Written in the Walls: 5/??
Oct. 18th, 2010 02:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lalalive23Title: Written in the Walls
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lalalive23
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Bell/Dom and a few original characters.
Summary: Matt and Dom are teachers at a local high school in 1954. They don't want their relationship to be discovered, especially by those they work with, even though they've been living together for nearly 4 years. This is the story of what happens when the school librarian discovers them.
Warning: Sex!! And fluff
Feedback: Is nice! I like it loads! Just don't make fun of me, plz <3
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. I don't make money off this. This never happened. I do, however, own the characters Ellen and Martin. They are mine, so please do not take them. I am willing to share if you want to collaborate on something, but otherwise no touchy plz!
Note: Endless thanks todolce_piccante, sunshine_173, and millionstar for being fabulous bit readers, cheerleaders, putting up with my insecurities, and being incredible friends. This story would not exist if it weren't for you ladies <3 Thanks also to myz_bee for being a fabulous friend. To everyone who commented on the past chapters, I cannot thank you enough. Words cannot express how much it means to me to know you are enjoying this. Enjoy!!
**I know the previous chapter said you wouldn't see this for a while but I just couldn't ignore it. I'm a horrible student LOL. It seemed the more I tried to focus on papers and actual work, this chapter just kept begging to be written. So, here you are. I'm going to try not dying this week. It is officially the start of no sleep week! WOOO!
Matthew
From across the room I could see Ellen fondling her wedding ring surreptitiously, her eyes scouring the room to see if anyone had noticed her wary looks at the gold band. Our first meeting had proven her to be exactly as Dominic had described her: exactly like me. She was both nervous and excited, appearing as though she could be incandescently happy one moment and incomprehensibly apprehensive the next. It was not awkward on her, however, as it was on me. Instead, her lilting shyness and over eager vocal patterns were endearing and adorable. As opposed to my nervous hand gestures and choppy arm movements, her speech with her hands was elegant and well practiced. Her obvious Italian heritage, I assumed, was to blame for the trait.
I did not know much about her, other than that she was passionate about literature, married, and beautiful. From the brief conversations Dominic and myself had entertained with her, we had come to the conclusion that she was a remarkably sweet woman, never wanting to offend but quick to offer her opinion. It was clear she was well educated; she had opened a brief discussion with me about existentialist theory in contemporary France and had not stuttered once in her thoughts.
What could be gathered from her looks was that she was young, not very far into her twenties and a few years younger than myself. Her dark hair was always in a loose bun, put together yet far from making her appear strict and uptight. Her full lips smiled often, at students and teachers alike. She wore no lipstick, their colour naturally bright, or I had at least never seen her apply a touch up if she did. When she laughed, her perfectly straight, white teeth seemed to gleam no matter how dim the lighting. Often, I found myself thinking that had it been another life, and I a different man, I would have easily found myself in love with her.
Which is why it concerned me to see her question her most personal relationship with such intense scrutiny as she had in recent weeks. Her gaze often antagonized the ring, as though she blamed it for her state of unrest. As I had been watching her from the start of term, I had slowly noticed a rigidness grow in her spine if she sat in her thoughts for too long, as though they brought her a sense of discomfort or alarming confusion. Once she had started taking off her ring, those feelings seemed to be aimed like knives at the little object. It was strange, and whatever the issue could have been it must have been serious.
Having thought briefly on the subject, I had tried to put myself in the position I imagined she was in: questioning the idea marriage. Had I ever been given the opportunity, or the choice, to marry Dominic I would have jumped at it, and clung to it like a child to his security blanked. Even though my relationship with Dominic was not official to the public, or to God, it was official to us and nothing would ever make me question the legitimacy of it. Whatever unsettling event was occurring in Ellen's relationship must have been deeply disturbing or serious indeed.
The thought caused me to turn my head in Dominic's direction, to study him as I often found myself needing to . If I ever went blind, I was positive that the image of Dom's face would be the only one I could vividly see in my mind's eye. It was burned into my fingertips and into my brain, but that never prevented me from admiring him with unguarded longing.
Not so far away from me, across a small distance to my left, he sat at a table grading tests. Deep in concentration, his brow was furrowed and I wanted to smooth the lines clean with my thumbs as if they were made from clay. If it were possible, he looked especially golden, the brown of his suit-vest paired with his pale yellow shirt making him shine like an autumn sun. By no means did it take long for him to feel the heat from my stare, a smile creeping into the corner of his pouting lips. But he did not turn to meet my eyes, and the fact that he refused me the stunning sight made my trousers tighten.
A small chuckle escaped my lips as I turned back to my work, playing the game we had started so many years ago. It had not taken long at all for me to fully recognize that Dominic had the easy ability of conveying his most base desires behind his eyes. After our first night together, it had seemed that our intimate actions had awakened something within him that he could no longer keep contained. Our second date, at a cinema, found him staring at my profile for the better part of the evening. Only a few times had I dared a glance to his eyes, the sheer hunger and pure filth I found there causing me to tremble with equal fervor.
