This part kind of sweet and sappy.
Rated: Series: NC-17 or E, Chapter 12: M (Mature)
Series: 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.
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
She prepared two washcloths, went back and cleaned his stomach with one, then used the other on his penis, stroking and fondling with the warm wet. Cradling each testicle, down the butt crack. He groaned with pleasure. Then, tossing aside the wash rag, she lay down beside him and simply stroked his chest, playing with his nipples. He lay quietly, but put an arm around her shoulder.
After a few minutes he said, "You really meant that, didn't you?"
"That you love me as a man loves a woman."
"Caught that did you? I seldom say anything lightly."
"I like that."
"Which, how I love you or that I seldom say anything lightly?"
"Both." He nestled himself tight against her. "Tell me again how you love me. I don't remember all of it."
"I may not either." She noticed how he came against her, trustingly. She wrapped a possessive arm around him. "But I love you ... " she shook her head, "... in every way possible."
"Well there was, 'As a woman loves a man."
"Tell me what it means to you. How am I a man you love?"
Ellen was still for a moment. Things she had read indicated that he wanted to be seen as an adult, feared that the public still viewed him as a little boy. "A Man," she said, emphasizing the title, "is considerate of others, considers others before himself. A Man can afford to give in, doesn't have to be right all the time. A Man feels competent, has proven to those he loves that he is competent, and realizes that other opinions don't matter." She fell silent and let him think about that.
Finally he said, "And you think I'm competent?"
"I think you're mostly there. Hey, you can't be perfect yet. Leave a little room for growth."
"I've left room for growth, all right," he returned dryly. Then, "And 'As a mother loves her child'. You've explained that."
"Not really. See when you have a small child, you can't get enough of watching them – how they move, how they laugh, smile, eat, run, dance. Everything they do seems totally fascinating. When you close your eyes, you can see exactly how they would do something or react to something, because you know them so well. When I started watching you, it was as though I'd discovered a long-lost son, and I was just mesmerized by watching you, learning how you walk and move." She laughed self-deprecatingly. "I expect you know how your face changes from different angles. I haven't really gotten it down."
"Hey, I've spent a lot of years training this face."
"And a well-trained face it is, too." She tried to keep her own face straight as she said it, but didn't really succeed. He grinned at the attempt, but then he was suddenly serious. He felt shy of asking, but he wanted to know...
He didn't know how to word it. "You said you got what you wanted..."
"Aah". She hesitated a moment, collecting her thoughts. "I've loved you, fallen in love with you, without any return, or hope of return. Wanting only for you to be happy. Is it so surprising then that my first wish, my first desire, is for you?"
He searched her face in wonder. "You could actually walk away from this happy just because I got off?"
"Yes, I could." Her lip twitched. "Doesn't mean I intend to."
He looked away, unaccountably so full of joy that he had to capture it in a private moment. He closed his eyes to keep it from leaking out, unaware that it seemed to her that he was rejecting the idea. Reflexively, she tightened her arm around him and was touched, then, when he covered her arm with his hands and tried to pull it closer.
He was afraid he would cry, needed to change the subject and so returned to her evaluation of him. "And as a teacher loves a student?" His voice was hoarse, choked.
"A precocious student."
He took a steadying breath. "Well?"
She sighed. This one was tough to explain. "When a teacher realizes that there is one student who really understands the subject, who follows what goes on in class, turns in well-thought-out papers, asks good questions; it creates a bond. The teacher wants to be part of that student's life, to help shape the direction it goes. Knowing that he/she had nothing to do with how that student got so far, but wanting to be part of his future, anyway."
Elijah took it up from there. "Usually there will be a reciprocity," he said, glad to discover that his voice was back under control. "The student feels appreciated and loves the teacher for it."
"Exactly. See what a good student you are?"
"But you've never been my teacher..." Shyly. How much could she teach me?
"Doesn't keep me from appreciating your perspicacity."
"Perspicacity. How perceptive you are ... "
"I know what it means," he laughed, suddenly himself again. "I just never heard it in conversation before."
"I have been accused of using 50-cent words."
He laughed again, delighted. She was full of surprises.
"What were the other ones?"
"You certainly are enjoying this. What happened to being just an ordinary guy?"
He looked at her thoughtfully. "I'm not being egocentric. I think. Everybody likes to be loved."
"Pay attention: Everybody loves you."
He shrugged it off. "So they say. I feel like they want to eat me alive."
