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inclineoftrees2008-02-05 08:57 am
incline-mod.livejournal.com) wrote in inclineoftrees2008-02-05 08:57 am
Book 2, Chapter 2: Acting on a Crush (1)
Title: Acting on a Crush (part 1)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
escribo and kiltsandlollies
Characters: Dominic/Billy
rating: adult
Word count: 3727
Summary: In which moves and choices are made.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Billy's spent more time this day advising than teaching, and it shows. His back aches from hours spent in the chair in his office trying not to slouch too much or launch himself out of said chair and into the mellowing weather outside. The back of his hair sticks up wildly from his restless, nervy scratching at imaginary itches inside his collar. He's long since abandoned the blazer he'd worn in the morning, and the tie's going to be next, as soon as he gets back to the little prison he's calling his office this late afternoon moving swiftly into early evening.
As Billy pours the last of the tired coffee in the humanities break room into his mug, he considers the work he has left to do before he can go home with a clear conscience, or at least one clearer. It shouldn't take more than another few hours, if Billy sticks with it and doesn't allow himself to be distracted--something that happens more and more often lately, for several reasons. Two advising sessions had run long earlier today, and Billy never got entirely back on track from them. The first had been Lily Armitage, a young woman so committed to argument that Billy wonders why she hasn't abandoned philosophy for law, and once she'd finally left his office after nearly two hours of ferocious if ultimately failed defense of her latest essay, Billy had slumped back in his chair, exhausted, and pushed aside the stack of papers he'd been trying to tackle before her appointment.
The second appointment to run over its allotted time had been Dominic Monaghan's. For the first time in a long while, Dominic had been unable to settle at all in Billy's guest chair and just work through his essay nearly line by line with Billy. He'd bounced his knees, licked his lips, flexed his fingers, and laughed at times when Billy could see nothing worth his amusement. After too many attempts at narrowing Dominic's focus to the paper at hand, Billy had simply looked over the top of his glasses at Dominic, harder perhaps than usual, and waited until Dominic had swallowed and flushed crimson before meeting Billy's eyes with something in his own that had made colour rise to Billy's cheeks as well--and immediately after, had made Billy need to look away before he said something as inappropriate as Dominic's earlier laughter.
It's been more of a challenge than usual for Billy to refrain from saying more to Dominic than what's been required of him in an advisory capacity. Only a week ago Billy'd found himself in a studio surrounded by sketches of Dominic that even now he can see behind his eyes and in his dreams, sketches that had unnerved Billy to the point where he'd spent the following night and day wondering if he could in good conscience remain Dominic's advisor. In the end he'd decided that whatever his weaknesses as a professor and as a man, he still had some ethics; he could still guide Dominic without either of them paying the price for some crime neither's committed.
Not that Billy's stopped thinking about that evening or those pictures. In one moment while fighting to get Dominic's attention where it belonged earlier, Billy had caught Dominic's eyes going dark and urgent, more challenging than usual but not in argument, and that darkness had been similar enough to what Billy had seen in Barchi's sketches that he'd had to fight not to blink or blush. He'd won that fight, and had congratulated himself on finally refocusing both of them, bringing their attention back to Dominic's paper and the reason he'd been in Billy's office in the first place. His control over the moment regained, Billy had thought he'd make it through the rest of the day as he had any other.
During his afternoon class, however, things had gone even worse. Billy had eventually given up on the topic he'd wanted to discuss, and offered the floor to anyone who had something to say about current events in the school, the country, or the world. As a rule Billy hates to use such a fallback measure, and he's careful when he does use it to make sure the debates in his classroom remain philosophical in nature and not personal or necessarily political. But today he's not honestly sure if he handled it well if at all, and he'd found himself darting his eyes to either the clock in his classroom or to Dominic, who, when not tapping his long fingers on the desk in front of him, had met Billy's eyes again, fearlessly and, for Billy, unnervingly well.
It's no surprise then that Billy still feels rattled and tired and worn, both from the attention and the day itself. But he's not willing yet to give up on the rest of his work, especially if he can just throw himself at it and be done in a matter of hours. The reward will be Chinese food and the coldest beer Billy can find in his refrigerator, he's already decided, and maybe a smoke, too, if he's not too tired afterward to roll himself a proper, sweet cigarette. A man needs something to look forward to, Billy thinks as he wanders back down to the hall to his office, and if it happens to be what society calls a vice, well. He's ripe for it, isn't he? He's due. He almost feels he's owed it, somehow, and that thought makes Billy smile tiredly and ruffle up the back of his hair again as he turns the corner to his office to find his day is less done than he'd thought even a moment ago, because he has a visitor--one who's already pushed Billy closer to the edge of a societal vice whether he knows it or not.
