"I'm sorry," Sean says reflexively. He is so terrifically embarrassed that he cannot even look at Elijah's face. He hates to see the shock there, the confusion. Why did he do that? He drops his chin to look at his feet instead and shakes his head at his own incredulity.

"I don't know why I-" Sean can't quite say it. Somehow it wouldn't be right to just blurt out a word like kiss right now. "I'm sorry."

He can see Elijah's hands, each tightly clenched around a tie. Sean wishes he knew what to do, what he could say, but he has no idea because Elijah has still said nothing. He risks a glance up at Elijah's face, but Elijah is not looking at him at all. Instead, his gaze is fixed on some point past Sean's shoulder.

"Why-" When Elijah finally speaks his voice is just a rough whisper. He clears his throat, and shifts his gaze a little, but still does not quite look at Sean's face. "Why did you do that?"

"I'm sorry," Sean says again. He cannot shake the sense that he has ruined something, gotten into something he should have left alone.

"You don't have to be sorry," Elijah says so emphatically that he sounds almost angry. "Just tell me why."

Sean is silent for a moment because he can only just sense a reason behind "I wanted to." He did not mean to say that. It was true enough, but there was more to it, had to be. He is tired, lost, and depressed.

"Sean." There's a nakedness to the way Elijah says his name, an openness that Sean has never heard before. They look each other in the eye now, but only briefly because Sean sees something in Elijah's eyes that he shouldn't.

"I'm going to go," he says. He does not know what will happen if he stays, he does not want to know.

"Wait," Elijah reaches, catching Sean's sleeve. He turns Sean away from the door, and then they're standing too close like they were before. "Wait."

Elijah's mouth is very close to his, Sean can feel his breath ghosting over his cheek, his own slightly parted lips. He is too keenly aware of that mouth and he realizes this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. If he had left, he might have been able to pretend that he hadn't really meant it. But he must have, because he wants that mouth even now, even knowing what it means to still want it.

He tries to speak but his lips stray too close to Elijah's mouth. They kiss again, not soft like before, but a deep, quick plunge like diving off a dock. He knows already that he should not be doing this, but he is. He tells himself to stop only to press his hands to the small of Elijah's back, bringing their bodies together. He tilts his head to seal their lips together, to dip his tongue in deeper, it is so good, and so wrong. Elijah's hands are clutching at Sean's shoulders, and again he tells himself to stop and doesn't.

Christine's name pierces through the chaos in his mind, and he pulls his mouth away unwillingly. He takes a ragged breath to gasp, "I can't do this," before their mouths can find each other again.

"Then why did you?"

Elijah's usually cool, pink mouth has been kissed red and is open with the effort of breathing. He has not shied away from the press of Sean's chest against his. If, until now, Sean has only been aware of his own want, he is suddenly very aware of Elijah's.

It hardly makes sense that Elijah should really want this. It might seem plain enough, considering the circumstances, but the when and the why of that desire seem entirely impossible.

"Sean," Elijah says, and there's his name again, edged with want and apprehension. And there's the fact that this is the first Sean has felt his blood rise in months. The capillaries under his skin have opened, his cheeks and the back of his neck have flushed pink, and his mouth feels well used and swollen. He can't help but to revel in feeling this way, to want to feel it more.

Elijah's hands move from Sean's back, sliding down the shoulders to his chest to settle on the to the top button of his shirt. His face is calm and still, but his hands are moving, pulling one button free and then the next. Sean knows what he's being asked of him, stop me, stop everything if you really mean to. A rush of cool air touches off goose bumps on more and more of his skin, but Sean does not stop him. His shirt falls open and the hot touch of Elijah's palms on his sides makes him shiver, but Sean does not pull away.

They kiss again and that's the answer. He doesn't so much make a decision as give up fighting. He won't stop it. He wants this even if he shouldn't have it, and oh, oh he knows he shouldn't. He is cheating, he tells himself, cheating, and with another man, with Elijah and it's all so insane. He cannot even recognize himself, seeing no pragmatism, no common sense, no responsibility at all in any of what he's doing. And the terrible thing is that he likes it, he is not ashamed but thrilled.

He can't quite make himself undo the buttons on Elijah's shirt though his hands have slid up from Elijah's hips, up and under cloth to rest his hands to Elijah's skin. Out of kindness or impatience, Elijah does it for him. His hands wander freely now, not touching lightly with the fingertips, but pressing his palms flat against shoulders and hips, sliding off Elijah's opened shirt and pressing the other body closer. Sean slides his hands down Elijah's back and dips his fingers into the loose waistband of his jeans. The skin is hotter there, and with greater promise.

