Fic: Boston (43-44/?, WIP)
Mar. 17th, 2013 10:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eff_realityPremise: AU. Billy is a PhD. candidate in Cinema Studies at Suffolk University and Dom is a rent boy in Southie.
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Feedback: is my anti-drug. Help keep me off the pipe.
Summary: The morning after, or morning of.
Previously.
SCENE 43. - INT. DOMINIC AND ORLANDO’S FLAT - LATER THAT NIGHT
Dominic is still seated motionless at the kitchen table when Orlando’s key starts fumbling with the lock. This clumsy struggle lasts about half a minute, during which it never enters Dominic’s mind to get up and simply get the door for him. He has no interest in helping anyone right now, least of all Orli.
Their kitchen looks almost alien at this time of night, or morning, rather, the lights not quite right without the help of a little sunshine coming through the windows above the sink. Dominic presses the heels of his hands into his eyes at it, hoping the room will somehow be changed. Orlando squints as he walks through the door.
“Hey.”
“Where’s Lij?” Dominic asks, realizing his distinct giggle had been missing from the whole key-in-lock struggle.
“I sent him home,” Orlando replies, sounding surprised that Dominic would even ask.
Dominic rests his elbows on the table and presses his hands into his eyes again, this time keeping them there. If it won’t change the lighting, maybe it’ll help Orli disappear.
“Billy dragged me off the dance floor and threatened to kill me if I didn’t come home and find you,” Orlando finally explains.
Dominic remains silent. He suddenly realizes that he and Orli are both in that weird space where they’re still a bit high off the drug but actively fighting against it, fighting through it to reach some level of conscious conversation. Dominic can’t even remember how he made it here; he can’t remember the ride on the T or even unlocking the front door and coming through himself.
When Dominic finally brings his hands back to the table, his fingertips still light as feathers as they brush the surface, Orli is seated across from him with a glass of water.
“I don’t know why you still bother, man,” Orlando shakes his head. “I mean, I love Billy, but you knew where this was going, yeah? He’s a civilian. Nothing’s ever going to change how the two of you met.”
Dominic narrows his eyes, as much as he can manage given his current state. His immediate instinct is to snap at Orli, tell him that’s way too simple an assessment for what he and Billy have—but before he can open his mouth, thankfully, he realizes how fucking stupid that sounds, even to him, considering how tonight ended. He wonders how he’ll feel about it all tomorrow, if he’ll avoid Billy for another month like January, or maybe even longer, maybe for good.
“He’s never going to be with you,” Orlando says as gently as he can manage. “The sooner you realize that—”
“I heard you the first fucking time, yeah?” Dominic mutters, raking a hand through his hair, which is still a damp, disgusting mess. He shivers. “Why don’t you want me to be happy?” The question surprises the both of them, Orlando’s eyes going wide and suddenly almost sober across the table. It’s unbearably strange, putting words to this awful thing that’s been lingering between them, hanging like a gargoyle over their flat, for weeks now. “Remember all the plays I used to go to for you? All those shit student film showings. I thought we were like brothers. I thought that actually meant something, beyond all this,” he waves a hand to indicate their place and, more specifically, the life.
Dominic wonders how many times they’ve sat here after a long night on the pull or on the pull, commiserating and making plans, or not. Suddenly, it becomes unnecessary for Orlando to answer. Dominic licks his lips, finding them chapped. “I’m making changes, and it‘s fucking scary, especially for me, but I feel better about myself than I have... maybe ever.”
Orlando rolls his eyes and rises from his chair, striding to the sink behind Dominic to fill his glass again.
“There are other ways of getting what you get from it.”
Orlando’s shut off the faucet, but he won’t answer.
Dominic huffs a laugh, exhausted from the two conversations—confrontations—he’s had just in the last hour or so. “Some fucking night, eh?”
Orlando’s hand reaches out over his shoulder, placing the glass of water gingerly on the table in front of him. “Drink all that,” he commands as he exits the kitchen, walks down the hall, and closes his bedroom door behind him.
*
SCENE 44. - INT. BILLY’S FLAT - THE NEXT MORNING
Billy wakes up—or rather forces himself out of bed and upright—with purpose, though one wouldn’t know it to look at him. As he passes the mirror in the hall, he finds a map of the night before etched across his face, the lines around his eyes more prominent than they’ve been since he’d been racing to the finish line of his manuscript, his complexion slightly yellowed.
He’d considered following Dominic home last night, quickly rationalizing that he probably needed a bit of room to cool down and let the rest of the drug work its way through his system. Really, he’d been too scared to follow, too shell-shocked. Straight away, he’d recognized Dominic’s words outside the club as a challenge, his way of saying, Alright, enough pissing around it: here’s where I’m at. Where are you? Billy’d known last night as he watched Dom walk away that the next time they spoke couldn’t be an ordinary conversation, or even an apology or awkward attempt at reconciliation on his part. Dom had thrown down the gauntlet, sober or no, and now it’s Billy’s turn.
Not long after he’d all but shoved Orlando out the door, Billy’d gone home himself, a bizarre, meandering sort of walk of shame that hadn’t ended when he’d finally reached his flat. He’d spent nearly the entire night in playback mode, reviewing every word, look, and touch he and Dominic had exchanged at Paradise, whether they’d been carefully chosen or managed to carelessly slip out. That had quickly turned into a retrospective on their relationship as a whole, where they’d begun and where they’d ended up. Billy’d kept coming back to the two of them in that church over Christmas, the image of Dominic performing small rituals that were second nature but also with the sense that he wasn’t welcome there at all.
Billy’d pretty much stared at the clock on his bedside table all night, watching the hours pass one after the other, waiting for the sun to come up with no fucking idea what he’d say to Dom when it did.
Now, he moves like a zombie through a drawn-out shower and dressing, giving Erin a pet and a few treats before lifting Dominic’s coat gingerly off the back of a chair at his little eating table. He takes a breath as he pulls it around himself, Dominic’s smell already embedded in the lining though he knows the coat is fairly new. He doesn’t eat. He’s decided to stop by a diner or deli by Dom for some takeaway breakfast first—food has always seemed to facilitate the connection between them, even since that very first night.
The ride on the T goes by far too quickly, as does the search for food, Billy’s heart thundering in his chest as he approaches Dominic’s building, the front door staring back at him in accusation: You opened me. You started this.
A frenetic-looking man in his forties bursts through the door, nearly scaring the piss out of Billy before he holds the door open for him. “Thanks,” Billy mutters, taking the steps from the makeshift lobby until he can go no further.
He takes a breath and clutches the paper bag from the deli, the sound of its crinkling echoing loudly through the hall before he knocks on the door.
“Fuck off!” comes the immediate response from the other side. Orlando.
“Orlando, it’s Billy! Sorry it’s so early.” Billy hears the shuffling of feet coming closer and closer, and, after some elaborate unlocking, the door swings open, a bleary-eyed but reasonably friendly Orlando standing at the threshold in pajama bottoms.
“Hey, mate. Everything alright?” Orlando’s voice sounds expectedly rough.
“Yeah...” Billy glances over his shoulder at what he can see of their flat. “Is Dom around?”
Orlando’s eyes go a bit dark at the question. “No, he left early, man. Like, seven.” He turns around, shuffling toward the kitchen table and picking up a note. “Oh, yeah—he’s at Harvard.”
“In the darkroom?” Billy quickly asks.
Orlando shrugs. “I guess so.”
“Yeah,” Billy nods, convincing himself. He apologizes once more for good measure, offloading the food onto Orlando, who very happily accepts it before shutting the door in his face and likely shuffling back to bed. Billy takes another breath before descending the stairs and venturing back out into the cold and toward the T, back in the direction from which he’d come.