"Dom." Billy tilts his head in acknowledgment of Dominic's eagerness to speak to him again so soon after the earlier appointment. "It's late, isn't it? Is there something I can do for you?"
Walking across campus on his way back to the humanities building, Dominic had practiced his excuse. I'm sorry, professor, I thought I left my essay here. I can't find it. He had been scattered enough earlier that he's sure Billy would buy it and ask him if everything was alright, to which Dominic would offer assurances before he raced back to his room. But now the words won't come. Dominic's not sure exactly what he wants to say, but he's certain that that rehearsed lie, however believable, isn't it.
He's done this before--shown up at Billy's office undisciplined and disorganized, helplessly chaotic and begging Billy for help. Even now, Dominic's not entirely sure what he thought he was up to. He'd awoken that morning with the bed damp beneath him and on edge from a half-remembered dream. He hadn't done that in years, but instead of feeling the shame he had at 13, he'd felt unsatisfied and keyed up. Like it suddenly wasn't enough, the it left undefined because nothing felt like enough. He was tired of waiting and counting out the months until graduation. Tired of imagining coming back onto campus a year after graduation to see if maybe the attraction lingered. He was a dreamer, Dominic, but he was tired of dreaming.
Now, with Billy in front of him, pleasantly ruffled after a long day, Dominic feels something well up inside his chest and he's only half-convinced that he can argue love as the only reason that's brought him back across campus. He wants Billy. He wants to suck him, wants to be fucked by him and feel his hands all over his skin. He wants what he had wanted since he woke up this morning, had wanted during advising and during class. Had wanted some weeks ago when Billy had rescued him from the rain and his respect and admiration had turned even more toward something else. And remembering what Gian had told him, even though Gian couldn't have known exactly what he was saying at the time, it all seems to confirm that maybe Billy wants it as well.
"I want" to talk to you for a minute his brain tries to supply helpfully but the words won't form. He follows Billy into his office and tips the door shut, barely aware--yet painfully, obviously aware--of what he's doing, and meets Billy's eyes when Billy turns at the sound of the door catching on its latch to lock behind them. Dominic wonders again what Billy had thought when he saw the pictures at Gian's exhibit--what had made him question Gian. Billy's gaze doesn't waver and Dominic keeps his stare, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
"I wanted to apologize for earlier. I know I was--" Dominic looks away finally, down to his feet then across the bookshelves, searching for the word he can't find. "Distracted, I guess."
"To say the least," Billy says, but tempers it with a smile. "More than you have been in some time, if we're being honest here, Dom, but I think that once you settled, we accomplished everything we were meant to in your meeting."
“We did, yeah,” Dominic nods. “I think. But I wanted you to know that I am sorry. I would’ve liked to talk some more, but--” The words fall away, and Dominic’s back to shifting from one foot to the other, looking for confidence now in the fibers of Billy’s carpet and finding it, from the expression on his face when he looks up again.
“I’d just been with some friends,” Dominic says, hooking his thumb in the direction of the hallway outside Billy’s door. “They wanted to talk about--" Dominic draws in a breath. “The exhibition. Some of the art students … they’ve worked with me in the figure drawing classes, but they didn’t know about …” Dominic risks a smile. “The rest. They weren’t taking the piss,” he says quickly. “They knew there were going to be some different projects on show.”
“I can imagine their surprise.” Billy’s voice is calm, perhaps too much so for Dominic’s liking, and he presses forward.
“They were more excited than anything else. For me and for Gian, yeah? But also because it was something different. Miss O--Professor Otto--she got everyone involved in the exhibition, so they knew a little bit about what was going to be on show, but not everything.” Dominic’s smile this time is wider, almost conspiratorial. “Nobody knew what was going up in the white room, so,” he laughs and shrugs a shoulder. “I mean, it’s not the sort of thing they’ll put in the catalogue.”
“No.” Billy drags a smile from himself. “Though one never knows the value of a little controversy until after it's happened.”
“It wasn’t about controversy, though.” Dominic squints as if trying to read Billy’s expression better, and Billy reaches around for his coffee mug rather than continue to meet Dominic’s eyes. “I don’t think all of it was, anyway. And there were a lot more pictures in there besides Gian’s. Did you see the one, the ‘Smudged Britannia,’ I think the girl called it, that brilliant self-portrait with the paint smears down her arms--”
Billy nods before he knows what he’s doing, playing into Dominic’s hands and offering him the information Dominic clearly wants: that Billy’d attended the exhibition, and should by rights have some opinion to share. Billy catches the sparking victory of confirmation in Dominic’s eyes and swallows hard. “I did, yeah. I saw a lot of excellent work. The photography gallery was amazing.” The words sound hollow to Billy’s ears, but he continues, under the principle that if he does so, he might escape from this conversation mostly unscathed. “I thought that whoever took those pictures from the Embankment in the rain really … caught what they were looking for. The photographs were beautiful.”
