Feroce

"Hey, Antonin? ...this is Antonin, right?" Elijah has gotten kind of paranoid about calling his lover since Davide answered.

"Yes." Antonin chuckled.

"Hello Elijah."

"Hi. Um...I was wondering...if you wanted to come over for dinner? Cause, you know, then Davide wouldn't be around, and we wouldn't have to watch weird figure skating movies and be...awkward. It would just be...you know, us..."

"Yes, that would be fine. Should I bring wine for dinner? Or a dessert?"

"Um...sure! Whatever you want. You don't have to, I've got stuff here. Just, you know...you..." Elijah laughs nervously. "Sorry, that was cheesy..."

"What were you thinking of making? Should I bring a red or a white?" the cellist smiled, shaking his head. How did he end up with such an awkward boy?

"Umm...red, I think. Yeah, red."

"Alright." Antonin shrugged, trusting his new plaything's wine choice. For now.

"Great! See you soon!" Elijah bounces to his kitchen and turns on the oven.

Antonin rolls his eyes a little, pulling on a sweater and going to the pantry to pick out a good red wine. It doesn't take him long to drive over to Elijah's.

Elijah leaps up every time he hears a car outside in case it's Antonin; he's been dropped off at home before, but the cellist has never actually come inside (heheh) and he's very excited. More than usual.

Antonin sees Elijah's head pop up in the window when he drives up and parks. He gives him a little wave, heading up to the door.

With a much more enthusiastic wave (and hoping Antonin didn't see him hit his forehead on the window), Elijah flings open the front door, beaming at his lover. "Um...hi...dinner's in the oven; it'll be a bit. Should I put that in the fridge?" He takes the wine.

Antonin takes the wine back with a strange expression. "No, red wine doesn't go in the fridge. ...do you have a corkscrew?"

"Oh." Unfazed, Elijah leans his head on Antonin's chest for a moment. "...I think so." He goes to the kitchen, and after several long minutes of rummaging, produces a cheap folding corkscrew. "Will this work?"

"I have one in my car, I'll be right back." Antonin goes out and fishes one of his many unusual emergency things out of his glove box. He comes back and opens the wine, letting it breath. "Glasses?"

Elijah hands him two ordinary water glasses, cheerily. "Here you are!"

Antonin looks down his nose at Elijah, raising an eyebrow.

"What? Is there a spot?" Elijah frowns at the glasses. "I need to get a new dishwasher, I think..."

"Wine glasses."

"...what about them?"

"These are water glasses."

"...yes...?" Elijah still isn't getting it.

"Wine glasses are shaped differently. Don't you have any?"

"Mmm...I don't think so. They're round with a stem, right?"

"....yes."

"No, I don't have any." Elijah smiles and goes to pop the frozen pizza into the oven.

Antonin's jaw dropped.

Happily oblivious, Elijah hums a little, smiling at Antonin as he puts the wrappers in the trash.

Antonin stopped Elijah, taking the pizza out of the oven and tossing it into the garbage.

"Antonin!" Elijah gives a startled laugh, completely surprised.

"Are you absolutely starving, or do you have time for a quick shop?" Antonin said, busily rummaging through Elijah's cupboards. It was an awful sight. Pre-packaged junk food, boxes of microwavable, just add water crap. The cellist shuddered.

"Ah...I...why did you throw out our dinner?" Elijah asks, very quietly. He has a feeling that he's on dangerous ground and liable to be attacked at any moment, but he has no idea why. His instincts, luckily, kick in.

"We're going shopping and I will make us some real food." Antonin said quietly.

"...okay..." Elijah squeaks, turning off the oven.

They get into Antonin's car and he drives them to the nearest grocery store. He shoos Elijah through the aisles, getting him to carry the basket and tossing things in as they went. Tomato sauce, tomato paste, green peppers, onions, garlic, mushrooms, bags of spices (since Elijah had none except for powdered garlic and salt), hamburger, noodles and oil.

Elijah, rather dazed by it all, follows along obediently. His wide eyes are the only thing that give away how confused he is.

Antonin pays for the food and drags his boy home, digging through his unused dishes to find a pot and a frying pan. He had a drink of wine while they waited for the onion and hamburger to cook, drinking it straight from the bottle.

Very concerned by this behaviour, Elijah sits as quietly as he can.

Dinner takes less time than Elijah imagines, but it's still quite late by the time they sit down with plates of pasta and spicy tomato sauce. Antonin offers Elijah the wine bottle.

Looking as though he expects to be struck with it, Elijah takes the bottle. This he also regards with suspicion, as though the mouth of the bottle may have grown teeth.

"Have a drink and eat up." he sighed, devouring his pasta.

Elijah nods meekly, taking a big gulp of wine and gasping. He watches Antonin eat, part of him finding it a little strange to watch the cellist do something so...ordinary and human.

Antonin smiled a little, relaxing as he started to eat. Food was one of his biggest pleasures in life and he didn't go a single meal without enjoying it completely.

A s Antonin relaxes, so does Elijah, and he smiles back, enjoying watching his lover relish the meal. "...sorry about the pizza..."

Antonin chuckled. "I'm sorry I was so ... dramatic. But you're 24 and you've been on your own for years. How is it that you don't cook at all?"

Elijah laughs. "It was pretty dramatic. I think you've spent too much time with Dav--oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that!"

"I promise only to be dramatic about food." he grinned.

"That's fair. ...what does my age have to do with anything?"

"You've been out on your own! You're not a college student anymore, you should be making proper meals for yourself and taking better care of your poor stomach." Antonin patted Elijah's tummy.

Elijah grins. "I never went to college. What's wrong with my stomach?" He gives the area a distressed look. "And I can't cook."

"Well, then I will cook whenever we eat together." he shook his head. "But you should really learn at least a few recipes."

"Ok, I'd like that. ...I'm sorry I made you cook when I invited you over for dinner..." He's apparently forgotten that he had hardly -made- Antonin cook. "But I mean it. I -really- can't cook. Like, I'm pretty sure there's a sniper who watches me, just to make sure." He glances toward the window.