*
INTERLUDE: REAL
Billy’s happy to have gotten a bit lost on his quest to find the darkroom on Harvard’s campus, pinballing between buildings in the quad and pulling Dominic’s coat tighter around himself at the bite in the air; he knows in his bones it’s going to snow soon. By the time he gets there, however, he’s worked himself up so fucking much that he’s ready to make a statement.
There’s a sign on the door that reads, Please knock before entering. Students at work. Billy’s not sure a knock will accomplish much, though; he can hear music blaring from the other side. He fiercely hopes there aren’t any undergrads sharing time with Dom. He knocks anyway, and, hearing nothing, pushes through the heavy door, only to find a tiny, dark vestibule lit by just a little blue bulb in the ceiling, followed by yet another door, the real door to the darkroom by the look of it.
Billy tries not to let any light in as he slips through, blinking a few times until his eyes adjust. He finds Dominic at a station in a far corner of the room, brow furrowed over his specs, hands encased in big, rubbery yellow gloves and working furiously. Billy watches him for a long moment, finally letting himself get overwhelmed by what he always feels whenever he sees Dom—not the Dom from last night but the Dom he knows and, yes, loves: laser-focused and determined, nearly bursting with the need to express himself. The set of his shoulders is already tight and defensive underneath his t-shirt, though he still doesn’t know that Billy is there.
Billy walks quietly over to the boombox set up on a high shelf near the door and turns the volume down, just enough to get Dominic’s attention. He watches Dominic register the presence but finish what he’s working on before whipping around to catch a glimpse of his intruder. Billy gives him a timid wave. “Hi,” Dominic says, a bit breathless and not nearly as angry as Billy’d expected him to be.
Billy slithers out of Dominic’s coat and drapes it over a stool near the celluloid closet. “Thought we’d make a switch at least.”
“Yeah, of course. Yours is hanging over there.” Dominic gestures at a row of hooks way on the other side of the room.
Billy nods but doesn’t move from his spot. “Thanks,” he says politely.
Dominic smiles congenially, though there’s something not quite convincing about it. “I’m sorry I was such a prick last night. I guess now you know what I’m like when I’m high.” He sounds friendly but clipped, far too dismissive for the situation at hand. It does what Billy supposes it’s meant to: thoroughly disarm him in one fell swoop. “Just forget whatever I said, yeah? All of it.” Dominic sweeps a gloved hand through the air before turning back to fiddle with the enlarger again.
“There’s no need to apologize,” Billy says quietly. He searches wildly for words as he stares at Dominic’s back again. “I actually went to your place first—Orlando told me you were here. I brought you breakfast, but... it would’ve gotten cold, so I just left it with him.”
“Oh?” Dominic sounds distracted. “‘S nice of you. He must be a pig in shit right about now.”
“Hm,” Billy lets out an imitation of a laugh. He continues watching Dominic in silence until his hands slow to a stop.
Finally, Dominic pulls his gloves off and tosses them aside. He braces his hands on the edge of the counter and leans forward for purchase. “Maybe...” Dominic starts, then stops.
Billy takes a few strides closer, trying to encourage. “...What?”
“Maybe it’s better if we spend some time apart.”
Billy sighs, his heart set off again. Here it comes.
“It’s unhealthy for me to be around you,” Dominic says quickly, and starts shuffling through a stack of photo paper.
“Unhealthy? How can you say that?” Though his words are a confrontation, Billy keeps his voice neutral; he doesn’t want to push Dom where he’d pushed him last night, or anywhere close.
“Just—. You make me feel... like I can do anything, and then—.”
Billy approaches and leans against the station next to Dominic, finally catching a glimpse of his face. His eyes are closed. Billy reaches for him immediately, curling a hand gently around his forearm.
Dominic inhales, turning to him and maneuvering out of the touch. “Come on, Billy,” he gives an exasperated laugh, as if all that he’s saying should be patently obvious to him. “We were never supposed to be friends.” Dominic sucks at his bottom lip and pushes a hand through his hair. He leans back against the counter, mirroring Billy’s position, and looks off in the direction of the chemical baths at the center of the room. “I hate knowing what it was like. I wish I didn’t. It would make things easier.”
“What?”
Dominic levels a dark look at him, not unlike the final look he’d given him before walking away last night.
Billy nearly flinches at it. “What what was like?”
“You know, for a Ph.D. you can be really fucking daft.” Dominic shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he waves his hand dismissively again and turns back, slipping his gloves back on so he can bring a print over to the baths.
Billy watches as he moves the print methodically from one tub to the next with a pair of tongs, glancing at the clock on the wall from time to time. He’d had every intention of coming here with his tail between his legs, but he can only take so much of Dominic patronizing him before he becomes infuriated. Still, he hesitates. “What d’you expect from me? You’ve never been clear with me.” Before Dominic can retort, Billy plows ahead, quickly gaining volume—and momentum. “Even last night. That doesn’t count. You hide behind your sexuality, the flirting.” Dominic goes completely still. “Every time I think I’m getting something from you, something real that I can hold onto, you find a way to dodge, or, or take it back.” Billy shrugs, helpless. “I’ve never known what’s real and what’s not with you, since day one.”
“How could you not know?!” Dominic nearly recoils from the sound of his own voice, suddenly conscious of any surrounding classrooms or offices. His eyes have gone wide in the dark, appealing to Billy. “How could you not know when we’re together?”
“I need you to tell me.” Billy’s own voice goes slow and deliberate. “Tell me what I should know. I don’t know what you expect from me if you don’t make it real, Dom. You walked away from me last night before I could even give you an answer.” Dominic swallows. “What are you afraid of? Y’have no right to be, not of me.”
Dominic stands looking at Billy for a moment before he carefully pulls his gloves off again, giving his specs the same treatment. He sets both aside and takes two slow steps forward, bringing him just a foot’s length from Billy. He reaches for Billy’s hands, effectively bringing them back to where they’d left off last night, before everything had really gone to shite, and urges him even closer, brushing his mouth over Billy’s matter-of-factly. When he pulls back, releasing Billy’s hands, he can see the pulse point in his neck and feel the breath rushing out of his mouth. Dominic crosses his arms, somehow managing to look amusingly stern, his voice steady. “What’s your answer, then?”
Billy reaches out immediately, curling both hands around Dominic’s neck and pulling him into a real kiss, one that makes Dominic gasp into his mouth as Billy pulls them apart and quickly dives in again, pushing his hands up into Dom’s hair and gripping so he can physically cock Dom’s head to better fit them together. Once Dominic fully comes to his senses, his own hands fumble for Billy’s hips, finally finding traction in his belt loops and using them to make their hips collide before sliding up Billy’s front to brace against either side of Billy’s face. His mouth goes nearly horizontal in its attempt to push even harder against Billy’s, their tongues finally searching and meeting somewhere in the middle, warm and slick and uncompromising.
Billy shuffles Dominic until his backside hits the edge of the chemical baths, their bodies going flush from chest to toe, Dominic’s breath rushing through his nose and ending in a purr that inspires Billy’s hands to push Dominic’s bangs out of his eyes and continue on their journey down, over lean shoulders, tripping over the collar of his t-shirt, fingertips momentarily singed at the warm skin underneath.
Dominic pulls their mouths apart, nudging his forehead against Billy’s affectionately as they both take a very needed breather, a flush already blossoming high in Billy’s cheeks and his eyes gone that dark green that Dominic remembers too well. He still needs confirmation. “Then you have...?” he breathes.
