Summary: Dom's definition of domestic bliss is different than most people's.
Rating: NC-17 yay!
Warnings: Sex. Household appliances. Sex. Burned food. Old movies. Did I mention the sex?
Disclaimer: This never happened, I made it all up, it's not true, and I'm sure Elijah Wood knows perfectly well how a washing machine works.
Feedback: Please do. Am a virgin at writing sex. Must improve skills.
Author's notes: Well, I did it. I wrote sex. Not only that: I wrote fluffy, plotless, pointless, angstless, smutty sex. Because I figured the Monaboyd fandom has so many of those, and we hardly have any. I suppose that's because Domlijah angsts prettily. So consider yourselves warned. Also, this is unbeta'd. Eek!
Just as there are many different views of what signifies happiness and success, there are equally as many different personal definitions of the term ‘domestic bliss’.
To the average working man, this phrase might evoke images of coming home from the office to find the house squeaky clean, the lawn well kept and respectable, the children all scrubbed and rosy at the kitchen table, and a beaming housewife in a chequered apron standing at the ready with his slippers and the evening paper.
Dominic Monaghan, however, is not an average working man. His definition of the term ‘domestic bliss’ is therefore vastly different from the one sketched above.
His place is never squeaky clean. In fact, he thinks it might not even be capable of it. It has that shabby look old bachelors’ houses often have, even though Dom is neither old nor a bachelor. It always has something about it that needs to be done, but which hardly ever gets done. And Dom likes it that way.
His lawn is far, far from well kept and respectable. In Dom’s garden it is the law of the jungle that runs the place: the strongest survives. Which in this case means numerous kinds of ferocious-looking weeds, a lot of tangled thorny things, and a few hardy, stubborn shrubs and small trees. Not even to mention the wildlife thriving there. The Discovery Channel would have a field day, would they ever chance to stumble on the wonders of this scrap of land, in which nature has truly taken its own course. And Dom likes it that way.
Even if Dom would have any children (which he’s decided he won’t until he’ll stop being a child himself) there would be no way they’d be either clean or sitting quietly. They would be filthy and rampaging, like the numerous animals he’s adopted. His two snakes generally slither around the house trying to scare whoever encounters them, or else attempting to eat some of their insect roommates. Which are numerous, because the terms ‘pest’ or ‘vermin’ do not exist in the Monaghan residence when it comes to weird bugs. They are either ‘friends’ or ‘pets’, and promotion from one to the next is always an option. Currently there are two tarantulas, a black widow, a leaf mantis, and several bees taking up residence in and around Dom’s roomy beach-house. Then there’s all the lizards that keep flitting in and out, and everything gets ten times worse when Elijah brings his dogs. And Dom loves that utter chaos.
Elijah, now that we touch upon that subject, has absolutely nothing of a beaming housewife, though he does wear a chequered apron on occasions, if Dom asks very nicely. But he most certainly is not beaming or even looking at Dom when his boyfriend enters the house.
This to Dom is his ultimate image of domestic bliss: the room veiled with the blue haze of cigarette smoke, the air rank with the smell of cloves, the whole house a complete mess, and Elijah bent over the washing machine, a fag hanging from the corner of his mouth, cursing like a particularly foul-mouthed sailor.
“Jesus fuck, just do as I fucking tell you, fucking cunting son-of-a-bitch piece of shit!” he cries, whacking the side of the machine with his fist. The only response it graces him with is a dignified silence.
Dom smirks, knowing that Elijah has spent yet another day hanging around the house watching telly, listening to music, playing video games and talking to Sean or Orli on the phone, remembering only half an hour ago that Dom has asked him to do a few chores, and that he is now trying to ease his guilt by at least putting up the appearance of having done something useful around the house. Sadly, half an hour is usually the amount of time it takes Elijah to distinguish the washing machine from the dryer.
“It would help if you turned the water supply on, Elwood,” he says softly, causing Elijah to whirl around in an ungraceful sort of pirouette and lose his balance.
Dom moves forward, catches his flailing lover, turns on the tap of the water supply, and plants a kiss on Elijah’s lips, all in one fluid movement.
“Mmm, hey,” he says, his lips still a hair’s breadth away from Elijah’s. “How was your day?”
