Book 2, Chapter 16: The Beginning of an End
Title: The Beginning of an End
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy/Dominic
Word count: 5390
Summary: In which another line is crossed.
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.
To Billy's mind, there's never an excuse for a meeting to run forty-five minutes over its scheduled time. Not even if Francis Hutcheson himself had risen from the dead to speak in front of Billy and all his colleagues would Billy normally tolerate this. But as he's managed to sit near the middle of the large conference room table, and not in his usual place by the door, Billy has been trapped for the entire meeting, listening to the arguments come and go and engaging in a loud one himself, defending his right to hold his seminar students' feet to metaphorical fire. The debate had drained him after an already trying day--two classes, two advising appointments and a long lunch with a former colleague down for a visit with other friends, a man whose current disenchantment with academia is now running through Billy's veins as well.
Corin had had plenty of the usual to say about St. Andrews and how happy he was to be gone, but like Billy he'd been quick to admit that one never really leaves the place; it becomes part of one's blood. That Corin had also brought up the topic of corruption in academic relationships between professors and students--less a scholarly discussion than a gossipy screed on who is doing what to whom in the English department--hadn't helped Billy's mood, either. Billy had only just been able to swallow his drink and gloss over the subject before provoking his friend in the direction of something different. Still, the man's words echo in Billy's mind: It's too easy to use a student, in too many ways. Think of how a pretty girl looks at you from the second row because she's too shy to sit in the first. Think of how you could easily abuse that trust she's got in you. Don't tell me you've never thought about it.
Billy closes his eyes and breathes deep in relief when the meeting's chair calls an end to the discussion and releases them. He stands quickly and is gone before there are even proper goodbyes, headed for his car and home and quiet and possibly a glass of something strong while he finally goes through the never-ending stack of mail awaiting his attention. If that drink's as strong as Billy can make it, it won't take long for Billy to stumble off to bed and dreamless sleep; after this day and his discussion with Corin, Billy has no desire for even what he would on other nights find more pleasurable ways to spend an evening: with company or dreaming of it.
Halfway out the building's door, Billy notices the sky's gone grey and fierce, the tree tops bending with more than just the usual evening breeze. Even as he frowns, the clap of thunder above him makes Billy jump. Umbrella, then, he thinks, turning on his heel back toward his office. Umbrella, and maybe a few of the CDs he's been meaning to take home for weeks now.
He moves quickly through the halls, barely acknowledging the last of the leaving staff members, and notices as if for the first time how eerily quiet the building gets after hours. The heavy wood doors close heavily behind the others, echoing behind Billy as he mounts the stairs to his office. He's likely alone now, and that thought makes his shoulders drop in a different kind of relief until he rounds the last corner and finds that he's not alone after all.
"I've been waiting for you," Dominic says, as if there were a question why and for whom he's been waiting. The words tumble loudly down the hall, and Dominic glances over his shoulder to the line of closed doors even though he's been there long enough to know he was the only person on the floor.
Dominic clumsily climbs to his feet, dropping his bag and bending to pick it up again before he takes a step toward Billy and then a step back. He'd also been outside Billy's office long enough to have fought through the embarrassment of knowing he should have left long ago, but that embarrassment comes back to him in a flood, his levee breached by Billy's silence.
"I'm sorry. I've waited an hour and a half, and then wondered why I was waiting at all but I couldn't leave." Dominic knows he's rambling but can't stop. Despite the look he's getting from Billy, the words spill from his mouth while his hands fly about for emphasis. He catches himself after a moment, seeing the bandage that still covers his palm and the war wound he'd taken the last time he'd pushed--and jams his hand into his pocket as if by hiding it, he could hide his thoughts away, too. He swallows hard then and forces his eyes to meet Billy's stare and his voice to remain steady, as if he has every right to ask what he wants to know. "Where have you been? When I've been waiting?"
"I had a meeting--" Billy begins, and then stops, setting his jaw hard and pushing past Dominic to unlock his office door. It's not the first time Dominic's appeared unexpectedly at his door here or at home, but the faint, momentary hope Billy's entertained, that Dominic had simply needed some guidance on an assignment, or that there had been some emergency. The urgency and fervor he hears in Dominic's voice tells him otherwise, and unnerves Billy as much as he'd felt the other night. He's tempted to turn back around, to go home with or without Dominic at this point, depending on whether Dominic can match his pace out the door, but Billy still feels the sting of the conversation he'd had with Corwin and the guilt of complicity: he must in some way be responsible for Dominic's overreaction and so has to deal with it along with his own. Dominic is hot on Billy's heels inside the office, and Billy doesn't bother to close the door gently, instead slamming it shut and locking it before he turns to face Dominic as tosses his briefcase to the desk.
"What exactly have you been waiting for, Dominic?" Billy asks sharply, the attempt to keep his voice calm failing. "We had no appointment."
"No appointment?"
Billy throws a hand in the air, but stops himself from any broader gesture, too well aware of how Dominic might interpret it. "Not that it would have mattered, would it? It's easier for you t'come at me than to recognize I could've been trying t'keep my job--" Billy stops himself again, but not entirely. "I've been under attack for most of the day, Dom, so why not now too? Go on, take your shot; you're here now, might as well."
"I didn't think--"
"Clearly."
"That I needed an appointment to see you. After--" Dominic's mouth works hard, grinding his teeth from saying more even as he balls his hand into a fist and swallows back the still weak pain of the bruise and cut. "I thought you'd want to see me. Would like to see me. Would like me to--"
Dominic takes a step forward, anger washing over him at what he thinks is a flash in Billy's eyes at the innuendo. His scalp prickles in a warning that he ignores. Of course that's what Billy wants, Dominic thinks, and maybe it was just chance that it was Dominic who had first come to him, instead of some other student. Or maybe there was some other student. Maybe there was someone entirely different who was allowed to have Billy's heart and mind while Dominic got what was left over--satisfying some need that maybe someone prettier and softer couldn't meet.
Dominic takes another step forward until he's firmly into Billy's space, his chest nearly against Billy's. The physical differences between them are things Dominic hardly notices anymore, but now they seem glaring. There's a real strength in Billy, Dominic well knows, but Dominic feels that tonight could be different, if he wanted it to be. He could be the one in control. He could make Billy feel what Dominic wanted him to feel. The knowledge makes his cheeks flush hard.
