The French Maid Tig strawberryelfsp + marginalia Dec. 2003 - Mar. 2004 Don't ask us where this came from; we don't know, and we don't wanna know. But it amused us greatly while it lasted. :D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Berry: "Blow him in the corners" makes me think of Elijah with a Dustbuster. Jaci: And Elijah with a Dustbuster makes me think of that cracked-out bunny with Billy in the apron. I guess it's a maid brigade AU. Berry: French maid outfit. Jaci: O.O yes. Berry: And Billy in a butler's white-gloves-and-black-tails. And Dom in a big chair at the head of a dining room table, saying "come closer." Jaci: Elijah shivers a little under the combined intensity of Dom's voice and Billy's gaze. He resists the temptation to tug at the skirt - it would be an affectation at this point. Stepping forward, he hopes desperately that no one asks him how he learned to walk in heels. Berry: For a moment, the cavernous room is silent but for the sharp click of heel on marble and the tight whir of stocking-clad thighs sliding against each other. Elijah stops a few feet from the polished wood table, head down, fingers trying not to fidget on the frilled edge of his skirt. And then Dom's voice breaks the silence, low and scratchy. "Pretty -- wouldn't you agree, Billy?" "I would, sir," comes Billy's soft reply. Jaci: It's the "sir" that gets to Dom, the soft servitude from that pretty mouth runs fire through him. Such a little thing to have such strong effect. He pauses for a moment to appreciate the scene, Elijah bowed before him and practically vibrating with the effort of maintaining the role, Billy strong with practiced silence. Dom takes a breath, heady with the rush of power, of these two waiting for words that can undo them. Berry: Dom rests his elbows on the carved arms of the chair and twines his fingers together, watching Elijah tense beneath his stare. "There is something different about you tonight, isn't there petit?" Elijah's jaw clenches and his cheeks burn a shade darker, but he only hesitates a moment before nodding. "Yes, sir." "Let me see," Dom says. Elijah's hand drops, spreads flat across one thigh. It draws up slowly, dragging the silk higher inch by inch until the thick black band of one stocking ends and pale white thigh begins. The garter strap glitters in the candlelight. Elijah's hand quivers, but doesn't move. "I approve," Dom says. "Thank you, sir," murmurs Elijah. Dom is utterly still in his chair, voice low and measured. "Billy paid you a compliment," he says quietly. "Should you not thank him?" Elijah breathes, swallows, and lifts his head. Billy stands behind the curve of Dom's chair, hands clasped behind his rigid back. His face is still as stone, but his eyes glitter in the flickering candles. "Thank you," Elijah whispers, and his fingers curl tighter on his thigh. Jaci: Billy flexes his fingers inside the gloves, not enough movement to be a transgression even if it had been noticed. He's content to live within his boundaries tonight, leaving them untested, consigning the fire in his voice alone. He could stand here forever and watch the color and candlelight dance across Elijah's skin. Elijah, however, does not have that luxury. His hands curl and uncurl, there's a draft from somewhere brushing the backs of his thighs, cool touch translating to heat within him. He envies Billy's slow and steady breathing behind Dom. He picks at the cuticle on his thumb, tries to think about anything other than Dom's slender fingers burning across him. "Be still," Dom says, and Elijah's eyes flick up, seeking Billy's, but Billy is looking beyond him. He tugs at the skirt once more. Dom sighs. "Palms. Flat on the table." Berry: Elijah is glad the table is so high, so he doesn't have to bend much to place his hands on the wood. Nevertheless, the draft shifts its angle, and it is at this point he begins to second-guess the decision to omit the black satin panties. He tries to stay still, putting his weight on his palms to ease the strain on his calves, aching with tension. He is glad of the wig now, despite his previous protests. It falls in a straight razor-cut curtain across his cheek as he turns his head, conveniently blocking out the searing stares of two pairs of eyes. Thick black, the bobbed bangs tickling a bit on his forehead as he arches his neck a bit more. Dom's eyes move down to Elijah's shifted skirt and exposed thighs, garters striped black on soft white skin. Very nice indeed. "Do you like them?" "Yes," Elijah answers before he realizes it. "What do they feel like?" Elijah's fingers clench on the table, smearing fingerprints on the polish. His head dips further, face beginning to burn. He shifts a tiny bit beneath his skirt, but realizes they can see it and forces himself to be still. His eyes close. "Smooth. Tight, soft... like hands on you, over you all at once." He hears a tiny creak of Dom's chair and looks up. Dom has