“I know him,” Dominic says, his grin widening. “Mark Keller. I’ll tell him you thought so.”
“No, no,” Billy shakes his head shortly. “’s not necessary, Dom. I’m sure he’s been told--"
“Everyone likes to hear when they’ve done something right, Billy,” Dominic laughs, and then looks down once more, caught too, again using Billy’s name as if he’s earned the right to call Billy something other than Professor. He can hear Billy releasing a tight breath, but before Billy can say anything, Dominic shrugs again. “Anyway. That was why I was so … keyed up earlier. They started me thinking, I guess. About things other than philosophy. I’m sorry.”
He watches another shake of Billy’s head, this time longer and kinder, and Billy lets his smile twist a bit to try and ease the strangeness between them again. “I’m not really in the business of forgiveness,” he laughs. “So let’s just call it sorted. In any case," Billy says, lifting his mug halfway to his lips. "I don't want to keep you if you've somewhere to be. Was there anything else?"
"No. I mean, nothing about class or anything." Dominic takes a deep breath as Billy begins to turn back to his desk, and then looks up at Dominic expectantly. "Actually, I wanted to know--you said you went to the exhibit. Gian's exhibit. I wanted to know what you thought."
Billy can feel himself blanching, knowing that even before he'd acknowledged his attendance, Dominic must have known. Barchi must have told Dominic about Billy's presence in the studio, and he takes a long drink of the coffee before he responds, trying to remember the words he'd thought he might have to use today, words he'd nearly rehearsed last night and this morning, before the day got away from him. "It was--I think the artist accomplished his goal. I think it must have taken--" Billy shakes his head but doesn't blink at Dominic's utter, strange and sudden stillness as he waits for the rest. "A great deal of patience from you to hold the poses, and to just--clear your mind and be calm and find whatever truth you needed to ... do what you were able to do. I stand by what I said, Dom," Billy says, more quietly, each word forcing itself from him. "It was very brave of you, and you--were more than just part of--"
"Someone else's art," Dominic nods, and a smile spreads slowly across his face when Billy nods, too. "But the sketches," Dominic continues, unable to stop himself from wanting to hear more, to draw Billy's thoughts into the air between them, where Dominic can have and keep them, or at worst remember them if he receives nothing else. "You were talking--back at St. Andrews, you said you thought they might challenge some ideal--"
"I know what I said," Billy interrupts Dominic more sharply than he means to, and then shakes his head, placing his mug of coffee on the desk. "And they did, Dominic, you must know that. You hardly need to hear it from someone with no--" Billy turns his hand in the air slightly. "Background, with no expertise--"
"They weren't meant to be seen by experts." Dominic surprises himself with the statement, with the rattled vehemence behind it, and he looks to the ground and then back to Billy, licking his lips again as he buys time he can hear ticking off quietly on Billy's clock. He can see that Billy's face has set hard, casting the same expression it had when Dominic had tested Billy's patience earlier, but now Dominic can't find it in himself to settle under the weight of that stare. If anything he's more agitated, enough to take a step closer to Billy and make it look more like a merely excited advance than a threat. Billy's eyes darken and his chin tips up a fraction, but he doesn't move away, and Dominic feels another surge of energy and knowledge that he's doing the right thing, the only thing he can. "You're a photographer," he says, his voice soft but urgent, and Dominic shakes his head when Billy makes to speak. "You told me you take pictures. You have the background, you can tell me--"
"What is it you think I can tell you?" Billy interrupts him again, still quietly, but Dominic swallows at the sight of Billy's pale face flushing with something that's not irritation or anger. "It was unlike anything ever staged in those rooms, Dominic, maybe unlike anything ever staged on this campus. I can't judge the exhibition, or Barchi or you or anyone involved--I can't tell you what anyone else might have thought about the pictures--"
"I'm not interested in what anyone else might have thought--"
"Yet you worked yourself into distraction listening to the opinions of your friends. There's no benefit to my telling you--"
"I need to know what you--"
Dominic cuts himself off this time, and he and Billy both hold long breaths, waiting each other out. Billy breaks first, releasing the tension in his shoulders and feeling suddenly exhausted from feeling hunted again and from holding back everything he could tell Dominic about the pictures, about the hellish night he'd spent after he'd seen them, about how no warning, however prettily worded or written out, could have adequately prepared him for the exhibition.