"That's it, innit?" Dominic says, his voice thick and getting louder again as he arches a little against Billy. Billy hisses, his hands rising to Dominic's shoulders, keeping him half at bay and half close. For a moment, Dominic is filled with a sense of victory, but then he sees something different in Billy's eyes. The thought that Billy may not want even sex anymore from Dominic--that he might want nothing at all--breaks Dominic's anger and turns it to panic and despair. In the quiet moments alone in his room, he's wondered if what he has with Billy has happened too much and too fast. He wonders if it can last or will burn out hot and hard. Sometimes he tries to predict how many days he has left before his heart will be shattered. Today--right now--that day seems closer than ever.
"I don't know what you want from me, Dominic," Billy says, his voice raspy and tired now. "So what is it? What've we got left to risk? What do you want?"
Dominic shakes his head, unable to speak. He knows he has no words that will make this better, whatever this is. No words that won't spur Billy on to do what Dominic thinks will come next. He lets his bag drop from his shoulder to his shaking hand then onto the floor, and then he moves impossibly closer to Billy, sharing his breath, still uncertain what he means to accomplish. He settles his hands onto Billy's waist and closes his eyes. Billy's office is getting darker by the minute, the only light left from the setting sun now filtered through the heavy clouds, and the only sound the rain against the windows and Dominic's heavy, nervous breaths.
What only moments ago he thought he would take from Billy, however unwanted, he offers from himself now. Dominic presses his lips against Billy's, waiting, feeling Billy wanting to pull away and struggling against it. Dominic can't tell anymore if it's anger or something worse that makes Billy tense in his arms, but when Dominic leans in to kiss him, Billy relaxes enough that Dominic lets him make the next move, just holding himself as still as possible against Billy's body. Billy's hands rise slowly, first to stroke Dominic's forearms in a slow rhythm, calming them both, and then higher to catch Dominic's face in his palms. Billy pulls back and touches their foreheads together, just allowing them both to breathe.
"Dominic," Billy sighs. "Chiontach. Do you honestly understand what we risk every minute we're together? We have to do better, Dominic. Don't drive yourself mad over this." Before Dominic can answer, Billy pulls him closer again, kissing him more slowly than he's possibly ever done before. He can feel Dominic's impatience in the way Dominic's hands cling and his fingers dig, tugging Billy's shirt from his trousers, seeming to need more, faster, and Billy tries to slow them both down but gives it up as he finds his own hands almost as impatient to touch Dominic's skin.
"Be still," Billy whispers. Dominic's skin is hot and Billy spreads his hands open, warming them against Dominic's back, marveling again at how right Dominic feels, how he always feels so ready for Billy's touch. Billy hums in tired approval against Dominic's neck and sinks a bit into Dominic's body. "Come on Dom, just settle--"
But Dominic can't be still, and he shakes his head slightly. He feels anything but settled, nothing like calm. It's impossible now that he can feel Billy still wants him and is not going to push him away. Dominic moves his hand from Billy's shirt to his chest, flicking open the small buttons and pulling the material apart. He uses his larger body to turn them both when Billy would stay just where they are and pushes Billy's back against the wall, the pictures there rattling and swaying on their nails, before Dominic gives into his fears completely and sweeps over Billy like a fire. Billy opens his mouth to speak again, but Dominic covers Billy's lips with his own, scraping his teeth against Billy's skin as he pulls back for breath.
"Say you want me, Billy." Dominic's voice is somewhere between a demand and a plea, running off somewhere Billy's not sure he wants to follow. He watches as if from far away as Dominic sinks slowly to his knees, his hands pulling at Billy's clothing, skin and hands.
"Say it." Sitting back on his heels, Dominic looks up at Billy's face and is once again frightened by what he sees. The confused, nervous shake of Billy's head tears through Dominic, though it hurts more that Billy looks sad. Dominic bites back a sob, not willing to let Billy have that, too. "Please, Billy."
When Billy's hand flexes at his side and then moves to curve at Dominic's cheek, Dominic thinks only about how unfair it is that he can't have secrets, that he can't hide anything, like Orlando had said. That everything he feels is out there for anyone who wants to take it from him.
After just that moment of stillness, Dominic becomes all action again. He presses his lips against Billy's hand and then pushes it away, not wanting anything gentle now. He makes quick work of the fastening on Billy's trousers, yanking them roughly down Billy's thighs, his blunt fingernails leaving dull red marks on Billy's skin. Dominic closes his eyes at the sound of Billy's shocked breath, and he takes Billy into his mouth, angry again that he should find Billy even half as hard as he is. He pushes himself, taking what he can from Billy--choking, pulling back, before he moves faster and harder to take what Billy is still willing to give.
"Oh, Christ, Dominic, no--" Billy's silenced as his body reacts to Dominic's touch, his hips bucking unconsciously and his cock twitching to full hardness in Dominic's mouth. Billy closes his eyes and catches Dominic's shoulder, his hand clutching there hard, kneading and pressing, pushing and pulling. Dominic's desperate movements and the look in his eyes frighten Billy in a way he's not felt since he'd seen Barchi's drawings and had to face what he'd denied for months. That his own body is again overruling his mind terrifies him, the thought drilling through Billy's mind as he thrusts hard, fucking Dominic's mouth even though he knows he shouldn't do this--cannot do this, not this way, not anymore.
Dominic chokes again, struggles to breath, his eyes watering. Billy thrusts harder and Dominic grunts, squeezing his eyes shut tight as Billy's fingers dig hard into his shoulders. The thought of bruises doesn't give him the same pleasure that it had before; instead, Dominic blindly grabs at Billy's hand and crushes his wrist against the wall, knowing that he'll leave his own bruises this time.
Billy gasps again, surprised at Dominic's strength when he no longer has reason to be. Dominic swallows around him, and Billy shivers, shaking his head violently. "Stop," he forces out between his teeth. "Dominic--"
It's pointless, and they both know it. Dominic won't stop unless Billy pushes him away, and even so, he may rise to his feet and try again, harder. They've both crossed a line here, and Billy's furious with himself for having let it happen. He hadn't meant to fall in love with a student--it's not something he's even admitted to himself until now--or worse, let a student fall in love with him. He hadn't wanted to use Dominic either, and hadn't thought he was before now--since he'd talked to Corin, since he'd been tossed around on the shores of this day. This has moved well beyond his control--beyond their control--and it can't last. It has to stop, and Billy has to stop it, before either of them gets hurt--or hurt more.
