Sekrit Slasha

Slasha, Baby is the Lotrips Fanfiction holiday fic exchange. This story depicts real-life public figures engaged in completely fictional, false and untrue activities. It never happened. 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.

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Title: Cold Hands, Warm Heart
Pairing: Sean A./Elijah
Rating: NC17
Summary: A festive AU, containing a bit of fluff, a bit of smut, and a bit of angst.
Notes: Merry Christmas!

8.03pm, November 13th

It starts with the cold, harsh truth.

They're out for a couple of drinks. Dom's in the early stages of drunkenness, when he's liable to say things that he would never say sober.

"You're no fun anymore," he says, tone accusatory, to Elijah, out of the blue.

"What?" Elijah is halfway through his first drink. He frowns. "I'm fun!"

"No you're not. You used to be more fun."

Elijah rolls his eyes.

"Ever since Orli left you, you've been no fun."

Elijah splutters with indignation at this, but he can feel his cheeks going crimson with a sudden, embarrassed blush. "Shut up, Dom," he says.

Dom takes a swig of his beer. "You're still hung up over him, I can tell."

Elijah's cheeks can't get any redder. "Not really," he says. It's not, strictly speaking, a lie - it's not actually Orlando that Elijah misses, it's more the fact that he's been single for over a year now and it's taking its toll on his self-confidence.

Dom narrows his eyes slightly.

"Let's do something fun," he says suddenly.

"Like what?"

"Let's go ice-skating."

Elijah laughs, and then realises Dom is being serious.

"The rink'll be closed," he says.

"No it won't, it's only just after eight. It's open till ten on a Saturday." Dom finishes off his drink and starts pulling his coat on.

"I've never been ice-skating before," Elijah says.

"When was the last time you did something for the first time?" Dom asks.

Elijah can't remember.

"Oh, come on. It'll be a laugh," Dom says airily, getting to his feet.

"But - "

"But what? Come on, Elijah, this is what I was talking about. See, I said you were no fun." Dom looks disappointed.

Elijah looks at him for a moment, and then sighs. "Oh, all right then," he says, and gets up, lifting his coat with a bravado he doesn't feel.



"Hurry up!"

Dom is on the ice already. The brisk walk to the rink seems to have sobered him up. He flicks his left foot casually in front of his right, and the blade on his skate casts a flash of reflected light into Elijah's eyes.

Elijah hesitantly puts one foot onto the ice, clinging to the railing with both cold, sweaty hands.

"Don't be a fucking wimp," Dom says cheerfully, and, in one fluid movement, captures Elijah's hands in his own and tugs him onto the ice rink.

Elijah's heart leaps into his mouth with a sudden rush of shock. He halts himself in front of Dom, legs shaking.

"I can't do it," he says, and is instantly embarrassed by the slight hitch in his voice. "You know I've got no balance. Or co-ordination."

"You just need to practice," Dom says. "Come on!" He pulls at Elijah again, dragging him across the ice.

This time Elijah falls. It's an inelegant fall - he lands right on his backside, legs akimbo in front of him.

Dom snorts with laughter.

"Help me up, would you?" Elijah says. He's trembling now, and his arse really fucking hurts.

Dom sniggers a bit more, putting his hands behind his back and sticking out his tongue, like a cheeky ten year old rather than a supposedly mature adult. "You need to learn to get up on your own," he says, infuriatingly.

Elijah glares at him, and then struggles gracelessly to his feet. Dom, looking almost disappointed that Elijah has made it back up onto two legs, shrugs and skates off with a wave, twisting and spinning and carving up the ice.

"Dom!" Elijah calls after him, but Dom's gone - halfway across the rink, with the groups of young couples and parents with children who have also mastered the art of skating.