“Getting better as we speak,” grins the younger man, winding his arms around Dom’s waist before capturing his lips again. “Missed you. Was bored out of my mind without you.”
“Someone has to bring food on the table in this household, dear,” smirks Dom, stealing his lover’s forgotten cigarette and taking a drag. “We can’t all sit around being decorative and gossiping with girlfriends.”
“Fuck off,” says Elijah amiably. “Orli says hi by the way. He’s bought a new shirt.” This accompanied by a meaningful look. “He means to wear it for sunday lunch.”
“God in heaven help us all,” mutters Dom. “And how are things chez Astin?”
“The baby’s had her first fruit treat, Sean’s Oscar shirt is ruined, Lizzie’s got chickenpox and Allie is going to the school party with a boy I forgot the name of.”
“Yeah, Viggo called to ask if we want to join him on a spiritually enlightening quest and climb some big fuckoff mountain on saturday morning at 5 am.”
“What’d you say?”
“I told him to go screw himself.”
“That’s my boy. So, what’s for dinner tonight, honey?”
Elijah lowers his eyes, looking at his feet. “Oh, I just thought we’d take it easy, order a pizza or fry something up.”
Hearing this response, Dom strides over to the rubbish bin and opens the lid, finding, as he had expected, the charred remains of what used to be something edible, now wholly indistinguishable, still firmly attached to the blackened frying pan.
“I bought you a new one again,” mutters Elijah apologetically, his cheeks pink.
After Dom has made them a healthy, responsible, unburned dinner that doesn’t have bits of anti-stick pan bottom in it, the two of them go through all their cherished evening rituals with their usual relish.
They drink three after-dinner-cups of coffee each in order to delay having to do the washing up. Finally, when it comes to the point of choosing between that and getting a caffeine overdose, they bicker about who gets to wash and who gets to dry, until Dom remembers halfway through the argument that he owns a dishwasher. The argument then shifts to who gets to rinse and who gets to load. After two broken saucers Dom will invariably do both.
After that they play a videogame on the Playstation. Today it’s Elijah’s turn to choose the game, and he picks Grand Theft Auto, because that’s the only one he occasionally wins at. Dom wins. Elijah accuses him of cheating. Dom reminds him that you can’t cheat on Grand Theft Auto. Elijah pouts prettily, and pronounces it a stupid game.
Dom, too wise to argue, turns off the Playstation and switches on the telly. The daily Battle For The Remote ensues. Dom usually wins this because he’s taller, but today Elijah rugby-tackles him onto the couch, drops his full body weight onto his lover’s torso, and so wins the battle. This means Dom has to think of a new strategy for tomorrow.
Elijah Wood, Lord of the Remote, hugs his precious to his chest (they’ve long stopped making those jokes out loud, but they still hang in the air unspoken, and they both know it), and settles more comfortably on his Dom-shaped pillow. Dom lets his knees fall open to let the younger man recline between his legs, and puts his arms around Elijah’s chest, burying his nose in dark unruly hair.
Elijah sighs contentedly, and for a few moments both the energetic young men are completely still and quiet, the tranquility that comes with feeling completely relaxed and comfortable in each other’s company. Both of them smile at exactly the same moment, and Elijah’s head falls back on Dom’s shoulder just as Dom dips his head, and they share two warm breaths before the distance between them is closed, their lips brushing tentatively against each other.
Elijah closes in further, deepening the kiss, and Dom traces his tongue along the lips that are more familiar to him, almost, than his own.
His lover makes a soft sound between a hum and a sigh, and melts against him completely as he parts his lips, bringing up his free hand to tangle in the soft hairs at the back of Dom’s neck. Tongues slide in and out of mouths in a well-known dance, and Dom tilts his head further to have easier access, sucking Elijah’s tongue gently.
They can go on for hours without going any further than this. Sometimes they make out like teenagers, messy and giggling; at other times they sit together like long-time lovers, looking and smiling as much as kissing and touching. Today they just explore each other’s mouths lazily, eyes closed and lips moving against one another in a slow, steady rhythm, silent but for the occasional sigh.
And without a word or sign being exchanged, they break apart, smiling goofily at each other, and Elijah starts flicking from channel to channel until he finds something they’ll both like.
