Book 2, Chapter 10: Acquiescence (1/8)
Jun. 10th, 2008 09:37 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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inclineoftreesTitle: Acquiescence (1)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Dominic/Billy
Word count: 2905
Summary: Another step forward.
Warnings: D/s in the chapter; implied in this section.
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.
Not even in his youth did Billy ever perform that candle trick—the one where you rest your palm ever closer to a flame, until you're either burnt or backed away. Which is not to say he's never convinced another to try it, or even struck the match himself. While he'd never admit it aloud, Billy's quite entranced by fire, and not for looks alone did he search high and low in this small university town for a home with a proper fireplace.
It's too warm this evening to put that fireplace to good use, but Billy will have his fire nonetheless, for starters in the form of several candles scattered around his front room, their flames perfectly formed and steady. Billy's learned the hard way to keep their wicks trimmed and their holders level on every surface. Billy cares for his candles in a way he cares about only a very few other things; he loves to see them burn strong for hours into the night, and that care pays off handsomely now.
Billy expects Dominic in another twenty minutes, and expects, Billy thinks, is the appropriate word. He's already determined that this night will rise and fall not on what he or Dominic would like or even necessarily want, but on what they expect from each other, what they both obviously need, if their conversation and everything else that occurred high among the leaves and branches of Billy’s favourite tree several days before is to be honoured.
Billy knows the instructions he gave Dominic were likely difficult, but not impossible, to fulfill. He also knows that Dominic is capable of answering the demands Billy’s made of him, and he looks forward to learning how well Dominic has done so. For now, though, Billy wanders back into his bedroom and changes his clothes, exchanging his trousers for jeans and a crisp shirt for something softer, older and darker. Rolling up his sleeves, Billy catches sight of himself in his bedroom mirror and smiles.
He likes to think he’s not a hard man by nature, at least not in his personal life, and he has shown Dominic more care already than he ever imagined he was capable of. This night is a step in a different direction, and Billy works now to not preemptively wonder too hard on its outcome. There are certainly things that have not yet been said between them—perhaps things that should never be said, or can’t. This relationship is still new, Billy reminds himself, and it’s his responsibility to not let it crash down on them tonight. It’s a very real possibility, one he’s thought about several times over the course of the last few days.
Billy wanders the room and stops at the window, watching the evening fall around his little home for a moment before he moves again and slides his hands against the smooth wall on the left side of his bedroom. Beyond his trip into the city for a bit of shopping, he’d had to retrieve a few small things from his attic—things he hadn't expected to need or want anytime soon, least of all for the purposes and reasons he has to do so tonight—and he's cleared much of the clutter and unnecessary furniture out of the bedroom itself to allow for more space to move and breathe and, well, play, if one were forced to find a word for it, Billy thinks.
Not long from now Dominic will be intimately acquainted with this wall, and Billy takes a long breath of anticipation for that. There are things he'll need to establish with Dominic before they begin, and Billy considers those things as he wanders again, this time to the night table. Pushing things this way and that in the drawer, Billy retrieves a box of small matches and sets to work on the three older, well-loved, slow burning candles he’s long had scattered around the room. It's no romantic gesture, Billy assures himself, no lure in the direction of comfort; rather, Billy calls it a centering sort of force, something on which he can focus if he loses his focus elsewhere tonight. Billy gives a nod to the air, approving the change that simple soft light has provided, casting shadows on the bedclothes and the hard, dark wood of Billy's bed.
It’s tempting to continue pacing the house, but Billy pushes the thought away and leaves the room, ignoring the warnings that rush to his head about abandoned candles inside the house and taking the opportunity for a smoke outside, while the air’s soft but heavy and it’s not gone completely dark yet. The sound of the match strike startles fireflies and birds from around Billy’s back porch, and he watches their flight above the pale, sweet smoke as he exhales the first drag. Their escape makes Billy think absently of one of his own, with Dominic, perhaps, sometime in the future, and after a moment Billy shakes his head, wondering how he’s reached a point where he might desire that kind of company again—not just in his bed and his dreams, but in his life, in the time and space he’s always guarded fiercely for himself.