Antonin burst out laughing. "Oh Elijah, you are adorable."

"...what? Why?" Elijah laughs as well, a little nervously.

Antonin took the boy's hand and kissed his fingertips, smiling.

"Ohhh...ok." Elijah shivers with pleasure, melting against Antonin's shoulder. "That was delicious, thank you."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I hope I didn't make it too spicy for you."

Elijah shakes his head, crawling into Antonin's lap and laying his head on the cellist's chest.

Antonin stroked Elijah's hair and down his back, kissing his exposed ear. "Sweet boy."

Elijah squeaks and giggles, gasping as his sensitive ear is kissed and breathed on. "Mmm..."

"Do you... want to go to bed?" Antonin murmured quietly.

Elijah nods, his large brown eyes very close to Antonin's face.

Antonin helps them stand, wavering a little. He's pleasantly drunk. He starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Laughing softly, Elijah puts an arm around Antonin's waist to help. "...sorry I made you drink so much..." he murmurs, only to be distracted by the sight of the other man's bare chest.

"Mmm, it was good wine. Hardly your fault." he chuckled deeply.

Elijah smiles and kisses Antonin's chest. "Thanks. Oh. Right, the bedroom's this way...I guess I never got to give you a tour."

"I'd like a tour of your bedroom." he smiled, kissing the top of Elijah's head.

Blushing, Elijah speeds up a little. "Me too. I mean...I'd like you to have one, too. Also. Quickly."

Antonin pulled off Elijah's clothing, pushing him into the bedroom with kisses and soft caresses.

Elijah is quite happy to be passive through all of this, until something occurs to him. "Um...I bought something yesterday..." he murmurs, his blush deepening.

"Oh?" Antonin stopped, curious.

Fishing under the bed, Elijah produces a length of soft, white rope.

"I, ah, wasn't sure if you'd...but...um...I saw it, and..."

Antonin grinned, wrapping the rope around the boy's wrists and tying them together. He pushed Elijah onto the bed and tied his wrists to the headboard.

Elijah moans, eyes rolling back in his head, writhing on the bed.

Antonin kisses down the boy's chest, undoing Elijah's pants.

"Ohhh...yeah..." Elijah squirms, not used to being restrained, fighting the rope as he triest to watch Antonin.

Antonin tugs down Elijah's pants and boxers, watching the younger man's cock spring up for attention. Eyes on Elijah's face, he lowered his mouth to kiss it, just beneath the head.

Elijah's eyes snap open, and he jerks forward hard enough that he winces as the rope pulls taut, and the headboard bangs against the wall, startling him. "Oh, Antonin!"

Antonin delicately takes Elijah's cock in his mouth, rolling his tongue over the head, sucking at it, grazing it oh-so-lightly with his teeth, sliding his lips further down the shaft.

"Ngh! Teasing...!"

Antonin stopped entirely. "What was that? Do you think I'm teasing you?" he asked, eyes wide and innocent.

"Nonono!" Elijah shakes his head. "No teasing! Don't stop!"

The cellist grinned, slowly taking Elijah's cock into his mouth again, practically purring around his delicious mouthful.

"Antonin...! I'm...!" Elijah whimpers, bucking against the cellist's mouth and the rope.

Antonin pulled away. "Not yet." he said breathlessly. "Do you have condoms?"

"Nghhh!!!" Elijah cries, eyes pleading and desperate. "Yes, nightstand! There!"

Antonin grabs condoms and lube, spreading Elijah's legs and starting to stretch him, putting the condom on with his other hand.

Elijah bucks furiously into the fingers stretching him, so close that he can take more, faster, than usual.

Antonin slides in two fingers, curling them briefly, then pulling them out to replace them with his cock.

"Yes! Yes! God, Antonin, yes! Please, I'm cumming!" Elijah screams, not noticing the strain on his wrists as he rocks himself ecstatically on Antonin.

Antonin fucks him hard, wanting to make it worth it while his lover was already at his limit.

With a final moan, Elijah clenches furiously, face going bright red as he cums. After he's stopped bucking and writhing around Antonin's cock, he goes limp in the rope, panting.

Antonin continues fucking Elijah, until he cums, though with the boy's clenching, it doesn't take long.

Purring softly, Elijah cuddles up to the cellist as best he can; he's brought up a little short by his wrists. "Do you...like what I bought?" he gasps.

Antonin gently unties him, kissing his wrists. "Yes." he groans, collapsing next to Elijah.

Elijah blushes. "Heh. I'm glad." He oozes onto Antonin's chest, yawning, eyes slipping shut.

Bocca Chiusa

Antonin, sprawled naked in bed with Elijah curled against his chest, turns to his lover and casually asks, “Do you trust me?”

Trying very hard not to think of Aladdin, Elijah gives the cellist a brief puzzled look, then nods.

Antonin smiles; he hadn’t expected a different answer, but one has to ask. “Good. Meet me at this address tomorrow at five. PM,” and hands the boy a piece of paper. With that, he rolls out of bed and begins dressing.

Not really expecting an answer, Elijah murmurs, “…what’s this for?”

Shrugging, Antonin pulls on his jacket and, blowing Elijah a kiss, leaves his boy’s bedroom. He has a key by this point, and Elijah can hear his door being locked.

Elijah shakes his head, bewildered, but…he’s also a little excited. Maybe more than a little. Maybe to the point that he’d like to touch himself, except that a) he just had sex, and b) he’s not allowed to. Instead, he burrows under the blankets and curls up to sleep.

The next day, Elijah arrives at the address at about 5:03. He’s surprised to see that he’s been sent to a private home, if a large, luxurious private home. He knocks tentatively, and is relatively unsurprised when Antonin answers, even though he knows Antonin and Davide share an apartment.

Antonin angles his head to indicate Elijah should come inside, and has turned and walked away without making sure his boy is following.

