by Onley James
When Elijah’s fingers closed around Shep’s half-empty coffee cup, he took advantage of the proximity, letting his nose graze across the boy’s cheek, inhaling. Elijah sucked in a surprised breath but didn’t resist, just continued about his task, letting go of Shep’s arm to grip the mustard-colored cup with both hands. He moved to the opposite side of the counter and Shep mourned the loss. The boy chewed on his lower lip, before flicking his gaze to Shep. “Can I?”
Shep blinked at him, not sure what the boy was asking for but sure it didn’t matter. “Can you what?” The boy smiled, lifting the cup. “Of course.”
Elijah lifted the cup and took a sip, wincing just as he always did. “Mm.”
“Why did you do that?” Shep asked.
“Drink your coffee?”
“Wince when you drank my coffee?” The boy’s gaze skirted away, settling on the sugar bowl. “You don’t like black coffee,” Shep said, confusion settling in. “If you don’t like black coffee, why not just say so?”
He shrugged, his huge glacier-blue eyes holding him hostage. “I don’t like black coffee, but I like drinking your coffee. I like that you want me to drink your coffee.”
It was an absurd statement, but his cock hardened so fast it made him lightheaded, which had never happened around another person before… not without help. That had to prove that Elijah was his. Just his. He was Elijah’s too. Shep could never say that out loud, but he could show Elijah, prove it to him.
After a few more sips of the coffee, Elijah walked to the pot, refilling the cup and setting it back where he found it. His fingertips trailed over Shep’s shoulders once again in a barely-there touch that didn’t help his current erection problem. Shep had never enjoyed touching, only tolerated his family’s displays of affection, but touching Shep seemed to bring Elijah pleasure and Shep wanted Elijah to have everything he desired.
“I’m going to go back to sleep,” Elijah murmured, before looking at Shep’s phone. “You’ll be watching?”
Shep made a point of adjusting the screen. “Yes. I’ll be watching.”
“Night, Sam.”
Shep smiled. “Night, rabbit.”
Shep was almost asleep when he heard it. A strange static sound that had him putting his feet to the floor and reaching for his weapon before he realized what it was… the intercom. There was a bit of rustling and then the distinct sound of breathing. Shep snatched his phone from the side table. The screen had gone dark. He quickly signed back on and brought up the feed for Elijah’s room, blinking at the sight before him.
Elijah lay on top of the covers, bathed in the golden glow of the lamp on his bedside table. He was naked, one long leg stretched out before him, the other bent and splayed wide, his arousal evident. Shep’s cock stirred not because of Elijah’s naked body but because the boy stared into the camera as he started touching himself.
He wanted Shep to see this. He leaned back against the pillows, bringing his phone to his chest, grateful the boy had turned on the light. Elijah let his eyes fall closed, his long nimble fingers running along his sides, his lips parting as he pinched his nipples, before letting his hands slide down once again to trace the deep grooves of his hips.
Shep could only lie there transfixed as Elijah explored his body, touching himself anywhere he could reach, anywhere except for his flushed cock, already leaking. “Please, Sam.”
Shep froze at the boy’s plea. The sound of that name—the name had chosen just for him—falling from Elijah’s lips set fire to Shep’s blood, his erection almost instantaneous. The boy was a fucking wizard, able to conjure up desire in him just by speaking his name. “Please what?” he whispered, taking himself in hand, knowing full well that Elijah couldn’t hear him with the intercom only working one way.
Elijah licked his palm before wrapping it around his cock, his hips canting off the bed. “Yes, that’s it. Oh, God. You feel so good.”
Shep jerked himself in time with Elijah as he watched him perform for him. Just for him. Is this what Elijah wanted. Sex? Shep had never really understood sex for the sake of sex but touching Elijah, tasting him, watching him fall apart beneath him… that thought had him working his hand faster. When he’d watched Elijah’s film that night, he’d wanted to know what it was like, how it would feel to pull those needy sounds from him. The same needy sounds Elijah was making right then, half-bitten moans and soft whimpers.
Elijah moaned long and low, his head tilted back, his lips parted. “Fuck, Sam. I’m so close.”
