Playing Hamlet

Playing Hamlet

Posted: March 2003
Title: Playing Hamlet
Author BC
Type: RPS
Characters: Elijah/??? (find out)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: OK, I don't know these guys, they don't do these things, I am just writing about them to entertain some people. No money made etc. My deepest apologies to Shakespeare for using his marvellous words for my own darker purpose - well maybe he would have liked it.
Author's Notes: This is playing sometime after the release of the third movie, but that's not really important. Thanks to AlexCat for the beta. Whatever it takes to have a nice day

Summary: Elijah needs an inspiration for playing Shakespeare.

*****

He was his shadow. Melting with the darkness across the street, he never let go the stage door with those dark knowing eyes. Although it had been years since he had played the part, when he though about him, he still felt the ability to become one with the memory.

He smiled, in a couple of minutes Elijah would come, early as usual to prepare for this night's performance. His car would park right under the no-parking sign close to the door and he would slip into the building looking behind himself as if to make sure that no nervy fans noticed him, seeming almost disappointed when he realized that nobody but his shadow was with him in the dark alley.

The night was cold and silent and for a short moment he thought about his surprise visit as maybe not such a good idea. The nervousness before the opening lines, the unusual audience always present even if hidden in the blackness of the wide hall could be almost too much for someone used to cameras and wide screens. But after he had seen his friend yesterday, he said to himself that he might really need an inspiration.

Hamlet, why in God's name did he have to chose that piece. Not that Shakespeare's plays weren't some of the most difficult to perform on stage anyway with all the wicked dialogue and puns, not to mention the sometimes awkward language for 21st century ears and tongues, but Hamlet. All the melancholy, all the anger, the love, the fear confined in the body and heart of one man. He sighed. Well, sometimes you have to prove yourself after all the success you had that you are still capable of doing something extraordinary. And hell, Shakespeare was certainly a way of doing that.

The minutes crept by and surrounded by the darkness, he shivered. Suddenly a strange sound from behind him let his imagination drift. He thought about smelly creatures that could crawl out of the impenetrable darkness, about beasts, corrupted by dark beliefs. Orcs. He often dreamed of them when he had seen the movies once to often, watching them just to see Elijah's eerie eyes, his pale face and the frailty of his body that grew over the course of the quest. When he was too sleepy to wait for the happy ending, he saw those eyes in his dream, blue like the sea they crossed together, saw black hands creeping over innocent flesh in the tower of Cirith Ungol. He gasped, waking out of a nightmare in crumbled sheets, searching in the silence of the night for his naked body.

The screeching of Elijah's car took him back in the present, and for a second, he held his breath and hoped the shadow kept him from view. The familiar figure got of the car, walked to the door and through the metal frame. The moment the door was about to close, his shadow slipped into the building behind him, following close by. Elijah was too deep in concentration mumbling lines of his text to notice him. It was much to easy to be any fun, he mused and followed the actor to his dressing room.

When he was about to open the door, Elijah turned his head because he had thought to hear someone whispering his name anxiously. "Hi, I thought you would not come to ..." Before he could finish his sentence the figure came rushing at him, pushing him through the door, the right hand covering his mouth. "Don't say a word. You don't need words right now, " the figure hissed. With that, he locked the door with his left, never letting go Elijah. He fumbled in his pocket, getting a black scarf and tied it over his mouth before Elijah could protest. The younger man seemed too surprised to move his hands. Smiling wickedly, the intruder took hold of Elijah's hands, securing them behind his back with another scarf. Kissing Elijah's mouth softly over the gag he whispered: "To be or not to be - that is the question."

The blue eyes in front of him opened with shock hearing those words. But the words did not stop. The figure drew back for a second as if to fully take in the sight of the helpless man in front of him and continued. "Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer/ The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," he kissed his way down Elijah's throat, "Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, /And by opposing end them?" He looked again in the depths of those blue eyes, pressing his body against the one in front of him. Grinding their groins together teasingly before he withdrew once more, letting his hands carelessly glide over Elijah's shirt down lingering seconds at the front of the smaller man's pants. "To die, to sleep - /No more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache", his hand stopped over Elijah's beating heart, "and the thousand natural shocks/ That flesh is heir to."