Billy gives a vigorous nod. “Yes. Jesus, every second of every day.”
A growl of frustration—or appreciation—pushes its way out of Dominic’s throat at that. His mouth finds Billy’s again, his hands following suit, sliding down to curl over his shoulders, clinging there. “I knew,” he whines as they part again. Billy nudges his face aside, dipping into the crook of his neck to give him a wet bite there. “Oh... I fucking knew,” Dominic says again, his eyes rolling back a little at the feel of Billy’s mouth—Billy’s mouth—marking him so thoroughly.
Billy wraps his arms around Dominic’s back, effectively cradling him as they push together, bending Dom backward over the edge of the baths. He stops to inhale the skin at Dominic’s neck, already slick with his own saliva and its scent much stronger than the coat he’d just set aside moments ago. “You’ve no idea.”
Dominic palms the back of Billy’s head hard, forcing more than encouraging him to bite again. “Then you’d better give me one.”
Billy obliges but not for long, opting instead to purse a heated trail of kisses back up to Dominic’s mouth before their tongues push together again. Dominic’s hands flail awkwardly as Billy bends him even further back, torn between wanting to move somewhere safer and wanting to stay right here with their hips locked together tight and Billy’s hands creeping underneath the hem of his tee to thumb at his sides.
Dominic finally pulls his mouth away, and Billy looks at him expectantly, impatient though he clearly is. Dominic fills with intense pride as soon as he recognizes it. “‘S chemicals and stuff here,” he explains, licking his lips.
“Is there—?” Billy’s eyes dart around a little.
Dominic gets distracted by the shine of Billy’s swollen mouth in the dark before he nods and grabs at his shirt. “Yeah,” he breathes, pulling him in the direction of the closet. He fumbles in the pocket of his denims for the key, Billy standing a respectful foot or two behind him but still keeping them connected with a few light fingertips at the side of his waist. Dominic flings the door open, Billy following close behind and just making it into the little room before it slams shut, heavy and metallic, throwing them into complete darkness.
Billy can feel Dominic’s presence near him, his warmth, but not being able to see him, decide where to put his hands and mouth next, even for a split second, is beyond frustrating. The brief silence breaks the spell of just before, the madness of it, but it also imbues it with a seriousness that scares Billy. The touches to come have weight. He listens to them both breathe for a few beats, then laughs a little, nervous. “Where are you?” He turns blindly and reaches a hand out tentatively into the pitch blackness, finding nothing.
With the tinny snap of a click, a little desk lamp with a blue bulb—just like the one that had helped lead Billy here—illuminates the closet as much as is needed. It’s about the size of two closets, really, standard, at least from what Billy remembers of his own days dabbling in photography. There is an actual worktop on which the lamp sits that’s otherwise clear. Dominic hovers there, looking suddenly timid, completely disarming Billy again.
Billy walks over in quick, sure strides, stopping suddenly just short of where their bodies would make contact. Dominic’s hands curl around the edge of the worktop behind him, his eyes wide and utterly focused on Billy’s. Billy reaches out, sweeping the hair off of his forehead again and combing it back to join the rest. Dominic leans instinctively into the touch, his face turning with Billy’s hand as it slides down to palm his cheek. “You sweet—” Billy exhales. He’s taken every opportunity to marvel at how easily Dominic can disguise himself, shift the very look of his face to fit any situation and project whatever he desires. Now, he’s making himself naked for Billy, his eyes speaking volumes about what he’s truly felt over these past weeks, months. “Have you been hurt?” Billy whispers. Dominic’s eyes fall shut. “Did I hurt you?” Dominic nods. Billy brushes a kiss over his mouth in apology, and one of Dominic’s hands comes up to join his own, long fingers sliding between his. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to. I’d never want to.”
Dominic gathers Billy’s hand—the one cradling his cheek—with both his hands, opening it up in front of his face and pressing a wet kiss to the center of his palm. From there, his mouth works outward, kissing to the tip of one of Billy’s fingers, which he then pushes past his lips so he can curl his tongue around it, just to the first knuckle. Billy lets out a frustrated little noise as he watches this, stepping closer to press himself full-on against Dominic’s thigh, and feel Dominic pressed hot and damp against his own hip. Dominic’s eyelids go heavy at the contact, his teeth just grazing over Billy’s skin as the digit slides from his mouth. Before he can move on to the next finger, Billy leans in and captures his mouth again, setting twisted bites to his lower lip and sucking to soothe the burn they leave behind. Dominic can do little but drape his arms over Billy’s shoulders and lean into it, his mouth soon becoming a burning, swollen, sensual mess, feeling drugged from it all.
Without warning, Billy’s precise little hands reach around to the backs of his thighs and pull, lifting him up and onto the worktop, making him gasp. Dom’s legs catch up much earlier than his brain, wrapping right around Billy’s lower back just as they’ve done thousands of times before, in his dreams and daydreams. Billy’s tongue plunges inside his mouth again, and Dominic pulls at the hair at Billy’s nape, opening himself up as Billy tries to swallow him whole. Mission accomplished, he thinks to himself as his back goes at an obtuse angle to the worktop, his legs pulling Billy still closer and his hips seeking something, anything, to thrust against.
Billy does his best to give Dom some support with his arms, wrapping them protectively around his back as he bends him closer and closer to the surface of the worktop. Dominic’s responses to nearly every touch, every movement of Billy’s own mouth, are fierce, more than generous, his breathing labored and his hands clinging and pushing wherever they can reach. Billy doesn’t recall him being nearly so vocal the last time they slept together; he’d been quiet, if anything. The rush of the memory slithers down Billy’s spine, colliding with the present and everything in between, making Billy’s head spin. He tears their mouths apart and smiles a little, breathless. He can’t believe that this Dominic, the one who’s twined around him like this, is the same Dominic who picked him up on the street months ago, lured him in with a curl of smoke and a wicked smile. “Been dying to touch you again.”
“God.” Dominic comes forward with a push of a kiss that puts them both vertical again, sliding between Billy and the edge of the worktop back down to his feet, the friction of the move making his mouth tremble against Billy’s. His fingers race to pull the buttons on Billy’s shirt free, seeking all the warm skin underneath that they’ve missed better than they know. Dominic inhales deeply as Billy’s chest is uncovered bit by bit, his heart working to slow. He watches his own hands instead of Billy’s eyes, sincerely afraid he’ll come apart if he looks at them for too long. “I would do anything for you, you know,” he says quietly. “Physically, I mean. Whatever you want.”
Billy reaches for his hands, stopping them short, his shirt unbuttoned just over halfway. “Should we go somewhere?” He glances off in the direction of the world beyond the door, implying the question, Will we be caught?
Dominic shakes his head firmly. “No.” He kisses Billy’s mouth. “I can’t wait for you,” he admits. “Just... anything, come on, I’ve...,” he presses a timid kiss to the corner of Billy’s jaw, “...missed you.”
At that, Billy’s hands creep down under the hem of Dominic’s shirt, rucking it up as he falls to his knees, grazing lips and teeth over the planes of Dom’s stomach. He thinks, weirdly, of the two of them in that church again, Dominic genuflecting before the altar with reverence. This body, this man that he’s worshipped for all these months, feels, smells, and tastes just as Billy’d remembered. The muscles of Dominic’s stomach fuse and become more pronounced under the dim blue light, shiny streaks of Billy’s own saliva making him reach down and grip himself through his denims. Dominic must notice this, because he responds immediately, gripping a fistful of Billy’s hair, not enough to hurt him but enough to make the blood beat a little harder in his veins.