Billy wrests his hand from Dominic's grip and traps Dominic's shoulders now, feeling the burn in his back and stomach and pushing forward, jerking his hips and nearly choking Dominic for the last time as he comes. There's a forced surrender to it that Billy hates, and he's barely caught his breath before he's sinking to his knees, catching Dominic as he sways forward. He shakes wildly, panting and holding back angry, exhausted words.
Dominic is shivering, too, shrinking away from Billy's body and sitting back onto the floor, his hand rising to wipe his mouth, and Billy looks away, recoiling and drawing up tight into himself at the wall, struggling to stand as he pulls up his trousers.
"You should ..." Billy whispers before he takes an uneven step away and sets to work on his shirt, his trembling fingers making the buttons nearly impossible to fasten. Dominic's not moved except to cover his face with his hands, scrubbing at it as if washing away the last several minutes. Billy curses at his nervous hands and then swallows hard, speaking again through the rasp caught in his throat. "I should--we can't stay here. We need to leave."
"I don't know where to go," Dominic whispers, sounding so small and lost, watching as Billy closes his eyes against the sound of it. When Billy opens his mouth to speak, Dominic panics, afraid that if Billy speaks again, it will be to end it. Dominic's heart pounds as if it will explode in his chest, his breathing growing shallow and he eyes the door, measuring how many steps it would take him to escape.
"I want," Dominic starts, his thoughts racing, tumbling over each other. "I need ... I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry, just ..." And with that, he makes a break for it, scrambling to his feet and taking only three long steps, his hand stretched to the doorknob, before Billy fingers clench hard on his shoulder and drag him back almost to Billy's chest.
"Don't you fucking dare," Billy bites out, his words cold. "Don't you run from me after what you've just done." He's tempted to spin Dominic, push him against the door--give harder than what he got--in retaliation for what was done to him. The feeling's not entirely unfamiliar, but it's unwanted and sickening, and Billy's grateful when it passes as quickly as it had come. He breathes hard, holding Dominic's shaking body against his own.
"We're going--" home, Billy thinks, but it sounds wrong, inappropriate now for both of them. "To my house. And we're going to sleep this off, Dominic. I need to think, and you need to--fuck, I've no idea what it is you need, but we're both more likely t'find it there than here. We have to go before we do something stupid. Something we'll regret even more than this."
Billy doesn't elaborate; he's not even sure what it is he needs to think about, beyond what he already knows: that if he lets Dominic go now, it could mean more than the end of their relationship. Already Billy's lost control of nearly everything between them, and seeing tonight how could not calm Dominic as he'd done before, well. Billy's completely lost, and on some level still seething, at a fierce simmer he can't bank down.
He releases Dominic slowly, when he's certain Dominic won't run like a frightened animal, and turns him so they face one another. "My car," he says after a long breath. "Let's go."
Dominic grabs his bag from the floor as Billy retrieves his briefcase and holds it against his chest. He's silent as he forces his feet to move when Billy encourages him forward with a hand to his back. His earlier adrenaline gone, Dominic now feels sick to his stomach, his head pounding.
There's no light in the halls but that of the way out sign near the stairs. They follow it, their footsteps echoing, the sharp tap of Billy's shoes preceding the dull thud of Dominic's trainers. Dominic's torn between wanting to beg for forgiveness and in the next breath yell at Billy for recovering faster than Dominic thought was fair, and wanting to run back to his room, knowing that if he does, it would mean robbing himself of what could be a last night--no matter how uncomfortable--in Billy's house. He's disgusted with himself that these are the only options his mind presents.
Outside the rain is coming down in sheets, the noise nearly deafening though Dominic still jumps when Billy shoots open his umbrella and sets off toward his car, not turning back to see if Dominic follows. Of course he'll follow, though several feet behind. If there were anyone to see them, they would not suspect they were together--and that's exactly how Dominic feels.
At the car, Billy unlocks the passenger door and waits for Dominic to slide in before he shuts the door and runs to the driver's side. Dominic sits huddled and dripping against the door, remembering the last time he'd found himself wet and cold in Billy's car. When he'd gotten out of the car that day, he had felt hopeful--sure of what was to come. He got it, he muses, and it was good--very good--and he hates himself for letting it go beyond sex. For actually believing, even for a moment, that someone like Billy could fall in love with him. That anyone could ever fall in love with him.
Now that he has a direction--a plan, no matter how disorganized--Billy drives with determination, hands clenched tight around the steering wheel and eyes squinting into the darkness and rain. The car is humid with their breath and the heat of their bodies, but Billy's cold, and for once both grateful for and saddened by Dominic's silence. Once on his street, he parks the car shakily and stops himself to wait for Dominic on the sidewalk only after a second's thought. As soon as Dominic nears, Billy walks again, moving quickly inside his house and throwing his briefcase, coat and umbrella to the armchair.
"Need a shower," he says, and his voice is resigned. "Get y'self something to eat, Dom, or get ... get warm. Whatever you need."
Billy yanks at his tie, tossing it aside as he enters his bedroom. The bed is unmade and strewn with books and he thinks for a moment to clear them but finds he doesn't have the energy. It reminds him of the stack of dishes in the sink, the empty cupboards--all the tasks and errands that he's let go in the past week as he's tried to distract himself alternately with books and wine. Another thought races across his mind, and he spins on his heel to return to his front room, where Dominic still stands, bag in hand and his face a mask of nerves.
"I want you here tonight," Billy says, terribly quietly. He can't speak the words that usually come easy to him, but he also can't find it in himself to be cruel. "I know what you're thinking, Dominic; I can feel it. Don't run."
Dominic says nothing, but Billy can sense a small sea change in the air between them, just enough that he feels safer walking back to the bathroom, ready to wash most of this day away. Dominic doesn't move until he hears the shower start, and then it's just to drop his bag and pass his hands over his face in that same, strange scrubbing motion, before he moves them into his hair, making the wet strands stand on end. He knows he could and maybe even should disappear from the house before Billy comes back. That it wasn't even a week ago that he'd had the same thought makes him feel hollow. He knows now, like he did then, that if he leaves, it will be over. That he knows it's over no matter what he does now, no matter how he or Billy tries to fix it, doesn't mean he can force himself to be the one to walk away.