Not for the first time and likely not for the last, Billy allows himself to wonder why Dominic had thought to ask him for this—how Dominic could have read anything in Billy that would lead him to believe Billy could provide what he wanted and needed on this specific and dangerous level. Two more slow drags on the cigarette, and Billy reminds himself that there doesn’t have to be any outward, obvious sign of one’s inclination in bed or elsewhere for that inclination to simply be felt by someone particularly attuned to it, and Dominic—well, attuned is one way to put it, Billy supposes, and he laughs, the sound raspy with smoke and nerves Billy allows to surface just for the moment.
The whys and hows don’t matter now, in any case; he’s as prepared as he’s going to get. Billy’s invested more than just what will appear on a credit card statement this time next month, and he finds he’s very much enjoyed the preparation, both practical and personal, for this night. It will be far different from the result of any other time he’s played at this sort of thing, of that Billy has no doubt; but beyond the basic and obvious differences, he’s certain it will also be better. He wants it more, he knows himself better than he ever had before, and there's an honesty between himself and Dominic that's worlds better, even in its limitations, than the sometimes more comfortable half-truths he's shared with and believed from others.
Not that anyone looking at the situation from outside of it would agree, Billy thinks; there are too many ways things could go wrong—are wrong—too many sparking, shocking little arguments that tell him he’s abusing his position on several levels now, each one leaving Billy a little more singed than before but not yet burnt. Billy looks up at the night sky and takes a deeper drag of the cigarette before he decides those arguments don’t matter either—they can’t, not now—and that he knows how to douse a fire just as well as he knows to set one. He is in control of this night; he’s in control of himself and Dominic and any spark they create within his little house or themselves.
Billy’s still riding that sudden and determined wave of thought when he hears the door to his fence creak, followed by a sharp exhale as Dominic makes his way through the small space he’s granted himself before he turns to close the door again and latch it carefully. Billy doesn’t move, doesn’t even lower his hand and the cigarette from in front of his mouth until Dominic steps nearer and faces him, bright-eyed even in darkness and eager already, but quieted, too, Billy thinks, calmer in mind and body even as he chances one of his wide, easy smiles Billy’s way.
Dominic wants to say something witty or clever, something that’s meant to diffuse his own tension more than any between himself and Billy, but nothing comes. He's been running on a kind of manic energy all day—anticipation for what this night will bring, for what he and Billy will be like together like this—so that finally being here, in Billy's garden with Billy so near and composed, makes what he’d thought were settled nerves rise back to the surface. He’d taken a run early in the day, the grass still slick under his feet, and for a time the exertion had calmed and centered him, the goal of wearing himself down only as much as necessary before returning to his room and a shower the uppermost thought in his mind. But afterward, still warm from that shower, he’d fallen onto his back in bed and thought of Billy—of the way Billy feels and sounds beside him, over him, inside him. Dominic had stroked himself until his back arched, had pressed his shoulders into the mattress and gasped for air, holding himself back from coming. He’d finally moved one hand to fist the duvet and the other to rest flat on his stomach as he’d waited out the rush of adrenaline, taking long, slow and deep breaths to collect himself before he’d been able to rise from the bed and get dressed again.
"I did everything you asked me to," Dominic whispers now as he steps a bit closer, his smile disappearing as he reaches with shaking fingers to just barely touch and twist a button near the hem of Billy's shirt. He wants to be clear on that point—he wants Billy to know he’s kept up his end of their bargain, to let it serve as evidence that he’s serious and that he’s earned this night. Dominic had discovered early on that he’d enjoyed these sorts of games and how they fired his already active imagination, but with other men and similar situations, it’s been just that, games. Dominic’s not interested in living an alternative lifestyle, not even with Billy—especially not with Billy, not when he’s worked this hard to be seen and treated as an equal—but the idea of subbing to Billy is thrilling, and Billy’s proximity, the scent of him all woodsmoke and leaves, combined with what Dominic’s dreamt about this night signals the return of Dominic’s hard-on, pressing against the faded jeans that hang loosely on his hips but slide against bare skin elsewhere.