Looking around just a little apprehensively--what if this is some sort of cult? What would Mike say if he knew about this?--Elijah inevitably follows. He’s quite impressed, if a little awed, by the art, furniture and obvious expense of the house, and he hurries after Antonin’s retreating back; a view he very much approves of. “…Antonin? Whose house is this…?”

Antonin stops in a small guest bedroom. “Strip.”

Elijah sighs and begins undressing. “Ok, but…”

The cellist smiles his predatory smile and points to some rope and two large, metal angles, connected by a fancy metal fan-shape, laying on the bed. “Do you understand yet?”

Elijah shakes his head, giving Antonin an almost pleading look of confusion.

Antonin smiles knowingly. “Kneel.” Without waiting, expecting that his command will be obeyed, Antonin takes a length of the white and gold rope from the bed and ties Elijah’s calves and thighs together so that he will have to remain kneeling and won’t be able to stand. The knots are both functional and decorative, and Antonin admires his work. “There. Now put your arms in the music stand position.”

Elijah puts himself in the desired position, his eyes growing wide with nervous certainty.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? A very dear friend of mine is having a dinner party, and I am playing a few pieces as part of the entertainment. You will be my music stand.” ‘As part of the entertainment’ goes unsaid. Antonin lifts the beautiful music rest, also white and gold, and straps it to Elijah’s forearms with soft leather buckles. He nods his approval.

Trying not to squeak with terror--he’ll be in public like this…naked…! Being Antonin’s music stand at home is one thing, but…

Antonin glances at his stand. “Something you’d like to say? A colour, perhaps?”

Elijah considers it for a moment, then shakes his head.

“Good.” He’s rewarded by a kiss on the forehead, before Antonin reveals his last surprise. “You’re being quite good and quiet, but just in case you forget,” he fastens a leather band that matches the rope and stand around Elijah’s mouth, “music stands don’t talk. Even when they’re embarrassed.” He smirks at his boy’s red cheeks and red cock. “There, now. They’re waiting for us.” With that, he gathers Elijah into his arms and carries him to the patio.

Elijah is astounded when they step outside--the patio and yard are quite full, but there are no women in sight. There are couples and groups of men in handsome clothes, talking, sipping drinks, and eating hors d’oeuvres, but what catches his attention far more are the naked or mostly naked men. Some of them are servers, with trays of food and drink. Some of them are kneeling or sitting by another man’s side; some of these are wearing collars. A few are delicately posed throughout the garden, painted to look like marble statues. Elijah is delighted, and suddenly feels much less uncomfortable.

Antonin places his stand in an area that has been kept clear for him, where his cello already is. He places some (rather unnecessary) music on the stand and positions himself on a chair--he had been offered a boy to sit on, but had declined, not knowing how Elijah would react. He quickly tunes the cello, settles the instrument between his legs, takes up his bow, and begins to play.

Elijah is much more able to focus on the music than the first time he had been a stand, even in this strange place. For one thing, the sheet music is quite large and covers his eyes; he has to be careful to breathe softly so he doesn’t blow it away. He hasn’t felt quite this awestruck by Antonin’s playing since that first benefit concert, so he allows himself to relax and not worry about the eyes watching him, but to just listen to the music and play his small role in it.

Accarezzévole

“If you want me to stop, you say ‘red’. If you want me to slow down, you say ‘yellow’.” Antonin regards Elijah calmly, seeing that the other man has absorbed what he’s just said

“Yes, but…”

Antonin shakes his head, smiling wickedly. “Strip,” the older man commands, snapping his fingers, his tone and the action requiring obedience.

Blushing, though he’s not sure why, seeing as they’ve been fucking for weeks, Elijah slowly undresses. Somehow, being coolly watched while he’s getting naked is more intimate than their usual mad-rush-to-get-clothes-off-for-sex. Go figure. This time around, Antonin hadn’t made it out of his shirt or socks.

Antonin nods his approval, sitting on the edge of the bed and pinning Elijah with an unwavering stare. “Turn.”

Elijah turns around.

Antonin smiles, pleased by how readily the boy responds, but…”Keep turning. Slowly. I want to see you.”

“You’ve seen me naked. Lots,” Elijah protests.

“Shut up,” Antonin says, gently, rotating one finger.

Elijah pouts delicately, but does as he’s told. He doesn’t make his turn showy or pretty, but Antonin still enjoys the view, and the thought that all this beautiful young flesh is on display just for him.

“Bring me my boots.”

Puzzled, Elijah looks for the footwear; things had gotten a little scrambled in the undressing. He eventually finds one boot under his underwear, and the other under the bed. He brings them triumphantly to Antonin, with the air of a dog who is extremely pleased with himself for pleasing his master.

Antonin leisurely stretches out a long foot, giving Elijah a pointed glance, then looking at the boots.

Elijah fumbles for a while, never having dressed someone before, but finally manages to get a boot on each foot, with both of them laced.

“Good.” The one word is sufficient, especially when combined with a brief, rough pat on the head.

Elijah beams, his tongue all but lolling out.

Antonin stretches his foot out again, resting it on Elijah’s chest.

The boy gasps, eyes rolling back in his head at the feeling of the rubber and leather just beginning to press on his sternum.

So easy, Antonin thinks. Not that it’s a bad thing. The cellist begins to incrementally apply pressure, slowly but surely forcing Elijah back. Finally, the smaller man is almost to the floor, propped up on his hands, staring wide-eyed up at the owner of the boot. Antonin allows himself a pleased smile, especially because he doesn’t think Elijah is really seeing the world. He stands in one fluid motion and kicks Elijah’s arms out from under him, so the other man now has his back on the floor, legs bent up beneath him. Interesting. “You’re very flexible. How nice. You don’t need to respond,” he says, curtailing the motion he sees Elijah’s lips begin.

Elijah turns the words into a moan, arms stretched straight out above his head. The position is one that he’s been in before, and he can maintain it for quite some time.

