing rooms and the occasional unplanned encounter of the third degree.

"You want to piss on someone?" He blinked at Viggo's face on the screen. Turned back to Elijah, who was turning a delicate pink. It might just be the Guinness, of course. "You want someone to piss on you? It's...dirty." Wonderful skin, and it seemed just wrong to even think about it, didn't it?

Elijah frowned. He seemed to be actually thinking about it. Dom in his position would've laughed it off, but Elijah was an earnest one. "Well, not want, as such," he said. Dom watched his eyebrows scrunch up and straighten out, scrunch up again. Dom would have been good talking about the blowjob and nothing beyond. He'd had offers, from better than the skinny bespectacled bloke, but he'd turned them down. He had been living on masturbation alone for quite some time now. Maybe time to let go of fear and doubt now.

But Elijah was still going on: "I mean... hypothetically, it could be-- And it's not dirty. Urine is sterile--" He blinked and the eyebrows did a little hello-what-the-fuck wave at Dom. "What are you on about, it's your stupid idea!"

"Don't look at me, you sad little man," Dom said. Under the eyebrows, Elijah's eyes were big and almost all pupil. Dom thought about piss and squirmed and said, "I'm bursting with this beer."

Oh, oops. Elijah's mouth fell open and it took only a second - or two, no more than two - for Dom to realise that Elijah had been thinking, too. And not bloody well stopping at the blowjob.

Elijah stared at him. Closed his mouth. Dom thought, oh NO, but he stared back. Just a blowjob, he thought. He scratched his ear and tried to outstare Elijah, but what normal man could do that, anyway. Elijah's eyes narrowed and Dom thought, he's far gone, he'll forget in a second. He wouldn't think about pissing, except he really was bursting with it. Counting back, he couldn't remember just how many beers went into this bladderful. It wasn't even sexy, just uncomfortable, and Elijah kept staring as if he thought he could hypnotise people - hypnotise Dom - with the power of his doe-eyes.

"Hypothetically," Elijah said. "Yeah, like. Hypothetically hot--" He got up with some effort. Dom put down his beer and started to say something like "Oi, no kink under the influence now," but Elijah had turned to him while he prepared to speak - it took some preparation, strangely. Maybe he was passing the realm of 'tipsy' too - and said "Are you coming?"

He staggered towards the bathroom. Dom had to follow, like. Because. Yes, because he really needed to go there. Only bathroom and all. Elijah staggered on and Dom followed him with manly steps. Not his fault if the doorjamb caught him in the hip, bloody thing.

"Hypothetically," Elijah'd said, and there they were. Hypothetical mouthing off to actual fact wasn't such a wide gap after all, Dom thought.

Things happened too fast after too many pints and a good helping of self-pity. Dom turned on the water. He had to reach twice for the tap because he'd lost whatever co-ordination got him here.

"Hypothetically," that was a laugh and a half, because hypothetically, they were right there. Elijah must have thought a lot, because he hadn't even hesitated. Much. Just made a face and shrugged lopsidedly and kept his eyes on Dom, except for a brief moment when he pulled the t-shirt over his head. Now he was naked and standing in the shower stall, and Dom still had his clothes on and no idea what to do. He couldn't possibly be drunk enough to do this and if he were, and did it, Elijah would probably skin him and strap him up by his nadgers the morning after.

Elijah giggled softly and swayed like the stupid-drunk cunt he was. He kept staring at Dom with eyes that looked innocent. I've got your fucking number, Dom thought, and it's not "innocent".

This would be the absolute top right here. Summit of stupid places to find oneself in. Dom decided that this should go in his autobiography when he was famous-- more famous than he was right now, when he was older than Christopher Lee and what he did in his wild youth was nothing more than a row of amusing anecdotes to tell over a pint. Because this wasn't something he could even think of talking about right now, not over any number of pints. "Heh heh," he said, sounding like a half-wit. It was possible that he could scare Elijah out of his mood.

Elijah dropped to his knees, a little badly co-ordinated move and he winced when his knees hit the tiles. The water from the tap was streaming past him, hitting the floor and dusting his skin with sparkles. "Heh," Dom said, not paying attention to his own mouth. Elijah was waiting. Bright-eyed now, like some small animal, if small animals were white-skinned and blue-eyed and in the habit of kneeling in shower stalls. The Elijah Animal, thinker of stupid thoughts.

Dom really needed to piss. The toilet bowl was behind him. Elijah looked up at him. Fucking kneeling right there. Dom's head was beginning to feel decidedly fuzzy and Elijah on his knees was not helping. "Fuck," Dom said and took a step back. He would piss himself if he stood here and thought about it any more. His hands had already unbuckled his belt, unzipped his trousers. Elijah blinked. Dom tried not to say "Heh" again and failed.