Billy squeezes himself hard as he finally settles onto his knees, face to face with Dominic’s crotch, most of his shirt still hanging open. As he does this, he presses his nose and open mouth to the bulge straining there, tracing it with his tongue. “Billy,” Dominic whispers fiercely above him, and starts to pant a little. Billy’s fingers reach up immediately, curling around Dominic’s waistband and pulling the two halves of his button fly apart. He licks his lips, nostrils flaring as Dominic falls out, flushed red and nearly painful looking. Billy wraps one hand around it, thumb stroking the vein on the underside to just under the head, urging a bead of precome, his other hand awkwardly yanking Dom’s denims down to his knees, Dominic’s legs shuffling out and inviting him in between.
Billy shuffles closer, flattening his tongue under and sweeping up over the head, groaning at both the taste of Dominic and the heat he’s giving off. He swallows, coating his tongue with it before he comes forward again, wrapping his lips around the entire head and curling his tongue all around it.
Dominic gasps, his brows pinching, and bites his lip, closing his eyes as he feels Billy getting his cock wet, manhandling it, his gorgeous little mouth playful and seemingly everywhere at once. Dom inhales sharp and loud when Billy takes him into his mouth completely, tongue wet and slithering up against the underside on the retreat. He grips Billy’s hair two-handed, somehow managing to keep his hips from thrusting as Billy’s head starts bobbing, the head of his cock nearly reaching the back of Billy’s throat.
Billy’s hands slide up his thighs, one flattening at Dominic’s hip to anchor him and the other reaching around to palm a fleshy asscheek, his fingers creeping toward Dominic’s crack, blunt nails setting off sparks along that sensitive skin. Dominic lets out a strained noise, his hips floating forward of their own accord, making Billy’s rhythm stutter and his breath push hard through his nostrils. Dominic glances down, ready to apologize, seeing Billy’s hands both reach for his hips, firm, pressing them back into the worktop, his thumbs fitting into the lines along his pelvic muscle. Billy glances up at him and swallows pointedly around his cock, and Dominic’s jaw drops, the breath rushing clear out of him.
His eyes roll back and he tilts his face toward the ceiling. “Can’t believe this is happening,” he inhales.
The sound of the first door to the darkroom makes them both go suddenly still. One of Dominic’s hands slides down from Billy’s hair to grip at his shoulder, holding him in limbo—wanting him to be ready to get to his feet and get himself together but not wanting him to preemptively stop what he’s doing. “Anyone working in here?” comes a muffled voice from the other side.
“Uhh,” Dominic starts, Billy leaning forward to press his mouth to his thigh—or hide his laughter, if the amused curl of his lips is any indication. Dominic clears his throat, smacking Billy on the shoulder. “Yeah! Just give me about ten minutes, I’ll be done.” Billy’s teeth are bared and he’s full-on laughing against Dominic’s skin now. Dominic can’t help but laugh a little too, though the sight of Billy on his knees with his shirt open, hair mussed from his own hands, brings him at least halfway back to where he’d been just before the intrusion. Billy looks up at him, hands still cradling his hips, poised to go to work again, his mouth glistening. Dominic runs his thumb along his lower lip affectionately, encouraging, and Billy’s eyes instantly go dark again. Dominic bites back a smile, thrilled that he can inspire such an unequivocal reaction from him.
Billy presses a kiss to his thumb, a look of recognition passing between them: that sweet gesture from the night they first met. “Cover your mouth,” Billy advises, the way his accent wraps around the words, caressing them, pushing Dominic about ten steps closer to the edge before Billy licks his cock right into his mouth again.
“Oh fuck, fuck,” Dominic hisses, running a hand up over his chest and through his hair before clamping it obediently over his own mouth. Billy quickly works his way back to a hot, wet rhythm, the lewd soundtrack of it making Dominic bite the heel of his hand and groan.
Dominic feels Billy wrap a hand around the base of his prick, tongue sneaking out to lick at his own fingers as his nose pushes and nuzzles close to the musk of Dominic’s pubic hair. It feels deliciously sloppy, but there’s intention there, he soon discovers, as those saliva-soaked fingers trail down, curling deftly, gently over the flesh of his balls and brushing behind, between Dominic’s legs, firmly over that sweet spot, one fingertip pressing just inside his entrance.
Dominic moans loud and unabashed into his hand, keening a little as Billy’s finger presses and curls inside, as far as it can manage at this angle, his mouth still working, glorious and slippery over his cock. Billy loses what little breath he still has at this reaction, and at the feel of Dominic’s balls dragging hot and heavy against his wrist. He couldn’t care less, though; he’ll lose all higher functions and pass out before he stops what he’s doing, anything to keep Dominic panting and starting to whine the way that he is.
Dominic slams both hands on the worktop at his sides, putting himself completely in Billy’s hands and at his mercy, his hips rocking him from Billy’s mouth back against his hand. “Close,” he manages just moments before he starts to come in hot, thick pulses, down Billy’s throat. Billy braces himself, swallowing furiously and hands holding Dominic in place until he’s gotten it all. Dominic lets out a loud aftershock of a moan as he watches his cock slip from Billy’s mouth, a thin thread of come trailing over Billy’s chin.
Billy gets to his feet shakily and wipes ineffectually at it, missing most of it, until Dominic darts in, helpfully licking a trail up his neck and over his chin to his mouth, unfurling his tongue inside, the taste of him passing between them. Billy pulls quickly away, and Dominic nearly panics for a brief moment before he realizes that Billy’s still quite winded. He reaches down, using both hands to tuck Dominic back into his denims and taking his time buttoning them back up as he smiles against Dominic’s neck, kissing him there. “Wish I could do that again, right now.”
Dominic kisses Billy feverishly, sucking on his tongue and pushing his hands through his hair, thoroughly reluctant to let him go. There’s no way he’s going to let this end, not now.
Billy pulls back, playfully, cradling Dominic’s face in his hands and smiling. He feels shockingly relaxed and clear-headed, almost as if he’s just come himself. “Want to go back to mine?”
Dominic’s face breaks into a bright, gorgeous smile at the question, and Billy kisses him impulsively again before he can even answer. Dominic giggles and drags his mouth lazily along the column of Billy’s neck. “‘S a little late for that question, isn’t it?” Billy lets out the beginning of a laugh, though he goes still, patient. Dominic nods vigorously enough that Billy can feel it against his neck. “Yes.”
“Good,” Billy exhales, fumbling on the wall for a switch to a proper light. He wishes suddenly for a teleporter. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we get there.” His hand makes contact with a switch, and the little room is suddenly bathed in light, the both of them squinting as all sorts of shelves and gadgets are made visible.
Dominic can’t take his eyes off of Billy, though, the evidence of what they’ve just done streaked across his cheeks, his shirt quite rumpled and still half-open, a bit damp in certain places, his hair in disarray. Dominic reaches for him. “C’mere.” He’s not entirely sure if it’s in the name of righting his appearance or disheveling him further. The only thing spurring his hands to fasten Billy’s buttons is the thrilling idea that he’ll have the opportunity to undo them again in less than half an hour, if they’re quick enough and the MBTA cooperates.
As he pulls and smoothes tufts of Billy’s hair back into place, his mind reels with ideas for what he’ll do with him once they’ve gotten home. A part of him sincerely contemplates the possibility that this night will be it, and if that’s the case, he’s going to do his best to either change Billy’s mind or at least make it memorable. Inspired, he shuffles Billy forward and against the door, pressing against him full body, and gives him a bruise of a kiss.