About halfway through the movie hands will start wandering, and usually those will both belong to Dom. He has never been very good on keeping his attention on something for a long time, especially not with a particularly attractive young American sprawled across his torso, laid out so conveniently before him.
Tonight is no different, and while on screen Westley and Buttercup are busy trying to escape the Rodents Of Unusual Size (“I do not believe they exist,” mutter Dom and Elijah in unison, and snort/giggle), a long-fingered, ring-covered hand is already migrating south to where a tantalising gap between the waistband of Elijah’s jeans and his flat belly has been teasing him silently all night.
The younger man shifts as the fingers reach that spot – “tickles” he mutters – but does not object at all. They’ve both seen this movie a gazillion times, and one has to set his priorities, doesn’t one, especially when having to choose between watching telly and ravishing each other in unspeakable ways.
Dom’s hand has now wriggled down the front of Elijah’s jeans, and is currently engaged in shamelessly fondling the sizeable bulge that has been growing steadily for the past few minutes. Elijah moans softly in the back of his throat and pulls Dom down to him for a kiss. This one is harder and more urgent, and Dom knows what it means.
Time for bed.
They take turns in the shower, after swearing a sacred vow not to engage in any solo fun under the hot spray. On some nights they will take their shower together, and those are generally very enjoyable, but today they are lazy, and having their wicked way with each other whilst standing up in the narrow cubicle doesn’t have as much appeal today as soft, crisp clean sheets and warm blankets.
Dom has hung two large, fluffy white bathrobes on the door, stolen from a hotel in New Zealand. Dom had loved them so much that Elijah had finally plucked up his courage and stuffed two in his bag; the first time he’d ever stolen something. Though it must be said in his favour that his guilt obliged him to leave a tip many times larger than the price of the robes.
Elijah comes into the bedroom, warmly wrapped and looking adorable in his oversized robe, his face pink with hot-water-induced sleepiness, his wet hair sticking up in every direction. He smiles lazily at Dom and reaches to take off his robe, but Dom stops him.
“No,” he says. “Want you like this. Just like this.”
He cups a rosy cheek and leans forward, breathing hotly across Elijah’s lips, enjoying how his lover’s eyes close in pleasure, before engaging once again in the ever-delicious activity that is kissing Elijah. He feels his own eyes flutter shut as the younger man’s hands slide down his back to cup and squeeze his ass through his robe, and pulls him closer, until they are flush against each other, breathing hard, lips swollen and arousal evident through the fabric.
Never unlocking their mouths, Dom takes Elijah’s shoulders and walks him backwards towards the bed, until the younger man’s knees touch the mattress and he sits down automatically. They kiss for a moment longer, Dom standing between Elijah’s open legs; then the older man sinks to his knees, puts his hands on his lover’s thighs on either side of him, and begins to push the robe aside, revealing an impressive erection that stands out in stark contrast to the white of the sheets and robe.
Elijah looks tenderly down at Dom as the older man leans forward to kiss the tip of his cock almost reverently. His eyelids flutter as Dom then drags his tongue slowly down the length and mouths his balls, drawing them into his mouth and sucking ever so gently.
“Dom, please…” Elijah mews, and Dom releases him. Just as the younger man opens his mouth to protest, the blonde head ducks down and Dom takes him in as far as he can go.
Elijah gasps, steadying himself on the mattress with both hands and throwing his head back in ecstacy. He lifts his hips from the bed, using his hands for leverage, and slowly fucks Dom’s mouth while the older man continues to suck him. He moans loudly, and so does Dom, knowing the vibrations of his throat will send his lover mad with lust.
Dom knows Elijah through and through; knows what turns him on, knows what he likes and how he likes it, knows his scents and movements, knows his expressions and little noises. And reading the different signs he knows his lover is close.
With a soft pop he releases Elijah’s cock, causing a wail of protest to escape the younger man. Dom lays two fingers on the swollen lips. “No. I want to be in you when you come. Want to feel you.”
Elijah moans again in frustration, but obediently sucks the digits into his mouth, laving them expertly with his tongue, and Dom allows his eyes to roll back with the thrill of the sensation.