"Well, that too. Shall I start now?"
His eyes glittered. "Where do you want to start?"
"Listen," abruptly she was serious, "you need to sleep." She stood up and went to the dresser. "Drink some water and swallow some vitamin C." She handed him the glass and two pills, waited while he drank, set the glass back on the dresser. "I should mention that you are not to get up, not even to sit up, for any reason. And if I think you won't obey that order, I'll tie you down."
He frowned, trying to resolve the tender lover with the dictatorial nurse, trying to see the situation from the dire perspective she now personified. "I feel fine now."
She sat down again, cupped his cheek. "I'm out of information. Anything on the internet assumes that a person in your situation is in the hospital. All I know is that there can be organ damage. I don't want to make a mistake based on the fact that you feel all right. Besides that, I'm God, remember?"
He laughed at her. "But exercise lying down is all right?"
"Believe it or not, that's covered on the internet. There have actually been experiments that show some benefit to having sex as a way to warm up."
He was still snickering about it. "Who would do an experiment like that?" Her answer was dead serious.
"You don't want to know.
"Now go to sleep."
He looked at her a moment longer, deciding whether to challenge that command. Then without another word, he closed his eyes. Ellen tucked the blanket around him, kissed his forehead, and went to talk with Mary.
Life Goes On
Going through the living room, Ellen realized that she hadn't faced Cleo yet. Not now that she had been intimate with Cleo's charge, not now that Cleo may know that she, Ellen, had known who she was dealing with all along. She may not be God anymore.
"How's the road report?" she asked, by way of starting a conversation.
Bob answered. "It's still snowing," he said, grunting as he shoved the sleeper back into a sofa. "Doesn't seem to be any change, except they expect it to stop this evening." He and Becky started tossing the cushions back on the sofa, and arranging them.
Cleo was watching a movie, ignoring them.
"Cleo." The woman swivelled her head, expression neutral.
"Yes, I knew."
Cleo's control no longer needed, her expression became resentful. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why did you tell me your name was Susan?"
She heaved a sigh. "Habit. To be always on the lookout for trouble. To be always hiding things that the press would have a field day with."
"Yeah." Ellen replied resignedly. "I suppose. From my side, I wanted to keep things equal. Just human beings helping human beings. And you were trying to come off all superior. It made me resentful."
"I suppose I was. I admit that it took awhile before I really realized they could die."
Ellen grinned. "Well, you turned out to be a human being. Anyway, that wasn't the only reason. I really did want to make sure that Mary didn't know, so that I'd have an impartial check on what I decided. And," she sighed as she resigned herself to saying it, "assuming that ... things turned out all right, I didn't want him to have to be on stage right away." After a pause she added, "I still think I was right."
"It's turned out all right. Listen," Cleo looked at the floor. Ellen got the definite impression that she was avoiding
"We should reimburse you for everything you've done," Cleo continued.
It took a moment for the meaning to hit, then Ellen laughed, the wind forced out of her sharply by surprise.
"You're trying to buy me off?" she wheezed.
Cleo schooled her features, her posture. "Well, I wouldn't say that," she hedged. "Of course it is important that ..."
"Susan," Ellen interrupted, "I can still put you out in the snow!" She was still laughing, but her use of the fake name put Cleo on alert.
"I'm sorry to laugh at you. Again, you're just doing your job. But I will still do exactly what I think is best for those boys. That's the long and short of it. There's nothing else to say. Except that it's only fair to pay Mary's heat bill."
Cleo had stiffened up a bit again. "And just what is your concept of what's best for them at this point?"
Ellen took a deep breath to return to being serious. "For one thing, it's occurred to me that the hospital has to know just exactly what they're dealing with. If you can keep the doctors quiet, that's your affair. But I don't want these local doctors going about this like 'business as usual'. I want them looking up the best information available, and networking with experts."
Cleo smiled with a touch of her 'superiority.' " I would expect them to know. Hospital's know how to deal with situations like this."
"You may very well be right. But this isn't Hollywood. They're not used to celebrities here. But they need to be motivated to look up the latest information."
"Surely they would do their best..."
"No, surely they would not. Even here in the city, they don't keep up on the latest information. A man died last year who fell through the ice. They should have been able to save him, if they knew only as much as I know. They don't know the latest information, and don't see any reason to learn it. But money is a great motivator.
"And you know what else?" This one just occurred to her.
