Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, nor own them. And they’re probably straight in reality just not here in this FICTION story. Please don’t be afraid. Oh yes. And please give me credit.
Warning: Too short. Smutish?
Author’s Note: Taking a chance here. My first fan fiction, plus, I haven’t written in a very long time.
Feedback: Yes please.Let me know what needs improvement or what you liked (if that's possible). Email at: twilightarrows@sbcglobal.net or comment.
Snuffle and Squinch By: E.E. Dunbar.
Elijah was in agony. He squinched his eyes shut as hard as he could, rolling them behind the lids. His small hands, as if they didn’t want to, came up to his face. His strong fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. He snuffled. Hastily, his hands formed fists and were scrabbling into the soft of his eye. Rubbing, rubbing hard, the fleshy part giving away. He wanted to scream, he wanted to pop his eyes out with a fork. Anything, anything at all to make it stop. His arms fell to his sides, grappling at the couch cushions. He heard the door open and a moment later, click, slowly shut. A soft pattering of soft footsteps, a jingle of keys hitting the counter, a rustle of a jacket. Elijah sniffled again from his place on the couch. It was cooler now, now that the sun had set. Last he’d checked the sky was a painting of clouds - purple, yellow, orange. He heard those footsteps again. Then, suddenly, a presence. There was a familiar, comfortable presence somewhere behind him. He felt roughened, gentle finger tips run across his forehead, lingering at his temple, rustling the soft hair there. Then he heard that voice.
“Allergies?” it asked, sympathetically. Elijah grumbled and flopped onto his side. A loud sigh escaped from the presence and then it was gone from behind him. He heard the footsteps walking away, a door open and then shut, water running. Cool, clean water. He imagined it cascading into the silver of the deep kitchen sink. Returning footsteps, descending presence. A weight settled next to him on the couch. Rougher hands pulled his own struggling hands away from puffy, swollen eyes, squinching eye lids.
“No, no, no little ‘Lijah,” came that deep soothing voice. Cool hands feelings his forehead, skimming across eyelids, pushing at his shoulders, pushing him back onto his back. “Oh dear,” it said. He knew his eyes must be swollen to a point it was frightening. He didn’t care. He just wanted the itchy, painful, agony to go way. Then he felt it. Cold soft cloth. Wet. Touching his eyelids. Strong fingers putting enough pressure to extinguish at least part of the agony. Elijah coughed, loosening the tightening in his throat.
“There now. Shh,” Elijah relaxed, the tenseness in his body loosened. There was a hand at his throat, cool and calm, a thumb rubbing at the front of his throat, up and down, over his Adam’s apple. “There, there, now,” Lijah sighed. He felt a cold droplet find its way down, over his temple, into his hair. Then lips on that same temple, kissing the drop away. “Would you look at that? Even that droplet of water wants to touch your nice hair.” Elijah could hear the smile on the voice and he felt the pressure on his eyes leave but the cloth was still there. Fingers at his temple, on his forehead, then onto his scalp, running through the softness there, caressing the skin. Artist hands. Obviously.
“You know little ‘Lijah,” there was a pause. He just waited for the soothing voice to continue, wanting no more than that. “You aren’t supposed to be rubbing those big beautiful blue eyes of yours,” another pause. Elijah felt his body relax more, sinking into the couch. The soothing, careful hands were out of his hair, running over his hand resting at his side, followed by a stroke on his middle finger, over the knuckle. “But I think those small clever hands of yours cannot help it.” He heard that smile again, licking at his dry lips. Then that pressure was back at his eyes and that chill was gone from his knuckle, along with a tightening in his gut.
Suddenly, the pressure, the weight, and the warm presence was gone. Elijah reached out and by some chance grappled at a wrist, his touch sliding off. “Shh. I’m not going far. I’m still here.” He swore that voice could take any worry go away. He felt that itch again but as he was raising his hand to his eyes, a hand wrapped itself around his wrist. “No, ‘Lijah,” a definitely warning in the tone. “We will make it go away.” We – Elijah couldn’t help but smile at that. They were in on everything, together, now.
Settled weight again, a hand on his chest, warm again. “Do they hurt?” Elijah only grumbled. “Alright,” he was glad he didn’t have to answer to be understood. Sometimes he just didn’t feel like speaking. The cold cloth was removed. His hands instinctively raised – he didn’t mean to. Roughened, warm hands grabbed both wrists, pulling them down, insuring no more harm, holding them steady. He balled them into fists, only then were his wrists released.