“You look very much like a cello, actually. But that’s not what we’re doing now.” Antonin puts his boot back on Elijah’s chest, just the toe to begin with, grinding into his ribcage with the same motion he would use to put out a cigarette.

Elijah’s arms flail down, until they’re stretched out beside him, nails grasping at the short carpet.

Antonin lowers his heel as well, seeing how much pressure he can exert before Elijah’s breathing becomes laboured and he lifts just a little. Experimentally, he sees if the pressure can slowly be increased. Results; not really. Bored with this after a while, Antonin wedges the toe of his boot under Elijah’s side and rolls the prone boy onto his front. The cellist then kicks each of his captive’s legs straight, revealing his pert ass.

Elijah gasps, his toes curling as they try to burrow into the carpet and join his fingers. He’s never done anything like this before, and now that he has, he has a feeling he won’t be able to stop. He would do anything for Antonin right now, and he’s fairly certain that the cellist is aware of this.

Luckily Antonin is used to—in fact, expects—this reaction from boys he plays with (although it’s been a while, what with the whole Davide thing), and is able to keep his urges in check and not have either of them do something stupid. He grinds a boot over Elijah’s ass, heel on one cheek, toe on the other, watching the muscle writhe and jump beneath the rubber of his soles. He pries the cheeks apart with his toe, probing at the still-moist opening between them.

Convinced, just for a moment, that Antonin is literally about to shove a boot up his ass, Elijah is on the verge of saying ‘red!’ but holds himself back in time. He doesn’t want this to stop, and he had trusted the man enough to get into this situation.

Antonin feels Elijah’s body tense beneath him, and has a good idea of what the boy is thinking and experiencing. He had been on the receiving end of similar treatment from one of his professors. He slowly works the boot up Elijah’s spine until it rests solidly between the boy’s shoulder blades. Here, he’s able to exert quite a bit of pressure, driving Elijah’s face into the carpet until he’s forced to turn his head to the side or have his nose squashed flat. Antonin loves predictable responses. And seeing carpet marks on boy’s faces. And boot prints, especially.

Elijah feels his cock twitch; it’s not quite ready to get hard again, but it’s certainly letting him know that if it could…he’s rather glad it can’t, honestly, because it wouldn’t really have anywhere to go at the moment, seeing as it’s pressed to the carpet.

Antonin hears, and feels through his boot, Elijah’s breathing speed up. He moves his foot still further, until it’s resting across the boy’s neck. He’s carefully not to press down here, but he does enjoy the knowledge that, if he wanted to, he could hurt Elijah very badly in this position. Smiling softly, he moves his boot until it’s resting on Elijah’s face, covering it from jaw to hair. He grinds just a little, just enough for Elijah to feel the force behind it and leave a short-term mark.

Elijah moans, his legs spasming out behind him as his face is pinned to the rough carpet. His mind is beautifully, delightfully blank, and he loves it.

Wanting to try one more thing with his boot before they move on, Antonin rolls Elijah onto his back again. The boy rolls limply, corpse-like. Antonin carefully kneads Elijah’s genitals with the toe of his boot, again letting the other man feel what he could do without putting any real weight into it. “This is not about sex,” he murmurs, “we just had sex. This is different. I might do things to your cock or balls,” he leaves the statement wonderfully ambiguous, “but it won’t be sex. At least not as you know it. Nod if you understand.”

Eyes a little wide, head raised to watch the action down there, Elijah nods.

“Good.” Antonin plants his foot between Elijah’s thighs, and reaches down to pull the other man onto his knees by the hair.

Elijah makes a series of sharp gasping noises, his eyes rolled back in his head with ecstasy. He easily allows himself to be led this way, and is soon kneeling, a little unsteadily, in front of Antonin.

Antonin carefully releases his handful, making sure Elijah falls onto all fours and not over. “Lick them,” he murmurs. Then, remembering who he’s dealing with, he further stipulates, “my boots.”

Looking briefly disgusted—these are outdoor boots, not just decorative! Elijah lowers his face to the leather and gives a tentative lick. They taste salty, not at all the way he had expected them to. They actually taste a great deal like Antonin, especially his yummier parts. Encouraged by this, Elijah applies himself to the task with gusto, using his whole tongue and eagerly working the leather.

“That’s enough.” Grabbing Elijah by the hair again, Antonin pulls the smaller man up onto the bed beside him, allowing him a moment’s respite before digging his nails into his lover’s thighs.

Elijah gasps, limbs twitching wildly, but remains sprawled on the bed.

Antonin stands; he’s really in almost the perfect position, everything is easily accessible. After a moment of gripping as much flesh as he can, the cellist rakes his nails up Elijah’s thighs to his hips. Here, he digs in again, clutching the small handful of skin there as though he’ll rip the knobs of bone loose.

Elijah arches his neck beautifully, throat extended, lips parted.

Antonin continues, his nails gouging long lines along Elijah’s abdomen and chest, until he lights on the boy’s nipples. Unsure of how much Elijah likes having his tits tormented, the cellist begins gently, with just a pinch to each.

Elijah bucks and writhes, his mouth a needy ‘o’ of surprise, watching Antonin carefully.

Pleased, Antonin makes his hand into a claw and grabs Elijah’s pec, dragging his nails down the muscle and over the nipple.

The smaller man shivers beneath his lover’s nails, certainly not protesting, even as the treatment gets rougher.

“I think I’ll pierce those,” Antonin says idly, tracing a finger lightly over Elijah’s collarbone, enjoying the constellations of gooseflesh that follows. He places a knee between Elijah’s legs, bending over the smaller man until his mouth is resting on the area his finger has just left. After a moment of just breathing on Elijah’s upper chest, Antonin bites.

Elijah feels his world explode with clichéd fireworks, eyes closed. He finds his hands wrapped in Antonin’s hair, pressing the cellist closer, not sure if he’s keeping him from pulling away because he doesn’t want the feeling to stop, or because he doesn’t want more damage.