He thought longingly about the toilet bowl while his fingers curled around his cock. Elijah smiled, with a hint of smugness, the shameless wanker, and Dom let go out of spite.

He almost fell backwards, so maybe not so not-drunk after all, but caught himself on the glass wall of the shower stall. He knew his mouth had fallen open, gaping wide, because his breaths were rasping and cold in his throat. And it felt great to let it flow, he needed that, but he'd been aiming at a spot somewhere a little to the side of Elijah - just wanted to scare him, guv - but he missed the spot with his little drunken sway and hit Elijah in the chest instead.

Elijah's eyes went wide - wider, as if they hadn't been about to pop out of his skull already, they were starting to look utterly precarious, dangerously wide. He fell back on his heels and stared at Dom. There was no way for Dom to stop now. He tried to turn away, but Elijah looked-- He couldn't turn away and couldn't stop, either.

"Oh, fuck," he said and it just kept coming, by the pint, it seemed. Elijah lifted his hands with jerky, confused motions, and the piss ran down his naked skin and just there, just in that moment - piss, Elijah's skinny arms, the sweet relief of no longer holding back - Dom ended up on a new page in his mind and it was hot.

The stream petered out and Dom was left with his cock in his hand and drenched Elijah kneeling in front of him. The whole room smelled; pungent, fresh piss not as bad as the stench in a pub toilet but getting there. Dirty, dirty and he stood where he stood and his cock was swelling in his hand. Elijah opened his mouth in something like surprise, blinked, twisted his mouth, swallowed. Oh, fuck, Dom thought, trying to imagine being down there like that - tried to unimagine it next because it was too easy to look up through Elijah's eyes - and Elijah made a little sound, a small whimper. Not what you thought, eh, Dom thought, but Elijah on the floor, somehow it kept getting hotter. There was a cloud of suggestion in this room or something, and both of them were hypnotised. More than you thought.

Elijah fell forward suddenly - no, didn't fall, precisely, because he caught himself with his hands on Dom's thighs. And not so suddenly either, it was almost calculated and Dom saw the intention before it happened. Instead of stepping back - even though Elijah's hands were wet and leaving stains on his trousers - Dom leaned forward, pulled, oh, completely against his will. He still had his hand around his cock and that traitorous thing was aiming eagerly towards Elijah. Elijah made another sound, a little deeper, and leaned forward even more and slid his hands up Dom's legs.

"No, wait--" Dom said, "that's--"

--disgusting, he was going to say, but it didn't come out in time and somehow he wouldn't have meant it anyway. Elijah opened his mouth and pushed Dom's hand away. The smell of piss was fading, almost, only not quite. Dom thought he'd forgot to pay attention to it. Not the first thing on his mind. Not when Elijah didn't seem to mind, or had forgot or wasn't... one bit... paying attention. Now this: no denying that he had thought of this. Elijah's mouth opening just the crucial bit more to take him in, the soft slide and tiniest scrape of teeth as he pushed forward and took it.

Dom forgot to breathe, too, but when Elijah curled his tongue in a sharp little nudge under his cock, he finally pulled in a breath, a big one that cut through his throat and the air tasted of piss now. He imagined it must be even more so down there, and his hips nudged forward into Elijah's wet hand and Elijah's wet mouth.

It was getting steamy in there; the water had been running for a while, washing away every trace except that on Elijah's chest and hands, steaming up the room and making it hard to breathe. Or perhaps the breathing thing was because Elijah pulled back quickly and Dom's hand shot out without asking him first, found Elijah's damp hair and curled in the short silky strands of it. He stopped himself just before he simply tugged Elijah back, rudely and the way he really wanted to. Elijah's eyelids fluttered and opened. Dom watched Elijah's eyes focus slowly.

Elijah licked his lips and closed his eyes again and Dom didn't have to do any tugging because Elijah leaned forward on his own. His breaths skittered short and fast and cool over Dom's wet skin, and that almost stung, and then mouth again, slow slide of it.

Balance was becoming an issue and Dom's hand was sweaty and slipping on the slick glass; the other hand was still desperately clutching a tuft of Elijah's hair. His hips took up a confused rhythm of their own, independent of the rest of him. The acrid smell was just steaming around him in here, and he should've been sick with it, but instead he was biting his lip and riding a wave of heat and looking down at Elijah kneeling and Elijah's face closed up in concentration. Dom felt strangely helpless, like he'd been suckered into this. Some fucking seduction there - come piss on me, my place or yours?

Elijah's hand slid into his pants, warm and damp, around his hip and down; Dom groaned without even noticing and pushed forward, too hard. Elijah's blunt fingers dug into his upper thigh and Elijah looked up at him, met his eyes quickly. Pushed his hand between Dom's thighs, curled fingers well-aimed and too sure of themselves.