Billy looks at him, his eyes filled with wonder and anticipation, his hands resting on the small of Dominic’s back. He has so many questions, but for now, Christ, this is happening, and shockingly, he trusts it. He trusts Dominic.
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Feedback: is my anti-drug. Help keep me off the pipe.
Summary: The morning after, or morning of.
Previously.
SCENE 43. - INT. DOMINIC AND ORLANDO’S FLAT - LATER THAT NIGHT
Dominic is still seated motionless at the kitchen table when Orlando’s key starts fumbling with the lock. This clumsy struggle lasts about half a minute, during which it never enters Dominic’s mind to get up and simply get the door for him. He has no interest in helping anyone right now, least of all Orli.
Their kitchen looks almost alien at this time of night, or morning, rather, the lights not quite right without the help of a little sunshine coming through the windows above the sink. Dominic presses the heels of his hands into his eyes at it, hoping the room will somehow be changed. Orlando squints as he walks through the door.
“Hey.”
“Where’s Lij?” Dominic asks, realizing his distinct giggle had been missing from the whole key-in-lock struggle.
“I sent him home,” Orlando replies, sounding surprised that Dominic would even ask.
Dominic rests his elbows on the table and presses his hands into his eyes again, this time keeping them there. If it won’t change the lighting, maybe it’ll help Orli disappear.
“Billy dragged me off the dance floor and threatened to kill me if I didn’t come home and find you,” Orlando finally explains.
Dominic remains silent. He suddenly realizes that he and Orli are both in that weird space where they’re still a bit high off the drug but actively fighting against it, fighting through it to reach some level of conscious conversation. Dominic can’t even remember how he made it here; he can’t remember the ride on the T or even unlocking the front door and coming through himself.
When Dominic finally brings his hands back to the table, his fingertips still light as feathers as they brush the surface, Orli is seated across from him with a glass of water.
“I don’t know why you still bother, man,” Orlando shakes his head. “I mean, I love Billy, but you knew where this was going, yeah? He’s a civilian. Nothing’s ever going to change how the two of you met.”
Dominic narrows his eyes, as much as he can manage given his current state. His immediate instinct is to snap at Orli, tell him that’s way too simple an assessment for what he and Billy have—but before he can open his mouth, thankfully, he realizes how fucking stupid that sounds, even to him, considering how tonight ended. He wonders how he’ll feel about it all tomorrow, if he’ll avoid Billy for another month like January, or maybe even longer, maybe for good.
“He’s never going to be with you,” Orlando says as gently as he can manage. “The sooner you realize that—”
“I heard you the first fucking time, yeah?” Dominic mutters, raking a hand through his hair, which is still a damp, disgusting mess. He shivers. “Why don’t you want me to be happy?” The question surprises the both of them, Orlando’s eyes going wide and suddenly almost sober across the table. It’s unbearably strange, putting words to this awful thing that’s been lingering between them, hanging like a gargoyle over their flat, for weeks now. “Remember all the plays I used to go to for you? All those shit student film showings. I thought we were like brothers. I thought that actually meant something, beyond all this,” he waves a hand to indicate their place and, more specifically, the life.
Dominic wonders how many times they’ve sat here after a long night on the pull or on the pull, commiserating and making plans, or not. Suddenly, it becomes unnecessary for Orlando to answer. Dominic licks his lips, finding them chapped. “I’m making changes, and it‘s fucking scary, especially for me, but I feel better about myself than I have... maybe ever.”
Orlando rolls his eyes and rises from his chair, striding to the sink behind Dominic to fill his glass again.
“There are other ways of getting what you get from it.”
Orlando’s shut off the faucet, but he won’t answer.
Dominic huffs a laugh, exhausted from the two conversations—confrontations—he’s had just in the last hour or so. “Some fucking night, eh?”
Orlando’s hand reaches out over his shoulder, placing the glass of water gingerly on the table in front of him. “Drink all that,” he commands as he exits the kitchen, walks down the hall, and closes his bedroom door behind him.
*
SCENE 44. - INT. BILLY’S FLAT - THE NEXT MORNING
Billy wakes up—or rather forces himself out of bed and upright—with purpose, though one wouldn’t know it to look at him. As he passes the mirror in the hall, he finds a map of the night before etched across his face, the lines around his eyes more prominent than they’ve been since he’d been racing to the finish line of his manuscript, his complexion slightly yellowed.
He’d considered following Dominic home last night, quickly rationalizing that he probably needed a bit of room to cool down and let the rest of the drug work its way through his system. Really, he’d been too scared to follow, too shell-shocked. Straight away, he’d recognized Dominic’s words outside the club as a challenge, his way of saying, Alright, enough pissing around it: here’s where I’m at. Where are you? Billy’d known last night as he watched Dom walk away that the next time they spoke couldn’t be an ordinary conversation, or even an apology or awkward attempt at reconciliation on his part. Dom had thrown down the gauntlet, sober or no, and now it’s Billy’s turn.
Not long after he’d all but shoved Orlando out the door, Billy’d gone home himself, a bizarre, meandering sort of walk of shame that hadn’t ended when he’d finally reached his flat. He’d spent nearly the entire night in playback mode, reviewing every word, look, and touch he and Dominic had exchanged at Paradise, whether they’d been carefully chosen or managed to carelessly slip out. That had quickly turned into a retrospective on their relationship as a whole, where they’d begun and where they’d ended up. Billy’d kept coming back to the two of them in that church over Christmas, the image of Dominic performing small rituals that were second nature but also with the sense that he wasn’t welcome there at all.
Billy’d pretty much stared at the clock on his bedside table all night, watching the hours pass one after the other, waiting for the sun to come up with no fucking idea what he’d say to Dom when it did.
Now, he moves like a zombie through a drawn-out shower and dressing, giving Erin a pet and a few treats before lifting Dominic’s coat gingerly off the back of a chair at his little eating table. He takes a breath as he pulls it around himself, Dominic’s smell already embedded in the lining though he knows the coat is fairly new. He doesn’t eat. He’s decided to stop by a diner or deli by Dom for some takeaway breakfast first—food has always seemed to facilitate the connection between them, even since that very first night.
The ride on the T goes by far too quickly, as does the search for food, Billy’s heart thundering in his chest as he approaches Dominic’s building, the front door staring back at him in accusation: You opened me. You started this.
A frenetic-looking man in his forties bursts through the door, nearly scaring the piss out of Billy before he holds the door open for him. “Thanks,” Billy mutters, taking the steps from the makeshift lobby until he can go no further.
He takes a breath and clutches the paper bag from the deli, the sound of its crinkling echoing loudly through the hall before he knocks on the door.
“Fuck off!” comes the immediate response from the other side. Orlando.
“Orlando, it’s Billy! Sorry it’s so early.” Billy hears the shuffling of feet coming closer and closer, and, after some elaborate unlocking, the door swings open, a bleary-eyed but reasonably friendly Orlando standing at the threshold in pajama bottoms.
“Hey, mate. Everything alright?” Orlando’s voice sounds expectedly rough.
“Yeah...” Billy glances over his shoulder at what he can see of their flat. “Is Dom around?”
Orlando’s eyes go a bit dark at the question. “No, he left early, man. Like, seven.” He turns around, shuffling toward the kitchen table and picking up a note. “Oh, yeah—he’s at Harvard.”
“In the darkroom?” Billy quickly asks.
Orlando shrugs. “I guess so.”
“Yeah,” Billy nods, convincing himself. He apologizes once more for good measure, offloading the food onto Orlando, who very happily accepts it before shutting the door in his face and likely shuffling back to bed. Billy takes another breath before descending the stairs and venturing back out into the cold and toward the T, back in the direction from which he’d come.