"Barchi captured you perfectly," Billy says, his voice ragged. "And you let him. You understood what he was trying to do, and you gave him--what he needed from you. Do you want me to tell you I was shocked, Dominic? Do you want me to tell you I think you shouldn't have done it? Because I can't. You're an adult, Dominic; it shouldn't matter what I want--what I think," he corrects himself. "Are you looking for approval? Disapproval? What--" Billy closes his eyes and takes another breath before he opens them again. "What is it you want me to say?"
"I want--" Dominic tries again, but it's softer this time and still no closer to being complete. Instead he drops his bag from his shoulder and takes Billy's hand, tugs him closer only to find that Billy doesn't resist. In the split second before he makes the decision--one he knows he can never take back--Dominic sees it in Billy's eyes: the recognition that it's going to happen, that even if either of them were in the position to stop it, neither would. It's all the encouragement Dominic needs.
In the next second, when Dominic kisses Billy, it's hesitant, just the barest brush of lips. He doesn't close his eyes but casts them down, afraid of what he'll see in Billy's eyes--both the good and the bad. It's not until after that first kiss that Dominic really takes his chance--darts out his tongue to trace along Billy's bottom lip, tasting coffee and something more. Billy's hand feels cool in his own, callused fingertips pressing against Dominic's palms before Dominic turns his hand and threads their fingers together. He puts his other hand on Billy's waist, where the cold fabric of Billy's dress shirt and the warm leather of his belt make a strange contrast that Dominic wants to explore more, but now that the initial bravado of the first kiss is gone, he's afraid of analyzing anything--afraid of losing his confidence. Instead, he closes his eyes and steps closer, tips his head to push the kiss deeper.
Billy's lips haven't touched anyone else's since the last night he'd spent with Andrew, and Dominic's kiss is different from any he's ever shared before. Dominic's uncertainty and his own meet and cancel each other out in the space between them, vanishing as Dominic leans down and in for another kiss, for more and better. It's only instinct that leads Billy's hand to fly up and press flat against Dominic's chest, keeping him at the smallest distance even while Billy's lips open slowly, allowing Dominic to explore while he does the same in return. Billy sinks back a bit against the desk, moving his hands to Dominic's arms, fisting the fabric of Dominic's soft, worn shirt as Billy listens to the warnings screaming in his mind to stop this and then ignores them more forcibly than he had the ones papered all over Miranda's studios.
That Dominic's read him so clearly doesn't surprise Billy--he's suddenly reminded of every discussion they've had, every casual word and touch and drink and laugh they've shared, and he can imagine what Dominic's learned or perhaps even just guessed about him and believes enough to have risked this. But it comes as a shock nonetheless that Dominic's attentions are focused on him rather than someone as rushing with life and energy and passion as Dominic himself, someone his own age, someone who is not his professor. That thought forces Billy to pull away from the kiss and focus on Dominic's bright eyes and the challenge still there, daring Billy to deny or even try to forget what they've just done.
"Are you sure," Billy says, his voice heated as he pushes both hands flat on Dominic's chest now, giving them just enough room to breathe. "Are you sure? I want this, we can--" Do this, Billy thinks, but doesn't say, for the moment able to hear the warning that tells him they very much can't. Dominic leans closer again and Billy's thoughts splinter in seven directions before his hand flies up higher in an oddly familiar but still for the moment strange motion to tangle in Dominic's hair and tug, holding Dominic more still than he'd imagined possible in countless meetings and classes. "Dominic," he breathes, but doesn't continue; instead Billy just stares hard at Dominic, trying to read his eyes and seeing something so close to the unflinching, willing gaze in Barchi's pictures that Billy feels every bone in his own body weakening. He swallows and relaxes his hand in Dominic's hair, pulling back only to curve his hand gently at Dominic's cheek before he stands up straight again and steps back into the space he'd granted them both. His mouth rests close to Dominic's, and he aches to kiss him and more, but-- "Are you sure," Billy says again, the steeliness now in his voice more for himself than for Dominic.
to be continued
Authors:
escribo and kiltsandlolliesCharacters: Dominic/Billy
rating: adult
Word count: 3727
Summary: In which moves and choices are made.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Billy's spent more time this day advising than teaching, and it shows. His back aches from hours spent in the chair in his office trying not to slouch too much or launch himself out of said chair and into the mellowing weather outside. The back of his hair sticks up wildly from his restless, nervy scratching at imaginary itches inside his collar. He's long since abandoned the blazer he'd worn in the morning, and the tie's going to be next, as soon as he gets back to the little prison he's calling his office this late afternoon moving swiftly into early evening.