Of course, staying isn't much of an option, either. Dominic lowers himself to the floor, hunching to wrap his arms around his legs and rest his head against his knees. He's felt this pain before, though remembering when and why does nothing to sooth him, and he feels miserable and cold, as close to crying as he's been in a long time.
"Get it together," he whispers and forces himself back to his feet. Billy's front room is dark and cold, as if no one has been home in days, and for a moment Dominic wonders if perhaps no one has. He forcibly pushes away the thought before it can take root, and then he's distracted by the sound of the wind whistling over the top of the chimney, making him think to start a fire. Before he can make it across the room, Dominic's eye catches on the sight of Billy's small stock of decanters and bottles. He remembers, too, how he'd chosen to deal with his pain back then--back before he'd left for university and it had felt as though everything was coming apart. This would be different. He'd have one small drink for himself, and make one for when Billy came out the shower.
He tries to ignore the way his hands shake as he holds the glass, focusing instead on how warm it feels going down his throat. With his second shot, Dominic concentrates on how that warmth spreads to his fingertips. The third in hand, Dominic begins to wander the room, moving a stack of newspapers and magazines with his toe until they slide across the floor, the paper crinkling beneath his feet. They'd have to clear up this weekend, he thinks, and then feels that breathless, tight feeling in the back of his throat, leading him to fills his glass to the very top before he makes his shaky way with the glasses and bottle back to Billy's room.
Setting his prizes on the nightstand after another long drink, Dominic begins shucking his clothes but quickly grows frustrated with the wet material as it clings to his skin. Giving it up, he crawls onto the bed instead, pushing the books and papers and pens off his side, satisfied with the thump of the hardbacks' spines as they hit the floor. Let Billy clean up his own mess, he thinks, a sound escaping his lips so sharp that he can't decide if it's a laugh or a cry.
When Billy enters the bedroom, a towel wrapped haphazardly around his hips, he takes everything in at once: Dominic laying back against the pillows, still in his wet clothes, the glint of a bottle on the nightstand and the sharp smell of whiskey, the quiet-the strange quiet where Billy's become accustomed to the sound of Dominic's laughter, his music and his cries of pleasure. Billy swallows hard and moves beside Dominic, waiting for him to settle. Pulling Dominic to sit up, Billy slides the shirt from Dominic's body carefully before wrapping his arms around him again, just breathing, trying to calm Dominic as he was not able to do earlier.
I know how this has to end, Dominic had said the first night Billy'd brought him here, to this same bed. The sound of Dominic's voice echoes in his ears now, and Billy closes his eyes, remembering what that night had done to him, how he'd felt the morning after and several mornings since.
In the shower, Billy had remembered other things, too--the way Dominic had leaned against the tile that first night and let Billy touch him, let Billy see what he couldn't half as clearly even in bed moments before. Billy'd lathered and rinsed off much faster tonight, less eager to be out of the shower itself than to be asleep--to hide in his dreams from the future roaring up in front of him. When he'd stepped out of the water, Billy had stopped to stare at himself in the mirror, not shocked by what he'd seen: dark circles under bloodshot eyes, tense shoulders and back, and the look of a man whose chance at happiness has turned on him, slowly, so much so that he never saw it happening. I know how this has to end. Billy knows now, too, the hows and the whys, and it will end. But it doesn't have to be tonight.
While Billy's hands trace along his shoulders and biceps, Dominic measures his breaths, recognizing with the insight that lets him know when his heart is in danger that Billy's made the decision that's been coming all night--that nothing Dominic does can change his mind. Billy's touch is no comfort now, and it's with a resigned stillness that Dominic endures it, letting his mind wander again down the only paths it can see.
Dominic feels pathetic in his earlier attempt to keep Billy, to make Billy love him. Billy is an honourable man, and he won't allow this to continue, even when Dominic would have clung to any remaining hope until it left them both in pieces. It's impossible, he realizes with a choking finality. If Billy isn't in love with him--if Billy can't manage to love him, then no one can; no one is going to, no one will.
"I'm sorry, Billy," Dominic whispers, still strangled by sobs that will not come. The self-loathing that used to dominate his thoughts--thoughts and feelings that had retreated under the knowledge that Billy believed in him, a knowledge that Dominic had just begun to cultivate in himself--revives in his heart. He welcomes it as something real and true and familiar, sliding back into that darkness easily.
He apologizes over and over again, knowing this is his fault. He'd tempted Billy in the beginning, pushed when Billy would have turned away. Demanded when Billy had known this relationship was wrong. Dominic realizes now, too late, the harm he's done, and can only repeat his apologies, desperately wanting to make things right but unable to say the combination of words that would make Billy understand that Dominic had only done what he had because he'd fallen in love with Billy. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Billy lets the words tumble from Dominic's mouth for a moment, feeling Dominic's body shake in his grasp. Billy feels strangely clearheaded and clear-eyed, though his body is still exhausted from everything that's happened since early this afternoon. The bottle on the nightstand saddens him, but Billy's hardly in a position to scold now and wouldn’t anyway, knowing how often he’s done the same thing: drowned himself just enough to not feel everything quite so sharply. He hates the idea of Dominic choosing the same escape, however temporarily justified, and the thought makes him hold Dominic tighter, even now when his grip should be loosening, relaxing.
He closes his eyes and leans his head against Dominic's shoulder, and waits until Dominic takes a breath before he finally speaks.
"It'll be alright," he says softly, stroking one hand up and down Dominic's forearm. "We should sleep. Let me just ..." Billy releases Dominic only enough so he can turn and face him, his hands falling to Dominic's waist to unbutton Dominic's jeans. He works them open and down gently, waiting for Dominic to kick them away. When Dominic raises his eyes again, Billy curves his hands to catch Dominic's face and meet that broken gaze this close, so near, for what Billy thinks may be one of the last times. Only when he's finally ready does Billy speak once more, pressing Dominic down into the disheveled sheets and crawling in beside him. His hands move immediately to draw Dominic close, willing the tension in their bodies to ease long enough to let them sleep.
"It'll be alright," Billy murmurs again. "Dream what you can, yeah? Make it a good one. For both our sakes."