He opened Elijah's shirt slowly, button by button, caressing every bit of exposed flesh ever so lightly. " 'Tis a consummation/ Devoutly to be wish'd." His tongue circled over Elijah's left nipple, which became hard and even more sensitive and as he slightly bit into the other the younger man moaned under his ministrations. Elijah could feel the tension built inside him and his erection pressing in the confining denim. The man in front of him rose and continued whispering in his ear, pausing after every other word to place a kiss on Elijah's neck, face or teasingly lick his earlobe. "To die, to sleep;/ To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub;/ For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,/ When we have shuffled of this mortal coil," his hands slipped downwards between their bodies and fingered with the buttons on Elijah's jeans. "Must make us pause." He looked into his friend's blue eyes, no fear, no anger, just lust and want he could read in there. "There's the respect/ That makes calamity of so long life;", and with those words he went down on his knees pushing Elijah's pants and underwear to the ground.

He lowered his head to kiss the spot between Elijah's leg and body, his cheek barely brushing the other man's erection. The words became mere whispers in Elijah's mind, he knew them, he had spoken them so often, but had never heard them intoned with such meaningful passion. A groan came from deep within his throat, but the man in front of him wasn't done teasing him with his words. "The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn/ No traveller returns - puzzles the will," Elijah closed his eyes, let the words and caresses wash through his veins.

He went on kissing his way to the younger man's lower abdomen, over to his other thigh, never as to just innocently touch his penis by accident with a strand of his hair or his chin. Elijah moaned, almost couldn't stand being not touched. "And makes us rather bear the ills we have/ Than fly to others that we know not of?"
Finally, after ages it seemed to him, when he felt as if he had swollen to almost painful hardness, the man kneeling in front of him turned his head, "Thus conscience does make cowards of us all," and closed his mouth over his erection. He was nearly coming right then, feeling those wet lips encircling the tip of his shaft. And a nearly inaudible cry crossed the gag as the other man took him in completely and started to move his head. One hand gripped his ass, massaging, kneading, the other slowly caressed his balls. Elijah could feel teeth barely scraping over soft flesh, pulsing, again taking him deep in, sucking and he felt a known pressure building in his body. Words swirled in his head, lines learned years ago, spoken to strangers who became friends, words, emotions, pictures, smiles, eyes, brown eyes, violet.

At the same time as the ghost of Hamlet's father appeared on the stage, a muffled scream came from behind closed doors. Everybody's concentration was fixed on the stage, the audience anxiously waiting for the son to appear, the other actors searching for the last lost word of their up-coming dialogue and the numerous helpers praying for the fog machine to work correctly. And so nobody heard the shadow drawing back from Elijah's body, whispering again: "O, that this too too solid flesh would melt,/ Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!"

He rose, silently looking into the opening eyes of his friend. Friend, such small a word for so great chaos in his mind. He wanted this moment to stretch beyond this play, beyond tonight and tomorrow. Maybe it was possible. But while he was untying the gag and the scarf restraining Elijah's hands, he couldn't resist teasing his friend again about wanting to play in this theater piece. "I saw your performance yesterday. You suck at playing Hamlet, you know that," he said grinning, letting his tongue glide along the corner of his mouth as if to catch every drop that might have slipped from his attention.

Elijah would have liked to slap the smirk from his face. But that could wait until after the show, that much professionalism he had left. "And you know what, you sucked Hamlet and for that I just might have to kill you after I am dead. I just have a couple of minutes ..." He took off his clothes, grabbed the pants of his costume and slipped into the shirt, and caught the shoes who came flying at him with a laugh. Taking of his watch, he realized how late it was. "Fuck, I have to go." He said running out the door, adjusting the last bits of his costume, onto the stage appearing behind the whole members of the court.

Suppressing his panting and the urge to look into the blackness of the space where the audience sat, he thought back at the man, the friend waiting in his dressing room. If they only knew, he smiled before he slipped into the melancholic anger of Hamlet.

*****

THE END

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