*
INTERLUDE: REAL
Billy’s happy to have gotten a bit lost on his quest to find the darkroom on Harvard’s campus, pinballing between buildings in the quad and pulling Dominic’s coat tighter around himself at the bite in the air; he knows in his bones it’s going to snow soon. By the time he gets there, however, he’s worked himself up so fucking much that he’s ready to make a statement.
There’s a sign on the door that reads, Please knock before entering. Students at work. Billy’s not sure a knock will accomplish much, though; he can hear music blaring from the other side. He fiercely hopes there aren’t any undergrads sharing time with Dom. He knocks anyway, and, hearing nothing, pushes through the heavy door, only to find a tiny, dark vestibule lit by just a little blue bulb in the ceiling, followed by yet another door, the real door to the darkroom by the look of it.
Billy tries not to let any light in as he slips through, blinking a few times until his eyes adjust. He finds Dominic at a station in a far corner of the room, brow furrowed over his specs, hands encased in big, rubbery yellow gloves and working furiously. Billy watches him for a long moment, finally letting himself get overwhelmed by what he always feels whenever he sees Dom—not the Dom from last night but the Dom he knows and, yes, loves: laser-focused and determined, nearly bursting with the need to express himself. The set of his shoulders is already tight and defensive underneath his t-shirt, though he still doesn’t know that Billy is there.
Billy walks quietly over to the boombox set up on a high shelf near the door and turns the volume down, just enough to get Dominic’s attention. He watches Dominic register the presence but finish what he’s working on before whipping around to catch a glimpse of his intruder. Billy gives him a timid wave. “Hi,” Dominic says, a bit breathless and not nearly as angry as Billy’d expected him to be.
Billy slithers out of Dominic’s coat and drapes it over a stool near the celluloid closet. “Thought we’d make a switch at least.”
“Yeah, of course. Yours is hanging over there.” Dominic gestures at a row of hooks way on the other side of the room.
Billy nods but doesn’t move from his spot. “Thanks,” he says politely.
Dominic smiles congenially, though there’s something not quite convincing about it. “I’m sorry I was such a prick last night. I guess now you know what I’m like when I’m high.” He sounds friendly but clipped, far too dismissive for the situation at hand. It does what Billy supposes it’s meant to: thoroughly disarm him in one fell swoop. “Just forget whatever I said, yeah? All of it.” Dominic sweeps a gloved hand through the air before turning back to fiddle with the enlarger again.
“There’s no need to apologize,” Billy says quietly. He searches wildly for words as he stares at Dominic’s back again. “I actually went to your place first—Orlando told me you were here. I brought you breakfast, but... it would’ve gotten cold, so I just left it with him.”
“Oh?” Dominic sounds distracted. “‘S nice of you. He must be a pig in shit right about now.”
“Hm,” Billy lets out an imitation of a laugh. He continues watching Dominic in silence until his hands slow to a stop.
Finally, Dominic pulls his gloves off and tosses them aside. He braces his hands on the edge of the counter and leans forward for purchase. “Maybe...” Dominic starts, then stops.
Billy takes a few strides closer, trying to encourage. “...What?”
“Maybe it’s better if we spend some time apart.”
Billy sighs, his heart set off again. Here it comes.
“It’s unhealthy for me to be around you,” Dominic says quickly, and starts shuffling through a stack of photo paper.
“Unhealthy? How can you say that?” Though his words are a confrontation, Billy keeps his voice neutral; he doesn’t want to push Dom where he’d pushed him last night, or anywhere close.
“Just—. You make me feel... like I can do anything, and then—.”
Billy approaches and leans against the station next to Dominic, finally catching a glimpse of his face. His eyes are closed. Billy reaches for him immediately, curling a hand gently around his forearm.
Dominic inhales, turning to him and maneuvering out of the touch. “Come on, Billy,” he gives an exasperated laugh, as if all that he’s saying should be patently obvious to him. “We were never supposed to be friends.” Dominic sucks at his bottom lip and pushes a hand through his hair. He leans back against the counter, mirroring Billy’s position, and looks off in the direction of the chemical baths at the center of the room. “I hate knowing what it was like. I wish I didn’t. It would make things easier.”
“What?”
Dominic levels a dark look at him, not unlike the final look he’d given him before walking away last night.
Billy nearly flinches at it. “What what was like?”
“You know, for a Ph.D. you can be really fucking daft.” Dominic shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he waves his hand dismissively again and turns back, slipping his gloves back on so he can bring a print over to the baths.
Billy watches as he moves the print methodically from one tub to the next with a pair of tongs, glancing at the clock on the wall from time to time. He’d had every intention of coming here with his tail between his legs, but he can only take so much of Dominic patronizing him before he becomes infuriated. Still, he hesitates. “What d’you expect from me? You’ve never been clear with me.” Before Dominic can retort, Billy plows ahead, quickly gaining volume—and momentum. “Even last night. That doesn’t count. You hide behind your sexuality, the flirting.” Dominic goes completely still. “Every time I think I’m getting something from you, something real that I can hold onto, you find a way to dodge, or, or take it back.” Billy shrugs, helpless. “I’ve never known what’s real and what’s not with you, since day one.”
“How could you not know?!” Dominic nearly recoils from the sound of his own voice, suddenly conscious of any surrounding classrooms or offices. His eyes have gone wide in the dark, appealing to Billy. “How could you not know when we’re together?”
“I need you to tell me.” Billy’s own voice goes slow and deliberate. “Tell me what I should know. I don’t know what you expect from me if you don’t make it real, Dom. You walked away from me last night before I could even give you an answer.” Dominic swallows. “What are you afraid of? Y’have no right to be, not of me.”
Dominic stands looking at Billy for a moment before he carefully pulls his gloves off again, giving his specs the same treatment. He sets both aside and takes two slow steps forward, bringing him just a foot’s length from Billy. He reaches for Billy’s hands, effectively bringing them back to where they’d left off last night, before everything had really gone to shite, and urges him even closer, brushing his mouth over Billy’s matter-of-factly. When he pulls back, releasing Billy’s hands, he can see the pulse point in his neck and feel the breath rushing out of his mouth. Dominic crosses his arms, somehow managing to look amusingly stern, his voice steady. “What’s your answer, then?”
Billy reaches out immediately, curling both hands around Dominic’s neck and pulling him into a real kiss, one that makes Dominic gasp into his mouth as Billy pulls them apart and quickly dives in again, pushing his hands up into Dom’s hair and gripping so he can physically cock Dom’s head to better fit them together. Once Dominic fully comes to his senses, his own hands fumble for Billy’s hips, finally finding traction in his belt loops and using them to make their hips collide before sliding up Billy’s front to brace against either side of Billy’s face. His mouth goes nearly horizontal in its attempt to push even harder against Billy’s, their tongues finally searching and meeting somewhere in the middle, warm and slick and uncompromising.
Billy shuffles Dominic until his backside hits the edge of the chemical baths, their bodies going flush from chest to toe, Dominic’s breath rushing through his nose and ending in a purr that inspires Billy’s hands to push Dominic’s bangs out of his eyes and continue on their journey down, over lean shoulders, tripping over the collar of his t-shirt, fingertips momentarily singed at the warm skin underneath.
Dominic pulls their mouths apart, nudging his forehead against Billy’s affectionately as they both take a very needed breather, a flush already blossoming high in Billy’s cheeks and his eyes gone that dark green that Dominic remembers too well. He still needs confirmation. “Then you have...?” he breathes.
Billy gives a vigorous nod. “Yes. Jesus, every second of every day.”
