Non-con sex. Unconsciousness. Threesome, het and slash sex.
Toward the end there's some philosophy.
Contains opinions, assumptions and situations that some might find offensive.
Medical issues are based on my experience with frostbite, information from the internet, and common
sense. They are pretty much correct, but I have ignored a thing or two. It is, however, a whole lot more accurate than "Forever Young."
This is entirely written, so you don't need to worry about whether it gets finished. However, while I certainly appreciate that not everyone gives feedback to every chapter (including me), if I don't get much of any positive feedback, I will probably lose interest in posting.
Rated: Series: NC-17 or E, Chapter 8: G
Type: RP het/slash
Disclaimer: This is fiction. And not intended even to be wise. While some of these characters may be based on real people, I don't personally know them. I made it all up out of my perverted little head.
No, I don't make any money at this.
Archive: No, please.
Feedback: Please feed me. Praise is lovely. Constructive criticism is valued. If you find nothing of value in it, though, please don't bother telling me. You wouldn't be the first person.
And thank you, elfellon111, for for driving me to improve it.
A DomLijah Story
Getting to Know You
He was shivering violently, which he tried unsuccessfully to quell. Warm wetness at his crotch. Caressing, petting, fondling. He concentrated on it, trying to understand the sensation and why it was there. He didn't find it particularly erotic, just somehow comforting. As his brain unfuzzed, he suspected he knew the cause and opened his eyes for further information.
The woman he had seen before. Apparently real. Yes, washing him.
He felt so helpless, vulnerable, small. He could so vividly remember freezing, knowing he was sliding away and unable to do anything to help himself. Shivering now felt just like shivering then. Dom's warmth, his strong arms, had not been able to protect him. This woman was assured, capable, statuesque as a goddess. It wasn't her interesting, attractive face or her lean, strong body that fascinated him, but her purposeful movements, her air of confidence, self-possession. So strong, he thought, so real and sure. He vaguely noticed her lack of makeup, without realizing what he was seeing. The impression it left on him was that she had a masculine independence about her; not needing to enhance her face in order to survive, in order to evince the desire to protect. By inference then, she was capable of doing the protecting. His fragmented thinking didn't put that in words, but he wanted to cling to her, curl up in her lap and be petted and soothed. He even started to move his arms toward her, until the restraints stopped him. It was frustrating, disempowering, made him feel more helpless and dependent. He might be able to stand being dependent if he was indeed curled up in her lap, but as it was he just felt exposed. He whimpered a bit, before he realized the sound was coming out. She immediately dropped her cloths and tissues and bent over his face, touching lightly. "What's the matter?"
"I just feel so fuckin' helpless." His face was stiff, difficult to form words.
She smiled ironically. "You are helpless," she confirmed. She returned to his nether regions, drying him, wrapping a towel around his groin, then tucking the blanket in around him. He immediately felt better, cocooned in the blanket; almost as good as being held.
"You look a little more cognizant. Do you remember being awake before?"
"Sort of. I remember seeing you." He frowned quizzically. "I punched you, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did."
"My own fault. Don't worry about it."
She cocked her head to the side. "Do you remember the angels?"
"Sort of. Why?"
"I want you to remember them. Close your eyes and think about them." He obediently closed his eyes, but thinking about the angels was painful. He had been shivering then, as now, but the world had gone dark and he hadn't expected to see it again. The angels were light, though. Beautiful, soothing.
The woman's voice continued, "You said they told you help was coming, and then they carried you out of the car." Yes, he remembered that. Remembered giving himself up to them, letting go of the last bits of consciousness. He opened his eyes and nodded at her.
"Yes, I remember." The word 'remember' was really difficult to get his lips around.
"They were real. I know this because it was me that carried you out of the car, and put you in my car. And you were so light, I wasn't sure I was carrying anyone at all." She looked at him directly. "Someone who has an experience like that has a right to know it was real."
He digested that, but for only a moment. "I can't seem to stop shivering," was the major thing on his mind.