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy/Dominic
Word count: 5390
Summary: In which another line is crossed.
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.
To Billy's mind, there's never an excuse for a meeting to run forty-five minutes over its scheduled time. Not even if Francis Hutcheson himself had risen from the dead to speak in front of Billy and all his colleagues would Billy normally tolerate this. But as he's managed to sit near the middle of the large conference room table, and not in his usual place by the door, Billy has been trapped for the entire meeting, listening to the arguments come and go and engaging in a loud one himself, defending his right to hold his seminar students' feet to metaphorical fire. The debate had drained him after an already trying day--two classes, two advising appointments and a long lunch with a former colleague down for a visit with other friends, a man whose current disenchantment with academia is now running through Billy's veins as well.
Corin had had plenty of the usual to say about St. Andrews and how happy he was to be gone, but like Billy he'd been quick to admit that one never really leaves the place; it becomes part of one's blood. That Corin had also brought up the topic of corruption in academic relationships between professors and students--less a scholarly discussion than a gossipy screed on who is doing what to whom in the English department--hadn't helped Billy's mood, either. Billy had only just been able to swallow his drink and gloss over the subject before provoking his friend in the direction of something different. Still, the man's words echo in Billy's mind: It's too easy to use a student, in too many ways. Think of how a pretty girl looks at you from the second row because she's too shy to sit in the first. Think of how you could easily abuse that trust she's got in you. Don't tell me you've never thought about it.
Billy closes his eyes and breathes deep in relief when the meeting's chair calls an end to the discussion and releases them. He stands quickly and is gone before there are even proper goodbyes, headed for his car and home and quiet and possibly a glass of something strong while he finally goes through the never-ending stack of mail awaiting his attention. If that drink's as strong as Billy can make it, it won't take long for Billy to stumble off to bed and dreamless sleep; after this day and his discussion with Corin, Billy has no desire for even what he would on other nights find more pleasurable ways to spend an evening: with company or dreaming of it.
Halfway out the building's door, Billy notices the sky's gone grey and fierce, the tree tops bending with more than just the usual evening breeze. Even as he frowns, the clap of thunder above him makes Billy jump. Umbrella, then, he thinks, turning on his heel back toward his office. Umbrella, and maybe a few of the CDs he's been meaning to take home for weeks now.
He moves quickly through the halls, barely acknowledging the last of the leaving staff members, and notices as if for the first time how eerily quiet the building gets after hours. The heavy wood doors close heavily behind the others, echoing behind Billy as he mounts the stairs to his office. He's likely alone now, and that thought makes his shoulders drop in a different kind of relief until he rounds the last corner and finds that he's not alone after all.
"I've been waiting for you," Dominic says, as if there were a question why and for whom he's been waiting. The words tumble loudly down the hall, and Dominic glances over his shoulder to the line of closed doors even though he's been there long enough to know he was the only person on the floor.
Dominic clumsily climbs to his feet, dropping his bag and bending to pick it up again before he takes a step toward Billy and then a step back. He'd also been outside Billy's office long enough to have fought through the embarrassment of knowing he should have left long ago, but that embarrassment comes back to him in a flood, his levee breached by Billy's silence.
"I'm sorry. I've waited an hour and a half, and then wondered why I was waiting at all but I couldn't leave." Dominic knows he's rambling but can't stop. Despite the look he's getting from Billy, the words spill from his mouth while his hands fly about for emphasis. He catches himself after a moment, seeing the bandage that still covers his palm and the war wound he'd taken the last time he'd pushed--and jams his hand into his pocket as if by hiding it, he could hide his thoughts away, too. He swallows hard then and forces his eyes to meet Billy's stare and his voice to remain steady, as if he has every right to ask what he wants to know. "Where have you been? When I've been waiting?"
"I had a meeting--" Billy begins, and then stops, setting his jaw hard and pushing past Dominic to unlock his office door. It's not the first time Dominic's appeared unexpectedly at his door here or at home, but the faint, momentary hope Billy's entertained, that Dominic had simply needed some guidance on an assignment, or that there had been some emergency. The urgency and fervor he hears in Dominic's voice tells him otherwise, and unnerves Billy as much as he'd felt the other night. He's tempted to turn back around, to go home with or without Dominic at this point, depending on whether Dominic can match his pace out the door, but Billy still feels the sting of the conversation he'd had with Corwin and the guilt of complicity: he must in some way be responsible for Dominic's overreaction and so has to deal with it along with his own. Dominic is hot on Billy's heels inside the office, and Billy doesn't bother to close the door gently, instead slamming it shut and locking it before he turns to face Dominic as tosses his briefcase to the desk.
"What exactly have you been waiting for, Dominic?" Billy asks sharply, the attempt to keep his voice calm failing. "We had no appointment."
"No appointment?"
Billy throws a hand in the air, but stops himself from any broader gesture, too well aware of how Dominic might interpret it. "Not that it would have mattered, would it? It's easier for you t'come at me than to recognize I could've been trying t'keep my job--" Billy stops himself again, but not entirely. "I've been under attack for most of the day, Dom, so why not now too? Go on, take your shot; you're here now, might as well."
"I didn't think--"
"Clearly."
"That I needed an appointment to see you. After--" Dominic's mouth works hard, grinding his teeth from saying more even as he balls his hand into a fist and swallows back the still weak pain of the bruise and cut. "I thought you'd want to see me. Would like to see me. Would like me to--"
Dominic takes a step forward, anger washing over him at what he thinks is a flash in Billy's eyes at the innuendo. His scalp prickles in a warning that he ignores. Of course that's what Billy wants, Dominic thinks, and maybe it was just chance that it was Dominic who had first come to him, instead of some other student. Or maybe there was some other student. Maybe there was someone entirely different who was allowed to have Billy's heart and mind while Dominic got what was left over--satisfying some need that maybe someone prettier and softer couldn't meet.
Dominic takes another step forward until he's firmly into Billy's space, his chest nearly against Billy's. The physical differences between them are things Dominic hardly notices anymore, but now they seem glaring. There's a real strength in Billy, Dominic well knows, but Dominic feels that tonight could be different, if he wanted it to be. He could be the one in control. He could make Billy feel what Dominic wanted him to feel. The knowledge makes his cheeks flush hard.