Antonin laughs throatily, pulling back and blowing on the wet spot his bite has left. He braces himself by putting a hand on either side of Elijah’s body, leaning in even further. He pushes Elijah’s head so it’s turned to the side, exposing the arch of his neck and throat.

Suspecting that he knows what’s coming, Elijah draws a quick, hissing breath, bracing himself.

He’s not disappointed. Antonin sinks his teeth into the side of Elijah’s neck, sucking and biting a mouthful of skin. He moves his hands to rest on Elijah’s chest, keeping him still.

Elijah cries out, tangling his fingers deeper in his lover’s hair, pulling them as tight together as he can when his arms are so weak.

Antonin laughs. “I think that’s enough for now, don’t you?”

Elijah manages some disjointed syllables.

“Yes. Precisely.” Getting the boy a drink of water, Antonin helps him drink before settling Elijah against his chest.

Elijah finds the sensation of his naked back against Antonin’s dress shirt oddly comforting, and he realizes he has a huge, dopey grin on his face. One hand strays up to the bite on his neck, like a hickey multiplied many times over, and his hips buck, back arching like a mini-orgasm.

Antonin laughs, stroking the confused lines off of Elijah’s forehead. “I thought so. You sleep.”

Elijah does as he’s told.

Once he’s sure Elijah is asleep, Antonin goes to his car and brings back his surprise--his cello and a sheaf of music. Going back into Elijah’s room, he sits on the bed watching his boy sleep.

It doesn’t take long for Elijah to wake, now that he’s being stared at. “Mm? Antonin? Are you going somewhere?” Stretching, Elijah feels the bites and scratches and shivers with pleasure.

Antonin shakes his head and stands, offering his hands to help Elijah up. “Come. I need to practice.”

Elijah laughs. “Alright. I’d…like to watch.”

The cellist smiles. “Oh, no, my boy. You have a much more important function than just watching.” He pulls the covers off of Elijah and gathers his lover into his arms. “You’re going to be my music stand.”

Elijah’s eyes widen, and he feels his cock come to life, much to his surprise. “Oh…”

Antonin nods and places Elijah on the floor, then busies himself removing his instrument from its case and preparing to play. When he’s finished, he turns his attention back to the still-sleepy boy looking up at him. “Kneel, like this. Put your arms out. Good.” The cellist places his music on his stand, then frowns. “You’re a little low. Ah!” He drags an ottoman in from the living room and has Elijah kneel on that. “Much better.” Elijah’s elbows are resting on his body, with his forearms stretched in front of him. The music is leaning against the boy’s chest and braced on the arms. “Hold still, now. I can’t read the music if it’s shaking all over the place.” With that, his attention visibly leaves Elijah; he’s now just a stand.

Elijah quickly settles himself, not knowing how long he’ll have to hold his position. He’s very excited by all of this, and feeling quite vulnerable and exposed, especially because Antonin is now fully dressed.

Antonin positions a chair where he wants it and takes up his bow. Frowning at the music, he shuffles the sheets until he finds what he wants to play. He doesn’t really need the music and he spends most of the piece with his eyes closed, but it’s the fantasy that matters. He’s chosen a relatively short piece to start his stand off with, but he still has to cough a few times to make the stand hold still. He remembers each of them.

Elijah is so worried about remaining still that he’s made himself quite tense…which, of course, just makes it more difficult. He’s almost relieved when Antonin sets bow and instrument aside--he hadn’t been able to enjoy the playing as much as he would have liked.

“I noticed you staring at my belt,” Antonin says, removing the music from his stand and smiling at Elijah. “Would you like to see it more closely?” He deliberately pulls the belt free, making sure he has the boy’s complete attention.

Elijah had indeed noticed the belt, which is beautifully tooled but still simple and elegant black leather. Not sure what to do, he remains frozen in his music stand position, eyes following the belt’s movement.

“Good.” Once the belt is loose, Antonin doubles it and lightly strokes the leather over Elijah’s face. “You may move.”

Shifting into a more comfortable position, Elijah shivers happily, arching his face like a cat to meet the belt.

Antonin smiles and leans back in his chair, the belt casually flipped over one shoulder. Spreading his knees, he pats his lap, inviting Elijah onto it.

Elijah’s eyes widen. He’s pretty sure he knows what this means, although his parents had been quite liberal and would have a discussion with him about any misbehavior. He oozes off the ottoman and scrambles into the older man’s lap, blushing a little as he has to adjust his erection.

Antonin resists the temptation to claw all the smooth flesh he’s being offered--plenty of time to do that after he’s been belted--and settles for stroking Elijah’s ass and back instead. He waits until he feels the boy relax on his lap before bringing the belt down across his thighs.

Elijah yelps and would have launched himself out of the cellist’s lap if Antonin hadn’t placed an arm across his back to keep him in place.

“More?” Antonin asks, almost lazily, as though Elijah’s answer could matter less to him.

“…yes. Please…”

“Very well.” Instead of striking immediately, Antonin runs cool, pale fingers over the red mark his initial, not-very-hard blow left. He waits until Elijah is squirming and on the verge of begging for more, and therefore doesn’t notice him raise the belt.

The second blow is just as much of a surprise as the first, and Elijah almost slips loose in spite of the arm holding him. He finds himself unexpectedly laughing, pushing himself back into position; hands touching the floor, ass raised in Antonin’s lap, legs hanging down the other side.

Antonin responds with a quick series of strikes, getting steadily harder, but unlikely to leave a mark lasting more than a few hours. He likes to know exactly how much force will leave what kind of mark, and has spent hours practicing on himself. He’s even taken notes.

Elijah laughs and moans and yelps and squirms, his mind somewhere far away.

Thoroughly amused, Antonin gives him a few more good hits before setting the belt carefully aside and gathering Elijah into his arms. Standing, he lays Elijah on the bed and sits beside him.