“Everything and then some, looks like,” Billy finally says, and he tilts his hand and the cigarette a little, watching Dominic’s eyes follow the movement of ash and spark falling to the ground at their feet. There’s more Billy thinks he should say, some sort of praise he’s meant to give, but then Dominic’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips and Billy lets the words fall away from him as the fingers of his free hand move to wrap loosely around Dominic’s wrist. He can feel the energy coming off Dominic in waves—need, happiness, pride all mixed with a healthy side of uncertainty—but he'd expected that. What holds his attention more now is how quiet Dominic seems; even his breathing sounds better measured than usual, as if he's conserving himself as much as possible, holding back something until he can give everything. Billy turns his head to exhale the smoke he's been holding and then nods, watching Dominic’s shoulders drop a little in relief and ease.
Relief’s not on the books for a while yet, though, and Billy moves closer in his turn, watching the sudden, returned flutter of Dominic’s pulse in his throat, visible even in the evening darkness now that Billy’s eyes are well adjusted. Billy’s tempted for a moment to just concentrate on speeding that rush of blood and nerves inside Dominic, but he fights it back and instead just reaches to cup Dominic’s face in his hands, to feel him settle or shiver, whatever comes first or best.
Dominic’s eyes dart to Billy’s fingers on his cheek, on the spark of the cigarette’s fire so close to his skin, and he catches the slow, pleased rise of one corner of Billy’s smile just before it disappears, lost in the little hum of Billy’s approval. Dominic opens his mouth again and Billy shakes his head, pressing the cigarette to Dominic’s lips gently and smiling when Dominic’s left hand rises to curve over his own, folding over Billy’s knuckles as Dominic takes a long inhale. They’re almost too close to each other now, hardly room to breathe properly between them, but Billy finds no reason to move just yet; he’s fascinated to find that under the smoke between them Dominic's skin still holds the slight scent and soft humidity of both a recent shower and a walk in the perfect weather, and that, too, pleases Billy as much as Dominic's silence and odd, welcomed poise—it’s continued evidence that Dominic’s determined to treat tonight with a reverence that may be the one thing Billy could not have honestly expected. There’s something to be said for having one’s expectations exceeded, though, or for that matter turned on their heads, and Billy feels a small surge of pride in Dominic, not terribly unlike others he’s felt in far different circumstances and just as strong, just as welcome and satisfying.
Billy lets his hand travel up the sides of Dominic’s face, his thumbs brushing at the corners of Dominic’s eyes and the dusty eyeliner there, smudging the colour and humming again when Dominic’s eyes close for a moment as they both take another deep breath. Billy leans back and takes his last hit off the cigarette and then rids himself of it, the sound of its dying hiss loud in the quiet garden, distracting Dominic’s attention again until Billy reaches for him once more and pulls him in tight and closer to the door back into the house. Billy’s cheek brushes against Dominic’s almost roughly, and Dominic turns his head, wanting more, but what he receives is less a kiss than a warning; it’s the scrape of Billy’s teeth bared a little in challenge and pleasure, leaving a bright and sweet score near Dominic’s chin. Dominic sinks into the feeling and against Billy, too; he’s more pliant now in Billy’s grasp than he’s felt even still half-asleep on warm Sunday mornings beneath Billy’s sheets.
He's also quite beautiful. Not that his scruffy grace isn't already appealing to Billy, but here under the light above Billy’s back door there's something different about Dominic's body—the perfect set of his chin and shoulders he fights to maintain as he keeps his eyes lowered, the loose, ringed fingers now relaxing in Billy's hand, calmer than they've ever been, the cool silver a contrast to Dominic’s warm skin. It’s easier than usual for Billy to imagine the appeal Dominic must have held for Barchi and his work now; that strange stillness and underlying need is something Billy suddenly wants desperately to photograph himself, to hold for a framed eternity of film, and he’s filled for a half a moment with the same burning jealousy of before, a jealousy that he pushes back hard with the knowledge that Barchi and whoever might have purchased those sketches have no idea what more of Dominic is actually on display here—what more Billy can and will see, can and will feel. Billy traces his thumbnail inside Dominic's palm as he calms himself, softly at first and then sharp and deep, pleased when Dominic does nothing but inhale gently at the pressure.
