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 11: E (Explicit)
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.
Beta: The wonderful elfellon111, whose attention to detail has inspired me to be a better writer.
A DomLijah Story
The Silver Lining
He didn't answer, didn't move, just looked at her.
Either he's not sure what I mean (yeah, right) or he wants me to make the first move.
As though in a dream (a blue dream, surrounded by nothing but those eyes watching her) she went to the door, locked it, turned back to the bed. He hadn't moved, just watched her. Implicit permission.
She touched his face, stroked his cheek.
He had wanted this. He felt weak and unable to deal with the world. Events were spiraling
away without his control, and he didn't even want to rein them in. Responsibility was too
hard right now. Responsibility for who he was, where he was supposed to be; responsibility
for what he ought to do now to get well, get back on his feet; responsibility for Dom -- all
these were banished to a part of his head labeled "later". He wanted this confident woman to
touch him intimately, make him feel surrounded, cocooned, by her love and strength.
Perhaps there was a bit of rebellion in his thoughts: Now! with all of the life that he was
responsible to, all of the people and events that were dependant on him, the singleness of
purpose that had guided him for most of his life; Now! with Dom in the next room in
unknown condition which he also had no control over; Now! he wanted to abdicate his whole
life - just for a moment! - turn it over to this woman who seemed to be able to manage it for
him. He closed his eyes and relaxed.
She let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Not an eager 'yes', but a positive action anyway. Now at last she was free to really enjoy him, knowing that the enjoyment went both ways.
Barely breathing, she stroked his ear, and the tender spot behind it, traced down the firm neck, laid her palm against his cheek. Smiling, he nestled into her touch. She paused, ... god... reluctant to pass that moment of intimacy. Then slid both hands down to his shoulders, massaging a little, down his arms, feeling the silkiness of the fine hairs, the smoothness of his skin, probing the muscle beneath. Down to his hands, the only place that betrayed nervousness, scratching at the sheet; back up his arms, then down his sides, pressing against his ribs, stroking his belly. His nipples were soft and flat but beginning to pucker; she cupped them with her palms, barely touching.
"Any time you want me to stop," she breathed, "just say so." For answer he heaved a contented sigh.
She let one hand return to his belly, exploring the navel, circling, seeking; the other hand back to the hollow of his neck; brought her mouth down to a nipple. Licked it, feeling the soft, delicate circle with her tongue. He gasped, stiffened a little, his breathing quickened. She circled and stroked with her tongue until the nipple became firm and extended. Sucked gently. After a minute, she treated the other one.
It felt so good. He really didn't think beyond the physical enjoyment. It seemed only fair,
after all he had gone through, to have this gift given to his body. The natural outcome was not
examined. He could only deal with now. His body had gone through so much and it
craved this tenderness, this aliveness. It seemed the natural extension of the safe environment
she had created, the protection and comfort she offered to his body, to his soul.
Now, allowing their torsos to touch, she returned to his mouth. Closed her lips over it, probed gently with her tongue. Magic! His lips parted, inviting entrance. Her hips were gyrating again, impatient, but she didn't press against him. Didn't want to overwhelm him, crowd him. Has he ever done it with a woman? He deserves someone younger and prettier. She explored his teeth -- the gap, the pointy ones; his tongue -- so alive now, greedy; he tried to push into her mouth but she wouldn't let him, and suddenly he was sucking on her tongue, caressing it, making love to it. God, what a rush. Hands alongside his face, eyes open to watch him, she let him suck.
Once started he didn't want to stop. He kept his eyes closed, lost in feeling, his whole body
writhing seductively, as though trying to be part of his mouth. It was so soothing, as though
he were taking nourishment, taking the essence of life itself, from her.
Finally she backed away, sucking in his lower lip, trailing her lips down his chin, tasting and feeling the short hairs of his boy-beard, down his neck – biting a little at his throat to confirm dominance, pressed her tongue into the faint hollow at the base of his neck while she traced the wingbones with her fingers. Turned her head sideways to find a nipple again - … yes …- the blanket had risen in the right place. She nursed each nipple lovingly, then rose up and let her hands slide down his body.
He was breathing raggedly now, his eyes still closed. She could feel the tension in his stomach muscles. She circled his belly, played again with his navel, glanced up at his face. His mouth was open, eyes closed, head pressed back into the pillow. Total lack of thought, but not lack of life. Somehow the sheer expressionlessness spoke reams.
She dipped down to taste his navel, pushing her tongue in demandingly, exploring every tiny cranny. The blanket retreated before her exploring hands, and she knocked it aside. His cock was hard and upright, and she felt that if she touched it, it would explode. She was panting now. How many men had she seen in this condition? Yet never had she been roused to such a desire to enfold that shaft.
He was totally lost in sensation. He had been helpless since the accident; since the car had
careened back and forth on the road, uncontrolled. Since the sickening feeling of hitting the
guard rail; since the engine died and wouldn't restart; since the cold had crept under his jacket,
not ameliorated by Dom's body close against him. He had been helpless as the cold robbed
his consciousness and as heat brought it back to confusion, pain, and weakness. He had been
nothing but the victim in the ride as returning circulation set his limbs on fire; nothing but a
passive patient as he followed the directions given him to stay in bed, to be a baby.