"Actually, it's less violent than it was. I expect you're getting right close to 95 degrees." That reminded her, "Drink some more water." She got the glass from the dresser, again held his head so he could drink, reminding herself not to fondle, not to caress. His shivering made it difficult to hold the glass steady against his lips. Very gently she guided his head down again when he finished.
She smiled at him, and again he thought 'goddess'. How thoughtfully she took care of him.
With all seriousness he asked, "Are you an angel?" She turned back to him, surprised, and thinking, Angels aren't troubled with sex.
"No. Although maybe sometimes the hand of God. I hope so."
"I'm so cold."
"I know." She reached up to touch his hand. "Does that hurt?"
She brought her hand down his arm to his shoulder. "Does it hurt here?"
"Yes. Not much."
She sighed. "It's going to get bad, before you're really warm. Ever have any frostbite?"
"I don't think so."
"Ever have your fingers or toes go so numb you can't feel them?"
"Yes. When we were filming."
She ignored the reference. "You remember what it felt like to warm up?"
"It'll be like that. Only worse. I'm going to get pain relievers ready." She stood studying him a moment. "Then I'll take the ropes off. I think you're fully cognizant now." She went out. Came back in a minute with bottles of pills. She opened the bottles and began putting the pills in little piles, two from each bottle to make piles of six.
"What is that?"
"Aspirin, acetaminophen, and ibuprofen. You can take more pain reliever when it's not all the same." She picked up the glass. "I'll get more water." Again she left, returned with the glass full. "You're shivering less, you know," she observed. "Are you hungry?"
He shook his head. "No. You said you'd take the ropes off."
She smiled grimly. "When I'm sure I won't be out of the room."
"I'm not hungry. I want the ropes off."
"Okay." She freed his hands, then his feet, got the glass of water and a pile of pills. "Swallow these. Can you hold the glass or you want me to?"
"You hold it. Please." Again she cradled his head, her hands firm and sure as she brought the water to his lips. She returned the water and sat on the bed beside him.
"I'm going to lie back down beside you. Speed up warming as much as I can, now. Mary didn't have any electric blankets, unfortunately. Body heat is all there is."
She lay down, curled herself around him. "Try to sleep," she said.
He couldn't sleep though. First, he was intensely aware of the woman's body against his. He found her self-assurance attractive, and found that, indeed, he did like having her holding him. Second, the pain was really starting to bother him, now that it was mentioned. The woman seemed to be exhausted, she seemed to sleep. But he was full of pain and questions: What about Dom? And the other two? Why were they here and not a hospital? Where was here?
She awoke to his crying. He was trying to be quiet about it, but the fact was that it hurt. She sat up. "You're not shivering anymore."
"It hurts!" he hated the whine in his voice.
She got up, got the water and another pile of pills. Again held the water and his head. He felt like a baby. Couldn't help the tears sliding down his face.
It seemed to go on forever. There was no letup, no pause in the pain. It just got more acute, to back off a little when she gave him more pills. He took them eagerly every time they were offered, though six seemed a lot to swallow at a time, though it hurt his face to move it enough to take water from the glass. He wondered more and more often what he was doing here instead of a hospital, and where the others were, where Dom was, but he hurt too much to talk, or to hold the subject for long. He could see the woman's sympathy, but was beyond caring what her attitude was. Once she said, "I'm sorry, we just don't have anything stronger." He almost cared that there were tears in her eyes. The real effect of it was that he lost what control he had, and burst into sobbing.
She watched his face, hurting for him, wanting to gather him in her arms, knowing that would only increase the
intensity of the pain. When he finally fell asleep she tucked the blanket around him tenderly, and went to check on Dom.
"How's he doing?" she asked Mary, though the shivering from the bed was really answer enough.
"Well enough. He's opened his eyes a few times. Tried to sit up several times. I'm glad I have him restrained. I certainly don't want a repeat of heart failure."
"Would there be a repeat? I mean, I don't know. But it seems as though, having gone through it - and out of it - there wouldn't be enough cold blood left to cause it to happen again."
"I don't think that necessarily follows. His extremities are still pretty cold. And his heart may be a little weaker than it was then."