As Billy pours the last of the tired coffee in the humanities break room into his mug, he considers the work he has left to do before he can go home with a clear conscience, or at least one clearer. It shouldn't take more than another few hours, if Billy sticks with it and doesn't allow himself to be distracted--something that happens more and more often lately, for several reasons. Two advising sessions had run long earlier today, and Billy never got entirely back on track from them. The first had been Lily Armitage, a young woman so committed to argument that Billy wonders why she hasn't abandoned philosophy for law, and once she'd finally left his office after nearly two hours of ferocious if ultimately failed defense of her latest essay, Billy had slumped back in his chair, exhausted, and pushed aside the stack of papers he'd been trying to tackle before her appointment.
The second appointment to run over its allotted time had been Dominic Monaghan's. For the first time in a long while, Dominic had been unable to settle at all in Billy's guest chair and just work through his essay nearly line by line with Billy. He'd bounced his knees, licked his lips, flexed his fingers, and laughed at times when Billy could see nothing worth his amusement. After too many attempts at narrowing Dominic's focus to the paper at hand, Billy had simply looked over the top of his glasses at Dominic, harder perhaps than usual, and waited until Dominic had swallowed and flushed crimson before meeting Billy's eyes with something in his own that had made colour rise to Billy's cheeks as well--and immediately after, had made Billy need to look away before he said something as inappropriate as Dominic's earlier laughter.
It's been more of a challenge than usual for Billy to refrain from saying more to Dominic than what's been required of him in an advisory capacity. Only a week ago Billy'd found himself in a studio surrounded by sketches of Dominic that even now he can see behind his eyes and in his dreams, sketches that had unnerved Billy to the point where he'd spent the following night and day wondering if he could in good conscience remain Dominic's advisor. In the end he'd decided that whatever his weaknesses as a professor and as a man, he still had some ethics; he could still guide Dominic without either of them paying the price for some crime neither's committed.
Not that Billy's stopped thinking about that evening or those pictures. In one moment while fighting to get Dominic's attention where it belonged earlier, Billy had caught Dominic's eyes going dark and urgent, more challenging than usual but not in argument, and that darkness had been similar enough to what Billy had seen in Barchi's sketches that he'd had to fight not to blink or blush. He'd won that fight, and had congratulated himself on finally refocusing both of them, bringing their attention back to Dominic's paper and the reason he'd been in Billy's office in the first place. His control over the moment regained, Billy had thought he'd make it through the rest of the day as he had any other.
During his afternoon class, however, things had gone even worse. Billy had eventually given up on the topic he'd wanted to discuss, and offered the floor to anyone who had something to say about current events in the school, the country, or the world. As a rule Billy hates to use such a fallback measure, and he's careful when he does use it to make sure the debates in his classroom remain philosophical in nature and not personal or necessarily political. But today he's not honestly sure if he handled it well if at all, and he'd found himself darting his eyes to either the clock in his classroom or to Dominic, who, when not tapping his long fingers on the desk in front of him, had met Billy's eyes again, fearlessly and, for Billy, unnervingly well.
It's no surprise then that Billy still feels rattled and tired and worn, both from the attention and the day itself. But he's not willing yet to give up on the rest of his work, especially if he can just throw himself at it and be done in a matter of hours. The reward will be Chinese food and the coldest beer Billy can find in his refrigerator, he's already decided, and maybe a smoke, too, if he's not too tired afterward to roll himself a proper, sweet cigarette. A man needs something to look forward to, Billy thinks as he wanders back down to the hall to his office, and if it happens to be what society calls a vice, well. He's ripe for it, isn't he? He's due. He almost feels he's owed it, somehow, and that thought makes Billy smile tiredly and ruffle up the back of his hair again as he turns the corner to his office to find his day is less done than he'd thought even a moment ago, because he has a visitor--one who's already pushed Billy closer to the edge of a societal vice whether he knows it or not.
"Dom." Billy tilts his head in acknowledgment of Dominic's eagerness to speak to him again so soon after the earlier appointment. "It's late, isn't it? Is there something I can do for you?"
Walking across campus on his way back to the humanities building, Dominic had practiced his excuse. I'm sorry, professor, I thought I left my essay here. I can't find it. He had been scattered enough earlier that he's sure Billy would buy it and ask him if everything was alright, to which Dominic would offer assurances before he raced back to his room. But now the words won't come. Dominic's not sure exactly what he wants to say, but he's certain that that rehearsed lie, however believable, isn't it.