Arousal spiked along Shep’s spine, his balls drawing tight against his body. Shep was close too. So close. But he needed to see Elijah come, needed to see the pleasure on his perfect face. He was beautiful, his lithe body drawn taut as a bowstring, his toes curling as he cried out, his release spilling over his fist and coating his fingers.
Shep wanted to taste his come, wanted to mix it with his and smear it on the boy’s skin until their scents combined as if that would somehow let the world know Elijah was just his. Only his. Shep’s orgasm took him by surprise, pulling a shout from him as lights exploded behind his lids and his brain shut down.
When he could process information again, he looked at the screen to find Elijah gazing at the camera with a blissful, half-lidded expression that Shep wanted to stare at forever. Elijah gave the camera a little wave and rolled himself off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom.
Shep dropped the phone on the bed beside him but left the feed live. This hadn’t just been a show, it was a message. Elijah wanted more from Shep; he wanted sex. He wanted orgasms. Shep frowned at that thought. His experience was… limited.
Shep wanted to give Elijah whatever he wanted. If the boy wanted sex and orgasms, then Shep would give them to him… He just had to figure out how. He cleaned up the mess he’d made and then returned to bed, this time with his laptop. He opened his browser and then stopped short… hands hovering over the keys. What was he supposed to search for? How to have sex… well? How to give a blowjob? How to have anal sex? Shep frowned until his eyebrows hurt. Then a thought popped into his head.
PornHub.
Certainly, Shep would find the things he needed on a site where strangers had viewed Elijah’s fictional sex scene millions of times. The answers must lie in there somewhere. He typed in the site and hit enter, blinking as thumbnail images blinked to life, all straight couples. That wouldn’t work. He clicked categories and found the one marked gay. It seemed a bold assumption to call Shep gay because he wanted to have sex with another man. He was certain he was Elijah-sexual. He’d never wanted sex with anybody else before.
This time the images seemed much more in line with his needs, but the titles below left him even more uncertain what he was looking for. He settled for a thumbnail video of two guys who looked about the same build as he and Elijah and settled back wondering if maybe he should take notes.
The next morning Shep woke Elijah with a sharp knock and a curt promise of coffee. Before he could even process his abrupt wake-up call, Shep had disappeared, retreating to the kitchen where the coffee lived. Had he even noticed Elijah was naked and splayed across the covers? Shame curdled in Elijah’s stomach like spoiled milk. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to spiral, but it was too late. Anxiety had its hooks buried deep and seemed determined to tear its way through the layers he’d wrapped around his fragile ego.
Had Shep not watched him on the cameras last night or had he watched and not liked what he saw? Had he been too forward? What had Elijah been thinking? Even though it didn’t seem like it, Shep was a stranger. Even if he wasn’t, he was impossible to read. Elijah never knew who to be with him, how to act. Elijah had felt this connection to Shep immediately, but wasn’t that the definition of lust? He was just horny. Clearly, Shep didn’t feel the same. Maybe he really was a cyborg. Elijah buried his face into the pillow, not ready to face the world just yet. He hated uncertainty. He hated not knowing where he stood.
“Up. Now. There’s a lot on the agenda today.�
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Elijah fought the urge to parrot Shep’s words back at him like a child even though that’s how he felt, childish. Stupid, even. He dragged himself to the bathroom, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong the previous night. He was sure Shep had wanted him. He’d said he watched Elijah all the time. He’d fucking sniffed his hair when he reached for Shep’s coffee. Who did that if they weren’t into the person? Weirdos, a voice echoed in his head. Shep was definitely weird. Sometimes he seemed possessive, other times it was like he was an alien, incapable of anything that required basic human emotions.
Questions barraged him as he brushed his teeth. Had Shep turned off the cameras? Had he not liked Elijah’s… performance? Maybe saying Shep’s name had been too much? Maybe Shep wasn’t into Elijah. Maybe he really was straight like Wyatt said? It seemed absurd. He couldn’t imagine Shep with a woman… or a man, really. Unless that man was Elijah. He had no trouble picturing them together at all. He’d done so in the shower almost every night… in graphic detail.