“You’ll need to sit up for me, Elijah,” he did as he was told because that voice could make him do anything it asked. He sat up and that body was suddenly behind him. Hard, sturdy, and comfortable. He leaned back, relaxing again, eyes still tightly shut. He fought the urge to rub.
“Tilt your head back onto my shoulder,” he said from behind Elijah. So he did, tentatively at first, but soon he settled into the comfort there. The body behind him shifted for a moment, as if reaching for something. Something was put to his lips, smelling sweet yet sour. He parted his lips and bitter, thick liquid flooded into his mouth. Instinctively, he swallowed, grimacing. There was a chuckle behind him, then cool glass and water overtaking the bitter taste and the urge to gag.
“I guess the fruit flavor doesn’t make it taste any better,” a hint of amusement in his voice, “usually I’m against allergy medicines but I couldn’t stand seeing you suffer so much anymore. So,” Elijah had sat up but those gentle hands had pulled him back onto his chest, “I took the liberty of buying some Children’s Claritin after the shoot today.” Elijah’s body tensed. Children’s? He cleared his throat. “It should kick in soo...”
Elijah interrupted, “But I’m not a child,” he was sitting up again, hands still steady on his shoulders, a thumb running over his shoulder.
“No, Elijah you aren’t. But,” he was pulled back again, strong arms folding around him, “it’s less harsh to your system.” The warning tone was back, “I wouldn’t touch any child in the ways I touch you,” the voice sounded calming now. Elijah melted into that chest. Hands were back his hair, brushing through it, lulling him into what would be sleep if his nose wasn’t tickling him and his eyes didn’t feel as if they had glass shards in them.
After what seemed a blissful eternity came, “’Lijah? I want you to open your eyes now. Open those beautiful blue eyes for me ‘Lij.” So he squeezed them close hard, and then opened them slowly. Everything was blurry and his eyes felt dry and itchy. But he could make out that chin and beard covered jaw and even the blue-green of his eyes.
“Viggo,” he whispered hoarsely. He smiled.
“Yes, ‘Lij. Shh,” Viggo’s big hands were smoothing back his hair. “Eye drops. Look up.” Elijah groaned, looking to the high ceiling. “This may sting a little,” then he saw a nozzle above his eye, then a drop, then another in his other eye. He blinked, willing the sting to go away, wanting to rub it away. His arms were wrapped in another arm.
“Good, close them again,” soothing voice, “I’m glad you took your contacts out, ‘Lij.” Viggo’s artist hands massaged his scalp again. “Your eyes are an even deeper, brighter blue when your eyes are this red. You have the most beautiful blue eyes. Big, very big and blue. Everyone thinks so, ‘Lij. I like to see all of your emotions in them. I can tell exactly what you’re thinking because your eyes tell me, Elijah.” Sometimes Elijah believed Viggo’s voice could seduce anyone, anything. “Your eyes are more beautiful than Orlando’s deep brown eyes or Billy’s emerald green eyes. Their eyes simply cannot tell me everything I need to know. But your eyes,” He felt Viggo tilting his chin up. He opened his eyes, locking gazes with Viggo’s. “Oh, your eyes tell me how much you love me, exactly what you’re feeling, even when you want me and where you want me to touch you.”
There was such command in Viggo’s voice, such knowledge of Elijah’s needs, Elijah shivered. Now he was lost in Viggo’s eyes and in that moment he realized he could read Viggo’s eyes too. And he saw there, hidden in the blue-green depths that all Viggo wanted was for Elijah to love him and to know he could help him, protect him. So, Elijah relaxed again, closed his eyes, and melted into Viggo’s strong chest, enveloped in his musky masculine smell. He sighed in contentment, his head finally clearing. Viggo’s arms wrapped themselves around Elijah tightly, holding him securely.
“So do not itch those blue eyes of mine anymore, ‘Lijah. I simply love them too much and need them too much for you to be allowed to damage them,” and Elijah would do as he was told because that voice could make him do anything it asked. And Viggo knew that too.
.FIN.
Welcome to the site! I think the story was cute. Allergies suck...really really bad. I'm allergic to cats and I got a cat hair in my eye, my eye swelled up insanely. I feel for the sniffling too because I have a cold. Ok, time for me to go, but I liked it. ~Alli~