He's done this before--shown up at Billy's office undisciplined and disorganized, helplessly chaotic and begging Billy for help. Even now, Dominic's not entirely sure what he thought he was up to. He'd awoken that morning with the bed damp beneath him and on edge from a half-remembered dream. He hadn't done that in years, but instead of feeling the shame he had at 13, he'd felt unsatisfied and keyed up. Like it suddenly wasn't enough, the it left undefined because nothing felt like enough. He was tired of waiting and counting out the months until graduation. Tired of imagining coming back onto campus a year after graduation to see if maybe the attraction lingered. He was a dreamer, Dominic, but he was tired of dreaming.
Now, with Billy in front of him, pleasantly ruffled after a long day, Dominic feels something well up inside his chest and he's only half-convinced that he can argue love as the only reason that's brought him back across campus. He wants Billy. He wants to suck him, wants to be fucked by him and feel his hands all over his skin. He wants what he had wanted since he woke up this morning, had wanted during advising and during class. Had wanted some weeks ago when Billy had rescued him from the rain and his respect and admiration had turned even more toward something else. And remembering what Gian had told him, even though Gian couldn't have known exactly what he was saying at the time, it all seems to confirm that maybe Billy wants it as well.
"I want" to talk to you for a minute his brain tries to supply helpfully but the words won't form. He follows Billy into his office and tips the door shut, barely aware--yet painfully, obviously aware--of what he's doing, and meets Billy's eyes when Billy turns at the sound of the door catching on its latch to lock behind them. Dominic wonders again what Billy had thought when he saw the pictures at Gian's exhibit--what had made him question Gian. Billy's gaze doesn't waver and Dominic keeps his stare, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
"I wanted to apologize for earlier. I know I was--" Dominic looks away finally, down to his feet then across the bookshelves, searching for the word he can't find. "Distracted, I guess."
"To say the least," Billy says, but tempers it with a smile. "More than you have been in some time, if we're being honest here, Dom, but I think that once you settled, we accomplished everything we were meant to in your meeting."
“We did, yeah,” Dominic nods. “I think. But I wanted you to know that I am sorry. I would’ve liked to talk some more, but--” The words fall away, and Dominic’s back to shifting from one foot to the other, looking for confidence now in the fibers of Billy’s carpet and finding it, from the expression on his face when he looks up again.
“I’d just been with some friends,” Dominic says, hooking his thumb in the direction of the hallway outside Billy’s door. “They wanted to talk about--" Dominic draws in a breath. “The exhibition. Some of the art students … they’ve worked with me in the figure drawing classes, but they didn’t know about …” Dominic risks a smile. “The rest. They weren’t taking the piss,” he says quickly. “They knew there were going to be some different projects on show.”
“I can imagine their surprise.” Billy’s voice is calm, perhaps too much so for Dominic’s liking, and he presses forward.
“They were more excited than anything else. For me and for Gian, yeah? But also because it was something different. Miss O--Professor Otto--she got everyone involved in the exhibition, so they knew a little bit about what was going to be on show, but not everything.” Dominic’s smile this time is wider, almost conspiratorial. “Nobody knew what was going up in the white room, so,” he laughs and shrugs a shoulder. “I mean, it’s not the sort of thing they’ll put in the catalogue.”
“No.” Billy drags a smile from himself. “Though one never knows the value of a little controversy until after it's happened.”
“It wasn’t about controversy, though.” Dominic squints as if trying to read Billy’s expression better, and Billy reaches around for his coffee mug rather than continue to meet Dominic’s eyes. “I don’t think all of it was, anyway. And there were a lot more pictures in there besides Gian’s. Did you see the one, the ‘Smudged Britannia,’ I think the girl called it, that brilliant self-portrait with the paint smears down her arms--”
Billy nods before he knows what he’s doing, playing into Dominic’s hands and offering him the information Dominic clearly wants: that Billy’d attended the exhibition, and should by rights have some opinion to share. Billy catches the sparking victory of confirmation in Dominic’s eyes and swallows hard. “I did, yeah. I saw a lot of excellent work. The photography gallery was amazing.” The words sound hollow to Billy’s ears, but he continues, under the principle that if he does so, he might escape from this conversation mostly unscathed. “I thought that whoever took those pictures from the Embankment in the rain really … caught what they were looking for. The photographs were beautiful.”
“I know him,” Dominic says, his grin widening. “Mark Keller. I’ll tell him you thought so.”
