REPOST: queen's gambit 2 (dom/billy)
The music smacks into him like a wave, and he wades right on into it. Billy's not following. Arousal and fear are churning through Dom's stomach, and he has a desperate urge to piss. The club is filled with sweat and red light, and hair flicks against Dom's face and into his mouth as he edges through the bouncing, waving crowd towards the gents. It's preferable to the scrape of brick.
Inside the gents, Dom heads for a cubicle and barricades himself inside. His dick is half hard, and when he holds it in his hand it gives a little wince. Dom considers a wank. He twists round and pushes against the door with one finger - it's locked tight. He turns back, closes his eyes and wraps his left hand round his cock in that familiar embrace.
One up-stroke, two.
Billy's leaning against him, and the hand round Dom's cock is his. "Do you want me to fuck you?" Dom's breath is an expanding ball, tight against his ribs. He opens his mouth and lets it out, yes-
"Dom!"
Dom starts with fright, and backs against the door, covering himself with both hands.
"Dom! You in here? Dominic?"
It's Billy. There's the sound of light steps up and down the row of cubicles. Dom's frozen against the door, and he can feel the sweat turn icy on the back of his neck. Billy's stopped midway and now he's listening. Dom hardly breathes, but he can feel the door melting away, transparent as glass at his back. Two green eyes drilling into him. Then the steps walk away and the door clumps softly shut.
Dom's erection is gone. He lifts his hands shakily from his crotch and every part of him is limp with shock. He pisses quickly, shivering, and goes to wash his hands.
For a second or two he stretches his fingers under the tap, then glances up. His reflection looks about a hundred years old, milk-white and sweaty. His old grey jumper is hanging like a woolly sack. If this is a game, he's not even in it. Billy's cut through his outer wall, pawns falling to right and left, and now even Dom's king is looking shaky. Dom considers leaving the club on the sly, jumping in a cab, regrouping. Perhaps he can face Billy again tomorrow, perhaps corner Elijah and prod till he spills. It wouldn't take much; it never does.
Dom cuts through all the physical memories of the alleyway, past the rasp of wool against his backside, and the hot little fingers tight round his cock, and remembers the tell-tale tremble and press of Billy. Perhaps there is foothold for him there, an edge. Maybe Dom can flip this thing onto its back, take control.
Dom lets out a 'huh' of air, and stands a little taller. He splashes his face with water and pulls at his cheeks, rubbing them pink again, wishing to god he'd brought his eyeliner. Off comes the jumper and there's the old red t-shirt, curling at the hem and lining his torso like tissue paper. The sleeves are just long enough to hide the dark hair under his arms, and now with the blood pumping insistently again, a vein stands out on either bicep, trailing down towards brown forearms, long monkey fingers. Dom lifts his arms experimentally and the t-shirt rises to expose a wide bar of abdomen, delicate and still Manchester-pale, sleek iliac furrows cutting downwards and inwards, brown-red hair a rising tide above the belt buckle. His arms drop again and swing, and Dom pats himself hard on the belly, which makes a satisfying hollow clop. He ties the grey jumper low around his hips and stands, chin up, one foot out, pelvis angled arrogantly.
He's back in the game.
There's a jar of lollipops by the edge of the sink counter, and Dom grabs one on a whim, a purple one that resembles a tiny wet plum, and puts it in his mouth, tongue wrapping round, cheeks sucking inwards. He pushes open the door and looks out. From his position on the brink, the crowd is a breathing organism, surging and eddying, and far off and detached, Dom sees Billy. He's sitting now, gesturing at Orlando, his mouth exaggerating the words in an effort to make himself heard. Dom takes a breath, and then steps off and into the crowd, heading towards him.
"Dom!" Elijah shouts. Dom can't actually hear him over the beat of the music, but Elijah's face opens up in a huge earsplitting grin. Dom hands him a curt nod before running a slow look over Billy. He's dragging the lolly over his tongue and the taste of it is sugary and sweet in the back of his mouth.
"Dance," Dom yells into the side of Elijah's ear. He's already got a grip on Elijah's arm and is herding them out onto the floor. Elijah follows along for a step, stopping to finish off the dregs of his drink before leaving the glass behind.
There is a sweaty mix of bodies on the dance floor, and Dom can feel them moving and pressing against him. Elijah's already got his eyes closed and he's bouncing on the balls of his feet. Dom doesn't check to see if Billy's standing there watching them when he grabs for Elijah's hips and pulls him snug against his thigh. Elijah opens his eyes a bare slit, grin creeping back over his face.
Dom tucks the lolly into the deep pocket of his cheek and brushes the side of his mouth across Elijah's face until his lips have crested against Elijah's ear. "What the fuck is going on?" he says fiercely. He can feel Elijah going still against him and Dom presses harder, rocking his hips into Elijah's and cupping his arse in a tight grip.
"Ah," Elijah staggers a little and Dom holds him upright. "I dunno?"
"You fucking know," Dom hisses.
Elijah stops dancing and jerks his way out of Dom's grip. "Look!" he shouts, "I don't want to be in the middle of this."
"Middle of what?" Dom glares.
"You. Billy. This. It's fucked up, man."
Dom stands there staring at him, mouth hanging open. "Fuck this," he says finally - as much to himself as to Elijah - "I'm going home."
Dom tramps home, heavier on his feet than usual, venom in every step. Who's fucked up? I'm not fucking fucked up. I'm the only fucking one who isn't fucking fucked up. A sudden blush of anger surges and his arms shake stiffly. He grunts and kicks at a loose stone, which bounces twice and skitters sideways into the gutter.
Nope, nothing fucked up about Dom. He's just the one with the image of his best friend gripping himself obscenely burned into his memory, too vivid for a hundred cold showers to remove. He's the one who'd been a breath away from gasping to be shagged, to be pressed bodily into a chilly wall out the back of a club and fucked till he was chewing into the bricks. Dom's the one who'd stood just now, locked in the toilet, hard from the memory of wool scratching at his backside and hot breath fluttering on his neck.
Dom shivers. He's left his parka behind and the skin on his arms and stomach is greasy and cold with sweat. He unties the jumper from around his waist and pulls it on. It doesn't provide a lot of warmth, and it prickles against his damp skin, making him feel grubby and uncomfortable.
It's not a long walk back to his apartment. It's warm and dry inside his apartment and he's suddenly aware of the tobacco smell hanging on his jumper and jeans. He strips the jumper off and drops it on the floor on his way to the bathroom.
The water hits the floor of the tub in a hot rush, and the room starts filling with damp steam. It's already hot when he steps into the shower, hot to the point that the first few seconds make his skin feel numb, cold almost, and then the sting comes burning up to the surface. Dom leans forward, adjusts the taps and lets his forehead rest against the tiles. He closes his eyes and relaxes into the dribble of water leaking down his backside.
It's a quick shower, quick by Dom's standards anyway, and when he steps out of the bathroom Billy is standing in the doorway of Dom's room.
"Hey," Billy says.
Dom narrows his eyes. "What do you want?"
Billy shrugs and pushes himself off the wall. "Just want to finish what we started."
Dom has about a second and a half to think it over. He glances towards the kitchen - half-open door, ashtray on the table, beers in the freezer, furniture to separate them - but he's weighted to that spot in the hall, and when a cold hand sneaks around his waist, pulling him forward so their bare knees knock gently together, he forgets the need to be separate.
Billy smells sharply cold, and there's a chilly greasiness to his cheeks, but his tongue is quick and hot in Dom's mouth.
One of Billy's hands crawls gingerly up Dom's chest, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps, the other pushes and edges fingertips past the tightly wrapped towel towards his backside. Billy's starting to shake again, and something that was held taut in Dom's chest gives suddenly and his breath comes out in a rush of relief. He holds on to the shoulders of Billy's leather jacket, and together they walk toe to toe back towards the doorway where Billy had been standing. They collide a little forcefully with the doorframe and rebound slightly. Billy grunts and his tongue stiffens in Dom's mouth, but he doesn't pull away.
Billy's tongue tangles and twists around Dom's, and one firm hand presses over the jabbing pulse in Dom's chest, a little finger flicking almost unconsciously at his nipple. Dom's cock is flexing and jumping, desperately trying to push its way up past his heavy towel. He reaches a hand down to free it up, and then pushes hard against Billy's groin. Billy's own cock is indistinct behind layers of wool, but there's a plaintive muffle of Billy's voice in Dom's mouth, and Billy's hips cant forwards in response.
They kiss and press tightly for minutes, leather creaking and sticking against Dom's bare chest and belly, and Dom's eyelids are squeezed shut, leaving him in darkness. Black space is pulsing and swaying, breathing around him. Without conscious effort his hand is reaching down, pulling the hem of the kilt up Billy's leg, wool rasping, his palm tickling against the hair on Billy’s thighs. Dom's started to thrust up, rubbing at the ache, tiny gasps puffing out. Billy's hand is trapped between towel and buttock and inching it's way awkwardly around, and Dom's beginning to imagine what it would be like to have Billy inside him, fucking him, now, here.
Something in that thought makes him pull away, and there's a graceless popping sound as their mouths separate, and a stagger backwards. A little curl of fear is reminding him how the evening started out. The t-shirt, the cigarettes, the cracking ice. The ice is long melted and now they're both submerged, suspended, slow-moving and deafened, and the water is beguilingly warm.
He should ask Billy what it's about, but Billy's eyes are closed, his mouth ajar, bottom lip stiff and curled with effort or restraint. Is that a good enough answer?
"I-"
Billy shakes his head and opens his eyes slowly. "Just tell me that I haven't fucked this all up," he says.
"What is this?" Dom manages after a few seconds.
"I don't know," Billy blinks. "Just us, I suppose."
Dom's chest is constricting tightly, and he can feel his cock whining. He nods dumbly, and Billy steps forward and catches him with both hands. "I didn't know I was falling," Dom whispers into Billy's mouth.
"Are you high?" Billy asks, and Dom shakes his head. He's not, but he might as well be because when he closes his eyes the room wobbles. Everything around him is melting and there is a fire line that's been lit under Billy's hand as it rides down the slope of Dom's ribs. Billy's palm has found its way to the blade of Dom's hip bone and he feels as though he's just been branded, as though there'll be white tattoo left behind on his skin when Billy's done with him.
Dom cocks his head and opens his mouth hotly against Billy's, lets him press in and trace slick lines against the ridge of his lip until he feels as though his lungs are burning up.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" Billy asks, for the second time.
Dom's breath catches, and the slow swirl of delirium grinds to a halt. It's a stone sober moment and he registers an involuntary twitch low in his belly. He can feel his anus contract with nervous anticipation. Dom licks his lip with the tip of his tongue, feels the wet trail that Billy has left behind there, and nods.
"Wanna hear you say it, Dom," Billy whispers. "Fuck, Dom, tell me that you want that."
It's barely a croak when Dom speaks, the tiniest whisper escaping and breathing hard in between them. "Yeah," Dom says. "I want you to fuck me."
If Dom was expecting Billy to jump and grab at him, then he's disappointed. Billy's hands still. He looks at Dom, his eyes round, and Dom sees his Adam's apple bob twice. There could be an advantage here, strategic gains, but Dom's in too much fear of losing something that's almost close enough to touch. He licks his lips, and instead of pressing against Billy for another kiss, he reaches deep under the kilt and wraps his hand round Billy's cock.
Billy's eyelids drop to half-mast and an obscene redness creeps up his neck and into his cheeks as they both rock and sigh with the rhythm of Dom's hand. There is heat and dampness and scratchy wool under the kilt, and with each pass of the itchy rasp against his knuckles there's a straining tickle in Dom's cock. When Billy jerks and stiffens suddenly with a surprised 'ahGah', Dom gasps in reply, feeling everything swim and slide, and has to press his chest against Billy, so they're both planted tight against the doorframe.
Billy's hand grips Dom's firmly. He presses himself hard against the hand with a brief shudder, then pulls it away, clasping it so that their hands form a double fist against the wall by his hip.
"Can we go in now? Please?"
Heavy dark eyes look straight into his, and Dom's so caught up and sucked down, so addled and sex-blind that he almost forgets who he's with.
"Billy?" he says, and for a second or two it's a genuine question.
Billy twists his fingers, knotting them in a tight grip between Dom's, and then gives a gentle tug so Dom staggers forward after him and into the bedroom.
Dom's beer bottle is standing empty on the bedside table where he left it only hours (a lifetime) ago. There are trousers lying on the end of bed and a pile of dirty pants and t-shirts thrown against the corner wall. He's got to do laundry soon, he thinks loosely, until the press of Billy's fingers around his wrist registers.
"Uh," Dom looks around the room and then rests his gaze on Billy's face. "We're here."
Billy's face cracks open in an easy smile and his fingers slide up the slope of Dom's shoulder and around the bridge of his collarbone. "I was thinking about you," Billy says against Dom's lips. "Then. In the bathroom, before."
There is another cold flutter in Dom's stomach, and he thinks about walking in on Billy in the hotel bathroom and seeing him with his jeans and boxers slung low against his thighs, cock in hand, panting.
"What," Dom squeezes out. He swallows thickly and tries again. "What were you thinking?"
"This," Billy says. He grips Dom's hip and drags him forward, aligning their cocks and rocking hard against him. There is a fabric slide between them and Dom can feel Billy's cock flinch in time with his own. "God, Dom," Billy groans low. "Wanted this for so long."
"Oh."
"Oh?" Billy asks.
Dom blinks and looks hard at Billy. His lips are parted and red, and the colour is high on his cheeks as though he's been out under the sun surfing all day. If he walks now, it's checkmate and Dom knows it. He shrugs a little and leans forward, cheek bumping against Billy's in the bare light, lips landing on their mark.
It's a slow easy kiss this time, like building something fragile. Dom angles his head and his tongue strokes against Billy's. There is a velvet-like scratch between them and a low moan that builds in the back of Billy's throat and migrates into Dom's. It's an apology that grows into need.
Dom staggers forward and lands roughly on the edge of the bed, his fingers fumbling with the buckle of Billy's kilt. Billy's palm lands over Dom's hand and he holds it there tight for a second until Dom looks up.
"No," Billy says, the sound muffled and sticky over a swallow. "Not me now." His face has the heated blotchy look of someone who's already halfway done, and his eyes are blurred and wet-dark. "You've seen me. Want to see you."
Dom's far from steady himself, and when Billy kneels between his knees, untucking the towel with clumsy, jabbing fingers, he has to lean a little back and lock his elbows to brace himself. The towel comes away, grazing gently against the tip of his cock, and where it falls back next to him on the bed, Dom can feel the damp spread of pre-come, sticky against his hip.
There's a long pause. Billy stares into Dom's lap, and Dom's cock jumps. He's hardly breathing at all now, tensed, blood pumping slow and sweet as treacle. He's underwater again, warmth pressing in, when Billy looks slowly up, mouth hanging low. Dom feels a hand hooked behind his neck, then he's pulled forward off his arms and down into a kiss. At first it's a tender sweep of tongue, then Billy's teeth are pulling at his bottom lip, and everything whirs and squeals back to full speed, and they're biting and sucking, and Dom's pulling helplessly at Billy's jacket, scrabbling at shirt buttons.
Billy pulls back, and Dom can't help the little whine of dissent, but Billy's shucking off the jacket, unbuttoning efficiently, and that's just fine, and all of a sudden there he is. Billy's well-known, well-loved torso - broad, furred and tanned - and Dom feels a gush of happy recognition, and reaches forward to touch it for the first time. He curls his fingers into red-brown fuzz and rubs a palm across one small pink nipple. For a moment he loses track and wants to lay his forehead on Billy's shoulder and just look and explore, but there's a low murmur and Billy's pulse is knocking strong and fast against his breastbone, and he pulls Dom's hand away and pushes him down to the bed.
Suddenly Dom's cock is engulfed in hot wetness, and Dom cries out and claws at the duvet beneath him. Rough stroke of tongue and silky wet tug of cheeks, and almost immediately there's a great rumbling groan in his chest and a pulling, tickling sensation in his guts, making him arch sideways so Billy, following, loses his balance and grabs for the edge of the bed.
Dom starts to thrust into Billy's mouth, sighing and grunting, orgasm lapping at his groin and thighs, rising, too muzzy to stop, then there's tightness around the base of his cock. The wetness, the silkiness and the rough tongue are gone, and Dom's thrusting upwards at thin air.
He cranes up, gazing dimly along his own body, and there's Billy's face, thin lips swollen red and glistening.
"What-" he coughs, breathless. "What should I do, Dom?"
Dom's head drops back again. Perhaps he's not following - he thought they'd already decided.
"Fuck me," he says in a voice that's hardly there.
Billy's face opens up into a jittery, dog-eared smile and he presses his fingers against the dark pucker of Dom's anus. "Have you… ever?" he starts to ask, but Dom cuts him off with a rough shake of his head and wide eyes.
Dom takes a deep breath and holds it for what seems like an eternity. There are red and yellow globes of colour crowding in along the peripheral of his vision, a burn growing in his chest and a faint ringing in his ears.
"Breathe out," Billy says. He is running his thumb, slick with saliva, in slow hypnotic circles against the ring of Dom's anus, "Just relax."
Dom does, a great hiss of air escaping, and then his eyes, already stinging from the strain of not blinking, go even wider as Billy spreads him and dips his head, licking him with the broad flat of his tongue. It's wet and leaves his skin feeling chilled and fevered at the same time. Goosebumps are chasing their way up the inside of his thighs and a knot winds tight in his belly and Dom shivers underneath them.
"Do that again," Dom says with a shaky whisper.
Billy's laugh is low and muffled. His nose butts against Dom's perineum and his tongue licks a hot little circle around Dom's anus. Everything goes liquid, making feel him dizzy and run out of breath.
"Holy fuck," Dom wheezes. "Oh, Jesus." Dom's hand drops down and his fingertips run blindly over the top of Billy's head. Billy there, his mouth there, and Dom arching into it, God help him, wanting more. His cock feels unbearably tight and the tension that has built up is bordering on an ache that starts to shiver.
"Bill. Stop-stop-I can't. I'm gonna-"
Billy pulls back and kisses the inside of Dom's knee and Dom feels himself shutter a little at the dampness left there, and the cool wick of air assaulting him.
"Shush," Billy says and then knuckles a finger deep inside him before Dom is able to think clearly. His hand drops down over Dom's cock, and he slowly strokes the length of Dom twice, circles around the tip with the pad of his thumb. "Shh-shh-shh," Billy says as Dom's mouth hangs open.
The room is quiet, or mostly quiet. There's a subtle shift of bedsprings under Billy's knee as he pushes Dom further up the bed, the rasp of Dom's uneven breathing, and the sizzle of cars driving past out the window.
"Okay?" Billy asks.
"Yeah," Dom nods, drops his knees wide and pulls a face. "Burns a little."
Billy curls his finger, ghosts it over the fleshy pad of Dom's prostate and smiles as Dom's breath catches in a sharp hiss.
"Stop?" Billy asks lightly.
Dom lifts his head off the bed and stares hard at Billy, bare-chested with his kilt askew. "I'll fucking kill you if you do."
Dom knows it's going to be uncomfortable, but fuck, he wants Billy closer, inside him, absorbed in him, and he fumbles with thick black wool. With difficulty he reaches Billy's cock, and it gives a little hiccup of satisfaction and leaks gently onto Dom's hand. The kilt bats around his fist, scratchy and restricting.
"Get this thing off," Dom growls. "I won't be fucked by a man in a fucking skirt."
"I thought you quite liked it."
Dom glares, and Billy scrambles off the bed. He has to pull the kilt halfway round his waist to find the buckle, but strips it off hurriedly, then crouches where Dom can't see him anymore. Dom clenches his teeth together and has to ball his hand into a fist to stop himself kicking his legs on the mattress like a frustrated child.
There's a sound of fumbling and scratching, and 'fuck, fuck' from down by the side of the bed, then Billy stands up and kicks his boots away to clump one after another against the wall. He clambers back up and nudges his way between Dom's legs, and Dom's breath comes hard as he stares down at Billy, finally naked. Billy lies on him, chest pressed to chest, so Dom can feel his own pulse and the answering thump from Billy, groin pressed to groin, and it's hard to lie still and not arch up or rub. Dom wants quickness and roughness, and friction and slide, but Billy wants to kiss. Dom could wail with need, when Billy's mouth comes down gently on his, and when Billy's fingers begin to push at him again, he grasps them hard.
"No. Do it now." It's a fierce whisper, sharp between his teeth.
Billy looks down, and Dom can't see, but he can feel Billy's cock pressed shakily against his anus, and he remembers to breathe deeply, solidly. There's pressure, but for a few moments nothing happens, then there's a sudden stretch and give, Billy shouts out and Dom's mouth drops open in shock. Billy's stopped, both hands flat on the mattress, eyes tightly closed, mouth a toothy rictus. Dom breathes and breathes - in, out, in, out, slower, slower.
"Shit." Billy's head drops between his shoulders for a second, then he looks up, and shifting one hand inwards, lifts the other to rub knuckles against Dom's jaw.
"Okay?"
Dom's breathing so deeply he thinks he might begin to hyperventilate, but he's stunned to the marrow that he's here, that Billy's here, that Billy's actually in him.
"Fine," he manages.
Billy's hand goes back to his cock and he begins to move a little, gentle, massaging, and with each stroke he's a little deeper, and suddenly there's the sweetest tingle alongside the burn, and it swells, making Dom gasp and twist, till without him even noticing, the burn's gone and Billy's deep inside him, taut and wheezing.
"Okay?" It's barely voiced this time.
Dom doesn't answer, but reaches down with both hands to grip Billy's buttocks and pull him tightly in. Billy falls forward with a whimper, hands planted by Dom's head, and begins to thrust.
There are moments when Dom catches himself outside his own head, moments when he feels like he's been pulled out and suspended there in a wide open sea of just being. It's not anything he can put words to, but for a second there is a surreal moment, when Billy is hovering above him, that makes Dom feel as though he has slipped out of time.
He opens his eyes and looks up with a feeling of seeing Billy for the first time. And maybe, he thinks, just maybe that's true. There are moments, Dom thinks, that have no words. They're just time and circumstance blurring together in a rush of heat. There are moments, Dom thinks, like this one when things are felt bone deep.
Dom swallows and pushes his hand tight to the cords standing out on Billy's neck. He feels Billy's pulse jumping against his palm, or maybe that's just his own. More than likely, it is them beating together, hearts racing and pulses drumming out everything that they haven't said. There is a muffled whimper and Dom blinks, looks up at Billy and feels him push deep, his fingers lifting and pinching against the soft skin of Dom's thighs.
"You're so tight," Billy grinds out, his hips bunching hard and driving them forward. Dom cants his hips, groans at the friction of Billy's belly snaking across his cock. "Jesus, Dom," Billy mutters this time and stops. He grips Dom tightly by the hips and drags him to the edge of the bed.
Dom feels his feet slip over the edge of the mattress as Billy stands up, then Billy grabs his knees, pushes them back and braces himself against them. He drives in deep, and when Billy opens his eyes again they are dazed-looking. Billy's breathing has been reduced to ragged gasps for air, and his fingers, when they slide up to grip Dom's hand, are shaking.
He guides Dom's hand down and pushes it towards his cock, smiling loosely when Dom's fingers curl around himself. "Do it," Billy says hoarsely. "I want to watch you come."
There's a part of Dom that doesn't want to pull or stroke. He's already tight and stretched, the thinnest film of restraint keeping him from crashing into orgasm, and he'd like to stay here, on this side, a little longer, just to savour, just to see.
"Wait-" he breathes at the last moment. Billy can't wait, though, and there's his hand now, wrapping tightly round Dom's, a finger below, a thumb above, and he's squeezing and tugging and twisting, and Dom's head fills and swims with bliss and he's lost. Up he floats, spinning in slow circles, stretching long and thin and tight, and the thump-thump of his heart is the thump-thump of Billy driving against him. There is moaning and gasping and threatening, but Dom can hardly hear it above the buzz of his own rising orgasm. Suddenly everything's white and still and quiet, like all the colour and noise has been sucked out of the room, then in a sudden blast it rushes back and Dom jerks upwards again and again, coming in a sticky stream over two tightly curled fists, and two sweat-slick bellies.
Dom's eyes are closed when he comes, and as the heavy pulse begins to fan out and fade, he remembers himself and opens his eyes. Billy's rhythm has become erratic and aggressive, his face is scarlet, and there are veins plumped out on his forehead and over the pulse point in his neck. His breathing shushes quickly in and out, and a thin whine is building with each desperate thrust.
When Billy comes, his forearms shake and his face curls up into a twisted version of Pippin. Dom feels his cock pulsing deep, feels the aftershocks hitting Billy hard, feels time slip loose again. It's the strangest sense, this odd state of being and not.
Billy drops down heavily across Dom's chest, brings his knuckles back up to Dom's face and thumbs the stubble there. Dom turns his face into it and closes his eyes. There's a static buzz in his temples that’s making Dom feel sleep-heavy and drugged. He can feel the softening twitch of Billy's cock inside him and the itch of Billy's hair against his face.
"Jesus, Dom. What have we done?"
Suddenly, the room feels larger again, and Dom feels exposed and small. There is a cold prickle that starts at the back of his neck, like something has just reached out from under the bed towards him with icy fingers. Dom licks at his lip, feels Billy shift and slip out. "Bill."
"I didn't plan this." It comes out sounding sharp and strained. When Billy turns again and sits on the edge of the bed, his face is drawn up into a pinched-looking frown. "It was just supposed to be a bit of a wind up, you know? Get you back for... earlier," Billy stumbles.
"Well that's just fucking great, Billy. Thanks."
"You kissed back."
"I just did a hell of a lot more than that, you fucker." Dom's off of the bed and jerking the sweat-sticky towel roughly over his stomach when Billy catches his wrist.
"It's just. I never expected you to kiss back," Billy says it softly, soft enough to miss, except that his fingers are pressing hard into the soft flesh of Dom's arm. "But you did, Dom."
"Kiss back?" It still doesn't make any sense to Dom, but now Billy's holding onto him again and he's looking small and threatened. It douses Dom's anger in an instant, and suddenly Dom's desperate to wait it out. Everything's tipped up on its head, and Dom wants to take his time, lay it all out on a table for Billy so they can look at it calmly and say yes, that there - that's what it was.
"Billy," he says gently, perching on the edge of the bed, "you held me against a wall and pulled my trousers down. I don't believe you were just trying to blag a kiss."
There's a strong colour creeping back up Billy's neck and burning into his ears. Yes, Dom thinks, that's in his favour.
"I don't think I really had any idea what I was doing."
Dom laughs. "You must've been the only one. I reckon every other cunt on the entire fucking film knew what you were doing… Except me, obviously."
Billy doesn't laugh. He breathes a gulping sigh, and shivers.
"It's getting cold. I should probably put my clothes back on, and get home to bed."
Dom looks up at him sharply. He's not sure what'll come of it, but he knows that if Billy goes home, then it will certainly be nothing. Billy's knees are cuddled close to his chest, and he's fiddling with something by his side - the side Dom can't see.
"There's no need to go. We're not needed tomorrow - you can stay here," he says, keeping his voice neutral. "In here with me," he adds quickly, in case Billy imagined himself sleeping on the sofa.
"Oh. Okay." A small relieved-looking smile pushes its way onto Billy’s face.
"There's a pair of pyjama bottoms under your pillow, if you're cold," Dom points. "I'll get you a towel, and you can use my toothbrush. Would you like a cup of tea?"
Billy nods. Dom takes hold of the hand nearest to him and rubs his thumb back and forth over the knuckles a couple of times before padding slowly and sorely into the kitchen. He fills the kettle and flicks it on, then stands waiting, hands either side of the sink, looking at the window where all he can see is himself.
There's nothing new to see in that reflection. His hair's flat from drying pressed into pillows and he looks a little tired and worn, but otherwise it's all the same. Same mushroom of a nose, same curving chin. He thinks of Billy in the bedroom and wonders if he's still sitting, frozen, bunched up against pillows, beginning to count the things that have changed for him. There's a kick in Dom's chest then, and that's different - stronger, hotter. Dom finishes the tea in a hurry, spilling a little milk on the worktop and a little more on the floor, then picks up both cups and hobbles hastily back to the bedroom.
Billy's under the duvet. For a second or two, Dom hovers in the doorway, cups in hand, wondering if Billy's asleep, if he should wake him up and send him to brush his teeth. But Billy turns towards him, eyes wide open, and Dom comes forward and rests two cups of tea carefully on the bedside table. He snaps off the main light and lifts a corner of the duvet. Billy shuffles across to the other side of the bed, and when Dom gets in there's a pool of warmth where Billy has been lying.
In the orange glow of the table lamp, Billy's eyes are large and wet, and he's looking intently at Dom. A small warm hand creeps over Dom's side, and Dom can't resist edging towards Billy and pulling him in tight. Then there's warmth everywhere, and Billy's not wearing the pyjamas, and he's pulling at the towel that's still tucked tight around Dom's waist. There's Billy's mouth, and it's hot and silky and rough, like he remembers, and Dom's not sure he can manage it again so soon, but, yes, there's that spark of arousal, that tight little hiss of breath, and for Dom it's game over.
*
The problem with Billy, and Dom feels he's somewhat of an authority on the subject, is that he takes so long to make a move.
Dom grins, watching Billy's forehead draw itself up into a puzzled-looking frown. "Beer, Bill?" Dom asks lightly, getting up from his seat.
"Yeah, sure," Billy calls after him.
The window in the kitchen is open and there's a calm breeze rolling in. It's the balmy sort of night that Hawaii is known for. From here, leaning against the island in the middle of his kitchen, he can see the back of Billy's head bent over their board. Dom hums, and slices two wedges of lime, licking the juice from his thumb. He twists the caps off of the beer and forces a lime down the neck of each bottle.
When Dom drops back down into his chair across from Billy he takes a long pull from his drink. They'll finish this game in time to go out and watch the tide come in, in the dark and later - much later - they'll fall into bed. Billy will take the side closest to the door. His feet will be cold, but his fingers will be warm, and his breath will be hot against the curve of Dom's neck. Billy will hold his breath when he comes and Dom will wait for that offbeat moment where everything goes fuzzy around the edges.
"The fuck?" Billy mutters, looking up at Dom for the first time since he countered with his C6 move.
Dom blinks and looks up from the board. His lip curls up into a half smile, and he lifts his chin when he speaks. "Slav Defence, Bill. You're buggered."