Elijah shook the thought away, inspecting himself… but he could see nothing wrong. He wouldn’t fake modesty in his own head. Elijah looked good. His trainer had helped him carve out his body with three-hour sessions at the gym, five days a week. He wasn’t all bulky muscle and brawn like Shep, but his body looked the best it ever had. He was movie-star hot. Girls fawned over his black hair and ice-blue eyes. He was a walking romance novel cover. So, what the fuck was Shep’s problem?
Everybody loved Elijah. He made sure of it. He saw what people wanted, and he gave it to them. So how had he gotten this one so wrong? It was obviously Shep’s fault. He was too hard to read, either expressionless or smug, except for those few times he looked at Elijah like he wanted to eat him alive.
His face flushed. No. He refused to allow Shep to make him feel this way. Shep had to have known what Elijah wanted. He hadn’t come right out and said it but… he had to know, even somebody like Shep had to know. If he hadn’t liked the show, well, that was on him, not Elijah. He was Elijah-fucking-Dunne and people would literally give their left nut to see him jerk-off.
He had no idea what he’d been thinking. Shep was everything Elijah hated: he had red hair, freckles, he was way too tall. Like who needed to be that tall? It was a waste really. He even smoked… though Elijah hadn’t seen him smoking in days. Not that it mattered. Shep wasn’t Elijah’s type. Elijah liked guys with dark, soulful eyes and bronze skin, not oversized leprechauns with a constant smoke ring surrounding them.
He raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his face, locking eyes with his reflection whose expression told Elijah he was full of shit. What was the point of lying to himself? Shep was beautiful, his hair was the most perfect shade of deep auburn. His freckles didn’t detract at all. They only made Elijah itch to trace them with his fingers. And Shep’s eyes were stunning, they made Elijah feel raw and exposed. He made a noise of frustration as he shoved his legs into black joggers and a baby blue v-neck t-shirt that made his pale blue eyes look silver in the light.
Fuck this and fuck Jayne Shepherd. Fuck all of it.
Elijah fumed the whole way to the kitchen, his day already ruined. He found Shep in the same place as the day before holding out his half-full cup of coffee like a reward. Elijah scowled, refusing the cup and stepping around Shep. Elijah pulled a mug from the cabinet, ignoring the way Shep’s brows knitted together in confusion. He poured his coffee, setting his cup down and looking Shep in the eye before upending the sugar bowl and pouring an unhealthy amount into his coffee. Elijah was nothing if not petty.
“You’re mad.” It wasn’t a question.
Elijah gave him a pissy look before sipping his coffee… doing his best not to wince as the now too sweet liquid burned his tongue. “Why would I be mad?” he asked, his voice jumping an octave.
He wanted to appear like he didn’t care, but he couldn’t seem to get his face to cooperate. It was infuriating. He could never fake it around Shep. Elijah clutched his cup to his chest like it might provide some adequate barrier to his heart.
Shep frowned harder, eyes narrowed as he studied Elijah like Shep might find the answer scrawled across his forehead. Elijah held his breath as Shep closed the distance between them, plucking the cup from his hands before picking Elijah up and depositing him on the counter.
Elijah gaped at him, not sure what to do with Shep standing between his knees gazing into his eyes as if it was only proximity that had kept him from puzzling out why Elijah was mad at him. It was hard to breathe with Shep taking up so much of his space, his large hands resting just above Elijah’s knees.
“I know you’re mad, rabbit and I know what hurt looks like… but I’m not good at piecing together the why. Help me out here,” Shep said, his voice a harsh whisper.
His earnest expression twisted something in Elijah’s chest. “Are you… are you on the spectrum or something?” he asked, searching for anything that might help him understand why Shep was the way he was.
“The spectrum?”
“You know, autistic? Some autistic people have trouble with social cues. I just thought...” He let whatever he was about to say die.
“No. I don’t think so,” Shep said. “Is this about sex?”
The question caught him so off guard he inhaled and swallowed causing a small coughing fit. “What?” he wheezed.
Shep’s fingers started stroking Elijah through the fabric of his pants. “Last night, on the cameras. When you were touching yourself… you said my name. Twice.”
Elijah’s skin burned at Shep’s matter-of-fact statement. Maybe he really had read this all wrong. He wanted to run, but there was no escaping with his legs bracketing Shep’s hips. He could only shift his gaze. “You were watching?” he mumbled.