"Be still," Billy says softly, breathing the same air with Dominic again. The words are familiar but the tone considerably less so, and Dominic swallows, keeping Billy’s gaze until his own casts naturally downward. Billy circles Dominic a bit then, sliding his hand down and across Dominic’s body while he moves under the light, taking his time and a long, appraising survey, already sharply aware of how much he likes this very different look of Dominic's and how much he wants to see more. Billy wants to savour this moment and chance as much as any other, but before he can he palms Dominic’s pockets lightly, almost gently, retrieving their sole contents, Dominic’s keys, and tucks them away in his own jeans with a half-smile Dominic cannot see.
That brief moment of practicality past, Billy sets to happier work as he continues to move around Dominic, committing to memory every shallow breath Dominic takes, every lock of hair caught under the collar of Dominic's shirt hanging half-open above his jeans, every jump of muscle in the bare skin Billy can see there, every flex of his own fingers as he imagines what his hands will do to the perfect body he's been given tonight. Dominic stands as still as he can under the attention and Billy’s touch, but he’s still breathing hard, and immediately Billy is put to mind of a candle flickering wildly, burning too proud before it finally gutters out. After another moment that feels hours longer to them both, Billy stops again in front of Dominic, his appraisal complete for the moment, and again cups Dominic’s face gently before his voice returns, still calm but just a measure more detached than before.
"Let's have a drink."
To be continued.
Authors:
kiltsandlollies and escriboCharacters: Dominic/Billy
Word count: 2905
Summary: Another step forward.
Warnings: D/s in the chapter; implied in this section.
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.
Not even in his youth did Billy ever perform that candle trick—the one where you rest your palm ever closer to a flame, until you're either burnt or backed away. Which is not to say he's never convinced another to try it, or even struck the match himself. While he'd never admit it aloud, Billy's quite entranced by fire, and not for looks alone did he search high and low in this small university town for a home with a proper fireplace.
It's too warm this evening to put that fireplace to good use, but Billy will have his fire nonetheless, for starters in the form of several candles scattered around his front room, their flames perfectly formed and steady. Billy's learned the hard way to keep their wicks trimmed and their holders level on every surface. Billy cares for his candles in a way he cares about only a very few other things; he loves to see them burn strong for hours into the night, and that care pays off handsomely now.
Billy expects Dominic in another twenty minutes, and expects, Billy thinks, is the appropriate word. He's already determined that this night will rise and fall not on what he or Dominic would like or even necessarily want, but on what they expect from each other, what they both obviously need, if their conversation and everything else that occurred high among the leaves and branches of Billy’s favourite tree several days before is to be honoured.
Billy knows the instructions he gave Dominic were likely difficult, but not impossible, to fulfill. He also knows that Dominic is capable of answering the demands Billy’s made of him, and he looks forward to learning how well Dominic has done so. For now, though, Billy wanders back into his bedroom and changes his clothes, exchanging his trousers for jeans and a crisp shirt for something softer, older and darker. Rolling up his sleeves, Billy catches sight of himself in his bedroom mirror and smiles.
He likes to think he’s not a hard man by nature, at least not in his personal life, and he has shown Dominic more care already than he ever imagined he was capable of. This night is a step in a different direction, and Billy works now to not preemptively wonder too hard on its outcome. There are certainly things that have not yet been said between them—perhaps things that should never be said, or can’t. This relationship is still new, Billy reminds himself, and it’s his responsibility to not let it crash down on them tonight. It’s a very real possibility, one he’s thought about several times over the course of the last few days.