A growl of frustration—or appreciation—pushes its way out of Dominic’s throat at that. His mouth finds Billy’s again, his hands following suit, sliding down to curl over his shoulders, clinging there. “I knew,” he whines as they part again. Billy nudges his face aside, dipping into the crook of his neck to give him a wet bite there. “Oh... I fucking knew,” Dominic says again, his eyes rolling back a little at the feel of Billy’s mouth—Billy’s mouth—marking him so thoroughly.
Billy wraps his arms around Dominic’s back, effectively cradling him as they push together, bending Dom backward over the edge of the baths. He stops to inhale the skin at Dominic’s neck, already slick with his own saliva and its scent much stronger than the coat he’d just set aside moments ago. “You’ve no idea.”
Dominic palms the back of Billy’s head hard, forcing more than encouraging him to bite again. “Then you’d better give me one.”
Billy obliges but not for long, opting instead to purse a heated trail of kisses back up to Dominic’s mouth before their tongues push together again. Dominic’s hands flail awkwardly as Billy bends him even further back, torn between wanting to move somewhere safer and wanting to stay right here with their hips locked together tight and Billy’s hands creeping underneath the hem of his tee to thumb at his sides.
Dominic finally pulls his mouth away, and Billy looks at him expectantly, impatient though he clearly is. Dominic fills with intense pride as soon as he recognizes it. “‘S chemicals and stuff here,” he explains, licking his lips.
“Is there—?” Billy’s eyes dart around a little.
Dominic gets distracted by the shine of Billy’s swollen mouth in the dark before he nods and grabs at his shirt. “Yeah,” he breathes, pulling him in the direction of the closet. He fumbles in the pocket of his denims for the key, Billy standing a respectful foot or two behind him but still keeping them connected with a few light fingertips at the side of his waist. Dominic flings the door open, Billy following close behind and just making it into the little room before it slams shut, heavy and metallic, throwing them into complete darkness.
Billy can feel Dominic’s presence near him, his warmth, but not being able to see him, decide where to put his hands and mouth next, even for a split second, is beyond frustrating. The brief silence breaks the spell of just before, the madness of it, but it also imbues it with a seriousness that scares Billy. The touches to come have weight. He listens to them both breathe for a few beats, then laughs a little, nervous. “Where are you?” He turns blindly and reaches a hand out tentatively into the pitch blackness, finding nothing.
With the tinny snap of a click, a little desk lamp with a blue bulb—just like the one that had helped lead Billy here—illuminates the closet as much as is needed. It’s about the size of two closets, really, standard, at least from what Billy remembers of his own days dabbling in photography. There is an actual worktop on which the lamp sits that’s otherwise clear. Dominic hovers there, looking suddenly timid, completely disarming Billy again.
Billy walks over in quick, sure strides, stopping suddenly just short of where their bodies would make contact. Dominic’s hands curl around the edge of the worktop behind him, his eyes wide and utterly focused on Billy’s. Billy reaches out, sweeping the hair off of his forehead again and combing it back to join the rest. Dominic leans instinctively into the touch, his face turning with Billy’s hand as it slides down to palm his cheek. “You sweet—” Billy exhales. He’s taken every opportunity to marvel at how easily Dominic can disguise himself, shift the very look of his face to fit any situation and project whatever he desires. Now, he’s making himself naked for Billy, his eyes speaking volumes about what he’s truly felt over these past weeks, months. “Have you been hurt?” Billy whispers. Dominic’s eyes fall shut. “Did I hurt you?” Dominic nods. Billy brushes a kiss over his mouth in apology, and one of Dominic’s hands comes up to join his own, long fingers sliding between his. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to. I’d never want to.”
Dominic gathers Billy’s hand—the one cradling his cheek—with both his hands, opening it up in front of his face and pressing a wet kiss to the center of his palm. From there, his mouth works outward, kissing to the tip of one of Billy’s fingers, which he then pushes past his lips so he can curl his tongue around it, just to the first knuckle. Billy lets out a frustrated little noise as he watches this, stepping closer to press himself full-on against Dominic’s thigh, and feel Dominic pressed hot and damp against his own hip. Dominic’s eyelids go heavy at the contact, his teeth just grazing over Billy’s skin as the digit slides from his mouth. Before he can move on to the next finger, Billy leans in and captures his mouth again, setting twisted bites to his lower lip and sucking to soothe the burn they leave behind. Dominic can do little but drape his arms over Billy’s shoulders and lean into it, his mouth soon becoming a burning, swollen, sensual mess, feeling drugged from it all.
Without warning, Billy’s precise little hands reach around to the backs of his thighs and pull, lifting him up and onto the worktop, making him gasp. Dom’s legs catch up much earlier than his brain, wrapping right around Billy’s lower back just as they’ve done thousands of times before, in his dreams and daydreams. Billy’s tongue plunges inside his mouth again, and Dominic pulls at the hair at Billy’s nape, opening himself up as Billy tries to swallow him whole. Mission accomplished, he thinks to himself as his back goes at an obtuse angle to the worktop, his legs pulling Billy still closer and his hips seeking something, anything, to thrust against.
Billy does his best to give Dom some support with his arms, wrapping them protectively around his back as he bends him closer and closer to the surface of the worktop. Dominic’s responses to nearly every touch, every movement of Billy’s own mouth, are fierce, more than generous, his breathing labored and his hands clinging and pushing wherever they can reach. Billy doesn’t recall him being nearly so vocal the last time they slept together; he’d been quiet, if anything. The rush of the memory slithers down Billy’s spine, colliding with the present and everything in between, making Billy’s head spin. He tears their mouths apart and smiles a little, breathless. He can’t believe that this Dominic, the one who’s twined around him like this, is the same Dominic who picked him up on the street months ago, lured him in with a curl of smoke and a wicked smile. “Been dying to touch you again.”
“God.” Dominic comes forward with a push of a kiss that puts them both vertical again, sliding between Billy and the edge of the worktop back down to his feet, the friction of the move making his mouth tremble against Billy’s. His fingers race to pull the buttons on Billy’s shirt free, seeking all the warm skin underneath that they’ve missed better than they know. Dominic inhales deeply as Billy’s chest is uncovered bit by bit, his heart working to slow. He watches his own hands instead of Billy’s eyes, sincerely afraid he’ll come apart if he looks at them for too long. “I would do anything for you, you know,” he says quietly. “Physically, I mean. Whatever you want.”
Billy reaches for his hands, stopping them short, his shirt unbuttoned just over halfway. “Should we go somewhere?” He glances off in the direction of the world beyond the door, implying the question, Will we be caught?
Dominic shakes his head firmly. “No.” He kisses Billy’s mouth. “I can’t wait for you,” he admits. “Just... anything, come on, I’ve...,” he presses a timid kiss to the corner of Billy’s jaw, “...missed you.”
At that, Billy’s hands creep down under the hem of Dominic’s shirt, rucking it up as he falls to his knees, grazing lips and teeth over the planes of Dom’s stomach. He thinks, weirdly, of the two of them in that church again, Dominic genuflecting before the altar with reverence. This body, this man that he’s worshipped for all these months, feels, smells, and tastes just as Billy’d remembered. The muscles of Dominic’s stomach fuse and become more pronounced under the dim blue light, shiny streaks of Billy’s own saliva making him reach down and grip himself through his denims. Dominic must notice this, because he responds immediately, gripping a fistful of Billy’s hair, not enough to hurt him but enough to make the blood beat a little harder in his veins.