They have been standing with chests firmly pressed against each other, but Elijah takes a step back now. To keep his mouth pressed tight to Elijah's, Sean takes a step as well, and then again. It comes to him slowly that he is following Elijah to that closed bedroom door in the back of the apartment. He goes with out a fight, yet once actually inside, once standing in front of a low, rumpled bed, he is crippled by the weight of too much fear. He miles outside of his realm of experience already, but now, now it suddenly too much. Elijah stands in front of Sean and starts to lift his hands to the fly of his jeans, and it's entirely more than Sean can handle until Elijah pauses and offers up his mouth again.

They kiss and Sean's anxiety ebbs a little, but then there's the heavy rustle of denim and when his hands slide down Elijah's back again they touch bare skin. Sean breath hitches with an excitement that comes close to fear. He shuts his eyes tighter, wanting to feel but not see because that would be too much. Elijah breaks the kiss to sit down on the bed and do the inelegant task of pulling his jeans past his knees and off his ankles. Sean has to look and does, just barely. He should do something now, but he cannot bring himself to leave, nor bend to meet Elijah on the bed.

After a moment of waiting, Elijah says "Sean," very softly and takes Sean's hips to pull him closer.

Elijah's lips touch Sean's stomach and desire flares strongly again, like sparks touching off a nerve. He still cannot bend, but Elijah's mouth and hands start working. He feels the button of his jeans release and a sudden wave of shyness hits him at the thought of being revealed like this. Elijah's fingers splay on Sean's hips and slip under clothes to pull them off. It isn't a sexy feeling at all, just standing flat-footed and mostly naked, until Elijah makes this approving, breathless sound. His open mouth presses against Sean's cock, whispers up the length of it and takes the tip in, and Sean forgets all about feeling insecure.

A blowjob is a blowjob, isn't it? He wouldn't have thought that it would feel so different, but it does. It's more somehow, more to see Elijah's eyes closed, and his cheeks hollowed, more for Sean to see himself in a mouth that he is quickly becoming obsessed with. His breathing begins to match Elijah's rhythm, every exhalation a rough sound of pleasure. He could easily lose control, but it would be too fast.

Sean puts one hand on Elijah's shoulder and pushes, pushes Elijah back on the bed until he's lying flat. The look of him- the pale, flat expanse of skin, everywhere flat, except the slight curve of the thighs and hips, the dark hair trailing down his belly, the stiff, red cock - is so entirely male its almost overwhelming. He can't quite remember ever wanting so much and knowing so little about how to get it.

He follows through, pressing down on the body beneath him, and that's familiar. Elijah's legs part easily, fitting their hips together and that's just gorgeous. Elijah pushes up, and Sean presses down and everything becomes hot and urgent. Their mouths come together in a deep, deep kiss and Sean hums with softly with pleasure. It's been so long since it's felt like this. Everything is good without having to try, there's no conscious effort. It just is good.

They kiss, and push, and slide until Sean starts to lose himself again. He shifts over onto his side next to Elijah and dips his mouth down to his exposed neck and thinks about other places he might want to taste. He's not sure where his fear went, but doubt has been replaced with desire. His mouth slides down Elijah's body and so does his hand, brushing the skin low on Elijah's belly. Elijah moves up and into Sean's hand and if there's any fear at that contact it's a thrilling fear.

Sean's fingers curl automatically to stroke him, and he drags his mouth over Elijah's neck, his collarbone, nips his teeth gently on an earlobe. Elijah's hand closes around him and they stroke in time, panting hot breaths against each other's skin. This goes on for a time and Sean starts to think that his hand on Elijah's cock seems fumbling, seems not to be making it good enough. He looks down at his hand and then up at Elijah's face, and Sean's mouth feels a lack that could easily be filled.

He slides his hip down on the bed loosing Elijah's hand from him. He licks his lips and then comes the arresting thought that he has never done this before. From this thought springs a hundred niggling anxieties and suddenly Sean is left wondering not if he wants to do this, but if he can. He hesitates for a long moment, seeking a way around the roadblock of his inhibitions.

He's startled when Elijah moves, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at Sean with heavy lidded eyes. He tells himself to just do it already, if he's going to do it. He inhales, folds his hand around the base of Elijah's cock and does it. Sean's mouth slides wetly down and then up again a few times, and then he tucks his lips over his teeth and sees about doing this right. He presses his mouth into a tighter shape and slides down, and Elijah pushes out a long, shaky breath from his lungs and pulls a knee up a little from the bed. That's a good thing to do then.