Billy wanders the room and stops at the window, watching the evening fall around his little home for a moment before he moves again and slides his hands against the smooth wall on the left side of his bedroom. Beyond his trip into the city for a bit of shopping, he’d had to retrieve a few small things from his attic—things he hadn't expected to need or want anytime soon, least of all for the purposes and reasons he has to do so tonight—and he's cleared much of the clutter and unnecessary furniture out of the bedroom itself to allow for more space to move and breathe and, well, play, if one were forced to find a word for it, Billy thinks.
Not long from now Dominic will be intimately acquainted with this wall, and Billy takes a long breath of anticipation for that. There are things he'll need to establish with Dominic before they begin, and Billy considers those things as he wanders again, this time to the night table. Pushing things this way and that in the drawer, Billy retrieves a box of small matches and sets to work on the three older, well-loved, slow burning candles he’s long had scattered around the room. It's no romantic gesture, Billy assures himself, no lure in the direction of comfort; rather, Billy calls it a centering sort of force, something on which he can focus if he loses his focus elsewhere tonight. Billy gives a nod to the air, approving the change that simple soft light has provided, casting shadows on the bedclothes and the hard, dark wood of Billy's bed.
It’s tempting to continue pacing the house, but Billy pushes the thought away and leaves the room, ignoring the warnings that rush to his head about abandoned candles inside the house and taking the opportunity for a smoke outside, while the air’s soft but heavy and it’s not gone completely dark yet. The sound of the match strike startles fireflies and birds from around Billy’s back porch, and he watches their flight above the pale, sweet smoke as he exhales the first drag. Their escape makes Billy think absently of one of his own, with Dominic, perhaps, sometime in the future, and after a moment Billy shakes his head, wondering how he’s reached a point where he might desire that kind of company again—not just in his bed and his dreams, but in his life, in the time and space he’s always guarded fiercely for himself.
Not for the first time and likely not for the last, Billy allows himself to wonder why Dominic had thought to ask him for this—how Dominic could have read anything in Billy that would lead him to believe Billy could provide what he wanted and needed on this specific and dangerous level. Two more slow drags on the cigarette, and Billy reminds himself that there doesn’t have to be any outward, obvious sign of one’s inclination in bed or elsewhere for that inclination to simply be felt by someone particularly attuned to it, and Dominic—well, attuned is one way to put it, Billy supposes, and he laughs, the sound raspy with smoke and nerves Billy allows to surface just for the moment.
The whys and hows don’t matter now, in any case; he’s as prepared as he’s going to get. Billy’s invested more than just what will appear on a credit card statement this time next month, and he finds he’s very much enjoyed the preparation, both practical and personal, for this night. It will be far different from the result of any other time he’s played at this sort of thing, of that Billy has no doubt; but beyond the basic and obvious differences, he’s certain it will also be better. He wants it more, he knows himself better than he ever had before, and there's an honesty between himself and Dominic that's worlds better, even in its limitations, than the sometimes more comfortable half-truths he's shared with and believed from others.
Not that anyone looking at the situation from outside of it would agree, Billy thinks; there are too many ways things could go wrong—are wrong—too many sparking, shocking little arguments that tell him he’s abusing his position on several levels now, each one leaving Billy a little more singed than before but not yet burnt. Billy looks up at the night sky and takes a deeper drag of the cigarette before he decides those arguments don’t matter either—they can’t, not now—and that he knows how to douse a fire just as well as he knows to set one. He is in control of this night; he’s in control of himself and Dominic and any spark they create within his little house or themselves.
Billy’s still riding that sudden and determined wave of thought when he hears the door to his fence creak, followed by a sharp exhale as Dominic makes his way through the small space he’s granted himself before he turns to close the door again and latch it carefully. Billy doesn’t move, doesn’t even lower his hand and the cigarette from in front of his mouth until Dominic steps nearer and faces him, bright-eyed even in darkness and eager already, but quieted, too, Billy thinks, calmer in mind and body even as he chances one of his wide, easy smiles Billy’s way.