With his everlasting patience and unyielding passion, Dominic helped me unlock and explore the desires I felt for him, which at the time were undeniably confusing. I should not have felt as deeply for him as I had after such a short time. By no means should I have craved him, his body, as often as I did, and still do. I was sure my affections for him were a passing phase, but as the years passed and my need for him only seemed to deepen, I had become convinced that body would always naturally lend itself to his. My body would always find itself in an interminable lust for the man who seemed to covet me just the same. As the years passed, the thirst became the blood that ran through my veins, I was convinced.
From the beginning, I had found it difficult to keep my hands off him, wanting always to run my hands over the smooth expanse of his skin. I wanted to be around him always, to talk to him always, to feel him always. The extent of my desire had, at first, made me feel trapped, like there was a fire in my chest threatening to burn me to ash. When Dominic had assured me he felt the same, whispering the words in my ear and slipping his fingers deep inside of me, it felt as though a heated rain had washed over me, causing me to capsize in an ocean of desire. If I was trapped, we had been trapped together. And so, we had developed a way to trick the outside world, and play with each other in our own lustful cage.
A heat rolled down my spine like liquid and I could feel Dominic staring intently at my body as I quickly worked through the paragraphs in front of me. I wanted to know what kind of needy state his face had contorted in, if he had licked his lips, if his eyes were falling half closed. I knew him well in those states, the words "I want you" dripping from the corner of his eyes.
My pen tapped excitedly onto the papers in front of me as I briefly recalled the first day we met at the library. Our bodies had been composed uneven mixtures of excitement and anxiety as our stares turned from giggled secrets to smoldering, wanton revelations that passed from me to him. It was impossible to stop myself from going to him as my body cried out for him, but some how I had endured and was rewarded with a hungry Dominic upon my return home.
That night I briefly had entertained the thought of telling my mother that the sunny man she had met on the day I moved in was not, in fact, a roommate but was my lover. The phone had been in my hand until Dominic snatched it and talked sense into me. He had scolded me, telling me that I had barely made it a day in the library before I could take it no more. I was never good at hiding in plain sight, but I had learned slowly. And Dominic had been an excellent teacher.
The sound of brisk footsteps pulled me from my thoughts, the sight of my lover's arse swaying in front of me in the most pornographic fashion. From between his arms a piece of paper that was folded too neatly to not be intended for me fell softly to the floor, mere feet away from where I sat. A sly grin spread across my face and I slipped deep into my chair, using my right foot to snatch it and drag it to me. When I bent to pick it up, from underneath the table I could see Dominic walking down a long hallway, passed Ellen's desk, with doors that looked like storage rooms. As I flipped the piece of paper open discretely, Dom's signature neat script read:
Follow me. ;)
I had to stop myself from laughing out loud, the cheeky smile attached to the note making me shake my head as I pictured the image occurring on his features. Gathering my things into my satchel, I draped my jacket across my arm and slipped the note into my trouser pocket where my fingers rubbed it urgently in anticipation.
Ellen looked at me as I passed her by, a smile spreading across her lips in a gentle 'hello.' I returned the smile in kind but did not stop to speak to her, though I don't think she minded as her attention had slipped back to the ring between her hands, words unfinished on a note card before her. I was too eager to see what my lover had in store for me to be concerned with why she writing had stopped mid thought.
As I continued down the hallway, I noticed that the wooden doors I passed were labeled in alphabetical order as archival rooms. I didn't know what was contained within them, or why Dominic wanted to show me them. Halfway down the hall, I had started becoming concerned with where Dominic could have been.
Suddenly, an arm reached out from behind a door and pulled me in. I barely had time to register the action before the door had slammed and I found myself with an armful of Dominic breathing heavily against my neck, my things having fallen to the floor in the quick movements.
"Dominic, what are you doing?" I whispered, my arms drawing up to wrap around his neck as his hips ground into mine.
"We are hiding," he said, planting a wet kiss to my neck, "in plain sight." He finished the sentence by laving against my pulse point and nipping gently, his favorite spot on my neck.
The chuckle I released became mixed with my breathy moan. "Dominic, this is not exactly hiding. Anyone could walk by and see."
He brought his lips up to my jaw as his hands went down to my arse and pushed up. Instinctively, I brought my legs to wrap around him, my head making a dull thud against the door. He carried me as he walked us back into the room, my eyes taking in the dim surroundings as he had not turned on the light. We were in a room of books, books that I assumed were not readily available to the public.
"Should we even be in here?" I questioned as he pushed my back gently against a large shelf. We were a good distance away from the door, hidden by shadows.