"I fear to ask."
"I want power of attorney until they're out of the hospital."
"That's ridiculous. That's just not possible."
"Oh, it's very possible. I just call an attorney right now and have the forms brought over in the morning before we call the ambulance."
Cleo's expression was that of a parent frustratedly trying to explain something to a deliberately ignorant child. She opened her mouth to speak, but Ellen cut her off, continuing more softly, "I've been right before, Cleo. Give me the benefit of the doubt. I'm very sure it won't be needed, but I've fought with hospitals before, and I want the power to do that if needed."
Cleo looked doubtful. "I trust you," she said. "But I don't know how far. In spite of this ...," she swept a hand around to indicate the current situation, "I still don't know you very well."
"It isn't really up to you, anyway. But Cleo, you know this, I will do whatever is best for them. Anyway Elijah will sign it. I don't know about Dom. "
"Dom is conscious now."
"Have you talked to him?"
"Yes. I think he's aware of what's happening."
"I should go talk to him." Ellen wasn't really looking forward to that. Let's see. How about "I wasn't really much concerned about you." Or, "I briefly considered just letting you die." Or this one's really good: "I'm screwing your boyfriend."
In the bedroom however, Dom was not conscious, though shivering violently. "Asleep or out?" Ellen asked Mary.
"Out, I think. He's got a long way to go yet."
"You've kept the restraints?"
"Yes. I don't know whether it's helped or not. It makes him so mad, I'm not sure but what it's doing more harm than good."
"Use your own judgment, Mary." Ellen went over close to him, for the first time really studied his face. "He looks so sweet like that." She stroked down the side of his face.
"Hey, this one's mine," Mary laughed.
"Yes. All yours. You do what you want with him."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Ellen sighed and made up her mind. Well, she'd already meant to tell her... "Elijah's a rather horny bastard," she elaborated. She sat down in the chair beside the bed, leaned on her elbows. "What was I supposed to do? Given how I feel about him?" She turned to see Mary's scandalized expression melting into mirth. A guilty smile spread over her face.
"And furthermore, I intend to do it again. God, he's beautiful." Then musingly, "It's going to be hard to let him go."
"You don't really have a choice about that."
"No, I don't, do I? Road should be clear in the morning." She was quiet for a minute, reflecting.
"He's so innocent, Mary."
"I thought you said he was a horny bastard."
"Yeah. Sounds incompatible, but it isn't. He just opens up and accepts. He's sweeter, more beautiful, more innocent, than I expected. And that's saying a bunch."
"I don't follow you."
"Do you blame an infant for wanting a bottle? Do you blame a two-year-old for acquiring a vocabulary? He's like that. His body asks for sex, and he accepts it when it's given. And I for one can't resist giving it."
She hesitated, then added, "In all fairness, I should change that. His body asks ... he asks ... for love. And I do love him. And I want to touch him."
With a sigh to change the subject, she glanced at the bed, meaning to ask for specifics on Dom's condition: how long had he been shivering, was he getting water, did it have all the nutrients in it, had his hands started hurting ... She was arrested by his angry eyes, his gritted teeth. She bit her lip, to keep herself from speaking without thinking. She could hear Mary's gasp, but didn't turn to look.
"I think," she finally ventured, without breaking eye contact with Dom, "that if it weren't for those restraints, I'd have a black eye by now."
Still without breaking eye contact, she sat on the bed beside Mary, laid her hand on his chest. She had it on the tip of her tongue to say something rude and biting, but as she looked at him she suddenly felt ashamed of herself. Her gaze flickered, but her voice was level as she said, "I'll give him back."
She stood abruptly, deliberately setting the subject aside. "Make sure he gets enough sugar," she said to Mary, and beat a hasty retreat.
He was vaguely aware of being moved as he slept. In the back of his consciousness he realized that his skin was now caressed by smooth sheets rather than blankets. Sheet and blanket were tucked up around his neck, making him feel cozy and cared for. He turned over and slept more deeply.
He woke to feel her presence beside him, warm and comforting. He looked around the room, wondering how it was part of his life that he was here in this strange house with this strange woman. Strangely exciting woman. She was attractive, but no beauty. He couldn't guess her age but figured she was definitely over 35, probably over 40. But she had aroused him in ways he hadn't known he could be. He didn't want to let her go. Not yet.
Why? Why was he interested? He had never been attracted to women. Not sexually. What was different? Why did he want her?