"Fucking bastard. Fucking ice skating," Elijah mutters under his breath, stepping rather than skating back towards the relative safety of the railings at the edge of the rink. One leg skids out from underneath him and he just manages to catch himself, but his palms are sweaty with fear and he just wants to give up. He makes it back to the edge, and starts picking his way across the ice. The only other person who looks as wary as he does is a five-year-old girl clinging to her mother's hand. As Elijah watches them, the girl manages to skate a little on her own, and lets go of the edge. He sighs, and keeps holding on. Maybe he really isn't much fun.

When Dom rejoins him, his hands are stiff from clutching the railings, and he's shivering.

"Can we go home yet?" he asks.

Dom takes pity. "Okay then. Come on." He helps Elijah off the ice.

They sit on a bench in silence to take off their skates. Dom heads off for the vending machine, leaving Elijah to return both pairs to the little booth at the side of the rink.

"Thanks," he says to the man behind the counter.

"No problem," the man says, and hands Elijah a leaflet. Elijah gives it a perfunctory glance over, not really taking it in, and then something near the bottom catches his eye.

"You do lessons for beginners?" he asks the man behind the counter.

"We do," comes the reply. "Would you be interested in signing up?"

Elijah glances back to where Dom is sitting, holding a hot chocolate and a Mars bar, and makes up his mind.

"Yes," he says decisively, and leans over the counter to give his details.


6.50pm, November 15th

Elijah arrives at the rink the following Monday evening, feeling surprisingly excited. This is it. He's going to learn how to do something cool.

He collects a pair of skates at the desk, and is told to make his way out on to the ice. The rink is almost empty, so he spots the beginners' class immediately - the small group of nervous people huddled together, wobbling in their skates every few seconds. Elijah hobbles over to them, and only just reaches them when someone skates past him and calls, "Beginners! Welcome to your first lesson."

Elijah turns awkwardly in his skates to look at their teacher. He's about Elijah's height, stocky in build, with broad shoulders and muscled legs. He's wearing some sort of lycra leggings. Elijah tries to avoid eye contact with the intriguing bulge between his legs.

"Hi, everyone," the teacher says. "My name's Sean. We're going to start with the absolute basics...Can everyone station themselves in a spot on the ice, with an arms-length between you and the next person?" He waits a moment for everyone to comply. There's something attractive about his voice, Elijah thinks - it's warm and authoritative, without being bossy.

He manages to get through the first lesson without making too big a fool of himself. As the class finishes, and they step tentatively off the ice, Sean waves to him. Elijah waves back, and feels a little rush of elation as he takes his skates off.


7.21pm, December 6th

Elijah decides he really quite fancies Sean in their fourth lesson. It's hard to take his eyes off Sean. He's not the type of guy Elijah normally goes for - Elijah usually likes tall, skinny men with too much hair. But Sean - he conjures up images of safety and love, which is just what Elijah wants and feels he needs.

Sean has a magnetic personality. His laugh is infectious. He always seems to be there to steady Elijah on his feet when he looks like he's going to fall over. The last time this happened, the icy skin of Elijah's left hand brushed against the warm, firm flesh of Sean's right, and the swooping sensation in Elijah's stomach was so strong he thought he was going to faint.

On another note, those lycra leggings Sean wears leave very little to the imagination. Elijah likes that.


1.15pm, December 14th

"So you fancy the ice-skating guy?"

"Sort of," Elijah admits. He brings his mug to his lips, mainly to hide his blush. At this stage, he more than ėsort of' fancies Sean. He's had dreams about Sean. He's fantasised about Sean. He's even - rather embarrassedly - wanked to thought of Sean.

Dom smirks. "And so?"

"So what?" Elijah lowers his mug.

"So, are you going to ask him out?"

Elijah fidgets with a sachet of sugar for a moment before answering. "I don't know. I don't know if he's gay. And even if he was, he probably wouldn't want to go out with me..."

"That's loser talk," Dom says bluntly. "Ask him out."

"I can't. It'd be awkward."

"How many lessons do you have left with him?"

"Just one."