Billy squeezes himself hard as he finally settles onto his knees, face to face with Dominic’s crotch, most of his shirt still hanging open. As he does this, he presses his nose and open mouth to the bulge straining there, tracing it with his tongue. “Billy,” Dominic whispers fiercely above him, and starts to pant a little. Billy’s fingers reach up immediately, curling around Dominic’s waistband and pulling the two halves of his button fly apart. He licks his lips, nostrils flaring as Dominic falls out, flushed red and nearly painful looking. Billy wraps one hand around it, thumb stroking the vein on the underside to just under the head, urging a bead of precome, his other hand awkwardly yanking Dom’s denims down to his knees, Dominic’s legs shuffling out and inviting him in between.
Billy shuffles closer, flattening his tongue under and sweeping up over the head, groaning at both the taste of Dominic and the heat he’s giving off. He swallows, coating his tongue with it before he comes forward again, wrapping his lips around the entire head and curling his tongue all around it.
Dominic gasps, his brows pinching, and bites his lip, closing his eyes as he feels Billy getting his cock wet, manhandling it, his gorgeous little mouth playful and seemingly everywhere at once. Dom inhales sharp and loud when Billy takes him into his mouth completely, tongue wet and slithering up against the underside on the retreat. He grips Billy’s hair two-handed, somehow managing to keep his hips from thrusting as Billy’s head starts bobbing, the head of his cock nearly reaching the back of Billy’s throat.
Billy’s hands slide up his thighs, one flattening at Dominic’s hip to anchor him and the other reaching around to palm a fleshy asscheek, his fingers creeping toward Dominic’s crack, blunt nails setting off sparks along that sensitive skin. Dominic lets out a strained noise, his hips floating forward of their own accord, making Billy’s rhythm stutter and his breath push hard through his nostrils. Dominic glances down, ready to apologize, seeing Billy’s hands both reach for his hips, firm, pressing them back into the worktop, his thumbs fitting into the lines along his pelvic muscle. Billy glances up at him and swallows pointedly around his cock, and Dominic’s jaw drops, the breath rushing clear out of him.
His eyes roll back and he tilts his face toward the ceiling. “Can’t believe this is happening,” he inhales.
The sound of the first door to the darkroom makes them both go suddenly still. One of Dominic’s hands slides down from Billy’s hair to grip at his shoulder, holding him in limbo—wanting him to be ready to get to his feet and get himself together but not wanting him to preemptively stop what he’s doing. “Anyone working in here?” comes a muffled voice from the other side.
“Uhh,” Dominic starts, Billy leaning forward to press his mouth to his thigh—or hide his laughter, if the amused curl of his lips is any indication. Dominic clears his throat, smacking Billy on the shoulder. “Yeah! Just give me about ten minutes, I’ll be done.” Billy’s teeth are bared and he’s full-on laughing against Dominic’s skin now. Dominic can’t help but laugh a little too, though the sight of Billy on his knees with his shirt open, hair mussed from his own hands, brings him at least halfway back to where he’d been just before the intrusion. Billy looks up at him, hands still cradling his hips, poised to go to work again, his mouth glistening. Dominic runs his thumb along his lower lip affectionately, encouraging, and Billy’s eyes instantly go dark again. Dominic bites back a smile, thrilled that he can inspire such an unequivocal reaction from him.
Billy presses a kiss to his thumb, a look of recognition passing between them: that sweet gesture from the night they first met. “Cover your mouth,” Billy advises, the way his accent wraps around the words, caressing them, pushing Dominic about ten steps closer to the edge before Billy licks his cock right into his mouth again.
“Oh fuck, fuck,” Dominic hisses, running a hand up over his chest and through his hair before clamping it obediently over his own mouth. Billy quickly works his way back to a hot, wet rhythm, the lewd soundtrack of it making Dominic bite the heel of his hand and groan.
Dominic feels Billy wrap a hand around the base of his prick, tongue sneaking out to lick at his own fingers as his nose pushes and nuzzles close to the musk of Dominic’s pubic hair. It feels deliciously sloppy, but there’s intention there, he soon discovers, as those saliva-soaked fingers trail down, curling deftly, gently over the flesh of his balls and brushing behind, between Dominic’s legs, firmly over that sweet spot, one fingertip pressing just inside his entrance.
Dominic moans loud and unabashed into his hand, keening a little as Billy’s finger presses and curls inside, as far as it can manage at this angle, his mouth still working, glorious and slippery over his cock. Billy loses what little breath he still has at this reaction, and at the feel of Dominic’s balls dragging hot and heavy against his wrist. He couldn’t care less, though; he’ll lose all higher functions and pass out before he stops what he’s doing, anything to keep Dominic panting and starting to whine the way that he is.
Dominic slams both hands on the worktop at his sides, putting himself completely in Billy’s hands and at his mercy, his hips rocking him from Billy’s mouth back against his hand. “Close,” he manages just moments before he starts to come in hot, thick pulses, down Billy’s throat. Billy braces himself, swallowing furiously and hands holding Dominic in place until he’s gotten it all. Dominic lets out a loud aftershock of a moan as he watches his cock slip from Billy’s mouth, a thin thread of come trailing over Billy’s chin.
Billy gets to his feet shakily and wipes ineffectually at it, missing most of it, until Dominic darts in, helpfully licking a trail up his neck and over his chin to his mouth, unfurling his tongue inside, the taste of him passing between them. Billy pulls quickly away, and Dominic nearly panics for a brief moment before he realizes that Billy’s still quite winded. He reaches down, using both hands to tuck Dominic back into his denims and taking his time buttoning them back up as he smiles against Dominic’s neck, kissing him there. “Wish I could do that again, right now.”
Dominic kisses Billy feverishly, sucking on his tongue and pushing his hands through his hair, thoroughly reluctant to let him go. There’s no way he’s going to let this end, not now.
Billy pulls back, playfully, cradling Dominic’s face in his hands and smiling. He feels shockingly relaxed and clear-headed, almost as if he’s just come himself. “Want to go back to mine?”
Dominic’s face breaks into a bright, gorgeous smile at the question, and Billy kisses him impulsively again before he can even answer. Dominic giggles and drags his mouth lazily along the column of Billy’s neck. “‘S a little late for that question, isn’t it?” Billy lets out the beginning of a laugh, though he goes still, patient. Dominic nods vigorously enough that Billy can feel it against his neck. “Yes.”
“Good,” Billy exhales, fumbling on the wall for a switch to a proper light. He wishes suddenly for a teleporter. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we get there.” His hand makes contact with a switch, and the little room is suddenly bathed in light, the both of them squinting as all sorts of shelves and gadgets are made visible.
Dominic can’t take his eyes off of Billy, though, the evidence of what they’ve just done streaked across his cheeks, his shirt quite rumpled and still half-open, a bit damp in certain places, his hair in disarray. Dominic reaches for him. “C’mere.” He’s not entirely sure if it’s in the name of righting his appearance or disheveling him further. The only thing spurring his hands to fasten Billy’s buttons is the thrilling idea that he’ll have the opportunity to undo them again in less than half an hour, if they’re quick enough and the MBTA cooperates.
As he pulls and smoothes tufts of Billy’s hair back into place, his mind reels with ideas for what he’ll do with him once they’ve gotten home. A part of him sincerely contemplates the possibility that this night will be it, and if that’s the case, he’s going to do his best to either change Billy’s mind or at least make it memorable. Inspired, he shuffles Billy forward and against the door, pressing against him full body, and gives him a bruise of a kiss.
Billy looks at him, his eyes filled with wonder and anticipation, his hands resting on the small of Dominic’s back. He has so many questions, but for now, Christ, this is happening, and shockingly, he trusts it. He trusts Dominic.