Now the same irresistible momentum brought pleasure instead of pain, and he welcomed it. It
was only fair and right, somehow a natural consequence, that he should be receiving new life
from her, a rebirth, as she stirred his body to life. He was barely aware of his own erection as
such, only aware of the intense agreeable feeling. In passively accepting, any thought in the
back of his consciousness that was screaming, "You're having sex with a woman! You're
being unfaithful to Dom!" was not registered in the reality of the now. He knew only that
finally he was totally satisfied and unafraid.
Carefully avoiding the genital area she slid her hands down his hips, enjoying the slenderness, tracing the hip bone. With an arm under his thigh, she raised his knee, exposing the anus. Her whole body tightened with desire. Her vagina clenched, her breathing stopped; she wanted to penetrate, to claim. Not yet, not yet. In the back of her mind she knew that she hadn't yet been given permission for that. She raised the other knee. She kneaded the globes of his buttocks, feeling the skin, experiencing the muscle and the shape, while still maintaining awareness of what might feel good to him. Traced her finger down the crack, watching his anus tighten as she touched it, smiling at his sharp intake of breath.
When she touched his anus, a different section of his brain suddenly kicked in. Not loudly
perhaps, but he did have a sudden realization that this was more than simply accepting love
and protection. At that point he became aware of his erection, of his desire for completion,
and of his desire for further frankly sexual stimulation. There was a moment of 'what the hell
am I doing?' There was a moment of hot guilt as he thought of Dom, unconscious,
unknowing, and he stiffened a bit, his body reacting as his brain prepared to consider the
consequences. But her hands retreated, stroked farther down his legs, apparently forsaking
the central issue, and he felt lost, fearful of abandonment. He wanted this, dammit! He
needed this! He found himself making little needy noises, pumping his hips. Tentatively, she
touched him again there, and he managed to mewl a "please!"
Frustratingly, all connection left for a moment, but then it was back. There was now a cool
slipperiness to her touch, and he knew she meant to give what he craved.
Now at last she could unreservedly enjoy this penetration. His had given permission, had actually asked. Her elation literally knew no bounds as it took over her entire body, her entire being. There was nothing she would not have done for him at this moment. His need of her, his begging for the penetration she hungered for, his obvious pleasure, the seductive convulsing of his body, were total sensory overload. She pulled herself closer to him, putting as much of herself against his skin as she could without leaving the area of her focus.
She checked her nails to make sure the fingers she meant to use wouldn't hurt him, then slid in a digit. Abruptly, convulsively, he arched up off the bed. His reaction was more than she had hoped for or imagined. This beautiful body, beautiful man, reacting to her touch, receiving such profound pleasure from her love, open to her, desiring her ministrations stirred the fire in her own loins. She watched as she retreated her finger and then slowly, slowly slid two in, watching them disappear as she felt his muscles working around them, warm muscles, sliding and changing as he slowly pumped his hips. She explored, touching here and there. He pushed up, impatient for more. Again she turned to see his face, knew by the grimace and the small moan when she had found the right place. A thrill ran through her to know she had brought him this pleasure.
With her other hand, she stroked his silky thigh, kneading, feeling the skin, the hardness of the muscle, then moved on toward the genitals. Slowly, delicately, she massaged each ball, while gently withdrawing and piercing with her fingers, watching the feelings pass over his face, smiling a little as it reminded her of Frodo trying to resist putting on the ring. He whimpered, shifting his hips, thrusting up against her hand. Suddenly he gasped, cried out, and came, the creme shooting onto his stomach.
For a moment she was dismayed, but then she grinned, elated that she had brought him to climax so quickly. A probable indication that a woman was a new experience. We aren't done yet, my pretty. She didn't move for a moment, watching the spasms ripple through him, then slowly she extricated her fingers, gently massaged his sac and with her other hand drew circles in the cum on his belly while she waited for his contractions to finish. Then, very slowly, she separated herself from him, moved off the bed and stood up, somewhat surprised to realize she was still fully clothed.
He lay still a bit, reveling in the sensation, his young body shouting its triumph louder than
any weak thoughts in his brain. But after a moment that reversed and he began to fully realize
what he had done.
- I'm gay. Why has this woman just given me one of the best orgasms of my life?
- I never gave a thought to her pleasure at all!
"I'm sorry," he said. She stopped, surprised.
"Sorry? For what?"
"You didn't get anything out of it."
She grunted, too startled to move for a moment. Then she knelt on the floor and touched his cheek. "I got what I
wanted," she said earnestly. "I got pleasure for you." She bent and kissed him, a light but warm caress, then stood again.
"Warm water," she said. "Be right back."
I got what I wanted. I got pleasure for you. Tears in his eyes, leaking out a bit. The
goodness, the unselfishness overwhelming him. I got pleasure for you. That's the
kind of thing Dom might feel, playing his lover's body, watching for the reactions. By the
time she returned, he had forgotten the guilt and remembered only the loving.