"Oh? You think that might be a problem?"
"Not necessarily. I mean, in general, if your arteries are good and there's nothing wrong with the heart itself - well, I assume that he's really in good shape - just cold. Once he's warm through, it should be fine. But I don't know about that cold blood hitting again before he's warm."
"But you think he's totally all right as it is?"
"What? You looking for promises? I don't know. I'm just theorizing."
"Okay. But that sounds right to me, too. With," she paused abruptly, since she had been about to say 'Elijah'. "With the other one," she said, "I figured he was basically all right when his fingers started hurting, since that would mean that the circulation is getting all the way around."
"Another good theory."
"Well. Theories are really all we have."
"Right. I'm not forgetting that."
He awoke feeling cozy, cherished. The warm arm around him was possessive. He turned over to return the embrace, whispering, "Good morning." Something felt wrong, though, and he opened his eyes.
"Oh!" His face reddened with embarrassment. She smiled at him fondly.
"Thought I was someone else, eh?"
"That's okay. I'll take it as a compliment."
"I'm warm," he said wonderingly. "I'm actually warm."
He looked at her now, seeing her as a person rather than furniture in the room. "Who are you?"
"Nobody. Just someone in the right place at the right time. My name's Ellen."
"Where are we?"
"My friend's house. Her name's Mary."
"Not that I'm ungrateful, but why not a hospital?"
"It's still snowing. Nothing can move out there. Well, I've heard a few snowmobiles, but we couldn't get you there that way."
"How is that possible? I mean, there has to be some way ... "
She barked a laugh. "That's just about what Bob said."
"Bob's okay? What about Cleo? Is she all right?"
"Cleo, huh? I knew she lied about her name. Yes, she's fine." She sighed.
"Your friend is not in good shape. I think he'll make it, but he had the worst set of circumstances against him." He started to speak, but she interrupted him, repeating, "I think he'll make it. Just hold on to that for now."
He thought about it. He noticed that she hadn't said Dom's name. Did she know? She seemed to understand that Dom would be special to him – that didn't mean that she knew, or didn't know. And she didn't necessarily understand that anyway. Friends going skiing certainly wasn't unusual. It would be more surprising if he didn't care.
She was studying him, waiting for his next question. Of course, his face gave away nothing.
Fuck, he hated the game anyway.
"He's more than a friend," he admitted softly.
She didn't startle, just nodded a little. She had guessed that, then.
"Are you an angel?" he asked again. Then he was embarrassed. Where had that come from? He'd already asked that once. She would think he wasn't 'fully cognizant'. But she treated the question seriously, and gave him a different answer.
"We're all angels," she said. "Just most of us don't realize it."
He was still then, a minute, thinking about that answer, internalizing that bit of wisdom. Then his thoughts turned to Dom again, but it was plain she didn't want to say anything else about him.
Finally, in the absence of questions, she just started talking. "It's a little after noon. I brought you here about 7:30 last night. It's still snowing, but not so hard. I expect tonight they'll be getting the plows out downtown and be plowing and towing cars out of the way all night. Tomorrow morning we'll get you to the hospital."
"Why should I go there now?"
"There are a lot of possible complications and side effects that need to be checked out. There can be organ damage that isn't obvious to us. Tomorrow morning is none too soon. Especially for your friend. But you're to stay in bed, too."
Her voice got very serious. "If you were in a hospital, they would not be letting you get up, and I'm not either. You are not to get out of bed for any reason. Any reason."
"So I'm wearing a diaper now," he commented somewhat petulantly.
"Think of it any way you like." Then, "I'm going to let Susan – Cleo – talk to you now."
"I don't want to talk to her."
Ellen took his hand, then set it down again. "Um, listen. It's been a long night. A lifetime long. I've gotten accustomed to just touching you whenever I felt like it. I'll try to not do that."
"It's all right." He put his hand back in hers. She grinned at him.
"I started to say, Cleo has been genuinely worried about you."
"Oh, I'll just bet she has."
"Okay, she was a real pain at first, but she's come around. I even almost like her now. And I am going to get her."