Dominic wants to say something witty or clever, something that’s meant to diffuse his own tension more than any between himself and Billy, but nothing comes. He's been running on a kind of manic energy all day—anticipation for what this night will bring, for what he and Billy will be like together like this—so that finally being here, in Billy's garden with Billy so near and composed, makes what he’d thought were settled nerves rise back to the surface. He’d taken a run early in the day, the grass still slick under his feet, and for a time the exertion had calmed and centered him, the goal of wearing himself down only as much as necessary before returning to his room and a shower the uppermost thought in his mind. But afterward, still warm from that shower, he’d fallen onto his back in bed and thought of Billy—of the way Billy feels and sounds beside him, over him, inside him. Dominic had stroked himself until his back arched, had pressed his shoulders into the mattress and gasped for air, holding himself back from coming. He’d finally moved one hand to fist the duvet and the other to rest flat on his stomach as he’d waited out the rush of adrenaline, taking long, slow and deep breaths to collect himself before he’d been able to rise from the bed and get dressed again.
"I did everything you asked me to," Dominic whispers now as he steps a bit closer, his smile disappearing as he reaches with shaking fingers to just barely touch and twist a button near the hem of Billy's shirt. He wants to be clear on that point—he wants Billy to know he’s kept up his end of their bargain, to let it serve as evidence that he’s serious and that he’s earned this night. Dominic had discovered early on that he’d enjoyed these sorts of games and how they fired his already active imagination, but with other men and similar situations, it’s been just that, games. Dominic’s not interested in living an alternative lifestyle, not even with Billy—especially not with Billy, not when he’s worked this hard to be seen and treated as an equal—but the idea of subbing to Billy is thrilling, and Billy’s proximity, the scent of him all woodsmoke and leaves, combined with what Dominic’s dreamt about this night signals the return of Dominic’s hard-on, pressing against the faded jeans that hang loosely on his hips but slide against bare skin elsewhere.
“Everything and then some, looks like,” Billy finally says, and he tilts his hand and the cigarette a little, watching Dominic’s eyes follow the movement of ash and spark falling to the ground at their feet. There’s more Billy thinks he should say, some sort of praise he’s meant to give, but then Dominic’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips and Billy lets the words fall away from him as the fingers of his free hand move to wrap loosely around Dominic’s wrist. He can feel the energy coming off Dominic in waves—need, happiness, pride all mixed with a healthy side of uncertainty—but he'd expected that. What holds his attention more now is how quiet Dominic seems; even his breathing sounds better measured than usual, as if he's conserving himself as much as possible, holding back something until he can give everything. Billy turns his head to exhale the smoke he's been holding and then nods, watching Dominic’s shoulders drop a little in relief and ease.
Relief’s not on the books for a while yet, though, and Billy moves closer in his turn, watching the sudden, returned flutter of Dominic’s pulse in his throat, visible even in the evening darkness now that Billy’s eyes are well adjusted. Billy’s tempted for a moment to just concentrate on speeding that rush of blood and nerves inside Dominic, but he fights it back and instead just reaches to cup Dominic’s face in his hands, to feel him settle or shiver, whatever comes first or best.
Dominic’s eyes dart to Billy’s fingers on his cheek, on the spark of the cigarette’s fire so close to his skin, and he catches the slow, pleased rise of one corner of Billy’s smile just before it disappears, lost in the little hum of Billy’s approval. Dominic opens his mouth again and Billy shakes his head, pressing the cigarette to Dominic’s lips gently and smiling when Dominic’s left hand rises to curve over his own, folding over Billy’s knuckles as Dominic takes a long inhale. They’re almost too close to each other now, hardly room to breathe properly between them, but Billy finds no reason to move just yet; he’s fascinated to find that under the smoke between them Dominic's skin still holds the slight scent and soft humidity of both a recent shower and a walk in the perfect weather, and that, too, pleases Billy as much as Dominic's silence and odd, welcomed poise—it’s continued evidence that Dominic’s determined to treat tonight with a reverence that may be the one thing Billy could not have honestly expected. There’s something to be said for having one’s expectations exceeded, though, or for that matter turned on their heads, and Billy feels a small surge of pride in Dominic, not terribly unlike others he’s felt in far different circumstances and just as strong, just as welcome and satisfying.