"That's it, innit?" Dominic says, his voice thick and getting louder again as he arches a little against Billy. Billy hisses, his hands rising to Dominic's shoulders, keeping him half at bay and half close. For a moment, Dominic is filled with a sense of victory, but then he sees something different in Billy's eyes. The thought that Billy may not want even sex anymore from Dominic--that he might want nothing at all--breaks Dominic's anger and turns it to panic and despair. In the quiet moments alone in his room, he's wondered if what he has with Billy has happened too much and too fast. He wonders if it can last or will burn out hot and hard. Sometimes he tries to predict how many days he has left before his heart will be shattered. Today--right now--that day seems closer than ever.
"I don't know what you want from me, Dominic," Billy says, his voice raspy and tired now. "So what is it? What've we got left to risk? What do you want?"
Dominic shakes his head, unable to speak. He knows he has no words that will make this better, whatever this is. No words that won't spur Billy on to do what Dominic thinks will come next. He lets his bag drop from his shoulder to his shaking hand then onto the floor, and then he moves impossibly closer to Billy, sharing his breath, still uncertain what he means to accomplish. He settles his hands onto Billy's waist and closes his eyes. Billy's office is getting darker by the minute, the only light left from the setting sun now filtered through the heavy clouds, and the only sound the rain against the windows and Dominic's heavy, nervous breaths.
What only moments ago he thought he would take from Billy, however unwanted, he offers from himself now. Dominic presses his lips against Billy's, waiting, feeling Billy wanting to pull away and struggling against it. Dominic can't tell anymore if it's anger or something worse that makes Billy tense in his arms, but when Dominic leans in to kiss him, Billy relaxes enough that Dominic lets him make the next move, just holding himself as still as possible against Billy's body. Billy's hands rise slowly, first to stroke Dominic's forearms in a slow rhythm, calming them both, and then higher to catch Dominic's face in his palms. Billy pulls back and touches their foreheads together, just allowing them both to breathe.
"Dominic," Billy sighs. "Chiontach. Do you honestly understand what we risk every minute we're together? We have to do better, Dominic. Don't drive yourself mad over this." Before Dominic can answer, Billy pulls him closer again, kissing him more slowly than he's possibly ever done before. He can feel Dominic's impatience in the way Dominic's hands cling and his fingers dig, tugging Billy's shirt from his trousers, seeming to need more, faster, and Billy tries to slow them both down but gives it up as he finds his own hands almost as impatient to touch Dominic's skin.
"Be still," Billy whispers. Dominic's skin is hot and Billy spreads his hands open, warming them against Dominic's back, marveling again at how right Dominic feels, how he always feels so ready for Billy's touch. Billy hums in tired approval against Dominic's neck and sinks a bit into Dominic's body. "Come on Dom, just settle--"
But Dominic can't be still, and he shakes his head slightly. He feels anything but settled, nothing like calm. It's impossible now that he can feel Billy still wants him and is not going to push him away. Dominic moves his hand from Billy's shirt to his chest, flicking open the small buttons and pulling the material apart. He uses his larger body to turn them both when Billy would stay just where they are and pushes Billy's back against the wall, the pictures there rattling and swaying on their nails, before Dominic gives into his fears completely and sweeps over Billy like a fire. Billy opens his mouth to speak again, but Dominic covers Billy's lips with his own, scraping his teeth against Billy's skin as he pulls back for breath.
"Say you want me, Billy." Dominic's voice is somewhere between a demand and a plea, running off somewhere Billy's not sure he wants to follow. He watches as if from far away as Dominic sinks slowly to his knees, his hands pulling at Billy's clothing, skin and hands.
"Say it." Sitting back on his heels, Dominic looks up at Billy's face and is once again frightened by what he sees. The confused, nervous shake of Billy's head tears through Dominic, though it hurts more that Billy looks sad. Dominic bites back a sob, not willing to let Billy have that, too. "Please, Billy."
When Billy's hand flexes at his side and then moves to curve at Dominic's cheek, Dominic thinks only about how unfair it is that he can't have secrets, that he can't hide anything, like Orlando had said. That everything he feels is out there for anyone who wants to take it from him.
After just that moment of stillness, Dominic becomes all action again. He presses his lips against Billy's hand and then pushes it away, not wanting anything gentle now. He makes quick work of the fastening on Billy's trousers, yanking them roughly down Billy's thighs, his blunt fingernails leaving dull red marks on Billy's skin. Dominic closes his eyes at the sound of Billy's shocked breath, and he takes Billy into his mouth, angry again that he should find Billy even half as hard as he is. He pushes himself, taking what he can from Billy--choking, pulling back, before he moves faster and harder to take what Billy is still willing to give.
"Oh, Christ, Dominic, no--" Billy's silenced as his body reacts to Dominic's touch, his hips bucking unconsciously and his cock twitching to full hardness in Dominic's mouth. Billy closes his eyes and catches Dominic's shoulder, his hand clutching there hard, kneading and pressing, pushing and pulling. Dominic's desperate movements and the look in his eyes frighten Billy in a way he's not felt since he'd seen Barchi's drawings and had to face what he'd denied for months. That his own body is again overruling his mind terrifies him, the thought drilling through Billy's mind as he thrusts hard, fucking Dominic's mouth even though he knows he shouldn't do this--cannot do this, not this way, not anymore.
Dominic chokes again, struggles to breath, his eyes watering. Billy thrusts harder and Dominic grunts, squeezing his eyes shut tight as Billy's fingers dig hard into his shoulders. The thought of bruises doesn't give him the same pleasure that it had before; instead, Dominic blindly grabs at Billy's hand and crushes his wrist against the wall, knowing that he'll leave his own bruises this time.
Billy gasps again, surprised at Dominic's strength when he no longer has reason to be. Dominic swallows around him, and Billy shivers, shaking his head violently. "Stop," he forces out between his teeth. "Dominic--"
It's pointless, and they both know it. Dominic won't stop unless Billy pushes him away, and even so, he may rise to his feet and try again, harder. They've both crossed a line here, and Billy's furious with himself for having let it happen. He hadn't meant to fall in love with a student--it's not something he's even admitted to himself until now--or worse, let a student fall in love with him. He hadn't wanted to use Dominic either, and hadn't thought he was before now--since he'd talked to Corin, since he'd been tossed around on the shores of this day. This has moved well beyond his control--beyond their control--and it can't last. It has to stop, and Billy has to stop it, before either of them gets hurt--or hurt more.