"Well, there, then. That works out well. Ask him at the end of your last lesson."

"I can't, Dom. I'll mess it up, and he'll turn me down."

Dom rolls his eyes. "Don't be stupid. Just do it."

"Can we leave it?" Elijah says, and racks his brains to think of a different subject.


10.27pm, December 14th

Elijah decides, when he's lying in bed that night, that he will ask Sean out after all. It's another early night, with his old, tartan fleece-covered hot water bottle at his feet. Not romantic at all. What Elijah needs in his life, he thinks, is more romance. Maybe Dom's right - maybe he should just ask Sean out for a drink or something. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And with this resolution sitting firmly at the front of his mind, Elijah rolls over, curls up and falls asleep within minutes.


6.00pm, December 20th

Elijah goes to and fro mentally while waiting for the bus. He decides that he can't possibly ask Sean out after all. He'll turn Elijah down, and then Elijah will feel even worse about himself than he does now. Maybe it's best just to pretend that everything's normal and that he doesn't fancy Sean at all, rather than get his hopes up by planning on asking him out. But then, what if he asked Sean and Sean said yes?

He reaches the rink ahead of schedule. He collects a pair of skates and heads on to the ice. He's still not confident enough to really let loose, but at least he can keep his balance without gripping the railings all the time.

Elijah's almost right in the middle of the rink, skating rather inelegantly with his arms outstretched for balance, when a sudden swish of skates behind him makes him jump, and he slips. A pair of arms catches him just before his knees hit the ice.

"Sorry," comes the voice.

Elijah raises his head, and his heart, thudding frantically with the shock of the fall, almost stops beating. It's Sean, looking concerned, still with his warm, strong arms round Elijah's chest while Elijah tries to get his footing again.

"Are you OK?" Sean asks. He smells like coffee and peppermint and sweat. It's completely arousing.

"Erm, yeah, fine." Elijah's voice comes out as a squeak and an easy pink flush comes to his cheeks. He gets back onto his feet, legs wobbling a little.

Sean lets go of him, and Elijah instantly misses the contact.


Elijah worries and wonders the whole way through the class. At the end, when they're all making their way off the ice to leave their skates back, calling brief ėMerry Christmases' over their shoulders, Elijah decides, with a heavy heart, that he can't summon up the courage to ask Sean out. He sits down dejectedly on an empty bench to take off his skates, and just as he bends over to undo the straps, Sean sits next to him.

"Hi," he says.

Elijah straightens up, willing himself not to start blushing again. "Hey."

Sean has already taken off his skates - he's holding them together in one hand. He's wearing thick red socks covered in a white snowflake print.

"Your skating has really improved, you know," he tells Elijah.

It's more polite than true, but Elijah smiles anyway.

"Er, I was wondering," Sean says, and his voice has a slight stammer in it. "I just thought - if you're free now, maybe we could...go and get a drink or something?"

Elijah can't believe what he's hearing. "What?" he asks cautiously.

Sean runs his free hand through his hair. "Just for coffee or something," he says. "Only if you want to, of course. I mean, I - I - you're nice." He's going red in the face, and he doesn't meet Elijah's eyes, choosing instead to fidget with the strap on one of his skates.

Elijah is blushing a little bit too. He nods, and then realises Sean's not looking at him. So he clears his throat and says "Yes. Yes, that'd be nice."

Sean glances back up, and a grin breaks out over his face.

"Now?" he asks.

"Sure," Elijah says, without hesitation, and they stand up to leave their skates back.


9.00pm, December 20th

"Thanks for the coffee," Elijah says. They're standing outside the door to his top-floor flat, and there's a tension in the air.

"Thanks for taking me up on it," Sean answers. The tip of his nose is red with the cold outside.

Elijah has butterflies in his stomach. He licks his lips, and speaks. "Do you want to come in?"

There's a moment of silence, where Elijah fears that Sean's going to turn him down, even though they got on so well over the coffee. But then Sean smiles, and it's a slow, smouldering fire of a smile, and he nods, and follows Elijah inside.