“No, no,” Billy shakes his head shortly. “’s not necessary, Dom. I’m sure he’s been told--"
“Everyone likes to hear when they’ve done something right, Billy,” Dominic laughs, and then looks down once more, caught too, again using Billy’s name as if he’s earned the right to call Billy something other than Professor. He can hear Billy releasing a tight breath, but before Billy can say anything, Dominic shrugs again. “Anyway. That was why I was so … keyed up earlier. They started me thinking, I guess. About things other than philosophy. I’m sorry.”
He watches another shake of Billy’s head, this time longer and kinder, and Billy lets his smile twist a bit to try and ease the strangeness between them again. “I’m not really in the business of forgiveness,” he laughs. “So let’s just call it sorted. In any case," Billy says, lifting his mug halfway to his lips. "I don't want to keep you if you've somewhere to be. Was there anything else?"
"No. I mean, nothing about class or anything." Dominic takes a deep breath as Billy begins to turn back to his desk, and then looks up at Dominic expectantly. "Actually, I wanted to know--you said you went to the exhibit. Gian's exhibit. I wanted to know what you thought."
Billy can feel himself blanching, knowing that even before he'd acknowledged his attendance, Dominic must have known. Barchi must have told Dominic about Billy's presence in the studio, and he takes a long drink of the coffee before he responds, trying to remember the words he'd thought he might have to use today, words he'd nearly rehearsed last night and this morning, before the day got away from him. "It was--I think the artist accomplished his goal. I think it must have taken--" Billy shakes his head but doesn't blink at Dominic's utter, strange and sudden stillness as he waits for the rest. "A great deal of patience from you to hold the poses, and to just--clear your mind and be calm and find whatever truth you needed to ... do what you were able to do. I stand by what I said, Dom," Billy says, more quietly, each word forcing itself from him. "It was very brave of you, and you--were more than just part of--"
"Someone else's art," Dominic nods, and a smile spreads slowly across his face when Billy nods, too. "But the sketches," Dominic continues, unable to stop himself from wanting to hear more, to draw Billy's thoughts into the air between them, where Dominic can have and keep them, or at worst remember them if he receives nothing else. "You were talking--back at St. Andrews, you said you thought they might challenge some ideal--"
"I know what I said," Billy interrupts Dominic more sharply than he means to, and then shakes his head, placing his mug of coffee on the desk. "And they did, Dominic, you must know that. You hardly need to hear it from someone with no--" Billy turns his hand in the air slightly. "Background, with no expertise--"
"They weren't meant to be seen by experts." Dominic surprises himself with the statement, with the rattled vehemence behind it, and he looks to the ground and then back to Billy, licking his lips again as he buys time he can hear ticking off quietly on Billy's clock. He can see that Billy's face has set hard, casting the same expression it had when Dominic had tested Billy's patience earlier, but now Dominic can't find it in himself to settle under the weight of that stare. If anything he's more agitated, enough to take a step closer to Billy and make it look more like a merely excited advance than a threat. Billy's eyes darken and his chin tips up a fraction, but he doesn't move away, and Dominic feels another surge of energy and knowledge that he's doing the right thing, the only thing he can. "You're a photographer," he says, his voice soft but urgent, and Dominic shakes his head when Billy makes to speak. "You told me you take pictures. You have the background, you can tell me--"
"What is it you think I can tell you?" Billy interrupts him again, still quietly, but Dominic swallows at the sight of Billy's pale face flushing with something that's not irritation or anger. "It was unlike anything ever staged in those rooms, Dominic, maybe unlike anything ever staged on this campus. I can't judge the exhibition, or Barchi or you or anyone involved--I can't tell you what anyone else might have thought about the pictures--"
"I'm not interested in what anyone else might have thought--"
"Yet you worked yourself into distraction listening to the opinions of your friends. There's no benefit to my telling you--"
"I need to know what you--"
Dominic cuts himself off this time, and he and Billy both hold long breaths, waiting each other out. Billy breaks first, releasing the tension in his shoulders and feeling suddenly exhausted from feeling hunted again and from holding back everything he could tell Dominic about the pictures, about the hellish night he'd spent after he'd seen them, about how no warning, however prettily worded or written out, could have adequately prepared him for the exhibition.
"Barchi captured you perfectly," Billy says, his voice ragged. "And you let him. You understood what he was trying to do, and you gave him--what he needed from you. Do you want me to tell you I was shocked, Dominic? Do you want me to tell you I think you shouldn't have done it? Because I can't. You're an adult, Dominic; it shouldn't matter what I want--what I think," he corrects himself. "Are you looking for approval? Disapproval? What--" Billy closes his eyes and takes another breath before he opens them again. "What is it you want me to say?"