Shep tilted his head, studying Elijah. “I told you; I’m always watching. Didn’t you want me to watch?”
He gave a stilted nod. “You-you didn’t like it?” Elijah managed, feeling like he was dying inside, unable to look at Shep while his face was on fire.
Shep hooked his finger under Elijah’s chin. He didn’t fight him, just tried not to do something embarrassing like burst into tears or vomit. For once, Elijah didn’t want Shep studying him. He just wanted his arms around him, not sexually… well, not just sexually. He felt stupid and small, like he’d gotten it all wrong and he needed Shep to touch him, to prove he wasn’t imagining this thing, whatever it was. He craved contact, and it was freaking him out. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted somebody to just... hug him. That wasn’t a thing, not for Elijah. He didn’t even like being touched, but the need for Shep to shelter him in his embrace buried itself under his skin and made a home there.
“If you just tell me what I did wrong, I’ll fix it.”
That stopped Elijah cold. “What?”
“You’re right. I… I don’t always pick up on certain things. I’ve spent half my life learning how to read people’s faces, learning to respond appropriately to their expressions and their words so I didn’t make them uncomfortable. But I can’t do that with you because you are always recalibrating.”
Elijah blinked. “Recalibrating?”
“Yes. You’re always acting, always morphing into the next character. It’s fascinating, but I can’t learn your tells because you never stop shifting.”
“So this is my fault?” Elijah muttered.
Shep’s hands squeezed Elijah’s thighs, blowing air out through his nose. “No. That’s not what I mean. I think you’re… amazing. You might be the single most interesting person I’ve ever met.” He looked away like he was trying to decide what he wanted to say next. When he looked back, his golden eyes pinned him in place. “Whatever you want, I want to give it to you. But I can only do that if I know. I can’t read you… so you have to tell me. Just tell me and it’s yours.”
Elijah tried to puzzle his way through Shep’s confession. “What if you don’t want to do what I want?”
“Will it make you
happy?”
That was the third time Shep had asked him that question, and he still had no answer. “I don’t know what happiness is, really.”
Shep smiled. “Me either.”
It occurred to Elijah that Shep meant it. “You’ve never been happy?”
Shep shrugged. “I’ve never been anything, really. Not fully. It’s like experiencing touch with gloves on. I know that I should feel things and sometimes I do, but the sensations are… dulled.”
A sadness settled over Elijah. “You feel nothing? Love? Happiness? Desire?”
All the air left Elijah’s lungs as Shep leaned into Elijah’s space, lips skimming his cheek. “When you look at me, I feel it.” Shep murmured. “When you gasped my name, I felt it.”
“Felt it how,” Elijah managed.
Shep gripped Elijah’s hips, pulling him flush against him. Elijah sucked in a breath at the feel of Shep’s obvious arousal. “I might not understand love or hate, but my body understands yours. My body responds to you… only you. Do you understand?”
Elijah’s heart felt like it would fly from his chest. He didn’t understand. Not really. But Shep wanted him. Just him. That was enough. It was more than enough. Elijah caught Shep’s lips in a hesitant kiss, still unsure how to proceed.
Shep’s hands rose to cup his face, deepening the kiss in a way that left Elijah breathless. Shep kissed him like he was trying to inhale him, absorb him through osmosis, and it left Elijah shaky and wanting more. When Shep’s fingers slipped beneath Elijah’s shirt, his thoughts went fuzzy, until he could only think of Shep’s palms skimming along his sides, his lips grazing along the skin of his throat. When he buried his nose behind Elijah’s ear, Shep growled—literally growled—and the sound went straight to Elijah’s dick. “You smell so good,” Shep muttered almost to himself.
Elijah dragged Shep back up for another kiss. “I want you,” he said against his lips.
Before he could even comprehend his intentions Shep was jostling Elijah, tugging his pants and underwear out of the way to free his erection. “What—” was all he managed before Shep’s head dipped, his body bending in half to envelop his cock in the most perfect suction. “Oh, Jesus. Oh, fuck… You don’t have to do…. Oh, holy fuck. Never mind. Yes, do that.”