Climbing onto the bed he sits back against the headboard, legs open, and reaches for Elijah to sit in his lap. There are a few moments of logistic organisation as to which limb has to go where, but finally they are settled, and Elijah is giggling as Dom’s hard-on keeps poking him.
Dom silences him by once again pushing his fingers between the pouty lips. After a few moments he withdraws his digits and slides his hand under the back of Elijah’s robe, caressing the soft skin at the small of his back before sliding lower.
There is a soft intake of breath from Elijah as Dom’s index finger circles his entrance, teasing. Dom looks up into his lover’s eyes just to see them widen impossibly as he pushes the finger halfway inside. Elijah grunts and pushes back, and Dom presses all the way inside and out again, then reenters with two fingers, thrusting in and out slowly, curling them.
Suddenly Elijah emits a strangled “unhh-ah!” and jerks forward and back.
“Right there?” Dom says huskily, doing it again. Elijah jerks against him more forcibly.
“Dom… unhhh… stop teasing,” he moans. “Make me come.”
Dom can’t resist as pretty a plea as that, and he reaches for the trusty bottle of lube on the bedside table, squeezing a generous amount into his palm. Elijah reaches out and pushes the robe out of the way, giving Dom’s cock a quick tug as he does so.
Dom groans. “Do that again, Doodle, and the whole thing won’t be necessary anymore.” He slides his slippery fist up and down his length once, very aware of Elijah’s eyes watching hungrily, careful not to bring himself too close to the edge.
Finally he nods to indicate that he’s ready, and Elijah raises himself up on his knees, sliding forward and then down, slowly impaling himself on Dom’s rigid cock. They both moan as his entrance is breached, and Dom feels tight heat slowly engulfing him until he’s fully inside and Elijah is seated on his lap, panting.
Dom reaches out to pull him close, to pull his head down for a kiss. Elijah goes willingly, pushing his tongue greedily inside as he rides Dom. His hands push the robe down the older man’s arms, allowing them to slide up and down the muscled biceps. Dom also pushes his lover’s robe down until it pools around his waist, so he can kiss and lick whatever part of Elijah’s torso he can reach.
As they both near their climax, Elijah rides Dom hard, mouth slightly open, eyes closed. Dom’s hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. He feels Elijah twitch under him and latches onto a nipple with his mouth while at the same time grasping the younger man’s cock, moving his fist up and down the length, trying to match Elijah’s frantic thrusts. White light begins to blur the edges of his vision.
“Lij,” he says urgently. “Lij, open your eyes. Look at me.”
Elijah does, and at the moment their eyes lock, Dom lets out a keening moan and comes, keeping his eyes open with difficulty, because he loves to see, loves that look in Lij’s eyes the moment he feels Dom spill inside him.
He is not disappointed. Elijah’s eyes widen, his pupils dilate, his mouth falls open and he produces a strangled sort of whimper. Dom slams into him once more, squeezing his cock hard at the same time, and it is enough. Elijah comes with a hoarse shout, warm sticky fluid coating Dom’s fingers and staining the robe.
Elijah collapses on top of Dom, his breathing fast and raspy. “Ohhh,” he finally grates out, and buries his face in the crook where Dom’s shoulder meets his neck.
“You… liked it… then?” pants Dom, grinning as he fingercombs the curls at the back of his lover’s neck.
“Ngh,” replies Elijah. “I’ll let you know the moment I’ve put myself together again. Holy shit.”
Dom’s grin turns into a smirk, and he moves to pull out slowly, but Elijah grasps his hips tenderly. “Wait. Stay in me a little longer?”
Dom smiles and complies, kissing his lover’s forehead. “I love you. Have I told you that yet?”
“You might have mentioned it in passing conversation,” replies Elijah, yawning. “And incidentally, I happen to love you back.”
“I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Likewise. I also appreciate sleep. Sleep with me, Dommie?”
“I thought I just did.”
“Shut the fuck up. Nighty-night.”
Dom listens to Elijah’s breathing, concentrates on the sensation of it huffing warmly against his neck. No, it’s definitely not your everyday run-of-the-mill domestic bliss in the Monaghan-Wood household. But it’s pure and total bliss, nonetheless.
And Dom would have it no other way.