shifted, leaning into the shadows in the crook of the chair. His arm stretches out behind him, absently, idly rolling a button on Billy's waistcoat between his fingers. The backs of his hand makes soft stroking sounds on the heavy fabric. Dom never takes his eyes off Elijah. "They were a gift," he says, his voice dark and amused. "From Billy." Elijah's eyes move to Billy, straight and tense and shoulders nearly quivering from his hands clasped painfully behind him. His face still carefully blank, but his eyes hot and bright on Elijah's face. "Thank you, Billy," Elijah says, and Billy's jaw clenches tight. Dom continues rolling the button lazily between his fingers. He leans his head more comfortably against his chair and speaks casually. "Would you like them back, Billy?" Billy's voice is nearly inaudible, low and taut. "I would, sir." Dom smiles a bit for the first time as Elijah's eyes dart from Billy's face to Dom's and back again. His voice drops to a purr. "Well then, go take them back." Jaci: "Yes, sir," Billy says and bows slightly. Hands still in place at the small of his back, he walks around Dom's chair, measured footfalls to where Elijah stands, all heat, fingertips white on the table. Billy can't see Elijah's face through the fall of the wig but he can imagine it well enough, having felt the flush himself before, the twining of shame and arousal. Billy can feel Dom watching, but does not meet his gaze. Elijah's eyes are closed as Billy approaches. He attempts to regulate his breathing, to regain some control over his body. Billy's glove-clad fingers brush the back of his right thigh, seeking the first strap. Elijah's eyes fly open, bright and startled, and his lips part with a gasp. Billy runs his finger under the strap, up, then back down to the metal clasp. He unfastens it with one hand, the other on Elijah's left hip, holding him in place. It's a necessary move, for as he reaches around for the front strap the halting touch so achingly near grows too much for Elijah and he pushes back into Billy. "Be still." Dom's voice is ice. "You may punish him, Billy." "Very good, sir." Billy tugs a still-fastened left strap away and lets it snap back into place, a sharp sting on Elijah's skin. Elijah clenches his jaw, but allows no further reaction. Dom's eyes sparkle. As if there had been no interruption, Billy gently unfastens the remaining straps, gloves ghosting across Elijah's smooth thighs. Finally Billy lifts the skirt in the back, undoes the three fasteners, and pulls the garter free. He wishes briefly for more light, for the freedom to fall, to see and taste the red marks on creamy skin before they fade. Instead he smoothes down Elijah's skirt, a soft rasp of his gloves on silk, then straightens up and looks back towards Dom. "Would you like to touch him, Billy?" "If it pleases you, sir." Billy's breath is warm on Elijah's bare shoulder, and Elijah bites the inside of his lip as they await the answer. "It does." Berry: Elijah's heart is hammering in his chest, his elbows shaking a bit where they hold him up. He knows Billy can see his back heaving with each breath, stretching the lacings of his corset with tiny creaking sounds. He waits for Billy's touch as if waiting for the blow of a lash, his skin tingling with the uncertainty of where or when it will come. He forces himself to stay still, to not tremble or shift, until the blood roars in his ears and his eyes squeeze tight behind the curtain of black hair. When the touch does come, he neither flinches nor gasps, but every muscle in his body goes rigid. Billy's gloves are brushed lambskin, butter-soft and pliant with use. His right hand slides carefully along Elijah's shoulderblade, tracing the contour and line, reading the gooseflesh his breath has raised on the pale skin. The touch is maddeningly light, neither pushing nor pulling, merely trailing and exploring and drawing slowly up and over the curve of Elijah's shoulder. His corset strap, brushed easily aside, falls against his locked elbow with a tiny tap. Elijah shivers and jerks his spine, unable to stop the sharp jolt that suddenly flares in his chest. His shoulder shrinks beneath Billy's fingers as he twists to face Dom, eyes wide and dilated. "I can't--" It's more a cry than a word, a blurted reaction that Dom takes in with calm face and casual eyes. He waits until Elijah's breathing calms, until the panic starts to fade from his eyes. Then he speaks, softly, gently. "Does Billy not please you?" Elijah lets out a long shivering breath, five kid-gloved fingers burning stripes into his shoulder. "No--I mean, yes, he does." Dom is brushing one forefinger back and forth along his lower lip. His eyes glitter. "And do you not wish to please me?" Elijah holds Dom's gaze, drawing from it, forcing his heart to slow. His fingers curl into fists on the table and then spread out again. "I do." Dom pauses for a moment, breathing in the smell of Elijah's