She had saved his life. But that really had little to do with it. More that she was there - holding him, keeping him anchored to life when he wasn't sure he would make it, wasn't sure even that he was still alive. She had been real and solid, confident, capable and sure. And she wore no makeup. Not that he had seen, anyway. It made her face seem more masculine, or at least lacking the femininity that specifically did not turn him on. She didn't simper, fawn on him, look up to him. Instead she spoke her mind, commanded when necessary, took charge. Like a man.
Dom. Was this unfaithful to Dom? His conscience nagged him a little, but it didn't really feel unfaithful. After all, this was a woman. He scoffed at himself. After just arguing how unfeminine she was. Yet it was also true. He knew perfectly well that she was female, no matter how dominant her personality. How did that compete with what he had with Dom?
The other side of the coin, though. He briefly gave thought to the dangers of sex with a new partner. Disease. Pregnancy. God, he hadn't given any thought at all to pregnancy! She was obviously older; maybe she couldn't have kids anymore. He hoped. He was very well aware of the bribery material of someone carrying his child. Disease was easier to dismiss. At her age, she must have a whole lot more experience with the issue than he had, and he'd just let her worry about it.
He wanted to explore her, as a woman. He wanted her clothes off. He wanted to try coital sex.
Did she actually want to have sex with him that way? She could have done it before, if she wanted to. Couldn't she? When he thought about it, he knew damn little about women. And right now he wanted to know more. About this woman.
And his wants were beginning to manifest physically. He rolled his eyes toward her. Had she noticed?
"Don't DO that!"
"Don't do what?" Startled. What did I do wrong?
She closed her eyes and caught her breath. "Shine at me like that. You'll give me a heart attack."
Shine at me. Somehow it made him feel loved. Warm and appreciated. Giddy, even. So he laughed.
"Aargghh, I will have a heart attack."
"You giggled! I'm teasing but ... Oh, Elijah. I've wanted you for so long. Someone said your eyes melt the heart. No, they break the heart. When you're laughing and happy, with me, I could just die happy on the spot." She considered a moment. "I don't suppose any of that made sense, but it's true." She thought again, trying to find some way to say it. "You make the angels laugh, Lij, but I'm just made of flesh. I can't contain that much joy."
He lay back, his mood spoiled. He didn't like to think of himself that way. "I'm just a person," he said.
She sat up, considered him, watched him watching her. After a while she said, "Yes, just a person. A very young person. So much to experience yet. There's a song that says we must each walk this lonesome valley for ourselves." She stroked his cheek. "But we don't have to do it alone."
"I know that song. It's a Christian song."
"A song with meaning, regardless of what tradition it comes out of."
He considered that a moment, playing the words of the song over in his head. "Are you Christian?"
She smiled wryly. "What, and have wild sex with a man not my husband? Yes.
"And," she grinned impishly, "Baha'i, Jewish, Spiritualist, Buddhist, Hindu, and a few others. I'm especially fond of Hinduism. According to them, all other religions are just offshoots of Hinduism."
"So you're a walking encyclopedia."
"Hardly. But maybe I'm a walking Ashram."
"What's an Ashram?"
She paused to stroke his chest again, pinching a nipple. "A retreat. A place to go for sanctuary and solitude. A place for restoring your soul. I'd like to be that for you, Elijah. A refuge. If I can be that to you, it's all I can ask to give meaning to my life. What I give back to the world."
"What I give to the universe, that goes on after me. We old people think about things like that. What will you give back, I wonder?"
"I don't know."
She nodded and circled back to the beginning of the conversation. "You're young. You have a long road ahead yet. A pleasant one, I hope."
"I'm not all that young," he said resentfully.
"Well compared to me anyway," Ellen laughed at him.
A knock at the door; Ellen quickly checked the state of decency and called out "okay." Mary came in; smirked at the two of them. "Just wanted to check that you don't need anything."
"My cigarettes," Elijah replied promptly.
"No." Ellen was suddenly all official and authoritarian. "Guess we hadn't covered that yet. Handbook says no smoking."
A change came over his face. Suddenly sad, tortured, hurt, appealing to their hearts as human beings. "I need it," he said.
Mary's face collapsed into sympathy. "Maybe one," she started.
Ellen's eyes closed. She panted for breath. "No. He did that on purpose. Best actor in the world, remember?" He looked at her, startled, then laughed.
"Can I have something to eat, anyway?"