Elijah kisses him as soon as they're inside. Sean's lips are warm and soft, in contrast to the cold skin on his nose which brushes lightly against Elijah's cheek, now hot with a sudden rush of arousal. The kiss starts chastely, but Elijah parts his lips almost subconsciously, and before he even registers that things are moving up a notch, he's groaning quietly into Sean's mouth and nudging his hips against Sean's. His cock is rock hard and his jeans are too tight.

"My bedroom's through here," he mumbles against Sean's jaw, unwilling to completely lose contact with him.

"Lead the way," Sean says, and Elijah is gratified to hear that Sean's voice is gruffer than normal, and that he's not the only one whose jeans have gotten too tight.

They stumble to the bedroom, not bothering with the light switch. Sean's warm hands push Elijah's coat off his narrow shoulders and start slowly flicking open the buttons on Elijah's shirt. Elijah starts panting. The first brush of Sean's fingers against his chest send sparks directly to his cock. He hasn't even got the presence of mind to start undressing Sean, but luckily Sean takes matters into his own hands and they break apart for a minute to finish flinging their clothes off.

Elijah sits on the bed. Sean sits next to him, and they're kissing again, and Sean's hands are smoothing slow circles over Elijah's back, working lower and lower. Elijah tries to map Sean's body too, but he can't focus when Sean's touch is driving him further and further into a state of arousal. He eventually just gives up and goes pliant, dropping back to lie down, with Sean leaning over him.

"Do you have condoms?" Sean asks quietly.

"Yes - over there, in the - the top drawer..." Elijah is slightly breathless, and he sighs as Sean gets up and rummages in the drawer. It seems like an age until Sean is ready, and Elijah thinks maybe he's changed his mind, and then two lube-coated fingers slide around Elijah's cock, behind his balls and dip slowly and gently inside him, and he doesn't think anything much any more. The sensation of Sean's warm fingers, slick with cool lube, rubbing at one spot makes him cry out, and Sean muffles the noise with another long kiss. And then the fingers are gone, and something altogether better is there instead. When Elijah comes, it's with a little groan and a jerk of his hips, and Sean comes a moment later, pulling off the condom and dropping down to lie next to Elijah.

Their fingers link - Sean's warm, Elijah's cool.

"It's snowing," Sean says dreamily, and Elijah follows his gaze to the skylight, where white flakes are drifting gently through the navy night. He smiles, plants a smudged kiss to Sean's sweaty shoulder, and curls up, warm and tired and happy.


8.16pm, December 24th

"So you actually slept with him on your first date?" Dom looks slightly awed.

They're sitting at Elijah's kitchen table with a cup of tea and a tin of chocolate biscuits.

"Yeah." For once, Elijah's not blushing. He smiles at the memory of sleeping with Sean, of waking up in the morning in his arms, and of getting up and making a pot of coffee to bring back to bed; ordinary, simple, everyday things - the things that, in the end, make the biggest difference to Elijah's happiness.

Dom opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, but then just closes it again.

An idea pops into Elijah's head.

"Hey, d'you want to meet him?"

"Yeah, of course." Dom takes another biscuit and dunks it inelegantly in his tea. He raises it to his mouth, chocolate melting on his fingers.

"Right now, I mean. We can go right to the rink, it's open late this week."

Dom pauses, mouth full of crumbs. He finally swallows. "But it's Christmas Eve, we can't just go! I've got presents to wrap..."

Elijah, already on his feet, folds his arms, giving Dom a stern mock-frown. "You're no fun," he says. That's all he needs to say. Dom rolls his eyes, but he grins in spite of himself and gets up. Elijah leads the way out of the house and into the snow, a firm smile on his face.

Created by megolas, revised by yueni
fabulous artwork ©2002 by Hope
Moderated by MSilverstar & feelforfaith