Slashababy 2004 Stories

  FANFICTION: This story depicts real-life public figures engaged in completely fictional, false and untrue activities. It never happened, it never will happen. This story is a work of fantasy and satire which in no way professes to express the truth about the life, thoughts, feelings, desires, opinions, beliefs, activities or sexual orientation of any person mentioned herein.


for baranduin
by antigone_ks

Pairing: EW/KU
Rating: R
Summary: Blue eyes are deadly

His son was at home, waiting for him. Natalie said he'd been fussy all week. Missed his dad, she said, and then laughed without humor.

"I miss you, too," Karl said, and hung up the phone.

He thought about his son, huge grownup eyes in a two-year-old face. Brown eyes.

But it was blue he craved.

Karl shivered, though the afternoon was warm, and drank the last dregs of wine straight from the bottle. He ought to be getting home for a bit, he had time before the London premiere. He really didn't have to go to that one, anyway... he wasn't obligated. He could just go home. He could leave.

Brown eyes were the most astonishing thing he'd ever seen. They were warm, and alive, and they loved him.

Blue eyes were deadly, and they were waiting on the bed.

Elijah was watching him without looking. Blue eyes carelessly flicked over pages of stills from the movie as if choosing which were worthy and which to discard, but his body was tense, waiting.

"How is it," Karl whispered, "that you hold me here and still trouble that I might leave?"

"Are you leaving?" Elijah's voice was carefully casual.


The moment stretched out as Elijah rejected another page without seeing it. The next he studied more closely, a page of himself and Sean in Emyn Muil. He was closed off, his wonderful eyes lowered guardedly. He'd learned that trick so quickly, Karl thought. In less than a year his gleeful innocence had been drilled from him, replaced by a studied, dishonest version that nonetheless seemed to fool everyone. All of them busy, of course. All of them harried from one side of the globe to the other, too taken with their new fame and their old lives to look deeper and see a small, disintegrating figure that only vaguely resembled Elijah.

But the eyes hadn't learned, and so Elijah hid them. They shone brightly when he was happy and cut like ice when he wasn't, and now, staring blindly at their own likeness, they were pale and bloodless. Karl had never seen eyes that drained so quickly and so severely and though he knew why, he wished... He wished that there was no reason to hide, and he wished that Elijah couldn't no matter how he tried. He wanted to see the pain in those eyes full and bleeding until it was drained. He wanted to see blue eyes laugh again, and he wanted to see them burn. He wanted to die a little.

He was leaving, but he didn't have to go now.

He closed the distance with little grace, half-falling onto Elijah in his haste. A sheet of photos fluttered to the floor as Karl roughly lifted Elijah's face. The young man's eyes fluttered shut as he delicately kissed each lid, then moved lower. His hand stole to the back of Elijah's neck and gripped him tightly, drawing a gasp and a shiver. Elijah raised his mouth, eyes closed, searching.

"I don't want your mouth, Lij." Blue eyes flew open, staring, hurt. "That''s it look at me."

The photos slid across the bed as they moved back, Karl's knee moving between those of his lover's. They were still dressed from yesterday's premiere; Elijah's tie hanging loose, Karl's shirt unbuttoned. His hair hung into his face, swinging into his eyes and his view of Elijah. He pushed it back impatiently, but another hand stole up the side of his face and gripped him tightly.

"You get my eyes. I get your hair." The younger man''s lips twitched. "It's only fair."

"We want to be fair, don't we?" Karl agreed, as if anything could be fair between them. As if the price were measured and judged honest. The look in those eyes, so dark, so hungry, and the feel of that lithe body stood him hard and straight, and cost was nothing. Lij could bring a strong man off with those eyes alone, but the hands in his hair and the knee at his hip drove Karl helpless and mad. Helplessly mad, and damned if he could last long enough to strip bare.

They drove against one another, straining, teeth bared. Fingers scrabbled at Karl's hips, digging in, pulling him closer until all movement was brought down to hard, chafing strokes. Their lips hovered millimeters apart, not touching, and blue eyes were so close that Karl knew he was drowning in them. He choked, his throat tightening, and fell further into their depths. So easy to go, so easy to fall into Elijah and drink until they both were full, until it was fair.

It came over him, not crashing like a wave, but flowing, rippling, swelling under his skin until he was too small to hold it all in. Water pounded in his ears, drowning out all noise but twin hearts that kept the beat steady, steady, then frenzied as they plunged.

Then there was no sound, no sound at all in the room, on the bed. There were no more questions. There was no comfort. Blue eyes closed, and stayed closed. Karl was grateful for that as he made his calls and gathered what little he'd brought from home.

Home, where his son's brown eyes were waiting. Brown eyes were the most astonishing thing he'd ever seen. They were warm, and alive, and they loved him.

Blue eyes were deadly. He died a little every time he left.



Slashababy 2004 Stories