It's so unexpectedly amazing, the shallow, slick slide of a cock in his mouth. Something about it makes Sean push his limits, and each time now he slides takes a little deeper. Elijah's breath is hitching, and there's something about that, too, something that encourages Sean to give him more. He rests one hand on a taut, white thigh and presses his thumb firmly up into that sweet spot of the perineum.

"Sean." Elijah's hand clenches in Sean's hair, pulling a little, like he should stop. He doesn't want to stop and can't think why he should until Elijah lets out a breathy, hard-edged, "oh" and a hot, wet bitterness spreads over his tongue.

Sean pulls mouth up tightly and swallows, which is number six or seven on the list of things he didn't think he'd ever do but has done tonight. It isn't even over yet, his own hard and ready cock brushing against Elijah's thigh reminds him of that. He sits up and notices that Elijah's looking weak-limbed and a bit dazed. He grabs Sean's shoulders with limp, heavy hands, and tugs insistently until Sean comes to lie beside him. He rests his head on Elijah's shoulder as an excuse to hide his face.

He never is satisfied and though Elijah's hand is following the lines of his hip, he knows it won't exactly be everything he wants. He starts to regret, even as he moves to let Elijah touch him. Then lips touch his forehead, and Sean knows this feeling well, from twenty takes of the same thing one day in New Zealand. But this affection is real, isn't it, and unlooked for and it starts to dispel the discontent pressing so heavily on Sean's chest. Elijah's hand wraps around him, and his mouth lifts up and sets down again on the curve of Sean's eyebrow. Sean rolls his hips and tips his up face.

Elijah kisses the bridge of Sean's nose next, tightens his hand, his lips graze Sean's cheek, and then they kiss. Sean grips Elijah's shoulder, and kisses Elijah deeper than deep. Time extends exponentially as a mounting tension drives him closer to the edge. Sean wants, and wants, and he is given everything he wants without having to ask. His kisses become bruising as the next stroke becomes the only thing he thinks about, the only thing he needs.

He breaks his mouth free, gasping until frustration finds it's satisfaction. All the motion of a moment before melts into stillness as his muscles stop straining and he relaxes into the bed, exhausted. He takes long, shuddery breaths and rubs his face, thinking about getting up to find a towel but not entirely sure he can get up to do it. Cloth passes over his skin, rough, tickling terry cloth and he looks down blearily to see that it's a sock plucked from the floor.

"Oh, Elijah, gross," he says, indignant but laughing.

Elijah shrugs and tosses it as far from the bed as possible. He arranges himself very carefully around Sean, hiding his face like Sean did before. They lie together, sex sweaty and exposed, and Sean feels wonderful, boneless and senseless. He rubs his hand happily over the hard, pale curve of Elijah's shoulder, and doesn't think about anything for a while. Then things become very, very real, too real to ignore.

He loses himself in thought, thinking nothing but the obvious, remembering, predicting, disbelieving, wanting.

"Are you going to say something?" The sound of Elijah reminds him that they have been silent all this time.

Sean looks down but all he can see is Elijah's hair and the tip of his nose. "I wasn't planning on it." He looks back up at the ceiling, and sifts through his thoughts for something to say. His mind is filled to the brim but none of it can or should be said. "You?"

Elijah is quiet for a moment, and comes up empty handed, too. "No."

The silence comes back in full force, and they lie touching but entirely separate for a long time. Something comes to Sean, a question he wants to know the answer to. "Did you ever think about this?"

"Not for years," Elijah tells him. He doesn't look up or move, but begins to feel less apart from Sean. "And even then not really."

Sean nods, it wasn't something you could think about. If you started thinking about how fabulous it was to make someone laugh out loud, or how nice it was to be close to them, and that someone wasn't your wife, or that someone was married, you just tamped down on that thought and ignored it. Until of course, something like this happens, and then you're fucked in more ways than one because you haven't been thinking. He sighs and tightens his arms around Elijah, feeling liable and protective.

Eventually, Elijah sits up and fights with the coverlet, turning it lengthwise first and then back again. He looks at Sean and takes his hand and curls up on his side, pulling Sean along like he was just another blanket. They lie together and Sean closes his eyes and okay, it will be like this for a while; little things like this will tear him up for being so intimate.

He thinks about saying "Goodnight," or "I love you," and chalks it up to habit, to the familiarity of lying next to someone like this. He doesn't say anything. It's not long until Elijah's breathing becomes thick and even, but it is hours before Sean can fall asleep.