Giggling, Elijah looks back at Antonin, his eyes clearly asking for more. Not to mention his cock.

Antonin strokes the little welts he’s left on Elijah’s ass and thighs, pinching whenever he finds a good one. “I think I’ll tattoo f holes here and here.” He touches the places, one on each ass cheek.

“What’re f holes?” Elijah manages to ask, mind mostly melted.

“I’ll show you later.” Antonin leaves off stroking abruptly, and rakes his nails across the red marks.

Elijah bellows, almost falling off the bed until Antonin hooks a hand between his legs. His bellow turns into more of a squeak as his delicate flesh is grabbed, but he settles back on the mattress.

Antonin rolls the boy over, letting his reddened parts cool on the bedding, and seizes Elijah’s wrists instead.

Elijah coos, allowing himself to be pulled across Antonin’s lap again.

The cellist amuses himself by squeezing the boy’s slender wrists for a while, then claws his way from wrist to elbow, leaving a trail of red lines.

Eyes closed, Elijah moans happily, safely held by Antonin’s free arm.

Antonin bends, grabbing one of Elijah’s arms and raising it to his mouth. He kisses the boy’s wrist, slowly turning a press of lips into a bite. After sucking for a time, he kisses his way along the track of scratch marks to Elijah’s inner elbow and leaves a matching bite there.

Elijah, by this point, is only capable of gibbering.

Smiling to himself, Antonin gathers Elijah into his arms and holds him like a child, stroking his hair and nodding in accord with everything he murmurs. When he feels that the boy is sufficiently lucid, he snaps for Elijah’s attention. “You are not to touch yourself until we see each other again. If you see Mike, you will have sex with him, but nothing else. You cannot have him hold you down or beat you or do anything different than what you two have been doing. Understand?”

A little wide-eyed at the thought of not touching himself, especially after what they’ve just done, Elijah nods.

“Good.”

Minuet in Trio

Elijah forces himself to wait a few days before calling Antonin. His boss at the bookstore notices that something is weird; usually the boy is reading a weird book when he doesn't notice customers come in, not looking at his phone. He hadn't even known Elijah had a cell phone.

Bracing himself, Elijah closes his eyes and presses the send button. When he hears the quiet ringing, he brings the phone closer to his ear as though it's a bomb.

After a few rings, the phone is answered. There are a few rustling noises, then a quiet. "H'lo?"

"Hey...Antonin? It's Elijah. Is this a bad time? Did I wake you?"

Davide seethes a little. "This is Antonin's boyfriend." he snarled, then said cheerfully. "Can I take a message?"

"Ohshit! I mean...um...hi. I'm Elijah, we met at the benefit, and, ah, we had wanted to get together for coffee. As friends. If that's ok with you. I mean..." Shit. Plus, the guy sounds like a total psycho.

"No, I don't think he'll be leaving the bed. We were up late last night and he's still kind of... tied up." Davide picked at his fingernails. "Don't expect him to call you back."

Elijah grits his teeth, making horrified squeaking noises. "Uh huh...um...thanks..." He gingerly touches the end button, as though it were the detonator of a bomb strapped to him.

"Who was that on the phone?" Antonin managed from under his pillow.

Davide gives his sweetest smile, plonking the phone back on the nightstand. "Elijah."

"Hm, wha'd he say?"

"Oh, everything. Next time you fuck around, you might want to choose someone more discreet," the violinist hisses.

He laughed. "We didn't fuck around." Antonin removed the pillow from over his head. "Come on, stop being so jealous."

Davide raises an eyebrow, and the crescendo is practically audible.

Antonin yawned.

"He said you met at the benefit."

"Yeah we did. That doesn't mean that's when we first met." he countered.

Davide makes an exasperated noise. "Are you using some definition of 'to meet' that I'm not aware of?"

"It seems that way, doesn't it?"

"Just stop it! I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you, and you're just...!"

"Just what? Being ignored? You only see what you want to see, Davide."

"Fine then. Let's go have coffee together. The three of us."

*Oh shit.* "Fine."

"Good." Davide smiles again and picks up the phone. "Hi, Elijah? It's Davide. Sorry about a minute ago, I must've woken up on the wrong side of the bed or something. We'll pick you up for coffee in...oh, half an hour? Ok, great." The violinist snaps the phone shut with a triumphant smirk.

Antonin scowls at him. "I need a shower." he says, heading to the bathroom.

Feeling like his heart might burst when he sees who's calling, Elijah feels physical pain as his heart quickly contracts when he hears who it is. He agrees to meet them, not really able to think of a way out of it around the chorus of 'oh shit' filling his head.

"Of course, sweetie," Davide calls after him.

*****

Elijah had considered calling Mike and asking for advice, but the whole thing is so stupid he decides against it, and concentrates on trying to find a 'going out for coffee with a man you really, really like and his crazy-ass boyfriend' outfit.

Finally, he heads outside to wait, pacing anxiously.

They swing by in Davide's car, a little red sports car. Davide is chatting animatedly with a grumpy and defeated looking Antonin.

Elijah's legs briefly try to make a run for it when he sees the car approaching, but he forces himself to wave, teeth gritted into something approaching a smile. Which becomes even more forced when he realizes the back seat is one of those tiny, only-infants-will-fit-back-here sports car seats.

"Hop in." Davide smirked. "So, Antonin tells me that you've known each other for awhile. Where did you meet?" he clearly has no intention of letting them get off easily.

Panicked, Elijah stalls for time by jamming himself into the seat, glad that Antonin got out so he doesn't have to crawl over his lap...and trying to get clues from the cellist's face as they pass. "Um...well...you know...around, at the symphony."

"Really? I'm at every concert. I'm the first chair violinist. Funny that I've never seen you!" he smiles in the scariest way possible.

Elijah physically recoils...his allotted two inches. "It's, ah, a big hall, and I usually have to rush off right after the performance, so we don't see each other often!"

"Mhm. So what do you do?"