hesitancy. He lets his voice go gentle for one sentence. "What do you want, Elijah?" Elijah's eyes close. He takes a long breath, as much oxygen as the corset will allow his cramped lungs to draw in, and holds it until spots begin to dance before his eyes. Billy's fingers are utterly motionless, weightless and paused on his shoulder. He can feel Billy's eyes watching him, waiting in silent restraint, and Dom's unyielding stare boring into him relentlessly. He knows this is his last chance. The fallen strap is tickling the inside of his elbow. The skin of his thighs rises in gooseflesh beneath tight nylon. His erection brushes against the silk around it with every heartbeat. He won't be broken this easily. He lets his breath out, slowly, and feels his body relaxing into Billy's proximity. His eyes open and lock onto Dom's, clear and pale in the candlelight. Elijah licks his lips. "I want whatever you want." Dom smiles. Jaci: Dom shifts discreetly in the depths of the chair. Elijah's face is so open and beautiful, agony, arousal, decision, and determination all crossing it in turns. Such clear resolve shall be rewarded. "You may stand up, Elijah." "Thank you, sir." Elijah straightens, a delicate ripple running through his body, the closest he'll allow cramped muscles to come to stretching as he drops his arms to his sides. Billy's hand on his shoulder anchors him in the moment. Billy is so close behind him now, the epitome of control. Elijah concentrates, matches his breathing to Billy's. They are one unit. Dom hums in appreciation. Billy's lips are parted as he waits. Linked to Elijah by the lightest of touches he's felt the sublimation and transformation. Elijah's need courses through him, an unlooked-for gift. Dom wonders idly how long he could leave them like that, rhythm of breath and blood amplified through unison. They stand as if they are the only people left in the world, but Billy's eyes are pensive, marking time until the next instruction, be it punishment or prize. Dom cocks his head to the right, appraising. The red dents from the garter are quickly fading. Dom cannot see them in the shadows, but he senses Billy's loss. Billy knows well the art of marking skin. "Kneel, Billy." Billy's eyes lock on Dom's as he steps back and sinks to his knees behind Elijah. "Sir?" "Stockings, Billy." Billy's tongue flicks across his lips, the contrast between white skin and black stocking almost irresistible before him. "As you see fit," Dom adds. "Thank you, sir." Berry: Billy descends to his knees slowly, carefully, utterly silent. He does not drop to the floor as he would like to, nor does he turn his head to face Elijah until after Dom has nodded. When Billy does allow himself to look at what waits inches before his face, he reveals no outward reaction of any kind. He merely clenches his jaw and breathes. Elijah's thighs are at Billy's eye level, tight and dense in their nylon casings, the thick black bands at the top of each stocking making tiny dents in the white flesh. Elijah's legs are smooth, too smooth, and at that sudden realization Billy feels his control slip a dangerous fraction. The red welt is fading but still swollen, too stinging-pink for such a light blow. The skin around it is dusted with tiny bumps, only visible this close: the prickling gooseflesh of fresh razorburn. That skin would be raw and thin, oversensitive, itching under the tight stockings and stinging with the slightest touch... Billy is seized with the sudden desire to lunge forward and sink his teeth into the flesh of one inner thigh, just to hear the scream. But he doesn't, doesn't let that momentum move him, suppresses the force of it, and his blood sings with the control. Taking calm, measured breaths, Billy leans forward until his cheek brushes against the smooth black of one outer thigh. The muscle tenses beneath his touch, and he can hear Elijah gasp slightly. Billy moves his face slowly, nuzzling like a cat, letting his breath send shivers rippling beneath the nylon, knowing how much it must burn. He moves up, lips dragging along exposed skin, and before Elijah can prepare himself he scrapes the flat of his tongue rough and harsh along the pink welt. Elijah jerks and gasps, his hands falling forward to clutch at the table again, this time voluntarily. But he makes no further noise, and Billy can feel Dom's approval. As you see fit, Dom had said. Trying not to smile, Billy takes hold of one elastic band with his teeth and begins to pull slowly down the length of Elijah's leg. Jaci: When Elijah falls forward, Dom's lips quirk briefly. Pride. His Billy is so very good at this. Lucky, lucky Elijah to benefit from Billy's instinctual focus and control. As Billy tugs down one stocking, Dom sees that Elijah has thrown himself into this more completely than even Dom had hoped. Dom is torn between amusement and arousal at the sight of Elijah's slender smooth leg appearing slowly before