Billy wrests his hand from Dominic's grip and traps Dominic's shoulders now, feeling the burn in his back and stomach and pushing forward, jerking his hips and nearly choking Dominic for the last time as he comes. There's a forced surrender to it that Billy hates, and he's barely caught his breath before he's sinking to his knees, catching Dominic as he sways forward. He shakes wildly, panting and holding back angry, exhausted words.
Dominic is shivering, too, shrinking away from Billy's body and sitting back onto the floor, his hand rising to wipe his mouth, and Billy looks away, recoiling and drawing up tight into himself at the wall, struggling to stand as he pulls up his trousers.
"You should ..." Billy whispers before he takes an uneven step away and sets to work on his shirt, his trembling fingers making the buttons nearly impossible to fasten. Dominic's not moved except to cover his face with his hands, scrubbing at it as if washing away the last several minutes. Billy curses at his nervous hands and then swallows hard, speaking again through the rasp caught in his throat. "I should--we can't stay here. We need to leave."
"I don't know where to go," Dominic whispers, sounding so small and lost, watching as Billy closes his eyes against the sound of it. When Billy opens his mouth to speak, Dominic panics, afraid that if Billy speaks again, it will be to end it. Dominic's heart pounds as if it will explode in his chest, his breathing growing shallow and he eyes the door, measuring how many steps it would take him to escape.
"I want," Dominic starts, his thoughts racing, tumbling over each other. "I need ... I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry, just ..." And with that, he makes a break for it, scrambling to his feet and taking only three long steps, his hand stretched to the doorknob, before Billy fingers clench hard on his shoulder and drag him back almost to Billy's chest.
"Don't you fucking dare," Billy bites out, his words cold. "Don't you run from me after what you've just done." He's tempted to spin Dominic, push him against the door--give harder than what he got--in retaliation for what was done to him. The feeling's not entirely unfamiliar, but it's unwanted and sickening, and Billy's grateful when it passes as quickly as it had come. He breathes hard, holding Dominic's shaking body against his own.
"We're going--" home, Billy thinks, but it sounds wrong, inappropriate now for both of them. "To my house. And we're going to sleep this off, Dominic. I need to think, and you need to--fuck, I've no idea what it is you need, but we're both more likely t'find it there than here. We have to go before we do something stupid. Something we'll regret even more than this."
Billy doesn't elaborate; he's not even sure what it is he needs to think about, beyond what he already knows: that if he lets Dominic go now, it could mean more than the end of their relationship. Already Billy's lost control of nearly everything between them, and seeing tonight how could not calm Dominic as he'd done before, well. Billy's completely lost, and on some level still seething, at a fierce simmer he can't bank down.
He releases Dominic slowly, when he's certain Dominic won't run like a frightened animal, and turns him so they face one another. "My car," he says after a long breath. "Let's go."
Dominic grabs his bag from the floor as Billy retrieves his briefcase and holds it against his chest. He's silent as he forces his feet to move when Billy encourages him forward with a hand to his back. His earlier adrenaline gone, Dominic now feels sick to his stomach, his head pounding.
There's no light in the halls but that of the way out sign near the stairs. They follow it, their footsteps echoing, the sharp tap of Billy's shoes preceding the dull thud of Dominic's trainers. Dominic's torn between wanting to beg for forgiveness and in the next breath yell at Billy for recovering faster than Dominic thought was fair, and wanting to run back to his room, knowing that if he does, it would mean robbing himself of what could be a last night--no matter how uncomfortable--in Billy's house. He's disgusted with himself that these are the only options his mind presents.
Outside the rain is coming down in sheets, the noise nearly deafening though Dominic still jumps when Billy shoots open his umbrella and sets off toward his car, not turning back to see if Dominic follows. Of course he'll follow, though several feet behind. If there were anyone to see them, they would not suspect they were together--and that's exactly how Dominic feels.
At the car, Billy unlocks the passenger door and waits for Dominic to slide in before he shuts the door and runs to the driver's side. Dominic sits huddled and dripping against the door, remembering the last time he'd found himself wet and cold in Billy's car. When he'd gotten out of the car that day, he had felt hopeful--sure of what was to come. He got it, he muses, and it was good--very good--and he hates himself for letting it go beyond sex. For actually believing, even for a moment, that someone like Billy could fall in love with him. That anyone could ever fall in love with him.
Now that he has a direction--a plan, no matter how disorganized--Billy drives with determination, hands clenched tight around the steering wheel and eyes squinting into the darkness and rain. The car is humid with their breath and the heat of their bodies, but Billy's cold, and for once both grateful for and saddened by Dominic's silence. Once on his street, he parks the car shakily and stops himself to wait for Dominic on the sidewalk only after a second's thought. As soon as Dominic nears, Billy walks again, moving quickly inside his house and throwing his briefcase, coat and umbrella to the armchair.
"Need a shower," he says, and his voice is resigned. "Get y'self something to eat, Dom, or get ... get warm. Whatever you need."
Billy yanks at his tie, tossing it aside as he enters his bedroom. The bed is unmade and strewn with books and he thinks for a moment to clear them but finds he doesn't have the energy. It reminds him of the stack of dishes in the sink, the empty cupboards--all the tasks and errands that he's let go in the past week as he's tried to distract himself alternately with books and wine. Another thought races across his mind, and he spins on his heel to return to his front room, where Dominic still stands, bag in hand and his face a mask of nerves.
"I want you here tonight," Billy says, terribly quietly. He can't speak the words that usually come easy to him, but he also can't find it in himself to be cruel. "I know what you're thinking, Dominic; I can feel it. Don't run."
Dominic says nothing, but Billy can sense a small sea change in the air between them, just enough that he feels safer walking back to the bathroom, ready to wash most of this day away. Dominic doesn't move until he hears the shower start, and then it's just to drop his bag and pass his hands over his face in that same, strange scrubbing motion, before he moves them into his hair, making the wet strands stand on end. He knows he could and maybe even should disappear from the house before Billy comes back. That it wasn't even a week ago that he'd had the same thought makes him feel hollow. He knows now, like he did then, that if he leaves, it will be over. That he knows it's over no matter what he does now, no matter how he or Billy tries to fix it, doesn't mean he can force himself to be the one to walk away.
