This is one of the most brilliant S/E fics ever written, imo. Rather than listen to me babble on about the story and Cimorene's exquisite writing, here's a taste to whet your appetite:
He'd dreamed, just the night before, about Sean. Not one of the more erotic dreams, though God knew they were still frequent enough, and you'd think they'd slow down now that he wasn't twenty-fucking-years-old anymore, but an elderly thirty-five.
He'd been looking for Sean in Sean's house, and Sean's house had been empty and cold, colder than it had gotten in fifteen years of Thanksgivings. Elijah had finally realized the windows were open and gone around trying to close all the windows, and it had started snowing. Snow had fallen in the windows and drifted under the sills before he could close all them, and then he'd realize that with the windows and the doors closed Sean wouldn't be able to get back in, so he'd gone outside to look for Sean. The snow had nearly swallowed him, and he'd sunk into it as he walked even though it was level on top--like Sean's front yard sloped sharply downhill, even though it really didn't. The snow had practically closed over his head.
Could you drown in snow? Dream-Elijah hadn't. He'd thought he would, but Sean's hand had plunged down through the snow and pulled him out, gasping and sputtering. Sean had knelt on top of the snow, like an Elf who couldn't sink through it--and when he'd pulled Elijah out, Elijah had been dizzy and drunk with the knowledge that he could sit on it too, now, now that he understood--what he'd understood he didn't know, but it had been very important. And Sean had not wanted him to drown.
Sean had stared deeply into Elijah's eyes, his mouth open, no words coming out. Snow had filled the air around them, lighting in Sean's sandy hair and dusting across the shoulders of his shirt.
Then they'd moved--together, on one thought--and fallen into each other's arms, kissing the kind of kiss that made him wake up gasping with draining loss.
He hadn't realized that it was the boat scene until he'd been awake for some time.
Wash by Intercursus
Sean takes the soapy hand into his own left hand. "Two work faster than one," he murmurs, and the bar clatters to their feet as Sean returns to Elijah's dusky hardness, putting their clasped hands around him and moving smoothly, firm, Sean alternatively nibbling the small ear under his mouth and whispering dirty things like 'what if we were being watched, Lijah, what if someone was watching you like this'
Bread With Joy by Mirabile Dictu
For a moment they stood there, in the stall in the men's room, their hands linked. Elijah remembered their swim, watching the night swell around them, the night birds and bats coming out, the fish rising to feed, a night breeze sighing through the surrounding fields and rippling across the water, and he and Sean surrounded by it all, by all of New Zealand, by all of the world, and yet just the two of them, as alone as Frodo and Sam had ever been.
Nature's Abstract by Shira
Wispy white puffs stretch through the stratosphere, edges ragged and frayed, dispersing into a background of endless cyan. Gray tendrils span across heavens, with the feel of softness, of gentle lightness, standing out over depth and distance. Blueness that fades upward into violet twilight, to glittering blackness, and all the shades in-between.
Blue by Randominity
"PEAs," Sean said, again spelling it out. He looked a little sheepish as he explained, "Perfect-Eyed Assholes."
Elijah laughed in disbelief. "That's what you call us?"
"You call us Shameful, Elijah," Sean said slowly. "Do you know what that word's meant to do? You know it's meant to demoralize us before we even know what it's supposed to mean?" Agitated, he went on, hands waving again. "Shame is such an incredibly powerful tool for robbing people of their dignity. It condemns us for crimes we didn't even commit, like we should apologize for being born. It. It turns love - pure, self-sacrificing, spontaneous love - into a crime. It--" He pressed his lips together tightly in frustration, then blew out a breath. "It's a terrible, terrible word," he said simply.
It seemed to Elijah that Sean had learned plenty about the Law in college. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He looked down at the table and flicked ash into the ashtray and tried to disappear for a moment. "I'm sorry for asking."
"Don't be sorry," Sean said, his voice grim. "We haven't got any other name."