him. After the initial shock, Elijah gives in to the pain, to the hundreds of tiny scratches as the stockings scrape rough over the razor burn. Tiny needles and Billy's heat twirl across his skin and spin through his body and he virtually hums with want. Billy straightens and stretches ever-so-slightly, a ripple of shoulder muscle under the well-tailored uniform, then takes the other stocking in his teeth and pulls. The nylon rasps over Elijah's legs, and Dom is taken in completely by Billy's pointed teeth slowly revealing more of Elijah's skin, glowing. The contrasts are beautiful, white skin and teeth, Billy's red lips, the black of the stockings and the shadows cast by the candlelight. When Billy arrives at Elijah's ankles for the second time, he straightens and glances at Dom. Dom nods, and Billy traces Elijah's calf with one gloved finger. "Lift, Elijah," Billy says, and Elijah lifts his foot up high enough for Billy to remove the shoe, then the stocking. Billy massages Elijah's foot slightly with one hand before replacing it on the carpet. Elijah shifts his weight to the bare foot, and Dom hums in appreciation at the swish and curve of the skirt over Elijah's ass and hips. Billy's finger on the other leg, and Elijah doesn't have to wait for a command to lift, to feel Billy's hands unbuckling the shoe, slipping free the stockings, rubbing his toes briefly. "Thank you, Billy," Elijah says. Billy remains kneeling, hands clasped at the small of his back. He keeps his breath steady on the back of Elijah's legs. Billy's thighs quiver slightly with the strain of the position, of restraint, of desire. "Creative, Billy," Dom says. "Thank you, sir." "May I do something for you, Billy?" Billy hesitates. "Is it time, sir?" "Oh, yes." Berry: Something in the tone of Dom's voice sends a sudden thrill through Elijah's blood, and he's already turning before Billy has even risen fully to his feet. Now barefoot on the smooth marble floor, Elijah must tilt his head back to look into Billy's eyes, looming a good few inches over him with the help of Italian shoes. Those eyes stare down at him, two blazing furnaces checked behind a green screen, and the fleeting thought flits through Elijah's mind, I'm doing this. The skin of his thighs and legs is tingling, cool and newly exposed to the air, still stinging faintly from razor and strap and teeth. Elijah puts his hands on the table behind him and, before he can stop himself, he tilts his head and tosses the black hair out of his face. Billy's hands clench tight behind his back at the coquettish little smirk that plays at the corners of Elijah's mouth. He looks up at Billy openly, fully immersed and glowing with the approval soaked up from Dom's voice and Billy's breath, and it takes every ounce of control Billy can muster not to shove him onto his back across that table and fuck him until his cries echo off the vaulted ceiling. His belly trembles with the force of it, back aching-straight and cock painfully hard beneath the seams of his freshly-pressed trousers. Billy goes taut, rides it out, feels the moment ebb and his fingers begin to loosen from their desperate grasp. The rush in its wake is better than any chemical could produce. Elijah straightens, takes a step forward. Billy remains perfectly motionless, even when there is no space left between them and Elijah's fingers are brushing loose against Billy's thighs. Elijah looks up into Billy's face, his smirk gone and replaced with faint question and open desire. His hands draw up, sliding flat-palmed across Billy's chest. For a moment they hover there, and Elijah swallows a shaky breath and parts his lips. He can feel Billy's heart pounding through three layers of clothing, hammering with the same pulse as the cock pressing against the edge of his corset, and his fingers tremble on the buttons of Billy's coat. He undoes them slowly, willing his hands not to rush, unable to take his eyes from Billy's gaze. The heavy wool comes open beneath his hands, sliding up and back as he slowly pushes the coat over Billy's shoulders. Billy unclasps his fingers and the coat falls, caught by one gloved hand and tossed absently onto the table. Elijah's palms slide down the crisp line of white collar and spread across the smooth silk waistcoat, and stop there. He breathes, resisting the urge to curl his fingers into pleading fists, and waits. They both wait. "Go on, Elijah," Dom whispers, and Billy's shirtcuffs are sharp on his shoulderblades as he moves forward and opens his mouth to Billy's crushing kiss. Jaci: It's release and relief and Billy pours himself in wholeheartedly, knowing Dom is watching, that Dom will catch him and pull him free of the undertow if he slips too deep. His fingers brush the back of Elijah's neck, skim the black wig, then slide up, cupping the back of Elijah's head. Elijah sighs, heavy and warm, and lowers his hands from Billy's chest, removes the distance, grasps