Of course, staying isn't much of an option, either. Dominic lowers himself to the floor, hunching to wrap his arms around his legs and rest his head against his knees. He's felt this pain before, though remembering when and why does nothing to sooth him, and he feels miserable and cold, as close to crying as he's been in a long time.
"Get it together," he whispers and forces himself back to his feet. Billy's front room is dark and cold, as if no one has been home in days, and for a moment Dominic wonders if perhaps no one has. He forcibly pushes away the thought before it can take root, and then he's distracted by the sound of the wind whistling over the top of the chimney, making him think to start a fire. Before he can make it across the room, Dominic's eye catches on the sight of Billy's small stock of decanters and bottles. He remembers, too, how he'd chosen to deal with his pain back then--back before he'd left for university and it had felt as though everything was coming apart. This would be different. He'd have one small drink for himself, and make one for when Billy came out the shower.
He tries to ignore the way his hands shake as he holds the glass, focusing instead on how warm it feels going down his throat. With his second shot, Dominic concentrates on how that warmth spreads to his fingertips. The third in hand, Dominic begins to wander the room, moving a stack of newspapers and magazines with his toe until they slide across the floor, the paper crinkling beneath his feet. They'd have to clear up this weekend, he thinks, and then feels that breathless, tight feeling in the back of his throat, leading him to fills his glass to the very top before he makes his shaky way with the glasses and bottle back to Billy's room.
Setting his prizes on the nightstand after another long drink, Dominic begins shucking his clothes but quickly grows frustrated with the wet material as it clings to his skin. Giving it up, he crawls onto the bed instead, pushing the books and papers and pens off his side, satisfied with the thump of the hardbacks' spines as they hit the floor. Let Billy clean up his own mess, he thinks, a sound escaping his lips so sharp that he can't decide if it's a laugh or a cry.
When Billy enters the bedroom, a towel wrapped haphazardly around his hips, he takes everything in at once: Dominic laying back against the pillows, still in his wet clothes, the glint of a bottle on the nightstand and the sharp smell of whiskey, the quiet-the strange quiet where Billy's become accustomed to the sound of Dominic's laughter, his music and his cries of pleasure. Billy swallows hard and moves beside Dominic, waiting for him to settle. Pulling Dominic to sit up, Billy slides the shirt from Dominic's body carefully before wrapping his arms around him again, just breathing, trying to calm Dominic as he was not able to do earlier.
I know how this has to end, Dominic had said the first night Billy'd brought him here, to this same bed. The sound of Dominic's voice echoes in his ears now, and Billy closes his eyes, remembering what that night had done to him, how he'd felt the morning after and several mornings since.
In the shower, Billy had remembered other things, too--the way Dominic had leaned against the tile that first night and let Billy touch him, let Billy see what he couldn't half as clearly even in bed moments before. Billy'd lathered and rinsed off much faster tonight, less eager to be out of the shower itself than to be asleep--to hide in his dreams from the future roaring up in front of him. When he'd stepped out of the water, Billy had stopped to stare at himself in the mirror, not shocked by what he'd seen: dark circles under bloodshot eyes, tense shoulders and back, and the look of a man whose chance at happiness has turned on him, slowly, so much so that he never saw it happening. I know how this has to end. Billy knows now, too, the hows and the whys, and it will end. But it doesn't have to be tonight.
While Billy's hands trace along his shoulders and biceps, Dominic measures his breaths, recognizing with the insight that lets him know when his heart is in danger that Billy's made the decision that's been coming all night--that nothing Dominic does can change his mind. Billy's touch is no comfort now, and it's with a resigned stillness that Dominic endures it, letting his mind wander again down the only paths it can see.
Dominic feels pathetic in his earlier attempt to keep Billy, to make Billy love him. Billy is an honourable man, and he won't allow this to continue, even when Dominic would have clung to any remaining hope until it left them both in pieces. It's impossible, he realizes with a choking finality. If Billy isn't in love with him--if Billy can't manage to love him, then no one can; no one is going to, no one will.
"I'm sorry, Billy," Dominic whispers, still strangled by sobs that will not come. The self-loathing that used to dominate his thoughts--thoughts and feelings that had retreated under the knowledge that Billy believed in him, a knowledge that Dominic had just begun to cultivate in himself--revives in his heart. He welcomes it as something real and true and familiar, sliding back into that darkness easily.
He apologizes over and over again, knowing this is his fault. He'd tempted Billy in the beginning, pushed when Billy would have turned away. Demanded when Billy had known this relationship was wrong. Dominic realizes now, too late, the harm he's done, and can only repeat his apologies, desperately wanting to make things right but unable to say the combination of words that would make Billy understand that Dominic had only done what he had because he'd fallen in love with Billy. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Billy lets the words tumble from Dominic's mouth for a moment, feeling Dominic's body shake in his grasp. Billy feels strangely clearheaded and clear-eyed, though his body is still exhausted from everything that's happened since early this afternoon. The bottle on the nightstand saddens him, but Billy's hardly in a position to scold now and wouldn’t anyway, knowing how often he’s done the same thing: drowned himself just enough to not feel everything quite so sharply. He hates the idea of Dominic choosing the same escape, however temporarily justified, and the thought makes him hold Dominic tighter, even now when his grip should be loosening, relaxing.
He closes his eyes and leans his head against Dominic's shoulder, and waits until Dominic takes a breath before he finally speaks.
"It'll be alright," he says softly, stroking one hand up and down Dominic's forearm. "We should sleep. Let me just ..." Billy releases Dominic only enough so he can turn and face him, his hands falling to Dominic's waist to unbutton Dominic's jeans. He works them open and down gently, waiting for Dominic to kick them away. When Dominic raises his eyes again, Billy curves his hands to catch Dominic's face and meet that broken gaze this close, so near, for what Billy thinks may be one of the last times. Only when he's finally ready does Billy speak once more, pressing Dominic down into the disheveled sheets and crawling in beside him. His hands move immediately to draw Dominic close, willing the tension in their bodies to ease long enough to let them sleep.
"It'll be alright," Billy murmurs again. "Dream what you can, yeah? Make it a good one. For both our sakes."