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Title: Deception
Author: Lily Elena
Pairing: Elijah/Hannah
Rating: NC-17
Summary: They have it down
to a science.
They have it
down to a science, though neither of them will admit it.
::
The
wall between Elijah's room and the bathroom is paper-thin, and he can
hear everything that goes on in there. Can hear the flush of the
toilet, the swirl of the water as it goes down the pipes, can hear the
sink gurgle as Hannah spits out her toothpaste (and he knows that there
will be white flecks on the mirror because she's sloppy like that).
Rather more
importantly, he can hear the beating of water on tile when she turns on
the shower.
That's
when he rolls out of bed, the early summer sun filtering weakly through
his blinds. Half his body is screaming with exhaustion, screaming with
'jesus christ, you were up until two playing video games, go the fuck
back to sleep'. The other half of him is saying 'this is the only
chance you've got, man. get up.'
The other half
(the lower half) of him is the half that almost always wins.
He
gives a hitch to his sagging pyjama pants, and goes out into the
hallway. He wears a track on the carpet in front of the bathroom as he
waits for the clunk of the conditioner
bottle hitting the
bottom of the tub, giving furtive glances to his mother's room down the
hall. The door is closed, like usual.
You kids get up as
early as you want, she had told them
when summer started, but I'm sleeping in.
And that's fine.
That's perfect.
He
waits two or three seconds after the conditioner bottle falls to turn
the knob, to step inside and push the door shut behind him. Kicking off
his pants, then his boxers, he pulls back the shower curtain and steps
inside.
Hannah's there,
bent forwards, rinsing the conditioner
from her hair, the water pounding on her neck and turning it red. She
doesn't give any indication that she knows he's there until he runs one
hand over her curved spine, feeling every bone beneath his fingers.
Only then does she murmur a quiet 'good morning' to him, the same 'good
morning' that he hears when they're eating cereal, blurry-eyed, at the
kitchen table, Mom rattling off the day's plans. The same 'good
morning' that he's heard every day since Hannah's learned to talk.
It always takes
her a while to fully wake up.
He likes to help.
::
She
never makes a big deal out of what they do. 'I love you, Lijah,' she
had told him once, when he had slowed her hand on his cock with
trembling fingers and wide frightened eyes, 'and it feels good, so why
not?'
And he can't
argue with that, can't argue with the fact
that he loves her (so fucking much, his little Hannah, even though
she's not so little any more and that's really the whole thing, isn't
it? Not so little, because dolls turned into makeup and innocence into
knowledge, into wanting, into 'Lijah, would you... do you want to...
touch?', and who the fuck is he to resist?), and he certainly can't
argue with the fact that it feels good, so okay, yeah, why not?
It freaks him
out sometimes, when he looks at her on her knees and sees a face that's
so like his looking up at him.
::
She
rinses and he waits for her to finish, studying the sluice of the water
over her skin, watching the way it catches the light through the gap
between the ceiling and the shower curtain. Absently, almost
distractedly, he strokes his cock with one hand, the other braced on
the slick tile wall.
There are grips
on the bottom of the tub, and Elijah is grateful that their mother is
so very safety-conscious.
Hannah
runs her hands through her hair one last time then eases herself up,
tucking strands behind her ears and turning to face him. Her face drips
and shines, and he wipes water from her eyelids before kissing her,
vaguely hesitant even after all this time.
Her fingers
splay
across his chest, half for balance and half just because, and her
thumbs trace abstract patterns on his skin, raising goosebumps as they
move.
Elijah shivers,
and Hannah tugs him forward so they're both under the spray, and kisses
him again, slippery and awkward and wet.
"Morning,"
he mumbles against her lips, when he realizes he hasn't returned her
greeting, and he wonders in the back of his mind what they're going to
do when school starts up again, or when he gets another job, or -
and then her
hand moves down between them and every thought goes down the drain
along with the last remains of the soap suds.
He
lets out a low groan, hyper-conscious of the way the bathroom echoes,
of the way sound bounces and refracts and becomes too loud too easily,
and tugs back so he's out of the water, so he can open his eyes and
watch.
She smiles at
him, still bleary-eyed from sleep, and
licks the water from his lips, her hand moving all the while,
up-down-up-down-twist, and he wonders if
he ever told her that's exactly the way he likes it or if she just
knows.
He nudges her
thighs apart with his knee and drops one hand between them, and smiles
when she gasps.
"Lij," she
whispers, biting her lip, and her motions falter for just a moment, the
rhythm going off, "Lijah, oh."
He
moves suddenly, turning them so she's against the wall, and she lets
out a squeal as the still-cold tile hits her back. Understanding
flashes in her eyes and she lets go, holding onto his hips instead, her
fingers pressing hard into his flesh, nails digging in and probably
making marks.
He feels the
water pound on his back and waits
almost a full minute before entering her, watching, trying to keep a
grin off his face as she squirms. Her face is red, and he knows it's
only half because the water is so hot.
"E. Li. Jah,"
she says,
some of the sleepiness disappearing from her voice, replaced by her
trademark sweet imperiousness, which he knows sounds like a paradox but
somehow isn't with her. "Now," she says, and digs her fingers harder
into his hips.
And Elijah's
hard-pressed to deny her anything,
and hard besides, and so. "Now," she says again, a little breathlessly,
and he does.
::
They dry each
other off with fluffy white
towels and redress in their pyjamas silently, and when Hannah suggests
going back to bed, Elijah doesn't argue.
He curls himself
around
her with an almost fierce protectiveness and kisses her temple before
drifting off to sleep, knowing that when Mom wakes up and comes in to
check on them she'll smile and thank god she's got children who love
each other.
Just like the
morning before.
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