Billy lets his hand travel up the sides of Dominic’s face, his thumbs brushing at the corners of Dominic’s eyes and the dusty eyeliner there, smudging the colour and humming again when Dominic’s eyes close for a moment as they both take another deep breath. Billy leans back and takes his last hit off the cigarette and then rids himself of it, the sound of its dying hiss loud in the quiet garden, distracting Dominic’s attention again until Billy reaches for him once more and pulls him in tight and closer to the door back into the house. Billy’s cheek brushes against Dominic’s almost roughly, and Dominic turns his head, wanting more, but what he receives is less a kiss than a warning; it’s the scrape of Billy’s teeth bared a little in challenge and pleasure, leaving a bright and sweet score near Dominic’s chin. Dominic sinks into the feeling and against Billy, too; he’s more pliant now in Billy’s grasp than he’s felt even still half-asleep on warm Sunday mornings beneath Billy’s sheets.
He's also quite beautiful. Not that his scruffy grace isn't already appealing to Billy, but here under the light above Billy’s back door there's something different about Dominic's body—the perfect set of his chin and shoulders he fights to maintain as he keeps his eyes lowered, the loose, ringed fingers now relaxing in Billy's hand, calmer than they've ever been, the cool silver a contrast to Dominic’s warm skin. It’s easier than usual for Billy to imagine the appeal Dominic must have held for Barchi and his work now; that strange stillness and underlying need is something Billy suddenly wants desperately to photograph himself, to hold for a framed eternity of film, and he’s filled for a half a moment with the same burning jealousy of before, a jealousy that he pushes back hard with the knowledge that Barchi and whoever might have purchased those sketches have no idea what more of Dominic is actually on display here—what more Billy can and will see, can and will feel. Billy traces his thumbnail inside Dominic's palm as he calms himself, softly at first and then sharp and deep, pleased when Dominic does nothing but inhale gently at the pressure.
"Be still," Billy says softly, breathing the same air with Dominic again. The words are familiar but the tone considerably less so, and Dominic swallows, keeping Billy’s gaze until his own casts naturally downward. Billy circles Dominic a bit then, sliding his hand down and across Dominic’s body while he moves under the light, taking his time and a long, appraising survey, already sharply aware of how much he likes this very different look of Dominic's and how much he wants to see more. Billy wants to savour this moment and chance as much as any other, but before he can he palms Dominic’s pockets lightly, almost gently, retrieving their sole contents, Dominic’s keys, and tucks them away in his own jeans with a half-smile Dominic cannot see.
That brief moment of practicality past, Billy sets to happier work as he continues to move around Dominic, committing to memory every shallow breath Dominic takes, every lock of hair caught under the collar of Dominic's shirt hanging half-open above his jeans, every jump of muscle in the bare skin Billy can see there, every flex of his own fingers as he imagines what his hands will do to the perfect body he's been given tonight. Dominic stands as still as he can under the attention and Billy’s touch, but he’s still breathing hard, and immediately Billy is put to mind of a candle flickering wildly, burning too proud before it finally gutters out. After another moment that feels hours longer to them both, Billy stops again in front of Dominic, his appraisal complete for the moment, and again cups Dominic’s face gently before his voice returns, still calm but just a measure more detached than before.
"Let's have a drink."
To be continued.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-06-11 12:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-12 03:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 12:31 am (UTC)I would like to say something clever and insightful about how wonderfully you handle their different 'approaches' to the scene, but really I'm just stuck on "Fuck, that's sexy".
*camps out here for next bit*
no subject
Date: 2008-07-12 03:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-29 08:27 pm (UTC)He's already determined that this night will rise and fall not on what he or Dominic would like or even necessarily want, but on what they expect from each other, what they both obviously need
Not long from now Dominic will be intimately acquainted with this wall, and Billy takes a long breath of anticipation for that.
He is in control of this night; he's in control of himself and Dominic and any spark they create within his little house or themselves.
instead just reaches to cup Dominic's face in his hands, to feel him settle or shiver, whatever comes first or best
♥ them so much.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-12 03:18 am (UTC)