his hips and pulls them tight together. Burning. Elijah wonders if a kiss can bruise, Billy's need unbound tearing him apart with those perfectly formed teeth. Unbound is inaccurate, though, and Elijah would know this if he could focus enough to backtrack his thoughts. Billy is thoroughly bound by Dom's calm voice and cool eyes. He feels Elijah hard against him and twists discreetly under Elijah's hands, a slow grind, the slightest tease. Elijah swallows a gasp. Dom's fingers press tight on the arms of the chair once, then release. His tongue flicks across his own lips as Billy and Elijah consume each other before him, slippery heat in the dim light. He clears his throat and Billy releases Elijah, stands straight, and places his gloved hands once again at the small of his back. Dom shifts, breathes, longs for the touch of those gloves on his own skin. Later. For now it is enough to watch Elijah's pleasure and fear, to sense the reaction crackling across the distance. Elijah, torn from the gift of Billy's mouth, sways slightly, but recovers quickly and waits. Dom is quiet; he must be pleased. He focuses on the in and out of his breath and decidedly not on the flush in Billy's cheeks or his heavy-lidded eyes. Billy blinks once, and is alert again, guard back in place, but with desire curling around the edges. "Elijah?" Dom's voice, deceptively soft. "Sir?" "Kneel." Berry: Yes, fucking finally, thinks Elijah, but the grin playing at the edges of his mouth vanishes when he sees Billy's face. Billy stares over Elijah's shoulder, out into nothing, chin held high and features wiped clean of any trace of reaction. He is utterly motionless, his jaw set far too tightly and his body so rigid it's making Elijah's back hurt. He stands at attention as if no one had spoken, but the pulse in his neck is throbbing with hammering force. Elijah's brow wrinkles. Something is wrong. "Billy…?" Elijah whispers. "I said get on your knees, Elijah." No threat in Dom's voice, just unhurried statement. Billy's lip twitches. Elijah stares at Billy, unable to read this sudden withdrawal, feeling cold air on his legs and hot blood creeping up his throat. Billy doesn't want this, that much is clear. This isn't how he planned for it to happen. Uncertainty begins to flutter in Elijah's chest, and one bare foot twists on the cold marble. The tension he feels is not directed at him, but over him to where Dom sits silently and waits. Elijah dips his head, beginning to feel caught and intrusive – and his eyes land on Billy's erection straining at the smooth fabric of his pressed trousers. Elijah's mouth falls open at the urgent angle and the sheer size of it – he is amazed Billy has enough blood to remain standing. His mouth goes suddenly dry and he snaps it shut. He thinks of kneeling before that, feeling the waves of heat on his face, grabbing twin handfuls of dark fabric and closing his eyes until his world shrinks to the feeling of Billy's fingers in his hair and the sounds of Billy coming undone in his ears. Wait… Elijah's eyes dart back up to Billy's tightly guarded face, that body held in check with the careful control that Billy is so proud of. Something shifts then, clicks in Elijah's mind, and he can feel Dom's eyes burning into his back where his bare shoulders are still marked by Billy's desperate grasp. Elijah almost nods as he feels himself slip perfectly into place. He knows now what his duty is this night. Billy will not look at him, but his pulse flushes darker and his chin almost trembles when Elijah speaks. "As you like, sir," Elijah says softly, and his eyes do not leave Billy's face as he sinks to his knees. Jaci: Fury tempered with shock courses under Billy's skin. He is solid, he is a wall, but when this night is over he will also be proud. Dom knows what he is doing. Dom is still capable of surprising him. And then Elijah nuzzles slowly along his erection, a perfect imitation maddeningly light through the trousers, and all Billy can think is that they both are truly evil creatures. The only sounds in the room for the longest time are those of breathing and of skin brushing slowly against cloth. Dom presses his fingertips together, watching. Elijah, so slow, finally straightening and reaching for the button and the zip as Billy shudders almost imperceptibly and bites delicately at the inside of his pretty mouth. Elijah is on fire in a way he had not expected. He is in power. He is not being observed, not now. Dom's eyes, he knows, are on Billy, and Billy is looking straight ahead even as Elijah tugs the trousers lower on Billy's hips, reaches through the damp heat into the slit of his boxers, and frees Billy's cock, flushed, painfully hard. Elijah holds it for a moment, petting it slightly with the pads of his fingers - no danger of nails from him. He leans in, tongue curling in a taunting taste. Dom clears his throat. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ back