Book 2, Chapter 3: As Simple As One of Your Hands (1/2)
Title: As Simple As One of Your Hands (1/2)
Authors: escribo and kiltsandlollies
Characters: Dominic/Billy
Rating: Adult
Word count: 4272
Summary: Continuing from here.
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 has enough of his faculties available to him that he realizes it’s morning, specifically a Saturday morning of already obvious sweetness, with the sun streaming from his bedroom window and across his bed. He’s aware, too, that he’s not alone, but not so much that he thinks it unnecessary to stroke his hand slowly over the sheets covering him and extend his reach to the sleeping body beside him for confirmation; Dominic could easily have woken before him and have determined that last night had been the wrong idea. He could have easily left the bed and Billy’s house and called it done, called his dare taken and fantasy as fulfilled as he’d wanted.
But Dominic’s done none of those things, and Billy wants to believe that it’s not just exhaustion and the warmth of this bed that’s kept Dominic here, his breathing slow in his sleep and all but his closed eyes and tufty hair hidden under the sheets. Billy edges the bedclothes down carefully, wanting to look his fill before Dominic stirs, and as he does so, Billy indulges himself in thoughts that seemed impossible to make real a little more than twenty four hours before: that he’s done the right thing by taking what Dominic’s offered and bringing him home, and admitting to himself and Dominic that he’d wanted to do so for a long while. Billy’s fingers move now to brush Dominic’s hair from his forehead, and when Dominic’s breath stutters in response and he burrows deeper into the bedclothes, Billy shrinks back and then laughs at his own trepidation; he is, after all, still in some control here.
As he moves from the bed, Billy's grateful that Dominic's still asleep; he doesn't need to see the toll last night had taken on Billy's body or Billy's reaction to it now. Not even with Andrew had Billy often been on the receiving end of their arrangements, and Billy pushes away thoughts of the last time he'd been fucked before then--he's worked harder to forget some names and faces than he has to remember others, and Dominic is clearly different from any partner Billy's had, to the point where Billy wonders if he still knows how to be anything more than particular friends with a lover, or even particular enemies, something easier and sometimes just as much a pleasure.
That thought brings others Billy has consciously avoided but can't any longer: thoughts of becoming one of a number, one of many older men who've pulled Dominic, who've served as amusement or distraction for an evening while Dominic's eyes have been on other, kinder prizes. Billy closes his eyes and swallows back the vile taste of it even as he recognizes a little of the same in himself; he cannot remember ever having fallen in something so irritating and sad as love, and he certainly doesn't intend to fall in love here, not with Dominic, not with a student.
Rather than think any harder on that point, Billy takes a deep breath and grabs for the nearest clean pieces of clothing he can find before he leaves the bedroom for cursory ablutions and avoiding his own reflection until he has no choice. What he sees now in the mirror is a different man from last night, to be sure, but no more ridiculous than usual and perhaps happier than he's been in some time. And the more he moves and stretches and tests his limbs, the better Billy feels. There's as much confusion still in his muscles as there is in his mind and heart, but it's a kind Billy can bear.
The house is in a state, he can see that now as he pads barefoot from the bathroom and through the front room to the kitchen. More damage, Billy thinks while he nudges tumbled stacks of mail and half-fallen cushions back to rights. He's lived through enough mornings like this to know that the best and safest next possible step he should take will lead him to coffee, and while the stuff's taking its time to darken and strengthen to Billy's liking, Billy closes his eyes and wills a little of his own strength to return.
Billy had moved even more slowly back down the hall last night, reaching out and turning off the last lights and checking the locks on his front and back doors. In hindsight Billy can almost laugh at his own concern for his house taking precedence over concern for himself and Dominic, but those few minutes out of the range of Dominic's heavy, almost half-asleep gaze and soft, curious hands had allowed Billy a chance to catch his breath and find ground again to hold in those battles going on between his heart and mind. When he'd returned to the bedroom, he'd found Dominic half-sitting, half on his back in the shoved-down sheets, his mind and hands still nervous, but the rest of his body calmer. Billy had been able to smile, then, offering Dominic one of the water bottles and leaving his own on the table beside him before he'd crawled into those sheets himself, his own body tired and loose and unwilling to fight sleep in favour of discussing what they'd done, hashing it out to nothing and everything at once. They'd both held back for long minutes, each on his own side of Billy's bed, allowing each other space and looking to the other to move first, but then almost unconsciously Billy had eventually reached for Dominic, drawn to the heat of his body and wanting to absorb some of it for himself, but wanting also to offer Dominic some kind of ... comfort, Billy had supposed, some further assurance that he was under no obligation to leave.
And they must have slept like the dead, Billy thinks. He has no recollection of kicking off bedclothes or turning to one side or the other in his dreams or momentary waking. He's still tired now for different reasons; he feels hungover not from drink but from gratification, from receiving something he hasn't earned but still very much wants.
Billy aches for a cigarette now, possibly more than he has any since the last time he'd left the department Chair's office after having been raked over coals in a ceremony cleverly disguised as a performance appraisal. Not that Billy expects a smoke would settle him; he knows from experience that how he feels at the moment is not something so easily calmed. Instead he pours the coffee into one of his vast, old mugs and sips at it, surprised by how unnerved he remains in what has typically been his preferred silence.
Before long there are stirrings from the back of the house, the quiet creaks and protests of Billy's bed echoing Dominic's struggle to surface from under the sheets and duvet. Dominic knows he's alone when he wakes up, can feel the difference in the mattress and beneath the bedclothes, and he rolls onto his back, yawning and wondering where Billy has gone off to, though for a moment, all he can register is that the bed is exceptionally comfortable and that he is exceptionally sore. He stretches his arms and legs and twists his back until he ends up on his side and wrapped around Billy's pillow. He's not ready to get up, because getting up means getting dressed and leaving.
Last night had been fantastic--frightening at times, too, because he'd been as sure that Billy would push him away as he was that Billy wanted him. It had been overwhelming--an emotion he hasn't quite shaken yet--but fantastic. Closing his eyes again, Dominic drifts back to the very edge of sleep as he remembers how it had felt to have Billy's hands on his skin. He tries to stamp every moment into his memory, but so much of it is a blur now, and he forces himself awake to look around the room and confirm that he's really there, in Billy's room--in his bed.
In the daylight, the room looks more like what he had always expected it to look like: slightly cluttered and lived in. Clothes remain where they were abandoned on the floor, and a bottle of water sits beside a stack of books on the bedside table, next to the torn condom wrapper and the small bottle of lube. Dominic grins at the sight of all of it--it's confirmation, as if he needs more than what his body provides. Half-sitting up in the bed in another attempt to wake up, Dominic wonders what Billy is doing--what he's thinking.
He realizes now that he can hear noises coming from the kitchen and supposes it must be Billy. Laying back into the pillows, he imagines himself going into the kitchen and fixing them both breakfast, sitting down for coffee. He can't imagine what their conversation would be like, but wants to believe that it would be erudite and exceedingly witty, enough that Billy would invite him back later tonight.
Dominic groans, then; he'd forgotten that he's meant to go back to Manchester tonight to see his brother, who is only just visiting before he'll fly back to Austria on Monday. There is no plausible excuse he could possibly give his mother for missing his train, especially not one that involves wanting to shag his philosophy professor again. Dominic sighs and pushes the duvet from his body, truly forcing himself to swing his legs over the edge and put his feet onto the floor, ensuring that he won't be falling back into this bed again today and maybe never. He runs his hand over the soft sheets, over Billy's pillow, and then to the table where he fingers the abandoned condom wrapper and considers for a moment taking it as a memento. He discards the thought as silly and ridiculously sentimental--not to mention dangerous for the potential for awkward conversation when his mother demands to do his laundry and discovers things she shouldn't--but then he spots the tie Billy had worn yesterday hanging over the knob of the closet door. Crossing the room, Dominic picks it up and wonders if Billy had chosen the navy blue tie with subtle pinstriping or if it had been a gift. He remembers how Billy had used it yesterday in his office to pull Dominic closer for a kiss that had very nearly left Dominic panting for more, and then he wonders if Billy would miss it before he has to force himself to replace it and turn to search for his own clothes.
The memory of that kiss lingers with him, though, and their first and then later as they were sitting on the couch, enough that when he finds his jeans, he drops them back onto the floor, not quite ready to step back into them and his regular life. If Billy's changed his mind and wants to chuck him out with a stern warning never to speak of it again, Dominic isn't sure what he would do. He's loved Billy for so long now that to have this all turn out that way would destroy him, he's sure. He is stupidly sentimental and romantic, and it was monumentally foolish to allow his crush to manifest into this, but it happened. And while Dominic wouldn't burden Billy with the knowledge of his affection, it still feels real to him. He feels positive that he's meant to be here with Billy, and he'd like to at least be given a chance to show that's he's right.
Throwing up a small prayer that he doesn't even bother to question the morality of, he decides not to bother with clothes and go find Billy in the kitchen. As he's leaving the room, he catches sight of himself in the full length mirror that stands next to the chest of drawers and stops to look at himself. There are marks on his skin, left there by Billy--small, fingertip shaped bruises just beginning to turn a sunset of blues, reds and purples, tiny red marks caused by Billy's teeth--and Dominic lets his hand drift over them as he had last night before he'd come here, but now there are more of them. He twists and turns to see his back and thighs before he tells himself to relax his face and smile.
He's not going to mention love or relationships. He's not going to talk about what happens next or beg to stay, something he can't do in any case without risking more anger from his father and disappointment from his mother. He'll go into the kitchen, have coffee and breakfast with Billy--let Billy look upon his body in the daylight and know that it's his choice, let him think of Dominic as an adult rather than as his student--and maybe this can happen again and be enough.
"Right," he says and nods to his image in the mirror, almost convinced, before he turns to leave the room and find his way to the bathroom to wash up then back to the kitchen.
Entering the kitchen dissolves whatever bravado had possessed him to shun clothing. Billy stands in front of the window in flannel pyjama trousers and an old t-shirt, looking out onto his backyard and sipping his coffee. Dominic can't help but feel a bit ridiculous as he stands starkers in Billy's kitchen, and for a moment he considers going back to find his clothes before he clears his throat to let Billy know he's there and forces himself to stand still as if posing when Billy turns. Dominic registers how different Billy looks now, all mad hair and stubble and glasses slightly askew, before he speaks. "Is it alright ... I mean, do you mind if I have a cup of coffee?"
"No, no, it's great, do," Billy says, taking a breath before he lifts his mug to his lips. It's hard not to stare at Dominic, pointless to pretend he's not, and so Billy surrenders a little and places the mug on the counter he now leans against as he watches Dominic move toward the pot of coffee as if he's known this kitchen in another life. Maybe he has, Billy thinks. Or maybe he just remembers where everything is in Billy's kitchen from the two times so far he's been inside it. He certainly looks more certain and comfortable moving around Billy's kitchen than Billy had last night, fumbling for bottles of water and leaning against the wall, willing his mind to cease its noise and allow him peace for the rest of the night. When Dominic pauses in his work, his eyebrows knitting, Billy moves around him, retrieving the sugar he'd neglected to put in his own coffee this morning-something he didn't even realize until now. "'s one of the few things I know how to do, that. To not make shit coffee. You're welcome to whatever you like, Dom," Billy says then, licking his lips. "There's not a lot here, but. There never is, really."
Dominic grins as he reaches for a mug from Billy's cabinet, and Billy lets his eyes move down Dominic's body again, cataloging every mark that seems to have become more visible since last night and every ridge of muscle that flexes and releases as Dominic turns slightly, as if aware of Billy's gaze. Billy can't help reaching out, can't help wanting to touch Dominic, and when his hand rests on Dominic's back, he's not surprised to find it there, any more than he's surprised by the feeling of possessiveness that warms his touch. "Everything alright?" Billy asks, and Dominic nods quickly.
"Fine." Dominic's voice sounds breathy to his ears. "Good. Brilliant, actually."
Billy nods and swallows, not entirely believing Dominic but again envying him that certainty even if it's not real. "I could've done this better," he says simply, calmly, and doesn't attempt to make his words sound any prettier. It's honesty he wants right now, in what he says and feels, and Billy feels like he owes that honesty to Dominic as well as that better he wants to do, wants to give. "I will. I can, Dom. I just wanted--" Billy's hand slides a little on Dominic's back, to just above the rise of his ass, and the words leave him again. For once he's not frustrated by their loss, but it is awkward and strange, as is everything the morning after any night like the one before. When Billy speaks again, he hardly sounds like himself, and he's quick to write it off as more tiredness, that earned sort of exhaustion he can't find reason to resent. "I thought you might've wanted a lie-in. 's why I ..." Billy's lips twist and turn a little. "Just sort of left you to it."
"I couldn't sleep any more." Dominic shakes his head. "Well. I could've, but--the train leaves in a few hours." He lets it hang there between them, hearing Billy's surprised but very quiet inhale, but not looking at Billy just yet. "There's only the one on Saturdays. Not like I have much of a choice."
"So you're going home," Billy says, and again he aches for his cigarettes, to be either back in bed or outside, nearly anywhere but standing in his kitchen just barely touching Dominic and wanting to do much more. His hand goes still on Dominic's back. "Well. If they're expecting you--"
"I mean, I could stay, but Matt's home, and my mum and dad--"
"No." Billy cuts him off and frowns. "No, of course y'have to go. You're not going to catch hell from them because of me."
Dominic shakes his head again, nervous laughter escaping him as he tries to focus on blending sugar and cream into his coffee. He thinks he can hear in Billy's voice everything Billy isn't saying aloud, and it's only the thought of his mother's reaction to his not appearing at the station later this day that keeps Dominic from changing his mind again and staying here. He can't concentrate for the hand on his back, though, and all his attention is on how cool Billy's skin feels against his and the way Billy's hand is moving again, the pad of Billy's thumb stroking in a tiny circle meant to soothe. Dominic tries hard to act as though it's not affecting him as he sips on his coffee, but he grimaces when he realizes that in his distraction, he's made the coffee too sweet, to the point where it's undrinkable.
"Too much sugar," he says in the face of Billy's raised eyebrows. Dominic's voice cracks in a way it hasn't for a few years, and he can feel the blush start to burn in his cheeks and on his ears. He sets down his cup and turns his head to look at Billy--at the spot just below Billy's ear, just where his hair curls. Dominic had kissed him there last night, he remembers, and he wants to kiss him there again now. He leans in, only just brushing his lips against Billy's skin before he pauses, waiting to make sure Billy's not holding his breath or stepping back, and then he presses another kiss there, darting his tongue out to taste.
The heat that pools in Billy's stomach is instant, an immediate reaction to Dominic's proximity and touch and warmth and also-maybe more so-to the knowledge that Dominic stills wants him, and wants him enough to show Billy instead of keeping it to himself as he'd done for such a long time. And Billy wants him, too. Dominic's first kiss is careful, but the next more insistent, and Billy tilts his head and releases a little breath of approval, of encouragement, before his hands find Dominic's waist and hold him steady, their bodies just far apart enough that Billy won't be tempted to drag them both to the cold floor. Billy turns his head and meets Dominic's lips with his own, his grip around Dominic going tighter. The kisses get messier, more heated, and Billy feels himself tipping backward slightly under the weight of them before he recovers--he's going to spend the rest of this morning recovering from every other second, he feels it already--and steps forward, jostling Dominic and himself and laughing as they pull apart for breath.
"You have a little time," Billy murmurs, and Dominic nods and makes to speak before Billy covers his lips with his own and then retreats only a litttle. "C'mon back t'bed. I just--want that. You." Billy stops his speech with another kiss, curving one hand into the back of Dominic's hair, tugging lightly as if in a small test. "I want that," Billy says again, but doesn't move just yet.
"I want--" Dominic's head and shoulders drop when Billy tugs on his hair and he nuzzles his cheek against Billy. His voice cracks and he laughs before he clears it and says it again, this time louder and daring to meet Billy's eyes. "I want that, too."
"'s a relief." Billy's hands have moved back to rest on the curve of Dominic's ass, a gentler hold than before, but still one that Billy intends to keep for a few minutes more. Dominic's body is as warm as it had been yesterday afternoon and last night, and Billy revels in that heat, fascinated by the play of the kitchen window's sunlight on Dominic's shoulders and chest and arms. There's a different heat at work here, too, Billy knows; that of need and want coming together in the feeling of Dominic's sweet, immediate submission at Billy's gentle, weighted pull of just that lock of hair. Billy tilts his head now to better press his lips to the single, dark freckle on Dominic's neck, and as Billy thinks with some triumph that even Barchi had not always remembered to capture that mark in his sketches, he decides that he himself will not forget it. There is perhaps no part of Dominic, however small, that will not be seared into Billy's memory after the past day and night and the present morning.
"I want to see you like this, the way you are now." Billy's next pull is at Dominic's wrist, bringing him back down the hallway to the bedroom where they've left a tangle of sheets and pillows. I'm going to make sure you remember this when you leave me today, Billy thinks as he nudges Dominic gently to his back on the mattress. Because I will, and because you-
Dominic stretches on the bed, throwing his arms above his head and releasing a slow, lazy exhale, and Billy's thoughts abruptly careen elsewhere, specifically to the comfort with which Dominic's giving himself like this, and just to Billy now. And of course this affords Billy a chance to better look at Dominic's body, and he exhales with pleasure at what he finds. There are marks, yes-some Billy has left and others whose histories are not his to learn-but there is also a raw beauty that was there long before Billy ever touched Dominic.
At the foot of the bed, Billy pulls the faded shirt off above his head and stretches, too, pleased with both the sight before him and with the light coming in from the bedroom window, softer than the kitchen's, but perfect for this, for them. After a few seconds more, Billy pushes down his long flannel pyjama bottoms and inches up the bed with one hand already moving to stroke along the muscle of Dominic's calf. His glasses are tossed carelessly to the table, unnecessary now; had Billy infinite time and had they both infinite patience even the tiniest scratch or scar on Dominic's body would be offered the careful consideration of Billy's eyes, his fingers, and later his lips. For the moment Billy simply lets his palm curve naturally above the back of Dominic's knee, thrilled to his core when Dominic takes the cue and spreads his thighs slightly. One corner of Billy's mouth rises again in triumph, but he tempers it quickly by resting his hand where it's curved and sliding himself further up so he can better see Dominic's face.
"There's not an inch of you I don't want to touch," Billy says softly between kisses, the same plain honesty as before in his voice. Dominic's body practically demands to be savoured, and Billy does his best to comply. Again it hits Billy that this is so different from their scattered, hurried escapade in his office the day before-that neither he nor Dominic has anything to prove to the other, and that there is no reason to fear being caught as long as they are safe in Billy's home. "You're going to find fingerprints on you for days."
"I'll look for them." Dominic voice sounds tremulous to his own ears and he has to push away the shyness he feels suddenly at being laid out--a shyness he's never felt before with any other lover. He wants Billy to see him--to want him. He wants Billy to think about them together and ask for it again and again. Pushing away the nervousness is hard, but he forces himself to think again of the way Billy's hair curls just behind his ear and of how strong his arms are. He wants these memories, too. It's easy to believe that Billy will want him again, especially with the way he's looking at Dominic. Dominic can't quite keep Billy's gaze though, and he turns away shyly, a smile on his lips.
to be continued
Authors: escribo and kiltsandlollies
Characters: Dominic/Billy
Rating: Adult
Word count: 4272
Summary: Continuing from here.
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 has enough of his faculties available to him that he realizes it’s morning, specifically a Saturday morning of already obvious sweetness, with the sun streaming from his bedroom window and across his bed. He’s aware, too, that he’s not alone, but not so much that he thinks it unnecessary to stroke his hand slowly over the sheets covering him and extend his reach to the sleeping body beside him for confirmation; Dominic could easily have woken before him and have determined that last night had been the wrong idea. He could have easily left the bed and Billy’s house and called it done, called his dare taken and fantasy as fulfilled as he’d wanted.
But Dominic’s done none of those things, and Billy wants to believe that it’s not just exhaustion and the warmth of this bed that’s kept Dominic here, his breathing slow in his sleep and all but his closed eyes and tufty hair hidden under the sheets. Billy edges the bedclothes down carefully, wanting to look his fill before Dominic stirs, and as he does so, Billy indulges himself in thoughts that seemed impossible to make real a little more than twenty four hours before: that he’s done the right thing by taking what Dominic’s offered and bringing him home, and admitting to himself and Dominic that he’d wanted to do so for a long while. Billy’s fingers move now to brush Dominic’s hair from his forehead, and when Dominic’s breath stutters in response and he burrows deeper into the bedclothes, Billy shrinks back and then laughs at his own trepidation; he is, after all, still in some control here.
As he moves from the bed, Billy's grateful that Dominic's still asleep; he doesn't need to see the toll last night had taken on Billy's body or Billy's reaction to it now. Not even with Andrew had Billy often been on the receiving end of their arrangements, and Billy pushes away thoughts of the last time he'd been fucked before then--he's worked harder to forget some names and faces than he has to remember others, and Dominic is clearly different from any partner Billy's had, to the point where Billy wonders if he still knows how to be anything more than particular friends with a lover, or even particular enemies, something easier and sometimes just as much a pleasure.
That thought brings others Billy has consciously avoided but can't any longer: thoughts of becoming one of a number, one of many older men who've pulled Dominic, who've served as amusement or distraction for an evening while Dominic's eyes have been on other, kinder prizes. Billy closes his eyes and swallows back the vile taste of it even as he recognizes a little of the same in himself; he cannot remember ever having fallen in something so irritating and sad as love, and he certainly doesn't intend to fall in love here, not with Dominic, not with a student.
Rather than think any harder on that point, Billy takes a deep breath and grabs for the nearest clean pieces of clothing he can find before he leaves the bedroom for cursory ablutions and avoiding his own reflection until he has no choice. What he sees now in the mirror is a different man from last night, to be sure, but no more ridiculous than usual and perhaps happier than he's been in some time. And the more he moves and stretches and tests his limbs, the better Billy feels. There's as much confusion still in his muscles as there is in his mind and heart, but it's a kind Billy can bear.
The house is in a state, he can see that now as he pads barefoot from the bathroom and through the front room to the kitchen. More damage, Billy thinks while he nudges tumbled stacks of mail and half-fallen cushions back to rights. He's lived through enough mornings like this to know that the best and safest next possible step he should take will lead him to coffee, and while the stuff's taking its time to darken and strengthen to Billy's liking, Billy closes his eyes and wills a little of his own strength to return.
Billy had moved even more slowly back down the hall last night, reaching out and turning off the last lights and checking the locks on his front and back doors. In hindsight Billy can almost laugh at his own concern for his house taking precedence over concern for himself and Dominic, but those few minutes out of the range of Dominic's heavy, almost half-asleep gaze and soft, curious hands had allowed Billy a chance to catch his breath and find ground again to hold in those battles going on between his heart and mind. When he'd returned to the bedroom, he'd found Dominic half-sitting, half on his back in the shoved-down sheets, his mind and hands still nervous, but the rest of his body calmer. Billy had been able to smile, then, offering Dominic one of the water bottles and leaving his own on the table beside him before he'd crawled into those sheets himself, his own body tired and loose and unwilling to fight sleep in favour of discussing what they'd done, hashing it out to nothing and everything at once. They'd both held back for long minutes, each on his own side of Billy's bed, allowing each other space and looking to the other to move first, but then almost unconsciously Billy had eventually reached for Dominic, drawn to the heat of his body and wanting to absorb some of it for himself, but wanting also to offer Dominic some kind of ... comfort, Billy had supposed, some further assurance that he was under no obligation to leave.
And they must have slept like the dead, Billy thinks. He has no recollection of kicking off bedclothes or turning to one side or the other in his dreams or momentary waking. He's still tired now for different reasons; he feels hungover not from drink but from gratification, from receiving something he hasn't earned but still very much wants.
Billy aches for a cigarette now, possibly more than he has any since the last time he'd left the department Chair's office after having been raked over coals in a ceremony cleverly disguised as a performance appraisal. Not that Billy expects a smoke would settle him; he knows from experience that how he feels at the moment is not something so easily calmed. Instead he pours the coffee into one of his vast, old mugs and sips at it, surprised by how unnerved he remains in what has typically been his preferred silence.
Before long there are stirrings from the back of the house, the quiet creaks and protests of Billy's bed echoing Dominic's struggle to surface from under the sheets and duvet. Dominic knows he's alone when he wakes up, can feel the difference in the mattress and beneath the bedclothes, and he rolls onto his back, yawning and wondering where Billy has gone off to, though for a moment, all he can register is that the bed is exceptionally comfortable and that he is exceptionally sore. He stretches his arms and legs and twists his back until he ends up on his side and wrapped around Billy's pillow. He's not ready to get up, because getting up means getting dressed and leaving.
Last night had been fantastic--frightening at times, too, because he'd been as sure that Billy would push him away as he was that Billy wanted him. It had been overwhelming--an emotion he hasn't quite shaken yet--but fantastic. Closing his eyes again, Dominic drifts back to the very edge of sleep as he remembers how it had felt to have Billy's hands on his skin. He tries to stamp every moment into his memory, but so much of it is a blur now, and he forces himself awake to look around the room and confirm that he's really there, in Billy's room--in his bed.
In the daylight, the room looks more like what he had always expected it to look like: slightly cluttered and lived in. Clothes remain where they were abandoned on the floor, and a bottle of water sits beside a stack of books on the bedside table, next to the torn condom wrapper and the small bottle of lube. Dominic grins at the sight of all of it--it's confirmation, as if he needs more than what his body provides. Half-sitting up in the bed in another attempt to wake up, Dominic wonders what Billy is doing--what he's thinking.
He realizes now that he can hear noises coming from the kitchen and supposes it must be Billy. Laying back into the pillows, he imagines himself going into the kitchen and fixing them both breakfast, sitting down for coffee. He can't imagine what their conversation would be like, but wants to believe that it would be erudite and exceedingly witty, enough that Billy would invite him back later tonight.
Dominic groans, then; he'd forgotten that he's meant to go back to Manchester tonight to see his brother, who is only just visiting before he'll fly back to Austria on Monday. There is no plausible excuse he could possibly give his mother for missing his train, especially not one that involves wanting to shag his philosophy professor again. Dominic sighs and pushes the duvet from his body, truly forcing himself to swing his legs over the edge and put his feet onto the floor, ensuring that he won't be falling back into this bed again today and maybe never. He runs his hand over the soft sheets, over Billy's pillow, and then to the table where he fingers the abandoned condom wrapper and considers for a moment taking it as a memento. He discards the thought as silly and ridiculously sentimental--not to mention dangerous for the potential for awkward conversation when his mother demands to do his laundry and discovers things she shouldn't--but then he spots the tie Billy had worn yesterday hanging over the knob of the closet door. Crossing the room, Dominic picks it up and wonders if Billy had chosen the navy blue tie with subtle pinstriping or if it had been a gift. He remembers how Billy had used it yesterday in his office to pull Dominic closer for a kiss that had very nearly left Dominic panting for more, and then he wonders if Billy would miss it before he has to force himself to replace it and turn to search for his own clothes.
The memory of that kiss lingers with him, though, and their first and then later as they were sitting on the couch, enough that when he finds his jeans, he drops them back onto the floor, not quite ready to step back into them and his regular life. If Billy's changed his mind and wants to chuck him out with a stern warning never to speak of it again, Dominic isn't sure what he would do. He's loved Billy for so long now that to have this all turn out that way would destroy him, he's sure. He is stupidly sentimental and romantic, and it was monumentally foolish to allow his crush to manifest into this, but it happened. And while Dominic wouldn't burden Billy with the knowledge of his affection, it still feels real to him. He feels positive that he's meant to be here with Billy, and he'd like to at least be given a chance to show that's he's right.
Throwing up a small prayer that he doesn't even bother to question the morality of, he decides not to bother with clothes and go find Billy in the kitchen. As he's leaving the room, he catches sight of himself in the full length mirror that stands next to the chest of drawers and stops to look at himself. There are marks on his skin, left there by Billy--small, fingertip shaped bruises just beginning to turn a sunset of blues, reds and purples, tiny red marks caused by Billy's teeth--and Dominic lets his hand drift over them as he had last night before he'd come here, but now there are more of them. He twists and turns to see his back and thighs before he tells himself to relax his face and smile.
He's not going to mention love or relationships. He's not going to talk about what happens next or beg to stay, something he can't do in any case without risking more anger from his father and disappointment from his mother. He'll go into the kitchen, have coffee and breakfast with Billy--let Billy look upon his body in the daylight and know that it's his choice, let him think of Dominic as an adult rather than as his student--and maybe this can happen again and be enough.
"Right," he says and nods to his image in the mirror, almost convinced, before he turns to leave the room and find his way to the bathroom to wash up then back to the kitchen.
Entering the kitchen dissolves whatever bravado had possessed him to shun clothing. Billy stands in front of the window in flannel pyjama trousers and an old t-shirt, looking out onto his backyard and sipping his coffee. Dominic can't help but feel a bit ridiculous as he stands starkers in Billy's kitchen, and for a moment he considers going back to find his clothes before he clears his throat to let Billy know he's there and forces himself to stand still as if posing when Billy turns. Dominic registers how different Billy looks now, all mad hair and stubble and glasses slightly askew, before he speaks. "Is it alright ... I mean, do you mind if I have a cup of coffee?"
"No, no, it's great, do," Billy says, taking a breath before he lifts his mug to his lips. It's hard not to stare at Dominic, pointless to pretend he's not, and so Billy surrenders a little and places the mug on the counter he now leans against as he watches Dominic move toward the pot of coffee as if he's known this kitchen in another life. Maybe he has, Billy thinks. Or maybe he just remembers where everything is in Billy's kitchen from the two times so far he's been inside it. He certainly looks more certain and comfortable moving around Billy's kitchen than Billy had last night, fumbling for bottles of water and leaning against the wall, willing his mind to cease its noise and allow him peace for the rest of the night. When Dominic pauses in his work, his eyebrows knitting, Billy moves around him, retrieving the sugar he'd neglected to put in his own coffee this morning-something he didn't even realize until now. "'s one of the few things I know how to do, that. To not make shit coffee. You're welcome to whatever you like, Dom," Billy says then, licking his lips. "There's not a lot here, but. There never is, really."
Dominic grins as he reaches for a mug from Billy's cabinet, and Billy lets his eyes move down Dominic's body again, cataloging every mark that seems to have become more visible since last night and every ridge of muscle that flexes and releases as Dominic turns slightly, as if aware of Billy's gaze. Billy can't help reaching out, can't help wanting to touch Dominic, and when his hand rests on Dominic's back, he's not surprised to find it there, any more than he's surprised by the feeling of possessiveness that warms his touch. "Everything alright?" Billy asks, and Dominic nods quickly.
"Fine." Dominic's voice sounds breathy to his ears. "Good. Brilliant, actually."
Billy nods and swallows, not entirely believing Dominic but again envying him that certainty even if it's not real. "I could've done this better," he says simply, calmly, and doesn't attempt to make his words sound any prettier. It's honesty he wants right now, in what he says and feels, and Billy feels like he owes that honesty to Dominic as well as that better he wants to do, wants to give. "I will. I can, Dom. I just wanted--" Billy's hand slides a little on Dominic's back, to just above the rise of his ass, and the words leave him again. For once he's not frustrated by their loss, but it is awkward and strange, as is everything the morning after any night like the one before. When Billy speaks again, he hardly sounds like himself, and he's quick to write it off as more tiredness, that earned sort of exhaustion he can't find reason to resent. "I thought you might've wanted a lie-in. 's why I ..." Billy's lips twist and turn a little. "Just sort of left you to it."
"I couldn't sleep any more." Dominic shakes his head. "Well. I could've, but--the train leaves in a few hours." He lets it hang there between them, hearing Billy's surprised but very quiet inhale, but not looking at Billy just yet. "There's only the one on Saturdays. Not like I have much of a choice."
"So you're going home," Billy says, and again he aches for his cigarettes, to be either back in bed or outside, nearly anywhere but standing in his kitchen just barely touching Dominic and wanting to do much more. His hand goes still on Dominic's back. "Well. If they're expecting you--"
"I mean, I could stay, but Matt's home, and my mum and dad--"
"No." Billy cuts him off and frowns. "No, of course y'have to go. You're not going to catch hell from them because of me."
Dominic shakes his head again, nervous laughter escaping him as he tries to focus on blending sugar and cream into his coffee. He thinks he can hear in Billy's voice everything Billy isn't saying aloud, and it's only the thought of his mother's reaction to his not appearing at the station later this day that keeps Dominic from changing his mind again and staying here. He can't concentrate for the hand on his back, though, and all his attention is on how cool Billy's skin feels against his and the way Billy's hand is moving again, the pad of Billy's thumb stroking in a tiny circle meant to soothe. Dominic tries hard to act as though it's not affecting him as he sips on his coffee, but he grimaces when he realizes that in his distraction, he's made the coffee too sweet, to the point where it's undrinkable.
"Too much sugar," he says in the face of Billy's raised eyebrows. Dominic's voice cracks in a way it hasn't for a few years, and he can feel the blush start to burn in his cheeks and on his ears. He sets down his cup and turns his head to look at Billy--at the spot just below Billy's ear, just where his hair curls. Dominic had kissed him there last night, he remembers, and he wants to kiss him there again now. He leans in, only just brushing his lips against Billy's skin before he pauses, waiting to make sure Billy's not holding his breath or stepping back, and then he presses another kiss there, darting his tongue out to taste.
The heat that pools in Billy's stomach is instant, an immediate reaction to Dominic's proximity and touch and warmth and also-maybe more so-to the knowledge that Dominic stills wants him, and wants him enough to show Billy instead of keeping it to himself as he'd done for such a long time. And Billy wants him, too. Dominic's first kiss is careful, but the next more insistent, and Billy tilts his head and releases a little breath of approval, of encouragement, before his hands find Dominic's waist and hold him steady, their bodies just far apart enough that Billy won't be tempted to drag them both to the cold floor. Billy turns his head and meets Dominic's lips with his own, his grip around Dominic going tighter. The kisses get messier, more heated, and Billy feels himself tipping backward slightly under the weight of them before he recovers--he's going to spend the rest of this morning recovering from every other second, he feels it already--and steps forward, jostling Dominic and himself and laughing as they pull apart for breath.
"You have a little time," Billy murmurs, and Dominic nods and makes to speak before Billy covers his lips with his own and then retreats only a litttle. "C'mon back t'bed. I just--want that. You." Billy stops his speech with another kiss, curving one hand into the back of Dominic's hair, tugging lightly as if in a small test. "I want that," Billy says again, but doesn't move just yet.
"I want--" Dominic's head and shoulders drop when Billy tugs on his hair and he nuzzles his cheek against Billy. His voice cracks and he laughs before he clears it and says it again, this time louder and daring to meet Billy's eyes. "I want that, too."
"'s a relief." Billy's hands have moved back to rest on the curve of Dominic's ass, a gentler hold than before, but still one that Billy intends to keep for a few minutes more. Dominic's body is as warm as it had been yesterday afternoon and last night, and Billy revels in that heat, fascinated by the play of the kitchen window's sunlight on Dominic's shoulders and chest and arms. There's a different heat at work here, too, Billy knows; that of need and want coming together in the feeling of Dominic's sweet, immediate submission at Billy's gentle, weighted pull of just that lock of hair. Billy tilts his head now to better press his lips to the single, dark freckle on Dominic's neck, and as Billy thinks with some triumph that even Barchi had not always remembered to capture that mark in his sketches, he decides that he himself will not forget it. There is perhaps no part of Dominic, however small, that will not be seared into Billy's memory after the past day and night and the present morning.
"I want to see you like this, the way you are now." Billy's next pull is at Dominic's wrist, bringing him back down the hallway to the bedroom where they've left a tangle of sheets and pillows. I'm going to make sure you remember this when you leave me today, Billy thinks as he nudges Dominic gently to his back on the mattress. Because I will, and because you-
Dominic stretches on the bed, throwing his arms above his head and releasing a slow, lazy exhale, and Billy's thoughts abruptly careen elsewhere, specifically to the comfort with which Dominic's giving himself like this, and just to Billy now. And of course this affords Billy a chance to better look at Dominic's body, and he exhales with pleasure at what he finds. There are marks, yes-some Billy has left and others whose histories are not his to learn-but there is also a raw beauty that was there long before Billy ever touched Dominic.
At the foot of the bed, Billy pulls the faded shirt off above his head and stretches, too, pleased with both the sight before him and with the light coming in from the bedroom window, softer than the kitchen's, but perfect for this, for them. After a few seconds more, Billy pushes down his long flannel pyjama bottoms and inches up the bed with one hand already moving to stroke along the muscle of Dominic's calf. His glasses are tossed carelessly to the table, unnecessary now; had Billy infinite time and had they both infinite patience even the tiniest scratch or scar on Dominic's body would be offered the careful consideration of Billy's eyes, his fingers, and later his lips. For the moment Billy simply lets his palm curve naturally above the back of Dominic's knee, thrilled to his core when Dominic takes the cue and spreads his thighs slightly. One corner of Billy's mouth rises again in triumph, but he tempers it quickly by resting his hand where it's curved and sliding himself further up so he can better see Dominic's face.
"There's not an inch of you I don't want to touch," Billy says softly between kisses, the same plain honesty as before in his voice. Dominic's body practically demands to be savoured, and Billy does his best to comply. Again it hits Billy that this is so different from their scattered, hurried escapade in his office the day before-that neither he nor Dominic has anything to prove to the other, and that there is no reason to fear being caught as long as they are safe in Billy's home. "You're going to find fingerprints on you for days."
"I'll look for them." Dominic voice sounds tremulous to his own ears and he has to push away the shyness he feels suddenly at being laid out--a shyness he's never felt before with any other lover. He wants Billy to see him--to want him. He wants Billy to think about them together and ask for it again and again. Pushing away the nervousness is hard, but he forces himself to think again of the way Billy's hair curls just behind his ear and of how strong his arms are. He wants these memories, too. It's easy to believe that Billy will want him again, especially with the way he's looking at Dominic. Dominic can't quite keep Billy's gaze though, and he turns away shyly, a smile on his lips.
to be continued