"I work at the White Cat." Elijah tries to keep his relieved sigh silent.

"And how long have you been fucking my boyfriend behind my back?"

"Ohmygod! What?!" His desperate denial lacks some credibility based on his scarlet face.

"God, he's so obvious! Antonin, what the fuck!" Davide curses, the little car swerving dangerously.

Antonin sighed, chin in hand. "Watch the road."

Elijah has a sudden, child-like urge to crawl under the seats and say 'you can't see me!' or rock back and forth. He's totally unsure of what to say.

"How do you explain this?" Davide screams, pulling over into a parking lot, barely avoiding a parked truck, and shutting the car off.

"I don't have to! He's just awkward! We're not fucking!"

Some people in the parking lot raise eyebrows and pretend not to listen.

Elijah nods furiously, hoping it will help.

"Puh-leeze. Just awkward?" Davide scrutinizes Elijah in the rear view mirror. "Ok, well, he is that, but you've definitely been doing something. And I don't give a fuck if you haven't actually been fucking, something's going on between you."

"He thinks I'm sexy and we went out for a drink." Antonin laughed. "That's all. Any weirdness is all from him."

"Well, we've proven he's not blind," Davide snaps, his righteous fury fading a little. "He's just being weird because he has the hots for you, but you told him that you were totally unavailable and you were just going to have coffee to torment him?"

"Pretty much. Also, he's cute to look at."

"I guess so. If you go for that whole Scott Pilgrim look. Well. This has taken way too much time. I need to get home and practice." He turns the car on again, and they head out at less likely-to-die speeds.

"Fine. Just drop us off at Starbucks, okay?"

"Alright. Call me when you want a ride, sweetie." He blows Antonin a kiss, stopping beside the nearest Starbucks.

"Thank you." Antonin gets out, blowing a kiss back to the violinist.

Elijah scrambles out, almost launching himself away from the car. He's barely clear when Davide screeches away. Elijah stares, wide-eyed, at Antonin. After a moment, he starts laughing, helplessly.

"And that is my boyfriend. How's yours?" Antonin laughed with him.

His eyes beginning to fill with tears and on the edge of hysteria, Elijah takes a few deep breaths, holding out a hand for Antonin to wait. "He's, um...cool with...you know, whatever."

"He doesn't care?" Antonin asked. "Nice. Lucky."

"Tell me about it. So, um...let me guess. The sex is amazing?"

Antonin burst into laughter, rubbing the back of his neck. "Is it that obvious?"

Elijah gives his apologetic grin, trying not to notice how great Antonin looks when he's...breathing. "Well, it'd have to be, wouldn't it? ...I think we have to go to emergency to get my balls removed from my abdomen."

Antonin grinned. "Yeah, he's a bitch, but it's usually worth putting up with."

"I'm really sorry. I don't mean to cause problems." Elijah is suddenly serious again. He makes his hands into little T-Rex arms. "I don't like confrontations!" ...serious for about three seconds.

Antonin looked blankly at him.

"...the dinosaur? From Toy Story? Uh...never mind." Face bright red yet again, Elijah gestures to the coffee shop. "...coffee?"

"Coffee." he nodded, chuckling.

Elijah nods gratefully and stands aside for Antonin to enter first. "I'm sure you have better things to do than watch kid's movies..." he murmurs, mostly to himself and trying to avoid watching the cellist's ass.

"I just don't watch much TV." he laughed, going to order, leaning over the counter, giving Elijah a great view.

Shaking his head wildly to clear the fantasies out of it, Elijah sidles up beside Antonin to place his order. Only as close as friends would stand. "My treat. For putting you in the dog house."

"I'll take that." Antonin smiled, leaning in to kiss Elijah's cheek.

Trying not to babble incoherently and to ignore the knowing look of the cashier, Elijah manages to only drop his debit card once before putting everything where it needs to go and pushing the required buttons.

Antonin laughed, finding them a seat in the corner and grabbing their drinks on his way.

Elijah follows, wondering why convenient holes never appear. Or hotel rooms. He sits across from Antonin, a little gingerly because of certain hindrances in his pants.

Antonin smiles, pushing Elijah's drink across the table towards him.

"Thanks. So, uh, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"...why -are- you with him?"

"The sex."

Elijah laughs. "Fair enough." He searches his coffee foam as though it contains tea leaves for him to read.

Antonin chuckled. "Davide and I just ended up in bed together after fighting for weeks, then when I woke up the next morning, we were dating."

"Wow. Bummer. I mean...sorry. Not, sorry you're dating. Sorry I said that. It was rude."

"Well, it's honest anyway. I'm not sure if rude is the right word. Davide is... very singular."

Elijah nods, trying not to look despondent over his chances of their first meeting happening again without bodily harm. "So...when do you play next?" he says, fighting the urge to touch himself under the table.

"Next weekend. Do you want to... get a hotel room?"

His initial 'Yes!' is quickly followed by a reluctant and much less heartfelt 'No.' "Mike doesn't mind, but Davide..."

"Davide won't find out."

"He could have put a GPS tracker on your phone," Elijah says, quite seriously.

"Don't worry, I've taken my phone apart looking for one before." Antonin said, just as seriously.

"...I bet you have. But I'd feel so bad..." Elijah bites his lip. "I guess you don't have your cello. ...not that I just like you for your cello!"

"I'll play you like I play the cello, then you won't miss it." Antonin laughed softly, taking Elijah's hand.

Elijah shivers, unable to say no. He nods, gulping the rest of his coffee with a strange mix of delight and apprehension.

"Finished?

" Antonin gestured to Elijah's coffee. "We could go..."

"Yes, please." Elijah is on his feet and pointed toward the door before he's finished speaking, his cock pointing the way urgently.

Antonin followed happily. They found the nearest hotel, Antonin checked them in (with fake names, of course) and they went up to their room.

Elijah sits awkwardly on the edge of the bed, not really sure what to do from here, watching Antonin hungrily.

