"What's wrong?" Asked Skoll in a panic when Elliot finally answered his door. 

Elliot had called him which he ignored but he listened to the two minute long voicemail he left and hopped on his bike and sped over. His clothes in misaray since he dressed in the dark. He even left his cut at home. 

Elliot didn't say anything, he just grabbed Skoll's hand pulling him inside. The lock of the door clicked behind them as Elliot closed it, guiding Skoll behind him as he headed for the stairs. 

Skoll had never gone upstairs before. 

"Shhh . . ." Spoke Elliot as he felt Skoll starting to say something behind him. 

Skoll paused at the credenza at the top of the stairs. The framed photos caught his eye. It was Elliot with a tall blonde blue eyed man. They looked happy on a trip somewhere. Another of them in college, from the sweaters they had on and the last photo was of them at the altar. 

Elliot had been married. The tall blonde was Andrew. Andrew was the reason Elliot no longer sought relationships. He left the photo's there as a reminder. He had come home one day and Andrew was waiting for him with his bags packed. He had met someone else at work. Telling Elliot that he could keep the house, everything was all his. All Andrew wanted was a divorce. 

Elliot at the time didn't want to see the signs because he was still very much in love with Andrew and thought it was just a rough patch that all relationships go through. Fuck he was a therpist after all if anyone could fix a relationship it was him. Andrew didn't want that. He didn't want anything more to do with him. He wanted out and had for a while. When Andrew left that night Elliot vowed that he would never allow himself to feel that way again. So, empty and broken. 

Skoll picked up the photo of them at the altar, "Why did you call me?" 

Elliot turned around, taking the photo from him. He looked at it for a moment before putting it back down. 

"Skoll." He whispered. He wasn't sure what to say. He had all these feelings and emotions swirling around inside him. So, he didn't say anything. Instead he pulled Skoll in, kissing him. His kiss was light but deep. Hungry. 

Skoll bit, following Elliot into his bedroom. The lights were dimmed but they didn't need to see, working their clothes off in a slow frenzy. Elliot was different. His touch was different. Skoll didn't want to be pulled in but he was. This wasn't a late night booty call. This wasn't like any of the other times they fucked because this wasn't fucking. 

Elliot moaned as Skoll pushed inside him. His arms laced over Skoll's shoulders, kissing him with an openness to be loved. A love Skoll had been burning to show him. 

"Eli." Skoll murmured. He was confused by all of this. He also didn't like the idea of going somewhere that he couldn't come back from. 

"Not now." Groaned Elliot as he rolled them, pushing Skoll back against the bed. His hand pressed flat against Skoll's chest as he rode him. His hips moving in slow circles as he found his rhythm. One that pleased Skoll because it got him to rest back, eyes closing. 

* * * * * 

Skoll laid out in the middle of the bed, mind blissed to oblivion. He knew Elliot and him were a great match in the bedroom but that . . . that was something else. He was still trying to catch his breath. 

"Well, fuck." He mumbled, "I didn't know you could do that." 

Elliot smirked. He had a few tricks Skoll hadn't seen.