"I asked Ellen what was down this hallway yesterday." He gently bit at my earlobe, knowing it was one of my weak spots and my body shivered. I felt him smile against my cheek at the response. "Apparently, these are archive rooms of text books for classes and teachers who want to get exact references for their presentations. There are also," his whisper seemed to drop with meaning. "Literature books that feature adult content, but are still considered to have educational merit."
I pushed his face away from mine and stared at him, shocked. "Do you mean...erotic literature? In the school library?"
His smile was naughty, filthy. "Well, not exactly erotic. But open for interpretation." He finished the sentence with a quick thrust into my hips, his hardness hitting my arse in a suggestive manner and it was everything I could do not to moan loudly at the sensation. I rested my face on his shoulder, bringing my fist to my mouth to bite down.
"How do you mean?" I questioned, though the answer sounded more of a choked whimper than an intelligent statement. As far as I knew, erotic literature was not open for interpretation. It was what it was.
With one last, prolonged roll of his hips, Dominic set me back on my feet and a wicked gleam took up residence in his eyes as he turned from me.
"Which shall I choose?" he questioned to no one, pawing gently at a row of books in front of us. He seemed to know too easily where to look.
"You couldn't wait to come in here when she told you about erotic literature, could you?" My words were whispered in a light laugh.
"Like you would wait either," he said shooting a look of light disdain over his shoulder in my direction. "Admit it."
I crossed my arms as I nodded. "Alright, alright yes. You're right," I admitted.
I watched him go down the row, pensively studying the books for exactly the one he wanted. He whispered a small "a-ha!" to himself before turning back to me with a large book in his hands. I cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting patiently for him to prove to me what "open to interpretation" really meant. Though, deep in the core of me, I knew I would not be prepared for the sound of his voice if he read aloud.
The sound of his voice could affect me like no other, its richness and its masculinity pooling itself at the bass of my spine. Always, he could receive whatever he wanted from me merely by knowing what tones to inflect. I would always find myself powerless to refuse him anything.
Seemingly at random, he opened to a page and walked into some light, his eyes still straining. With a cock of his eyebrows he began to read.
"The love of the body of man or woman balks account - the body itself balks account. That of the male is perfect." He paused, looking up at me from under his lashes.
I furrowed my brow at him. "That's Walt Whitman. 'I Sing the Body Electric.' That's not erotic."
"Hush, let me continue." I leaned back against the shelf, waiting for him to go on.
"The expression of the face balks account. But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face; it is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists." His voice seemed to darken as he continued reading, and my eyes shut as I listened. I should not have, however, as the sound seemed to shoot straight through me causing my cock to spring to life.
"It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees - dress does not hide him." He paused in his slow speech, and I opened my eyes to see what had caused the break. Dirty grins from our past encounters paled in comparison to the one he was giving me then as he stared at my growing erection. The knowledge of his stare mixed with the last line forced an uneasy breath from my chest.
"The strong, sweet, supple quality he has, strikes through the cotton and flannel; to see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more. You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side." A deep rumble worked its way inside his chest as he inhaled, staring hungrily at me as he finished the line.
My head fell limp against the shelf. finding myself almost powerless to keep looking. "Dom, you know what your voice does to me. God, your voice. You have to stop."
His laughter told me he would not heed my words. "Rips, belly, back-bone," he had skipped to the end of the poem, "joints of the back-bone, hips hip-sockets, hip-strength, inward and outward round, man-balls, man root. Strong sets of thighs, well carrying the trunk above."
"Dominic!" I cried softly. "Please," I stared at him desperately. "Stop." My hands had unwound themselves from their position against the chest and we clutching the cool metal of the shelf next to me.
A soft expression warmed Dominic's features and he closed the book, coming to stand near me. Tucking the book under his arm, his hands reached out to under my belt.
"Dom! That isn't exactly stopping!" I frantically looked toward the door, hoping no one had noticed or heard anything. By the time I had looked back, the zip was undone, my trousers sitting open in a V.
"Touch yourself," he said simply. His eyes were wild with desire, passion, want and sex.
"Dom..." I began slowly. I let out a hiss of breath.
"Touch yourself," he said again, twisting his voice into the vocal inflections that made my insides burn with need. "For me?" he whispered pleadingly. His bottom lip stuck itself out in a pout.
I could stand it no more. Between my teeth I grabbed the outing lip and licked it deftly with my tongue, a whimper of joy and surprise echoing from Dominic. His tongue came out in kind, rubbing against my teeth for access and when I opened to him, he wound it against mine, rubbing gently. All too quickly, he pulled away.
"Touch yourself, lover. And thank you." He removed the book from under his arm and stepped back into the light. Again, he opened to a random page. "I have scarcely left you, when you go in me, crystalline."
As he started Pablo Neruda's poem, my hand traversed the length of my stomach down beneath my pants, fisting in my pubic hair and tugging before it wrapped around my cock and revealed it to the cool air of the room.
"Or trembling, or uneasy, wounded by me or overwhelmed with love, as when your eyes close upon the gift of life that without cease I give you." I brought my hand to my mouth, licking it wetly to ease the friction I would soon be experiencing.
"My love, we have found each other thirsty, and we have drunk up all the water and the blood." My fist began to pump slowly over my erection, my eyes squeezed tightly shut as his voice washed over me.
"We found each other hungry, and we bit each other as fire bites, leaving wounds in us." There were gasping breaks in his speech on account of the sight of me wanking myself so determined before him, I was sure. I heard him step closer to me, and the weight of his presence made a jarbled whimper leaving my lips in response to his movement. My fist tightened and I ran my thumb over my slit, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth to keep from screaming in pleasure.
I heard distantly the sounds of pages turning. "Kiss by kiss," his voice continued, through broken with desire, "I cover your tiny infinity, your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages. And a gentle fire, transformed by delight, slips through the narrow channels of blood to precipitate a nocturnal carnation. To be, and be nothing but light in the dark." He finished the poem with what sounded like a choked sob, my hips started to pump hard into my hand and a dark flush painted itself across my neck.
"You look so beautiful right now, lover. So beautiful," he whispered. I heard the book snap shut, my hips starting to lose control as my orgasm began to fluctuate the pressure in the base of my spine. "No poet could ever do you justice with nouns, adjective, similes. You are bigger than a metaphor. You are my epic poem."
The sudden shift in his words from poetry to sheer tender whisperings of love sent me over, his name desperately trying to be vocalized in my throat, but instead my lips formed the word without sound. I came hard into my hand, the hot liquid spilling itself violently into my fist as sheer ecstasy seemed to cause me to drown.
I felt him beside me, moving softly after some amount of time, my body trembling in an attempt to calm down. For the first time in what seemed like ages I opened my eyes to greet his beautiful face, smiles and adoration sitting on his features like they belonged there. He ran a hand down my face, moving gently the stray strands that had plastered themselves to the skin with sweat. "So beautiful," he whispered. My heart seemed to swell with love.
"Dominic," I whispered, sounding like a needy child. "Kiss me?"
He did not hesitate, bringing his lips to mine to place a passionate, yet chaste, kiss to them. As we parted I brought my eyes down to the sight of my fist, covered in the liquid proof of my desire. I glanced quickly around the room, hoping to find something to clean off with before I felt Dominic gently grasp my wrist. I watched with wide eyes as he brought my hand to his mouth, sucking urgently on my fingers as his tongue wrapped themselves around the digits. He sucked as one would through a straw, straining to receive every flavor my natural juices had to offer. Removing the fingers from his mouth, he licked a straight path down my palm, collecting all that had been left there. When he reached my wrist, his lips closed around the apex where my pulse was located, sucking the very last of me clean. The sheer sight and magnitude of the action nearly made me hard again.
I did not know what to say, words themselves escaping me as his lips formed an almost shy grin. Instead, I brought the now wet he and to his face and brought his lips to mine. "I love you," I whispered as we parted.
"I love you," he said, pecking my nose.
I adjusted myself in my pants and closed my trousers once more, Dominic returning the book to it's rightful place.
"So what do you think?" he asked, returning to me.
"I think that open to interpretation is a fabulous concept," I laughed.
He laughed with me before shoving his hands in his pockets, his feet shuffling nervously. "No, I mean about this room. Using it." He looked at me hopefully, and suddenly I caught his meaning. He must have recognized the realization on my face as he continued. "I just...I want you. All the bloody time. And sure we can spend the free period looking at each other and doing work. I'm not saying we need to be in here every day, obviously people would notice. But, I can't...sometimes, you're sitting there and I just want to touch you. I physically need to touch you, Matthew, and I can't because, well you know -"
I silenced his rambling with a passionate kiss, my tongue twining with his briefly before I pulled away. "Dom. I understand. I can't not touch you, all the time. So," I said pulling away. "We can use this, yes, but we cannot use it all the time."
"Obviously," he said simply, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"And we need to be so quiet and so careful. It's such a big risk, almost too big. But...I need you too." I smiled.
"Once a week then?" he asked. "We meet in here for ten minutes maximum. Leave and enter at different times?"
"Yes," was my easy reply. We kissed passionately for a few moments before Dom left first, having been the first to enter.
I was not sure how long we had been in the room for, but I could not stop myself from smiling as I picked my things up from the floor. It would be much easier from then on to handle my days, knowing that I would at least be able to touch him or hold him in the shadows of a room where desires in literature were the main event.
After a few minutes, I opened the door and walked down the hall. A thrill of anxiety and excitement bubbled in my belly as Ellen walked passed me, smiling again in her easy and natural way.
Again, I returned the smile though, this time, it contained more meaning.
She was blissfully unaware.
Author:
lalalive23 Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Bell/Dom and a few original characters.
Summary: Matt and Dom are teachers at a local high school in 1954. They don't want their relationship to be discovered, especially by those they work with, even though they've been living together for nearly 4 years. This is the story of what happens when the school librarian discovers them.
Warning: Sex!! And fluff
Feedback: Is nice! I like it loads! Just don't make fun of me, plz <3
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. I don't make money off this. This never happened. I do, however, own the characters Ellen and Martin. They are mine, so please do not take them. I am willing to share if you want to collaborate on something, but otherwise no touchy plz!
Note: Endless thanks to
dolce_piccante, sunshine_173, and millionstar for being fabulous bit readers, cheerleaders, putting up with my insecurities, and being incredible friends. This story would not exist if it weren't for you ladies <3 Thanks also to myz_bee for being a fabulous friend. To everyone who commented on the past chapters, I cannot thank you enough. Words cannot express how much it means to me to know you are enjoying this. Enjoy!!**I know the previous chapter said you wouldn't see this for a while but I just couldn't ignore it. I'm a horrible student LOL. It seemed the more I tried to focus on papers and actual work, this chapter just kept begging to be written. So, here you are. I'm going to try not dying this week. It is officially the start of no sleep week! WOOO!
Matthew
From across the room I could see Ellen fondling her wedding ring surreptitiously, her eyes scouring the room to see if anyone had noticed her wary looks at the gold band. Our first meeting had proven her to be exactly as Dominic had described her: exactly like me. She was both nervous and excited, appearing as though she could be incandescently happy one moment and incomprehensibly apprehensive the next. It was not awkward on her, however, as it was on me. Instead, her lilting shyness and over eager vocal patterns were endearing and adorable. As opposed to my nervous hand gestures and choppy arm movements, her speech with her hands was elegant and well practiced. Her obvious Italian heritage, I assumed, was to blame for the trait.
I did not know much about her, other than that she was passionate about literature, married, and beautiful. From the brief conversations Dominic and myself had entertained with her, we had come to the conclusion that she was a remarkably sweet woman, never wanting to offend but quick to offer her opinion. It was clear she was well educated; she had opened a brief discussion with me about existentialist theory in contemporary France and had not stuttered once in her thoughts.
What could be gathered from her looks was that she was young, not very far into her twenties and a few years younger than myself. Her dark hair was always in a loose bun, put together yet far from making her appear strict and uptight. Her full lips smiled often, at students and teachers alike. She wore no lipstick, their colour naturally bright, or I had at least never seen her apply a touch up if she did. When she laughed, her perfectly straight, white teeth seemed to gleam no matter how dim the lighting. Often, I found myself thinking that had it been another life, and I a different man, I would have easily found myself in love with her.
Which is why it concerned me to see her question her most personal relationship with such intense scrutiny as she had in recent weeks. Her gaze often antagonized the ring, as though she blamed it for her state of unrest. As I had been watching her from the start of term, I had slowly noticed a rigidness grow in her spine if she sat in her thoughts for too long, as though they brought her a sense of discomfort or alarming confusion. Once she had started taking off her ring, those feelings seemed to be aimed like knives at the little object. It was strange, and whatever the issue could have been it must have been serious.
Having thought briefly on the subject, I had tried to put myself in the position I imagined she was in: questioning the idea marriage. Had I ever been given the opportunity, or the choice, to marry Dominic I would have jumped at it, and clung to it like a child to his security blanked. Even though my relationship with Dominic was not official to the public, or to God, it was official to us and nothing would ever make me question the legitimacy of it. Whatever unsettling event was occurring in Ellen's relationship must have been deeply disturbing or serious indeed.
The thought caused me to turn my head in Dominic's direction, to study him as I often found myself needing to . If I ever went blind, I was positive that the image of Dom's face would be the only one I could vividly see in my mind's eye. It was burned into my fingertips and into my brain, but that never prevented me from admiring him with unguarded longing.
Not so far away from me, across a small distance to my left, he sat at a table grading tests. Deep in concentration, his brow was furrowed and I wanted to smooth the lines clean with my thumbs as if they were made from clay. If it were possible, he looked especially golden, the brown of his suit-vest paired with his pale yellow shirt making him shine like an autumn sun. By no means did it take long for him to feel the heat from my stare, a smile creeping into the corner of his pouting lips. But he did not turn to meet my eyes, and the fact that he refused me the stunning sight made my trousers tighten.
A small chuckle escaped my lips as I turned back to my work, playing the game we had started so many years ago. It had not taken long at all for me to fully recognize that Dominic had the easy ability of conveying his most base desires behind his eyes. After our first night together, it had seemed that our intimate actions had awakened something within him that he could no longer keep contained. Our second date, at a cinema, found him staring at my profile for the better part of the evening. Only a few times had I dared a glance to his eyes, the sheer hunger and pure filth I found there causing me to tremble with equal fervor.
With his everlasting patience and unyielding passion, Dominic helped me unlock and explore the desires I felt for him, which at the time were undeniably confusing. I should not have felt as deeply for him as I had after such a short time. By no means should I have craved him, his body, as often as I did, and still do. I was sure my affections for him were a passing phase, but as the years passed and my need for him only seemed to deepen, I had become convinced that body would always naturally lend itself to his. My body would always find itself in an interminable lust for the man who seemed to covet me just the same. As the years passed, the thirst became the blood that ran through my veins, I was convinced.
From the beginning, I had found it difficult to keep my hands off him, wanting always to run my hands over the smooth expanse of his skin. I wanted to be around him always, to talk to him always, to feel him always. The extent of my desire had, at first, made me feel trapped, like there was a fire in my chest threatening to burn me to ash. When Dominic had assured me he felt the same, whispering the words in my ear and slipping his fingers deep inside of me, it felt as though a heated rain had washed over me, causing me to capsize in an ocean of desire. If I was trapped, we had been trapped together. And so, we had developed a way to trick the outside world, and play with each other in our own lustful cage.
A heat rolled down my spine like liquid and I could feel Dominic staring intently at my body as I quickly worked through the paragraphs in front of me. I wanted to know what kind of needy state his face had contorted in, if he had licked his lips, if his eyes were falling half closed. I knew him well in those states, the words "I want you" dripping from the corner of his eyes.
My pen tapped excitedly onto the papers in front of me as I briefly recalled the first day we met at the library. Our bodies had been composed uneven mixtures of excitement and anxiety as our stares turned from giggled secrets to smoldering, wanton revelations that passed from me to him. It was impossible to stop myself from going to him as my body cried out for him, but some how I had endured and was rewarded with a hungry Dominic upon my return home.
That night I briefly had entertained the thought of telling my mother that the sunny man she had met on the day I moved in was not, in fact, a roommate but was my lover. The phone had been in my hand until Dominic snatched it and talked sense into me. He had scolded me, telling me that I had barely made it a day in the library before I could take it no more. I was never good at hiding in plain sight, but I had learned slowly. And Dominic had been an excellent teacher.
The sound of brisk footsteps pulled me from my thoughts, the sight of my lover's arse swaying in front of me in the most pornographic fashion. From between his arms a piece of paper that was folded too neatly to not be intended for me fell softly to the floor, mere feet away from where I sat. A sly grin spread across my face and I slipped deep into my chair, using my right foot to snatch it and drag it to me. When I bent to pick it up, from underneath the table I could see Dominic walking down a long hallway, passed Ellen's desk, with doors that looked like storage rooms. As I flipped the piece of paper open discretely, Dom's signature neat script read:
Follow me. ;)
I had to stop myself from laughing out loud, the cheeky smile attached to the note making me shake my head as I pictured the image occurring on his features. Gathering my things into my satchel, I draped my jacket across my arm and slipped the note into my trouser pocket where my fingers rubbed it urgently in anticipation.
Ellen looked at me as I passed her by, a smile spreading across her lips in a gentle 'hello.' I returned the smile in kind but did not stop to speak to her, though I don't think she minded as her attention had slipped back to the ring between her hands, words unfinished on a note card before her. I was too eager to see what my lover had in store for me to be concerned with why she writing had stopped mid thought.
As I continued down the hallway, I noticed that the wooden doors I passed were labeled in alphabetical order as archival rooms. I didn't know what was contained within them, or why Dominic wanted to show me them. Halfway down the hall, I had started becoming concerned with where Dominic could have been.
Suddenly, an arm reached out from behind a door and pulled me in. I barely had time to register the action before the door had slammed and I found myself with an armful of Dominic breathing heavily against my neck, my things having fallen to the floor in the quick movements.
"Dominic, what are you doing?" I whispered, my arms drawing up to wrap around his neck as his hips ground into mine.
"We are hiding," he said, planting a wet kiss to my neck, "in plain sight." He finished the sentence by laving against my pulse point and nipping gently, his favorite spot on my neck.
The chuckle I released became mixed with my breathy moan. "Dominic, this is not exactly hiding. Anyone could walk by and see."
He brought his lips up to my jaw as his hands went down to my arse and pushed up. Instinctively, I brought my legs to wrap around him, my head making a dull thud against the door. He carried me as he walked us back into the room, my eyes taking in the dim surroundings as he had not turned on the light. We were in a room of books, books that I assumed were not readily available to the public.
"Should we even be in here?" I questioned as he pushed my back gently against a large shelf. We were a good distance away from the door, hidden by shadows.
"I asked Ellen what was down this hallway yesterday." He gently bit at my earlobe, knowing it was one of my weak spots and my body shivered. I felt him smile against my cheek at the response. "Apparently, these are archive rooms of text books for classes and teachers who want to get exact references for their presentations. There are also," his whisper seemed to drop with meaning. "Literature books that feature adult content, but are still considered to have educational merit."
I pushed his face away from mine and stared at him, shocked. "Do you mean...erotic literature? In the school library?"
His smile was naughty, filthy. "Well, not exactly erotic. But open for interpretation." He finished the sentence with a quick thrust into my hips, his hardness hitting my arse in a suggestive manner and it was everything I could do not to moan loudly at the sensation. I rested my face on his shoulder, bringing my fist to my mouth to bite down.
"How do you mean?" I questioned, though the answer sounded more of a choked whimper than an intelligent statement. As far as I knew, erotic literature was not open for interpretation. It was what it was.
With one last, prolonged roll of his hips, Dominic set me back on my feet and a wicked gleam took up residence in his eyes as he turned from me.
"Which shall I choose?" he questioned to no one, pawing gently at a row of books in front of us. He seemed to know too easily where to look.
"You couldn't wait to come in here when she told you about erotic literature, could you?" My words were whispered in a light laugh.
"Like you would wait either," he said shooting a look of light disdain over his shoulder in my direction. "Admit it."
I crossed my arms as I nodded. "Alright, alright yes. You're right," I admitted.
I watched him go down the row, pensively studying the books for exactly the one he wanted. He whispered a small "a-ha!" to himself before turning back to me with a large book in his hands. I cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting patiently for him to prove to me what "open to interpretation" really meant. Though, deep in the core of me, I knew I would not be prepared for the sound of his voice if he read aloud.
The sound of his voice could affect me like no other, its richness and its masculinity pooling itself at the bass of my spine. Always, he could receive whatever he wanted from me merely by knowing what tones to inflect. I would always find myself powerless to refuse him anything.
Seemingly at random, he opened to a page and walked into some light, his eyes still straining. With a cock of his eyebrows he began to read.
"The love of the body of man or woman balks account - the body itself balks account. That of the male is perfect." He paused, looking up at me from under his lashes.
I furrowed my brow at him. "That's Walt Whitman. 'I Sing the Body Electric.' That's not erotic."
"Hush, let me continue." I leaned back against the shelf, waiting for him to go on.
"The expression of the face balks account. But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face; it is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists." His voice seemed to darken as he continued reading, and my eyes shut as I listened. I should not have, however, as the sound seemed to shoot straight through me causing my cock to spring to life.
"It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees - dress does not hide him." He paused in his slow speech, and I opened my eyes to see what had caused the break. Dirty grins from our past encounters paled in comparison to the one he was giving me then as he stared at my growing erection. The knowledge of his stare mixed with the last line forced an uneasy breath from my chest.
"The strong, sweet, supple quality he has, strikes through the cotton and flannel; to see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more. You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side." A deep rumble worked its way inside his chest as he inhaled, staring hungrily at me as he finished the line.
My head fell limp against the shelf. finding myself almost powerless to keep looking. "Dom, you know what your voice does to me. God, your voice. You have to stop."
His laughter told me he would not heed my words. "Rips, belly, back-bone," he had skipped to the end of the poem, "joints of the back-bone, hips hip-sockets, hip-strength, inward and outward round, man-balls, man root. Strong sets of thighs, well carrying the trunk above."
"Dominic!" I cried softly. "Please," I stared at him desperately. "Stop." My hands had unwound themselves from their position against the chest and we clutching the cool metal of the shelf next to me.
A soft expression warmed Dominic's features and he closed the book, coming to stand near me. Tucking the book under his arm, his hands reached out to under my belt.
"Dom! That isn't exactly stopping!" I frantically looked toward the door, hoping no one had noticed or heard anything. By the time I had looked back, the zip was undone, my trousers sitting open in a V.
"Touch yourself," he said simply. His eyes were wild with desire, passion, want and sex.
"Dom..." I began slowly. I let out a hiss of breath.
"Touch yourself," he said again, twisting his voice into the vocal inflections that made my insides burn with need. "For me?" he whispered pleadingly. His bottom lip stuck itself out in a pout.
I could stand it no more. Between my teeth I grabbed the outing lip and licked it deftly with my tongue, a whimper of joy and surprise echoing from Dominic. His tongue came out in kind, rubbing against my teeth for access and when I opened to him, he wound it against mine, rubbing gently. All too quickly, he pulled away.
"Touch yourself, lover. And thank you." He removed the book from under his arm and stepped back into the light. Again, he opened to a random page. "I have scarcely left you, when you go in me, crystalline."
As he started Pablo Neruda's poem, my hand traversed the length of my stomach down beneath my pants, fisting in my pubic hair and tugging before it wrapped around my cock and revealed it to the cool air of the room.
"Or trembling, or uneasy, wounded by me or overwhelmed with love, as when your eyes close upon the gift of life that without cease I give you." I brought my hand to my mouth, licking it wetly to ease the friction I would soon be experiencing.
"My love, we have found each other thirsty, and we have drunk up all the water and the blood." My fist began to pump slowly over my erection, my eyes squeezed tightly shut as his voice washed over me.
"We found each other hungry, and we bit each other as fire bites, leaving wounds in us." There were gasping breaks in his speech on account of the sight of me wanking myself so determined before him, I was sure. I heard him step closer to me, and the weight of his presence made a jarbled whimper leaving my lips in response to his movement. My fist tightened and I ran my thumb over my slit, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth to keep from screaming in pleasure.
I heard distantly the sounds of pages turning. "Kiss by kiss," his voice continued, through broken with desire, "I cover your tiny infinity, your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages. And a gentle fire, transformed by delight, slips through the narrow channels of blood to precipitate a nocturnal carnation. To be, and be nothing but light in the dark." He finished the poem with what sounded like a choked sob, my hips started to pump hard into my hand and a dark flush painted itself across my neck.
"You look so beautiful right now, lover. So beautiful," he whispered. I heard the book snap shut, my hips starting to lose control as my orgasm began to fluctuate the pressure in the base of my spine. "No poet could ever do you justice with nouns, adjective, similes. You are bigger than a metaphor. You are my epic poem."
The sudden shift in his words from poetry to sheer tender whisperings of love sent me over, his name desperately trying to be vocalized in my throat, but instead my lips formed the word without sound. I came hard into my hand, the hot liquid spilling itself violently into my fist as sheer ecstasy seemed to cause me to drown.
I felt him beside me, moving softly after some amount of time, my body trembling in an attempt to calm down. For the first time in what seemed like ages I opened my eyes to greet his beautiful face, smiles and adoration sitting on his features like they belonged there. He ran a hand down my face, moving gently the stray strands that had plastered themselves to the skin with sweat. "So beautiful," he whispered. My heart seemed to swell with love.
"Dominic," I whispered, sounding like a needy child. "Kiss me?"
He did not hesitate, bringing his lips to mine to place a passionate, yet chaste, kiss to them. As we parted I brought my eyes down to the sight of my fist, covered in the liquid proof of my desire. I glanced quickly around the room, hoping to find something to clean off with before I felt Dominic gently grasp my wrist. I watched with wide eyes as he brought my hand to his mouth, sucking urgently on my fingers as his tongue wrapped themselves around the digits. He sucked as one would through a straw, straining to receive every flavor my natural juices had to offer. Removing the fingers from his mouth, he licked a straight path down my palm, collecting all that had been left there. When he reached my wrist, his lips closed around the apex where my pulse was located, sucking the very last of me clean. The sheer sight and magnitude of the action nearly made me hard again.
I did not know what to say, words themselves escaping me as his lips formed an almost shy grin. Instead, I brought the now wet he and to his face and brought his lips to mine. "I love you," I whispered as we parted.
"I love you," he said, pecking my nose.
I adjusted myself in my pants and closed my trousers once more, Dominic returning the book to it's rightful place.
"So what do you think?" he asked, returning to me.
"I think that open to interpretation is a fabulous concept," I laughed.
He laughed with me before shoving his hands in his pockets, his feet shuffling nervously. "No, I mean about this room. Using it." He looked at me hopefully, and suddenly I caught his meaning. He must have recognized the realization on my face as he continued. "I just...I want you. All the bloody time. And sure we can spend the free period looking at each other and doing work. I'm not saying we need to be in here every day, obviously people would notice. But, I can't...sometimes, you're sitting there and I just want to touch you. I physically need to touch you, Matthew, and I can't because, well you know -"
I silenced his rambling with a passionate kiss, my tongue twining with his briefly before I pulled away. "Dom. I understand. I can't not touch you, all the time. So," I said pulling away. "We can use this, yes, but we cannot use it all the time."
"Obviously," he said simply, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"And we need to be so quiet and so careful. It's such a big risk, almost too big. But...I need you too." I smiled.
"Once a week then?" he asked. "We meet in here for ten minutes maximum. Leave and enter at different times?"
"Yes," was my easy reply. We kissed passionately for a few moments before Dom left first, having been the first to enter.
I was not sure how long we had been in the room for, but I could not stop myself from smiling as I picked my things up from the floor. It would be much easier from then on to handle my days, knowing that I would at least be able to touch him or hold him in the shadows of a room where desires in literature were the main event.
After a few minutes, I opened the door and walked down the hall. A thrill of anxiety and excitement bubbled in my belly as Ellen walked passed me, smiling again in her easy and natural way.
Again, I returned the smile though, this time, it contained more meaning.
She was blissfully unaware.
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Date: 2011-04-10 12:40 am (UTC)Ummmmmm, do you have ANY idea how big of a wrist kink I have? Like, it's fucking massive. And especially Matt's wrists? HOLY SHIT I THINK I'VE DIED. *fans self*