Dom sucked in a great hissing breath, closed his eyes in the face of the cresting wave of holy-fuck-hot and came.

Elijah pulled back, choking, took his hand with him and Dom had somehow been leaning back against it and lost his balance now that he was so coldly let go. While he sorted himself out, what was up and what was down, his poor spinning head and the dull heat shimmering all over him now, sinking and heavy, Elijah scrambled clumsily to his feet and turned on the shower.

The first water out was freezing cold and a good deal of it drenched Dom's shirt. Elijah screamed and jumped out of the stall, cold and wet and not exactly fragrant and Dom couldn't not put his arms around him. No, no, he thought and pulled Elijah closer, clothes be ruined if they will, ran his hand up Elijah's cold back to curl in his hair again, turned Elijah's face toward him and kissed him. Something he'd never actually thought about before.

Not like this, at least, with one bitter taste on top of another to find. Maybe once or twice, he'd thought about it, when he'd been caught unaware by his own tricky mind, looking at Elijah's mouth, maybe thinking about that blowjob - not a big step, after all, some foreplay could be accepted even between friends--

Elijah twined his limbs around Dom and kissed him back, tasting sharply bitter and salty and strange. Dom tried not to breathe and it worked that way, just fine. Then Elijah pulled them both back into the shower, pleasantly warm now. The water trickling into their mouths washed the worst of it away and Dom breathed again, sucked on Elijah's tongue and thought he might not want to stop, ever.

Elijah groaned and found Dom's hand with his, tugged it down insistently. What, Dom thought, I'm right here-- oh. Elijah wasn't asking much at all, just pushing against Dom's hand and breathing into his mouth. Dom's clothes stuck to his skin all over, heavy and constricting.

Elijah bit his lip when he came. Dom held him and felt him lick at the place he bit. Elijah's sharp little tongue on the sore spot sent lazy sparks of heat from his mouth down through his body. Mmh, kinky, he thought. Did a mental double-take. Right, that line was well crossed already, crossed and scuffed out. Obliterated, to the point of...nonexistence.

Elijah was heavy and limp against him now, his head on Dom's shoulder, sighs and tired little pants in Dom's ear. "Lij," Dom said when he thought he finally might be able to produce an actual word. "Oi. Lij."

"Mmmhhhhdommm," Elijah mumbled and tightened his arms around Dom's neck. He was probably still drunk out of his head, despite the...everything.

"Yeah, that's nice, that's fine," Dom said, patted Elijah on his wet hair. Stopped himself from sneaking in more kisses. Instead, he turned off the water and manhandled Elijah out of the shower. He'd done this before, with mates too drunk to handle themselves. Elijah was small and pliable, not a difficult drunk at all, despite the occasional really bad idea.

Elijah was too drunk still to regret, it seemed, because he clung to Dom and nuzzled his neck and just invited some post-coital petting, even though he was half asleep already.

Dom dragged him half-dried-off to his bedroom and sat him down on the bed. Dom's clothes were dripping a pool on the floor - somehow he'd forgot to take them off, although it struck him as somewhat impossible. He'd just actively ignored them, then, while he rubbed the towel over what parts of Elijah's body he could reach, while Elijah swayed back and forth like a skyscraper in a tropical storm and distractedly petted Dom's head. "I'm not a dog," Dom'd almost said but caught himself in time, because it occurred to him that that whole piss thing was more than a little dog-like. He might do well to not remind Elijah.

"No, come," Elijah said when he turned to leave. No, I've got to get rid of these, would be a good and vague thing to say, gesturing at his wet clothes and slinking out the door. He could take his time and in ten minutes, Elijah'd be asleep and Dom could tuck him in and go to his own bed. That'd be best for the both of them, no doubt.

Elijah's eyes were heavy-lidded but still focused. "Come," he said again and Dom tugged off his sopping clothes and went. He was cold now and Elijah was only a touch warmer. His damp skin caught at Dom's damp skin.

"Hmmm," Elijah sighed and burrowed into Dom, wrapped himself in Dom. Dom let him and lay still and listened to him fall asleep.

He woke up alone. There was no slow moment of guilt-free half-sleep because the first thing he noticed - even before he saw that Elijah was gone - was that he needed to piss and it was all right there, up front in his morning-active brain.

He pushed his legs together and tried to will the pressure away. If he hadn't already been lying down, he'd need a good lie-down right now. Smoky tendrils of a hangover were sneaking around the edges of his mind somewhere, just waiting for a good go at him.

His clothes were in a heap where he'd left them to the bed. He picked them up. They were still damp and had started to smell funny.

The bathroom was behind the kitchen and Elijah was in the kitchen, drinking coffee and staring morosely at the tabletop.