"I want--" Dominic tries again, but it's softer this time and still no closer to being complete. Instead he drops his bag from his shoulder and takes Billy's hand, tugs him closer only to find that Billy doesn't resist. In the split second before he makes the decision--one he knows he can never take back--Dominic sees it in Billy's eyes: the recognition that it's going to happen, that even if either of them were in the position to stop it, neither would. It's all the encouragement Dominic needs.
In the next second, when Dominic kisses Billy, it's hesitant, just the barest brush of lips. He doesn't close his eyes but casts them down, afraid of what he'll see in Billy's eyes--both the good and the bad. It's not until after that first kiss that Dominic really takes his chance--darts out his tongue to trace along Billy's bottom lip, tasting coffee and something more. Billy's hand feels cool in his own, callused fingertips pressing against Dominic's palms before Dominic turns his hand and threads their fingers together. He puts his other hand on Billy's waist, where the cold fabric of Billy's dress shirt and the warm leather of his belt make a strange contrast that Dominic wants to explore more, but now that the initial bravado of the first kiss is gone, he's afraid of analyzing anything--afraid of losing his confidence. Instead, he closes his eyes and steps closer, tips his head to push the kiss deeper.
Billy's lips haven't touched anyone else's since the last night he'd spent with Andrew, and Dominic's kiss is different from any he's ever shared before. Dominic's uncertainty and his own meet and cancel each other out in the space between them, vanishing as Dominic leans down and in for another kiss, for more and better. It's only instinct that leads Billy's hand to fly up and press flat against Dominic's chest, keeping him at the smallest distance even while Billy's lips open slowly, allowing Dominic to explore while he does the same in return. Billy sinks back a bit against the desk, moving his hands to Dominic's arms, fisting the fabric of Dominic's soft, worn shirt as Billy listens to the warnings screaming in his mind to stop this and then ignores them more forcibly than he had the ones papered all over Miranda's studios.
That Dominic's read him so clearly doesn't surprise Billy--he's suddenly reminded of every discussion they've had, every casual word and touch and drink and laugh they've shared, and he can imagine what Dominic's learned or perhaps even just guessed about him and believes enough to have risked this. But it comes as a shock nonetheless that Dominic's attentions are focused on him rather than someone as rushing with life and energy and passion as Dominic himself, someone his own age, someone who is not his professor. That thought forces Billy to pull away from the kiss and focus on Dominic's bright eyes and the challenge still there, daring Billy to deny or even try to forget what they've just done.
"Are you sure," Billy says, his voice heated as he pushes both hands flat on Dominic's chest now, giving them just enough room to breathe. "Are you sure? I want this, we can--" Do this, Billy thinks, but doesn't say, for the moment able to hear the warning that tells him they very much can't. Dominic leans closer again and Billy's thoughts splinter in seven directions before his hand flies up higher in an oddly familiar but still for the moment strange motion to tangle in Dominic's hair and tug, holding Dominic more still than he'd imagined possible in countless meetings and classes. "Dominic," he breathes, but doesn't continue; instead Billy just stares hard at Dominic, trying to read his eyes and seeing something so close to the unflinching, willing gaze in Barchi's pictures that Billy feels every bone in his own body weakening. He swallows and relaxes his hand in Dominic's hair, pulling back only to curve his hand gently at Dominic's cheek before he stands up straight again and steps back into the space he'd granted them both. His mouth rests close to Dominic's, and he aches to kiss him and more, but-- "Are you sure," Billy says again, the steeliness now in his voice more for himself than for Dominic.
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oh god, I love this story.
*waits patiently for the next part*
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I do love this story.
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Thank you.
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Wow, Billy went down without a fight. Not at all what I was expecting.
Or maybe the fight will be in part 2. ;)
*gets out popcorn*
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shamefully tardy praise
I WILL NEVER STOP LOVING THIS UNIVERSE. i can't wait to see where you take the rest of it.
you are both amazing amazing. <33
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I'm so glad that you are still reading and still enjoying. It means a lot to us both.
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Fantastic Chapter!!!
(I don't know why I never kept reading this?! But now I'm back and so excited!)
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Dominic's uncertainty and his own meet and cancel each other out in the space between them, vanishing as Dominic leans down and in for another kiss, for more and better.
"Are you sure," Billy says again, the steeliness now in his voice more for himself than for Dominic.
These lines just screamed at me. Lovely.
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I have a deeper love than I previously did. Words hath not express.