Antonin stripped off Elijah's clothes, tossing them on the floor. He pulled the boy off the bed and sat him in front of the bed. Antonin sat, moving the boy into his arms, held between his knees just like a cello. He gently stroked Elijah's throat, smiling.

Elijah sighs, relaxing muscles he hadn't known were tense. He closes his eyes, feeling the music on his skin, forgetting all about Davide and everything else.

Antonin stroked the boy's abdomen as if he had a bow, playing his favorite Sonata over the soft pale skin. He hummed softly, not sure if Elijah would be able to hear the music without his humming.

Rocking slowly from side to side in the grasp of Antonin's legs, Elijah whispers, "Would you hum on my neck?"

Antonin obliged him, pressing his lips to Elijah's neck and continuing to hum, fingers moving over the boy's neck.

Elijah gasps, breathing in time to the music. "It feels like my first time," he murmurs. "It's so good." He's not sure if he's going to cum, or if this is something else, only that he doesn't want it to stop.

Antonin's bow hand moved down to Elijah's cock, stroking in time to what would be his bows.

"Ohmygod," Elijah breaths, hands gripping the hotel's worn carpet as he struggles not to cum right there. He's never thought of himself as particularly kinky, but this...

Antonin's callused hands ran down his chest to hit the high notes at the climax of the song, his bow hand speeding up.

Antonin's rough fingers feel just as good on his cock as Elijah had imagined, and he finds himself thrusting into the bow hand, breath coming more and more raggedly.

Antonin held the last note, knees tightening around Elijah at the end of the song. He was nearly breathless himself.

Feeling the knees tighten around his body, Elijah frees one hand from its death-grip on the carpet and reaches around to grasp Antonin's cock. Normally this would be a very uncomfortable position, but he's close enough that he hardly notices.

Antonin groans, tightening his grip on Elijah's cock and stroking madly. The song was over, but he wants Elijah to cum.

Stroking as best he can with his arm twisted behind him, Elijah cums with a gasp. He's almost instantly embarrassed about making such a mess on the hotel floor, but he nestles against Antonin's legs, breathing heavily.

Antonin undoes his pants, turning Elijah around to 'suggest' oral sex.

Elijah's mouth is open almost before he realizes what's being offered, and he's soon balls-to-the-throat deep, making little ecstatic noises. After a moment, smiling with his eyes, he hums the sonata more or less accurately.

Antonin's eyes roll back in his head and he groans along happily, his fingers tangled in Elijah's soft curls.

Elijah plants a hand on either side of Antonin's thighs, loving the feeling of having his hair gently tugged and the cock in his mouth.

"Fuck yes..."

Encouraged, Elijah begins moving his head, moaning around his mouthful each time he's extended as far as he can go and the fingers pull at his hair.

Antoine pulls him up, fishing lube out of his pocket before shimmying out of his pants and pulling Elijah up into his lap. He lubes up his cock. "Want to ride me?"

Elijah nods, trying not to dive into Antonin's lap. He finds himself actually breathless at the sight of the cellist without pants, and he makes a mental note to worry about himself later.

Antonin quickly stretched and lubed Elijah, pulling him into position, then letting him take his time.

"Ohhh yeah." Elijah is able to adjust quite quickly--Mike is wider, although Elijah's never really been a size queen and doesn't really notice the difference.

Antonin's shape is somewhat different though, his cock is slightly curved and it hits a different spot in Elijah once he's completely sheathed the other man's cock.

Elijah is soon reduced to inarticulation by the curve, and he finds himself pressed against Antonin's chest with his arms wrapped around the other man, breathing on his shoulder.

“God…” Elijah murmured, being spooned by Antonin. “I don’t know what it was, but…that was…”

Antonin laughs and smiles knowingly, kissing the back of Elijah’s head. “You want to be a cello.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s it. I just didn’t know how to put it into words.”

“I knew.”

“It’s what I wanted from when I first saw you. …not that I just want you for your cello!”

“I know.”

“D’you think it’s possible?”

“Do I think what’s possible?” Antonin is quickly realizing something that Mike has known for quite some time--half of most conversations with Elijah take place in the boy’s head.

“…for me to be a cello. For real.”

“You mean so that people could hear you? I don’t know. Probably.” Antonin strokes Elijah’s hair thoughtfully. “If we hooked you up like an electric cello.”

Picturing electrodes going unpleasant places, Elijah flinches. “…wouldn’t that hurt?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I wouldn’t be electrocuted?”

Antonin frowns at the back of Elijah’s head, puzzled. “No. Why?”

“Oh, that’s good. …I have a few friends who are engineering students. And I know a couple artists.”

“I know some instrument makers, so between us we have a good mix. We should be able to come up with something.”

Elijah grins in the dark. “I guess you can’t stay for long…”

Antonin presses the smaller man closer to himself. “We can have a little nap, at least.”

“Mmm…I’m glad. Do you have a degree?”

“From university? Yes. In music. I’ve made instruments before,” Antonin said, casually.

Elijah is enthralled by this piece of information, and the fact that he’s being held by such an important and talented person. If his cock could get hard again so soon, it would. “Wow…”

“They were pretty shoddy, but I have done it.”

“I think you made another one tonight…oh god, that’s unbelievably cheesy, I’m sorry…!”

Antonin laughs, stroking a line down Elijah’s front. “That’s ok. I did. My best one yet.”

“…is Davide always so crazy?”

“Yes. He’s the first chair violinist. They’re always like that.”

Elijah frowns; he doesn’t want to seem ignorant, but he’s pretty sure that it’s unavoidable at this point. “…what does that mean?”

“He leads the violin section, and he’s second in command after the conductor, I suppose you could say.”

“Oh. I have a lot to learn about music, I guess. …although I guess instruments don’t really have to know about music, do they?”

Antonin continues tracing little patterns on Elijah’s skin, enjoying feeling the boy shiver and break out in goosebumps. “You’re a special instrument. I’ll teach you whatever you want to know.”