Dom stopped in the door. He had his clothes but he wasn't wearing them, of course, and Elijah was fully dressed and awake, if somewhat bleary-eyed.

"Eh," Dom said intelligently. "Morning."

"Hangover," Elijah said without looking up. "I threw up. I may die. Please stop me from drinking this much in the future."

"Okay," Dom said and slunk past him into the toilet.

He stared into the wall, stubbornly, while he pissed and wondered when he'd be able to fucking relieve himself without getting hard. Also, when he'd be able to look Elijah in the eye again.

He got clean clothes from his shelf in the living room. Unfortunately, he couldn't hide in there all day, though. He stopped trying to retrace the events of last night because they made no sense however he turned them. He could remember what he'd been thinking - mostly stuff like mmh Elijah pretty blowjob must piss whoa and the like, it seemed - but what the fuck had he been thinking?

"I was gonna try hair of the dog," Elijah said from the door and Dom jumped, guiltily.

"Yeah?" he said.

"But we drank all of it last night. No hair and no dog left."

"Oh." Dom shifted uncomfortably. Elijah was looking straight at him. Nothing shifty or embarrassed about him in the least. Maybe, Dom thought, relieved, he doesn't remember. He looked pale, a little green-tinted even. Poor lad, no tolerance.

"Yeah, so it's coffee and Advil."

"Great," Dom said. "Um."

"You too?"

Dom stared blankly at him. He noticed that he was staring Elijah in the eye - one question answered, then.

"Coffee, I mean," Elijah said.

Elijah had, for once in his life, made strong coffee. It was sort of like drinking liquid asphalt, in fact. Dom drank it too fast and felt his stomach twist in shock. At least he was going to be properly awake in a few moments. Elijah was sipping his gingerly, making little faces of distaste. Elijah was a latte man, all sweet and odd flavours with sprinkles on. "Deeply latte," he'd once described himself. "Deeply Gold Blend," Dom'd said.

"Bloody horrible coffee," Dom said into the silence.

"Hmm, yeah," Elijah said and got up, a little unsteadily. "I think I need milk."

"Milk's old," Dom said. He needed air. Some time to brood, perhaps. Over his penchant to get himself into trouble without ever really trying. And he kept having little random flashbacks - not real flashbacks, just memory bubbles that floated to the surface and popped. Like the sound of water on tiles, just apropos of nothing, while he swallowed the coffee. He almost fucking choked on that one. Elijah's wet eyelashes. Maddening. "I can nip out and get some, if you like." Helpful and an escape.

"No, that's okay," Elijah said. He was staring at the fridge as if he could just will the milk into being good that way.

No, he was staring at the fridge door. Inexplicably, Dom felt heat creep up his throat and over his face. Elijah stretched a little awkwardly and scooped up the pen hanging from its string and scratched out two items on the kink list.

Dom was glad he didn't have a mouthful of coffee to choke on, because he would've. Elijah was doing that almost-at-ease thing that could mean that he really was at ease or he was just a fair to middling actor.

"You didn't have to get me drunk to--" Dom started with some heat, but he put a stopper in it quickly enough because of course he'd have to be drunk for that, wouldn't he? But still. "Just ask, like," he added, wishing stupidly that Elijah would ask and feeling just a degree less daft than the time he'd mistaken Orlando in his Legolas wig for a girl back in New Zealand, two lifetimes ago.

Elijah had spun around and was now standing with his back against the fridge. He wasn't, oddly enough, laughing his head off. Probably too hung over, Dom thought.

Elijah pulled down the list and dropped it in the trash. "Yeah, okay," he said vaguely. "I just. Dutch courage and all."

Dom gaped and was about to ask, incredulous, but Elijah pre-empted him. "Not...that. Jesus. In general."

"Oh," Dom said and swallowed. "Now, if you were to. No, okay. If, like, it'd have to be a. You know, quid pro quo, like--"

Elijah's eyes went comically round. Dom hurried on. "Of course, only if you like, like. Happy to keep things just on the cool side, no more of that and all--"

"What are you talking about?" Elijah asked.

"Uh." Yeah, what are you talking about, Dom? Dig a fucking hole and bury yourself.

"I'm gonna go back to bed." Elijah was standing in a sliver of sunlight suddenly, Dom noticed. Pretty. It washed the morning-after sallow tint from his face, made his skin glow golden instead. This was pretty good. Elijah had nicely saved Dom from further humiliation. This was going to be something to talk about in fifty years. Dom decided to go out and take someone up on their offer. Yeah. Pretty good. The hangover felt suddenly heavier on his head and his mouth tasted bitter from the coffee.

A hand on his shoulder and he banged his hand on the underside on the table when he twitched in surprise. "So are you coming?" Elijah asked.

Dom blinked. Elijah walked back to the bedroom. Dom had to follow.