Book 4, Chapter 12: Call and Answer
Title: Call and Answer
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy/Dominic
Word count: 6040
Summary: Home is where you find it.
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.
It's been almost a full twenty-four hours since Billy sent the email from one of the conference's ever-ready business centres to Dominic's address, but he's as tense now as if he'd just done so. When he closes his eyes, he can see his own words typed on the screen, the cursor blinking beside them to the rhythm the frustrated, pounding vein in his forehead had kept the night before.
You're likely asleep now, or at least in bed, and if you're not asleep I shouldn't think too hard on whatever else you might be doing in bed. It's just gone past eleven, and I haven't come down from dinner and everything after. This conference has taken a lot out of me, Dom; I've had to speak to people who call themselves my colleagues, who are eager to tell me in one breath that we're all in this together, and that of course we must examine other ways to teach philosophy, and then in the next tell me that I can only push the boundaries of teaching so far, that we exist only to present ideas, and then to disappear. In their minds, to invite or encourage one's students to develop their personal philosophies smacks of hand-holding; to pursue more discussion or god fucking forbid any of what they call that 'new age personal growth shite' is to turn the wrong corner. One cannot apparently be professional and personal at once. One cannot be approachable and authoritative. And I've got no room to move on that, have I.
In better news, I've made friends with the minibar. Baskerville's going to end up hocking my car to pay the bill. I'm keeping one of these fucking ridiculous little Macallan bottles as a memory of this waste of my time. To think I wrote a paper for this conference, and led a forum with a straight face.
I hope you've done your part in this and enjoyed the peace and quiet. And that your German paper is well in hand, and that you had a good fire going tonight. I hope you haven't frightened the pensioners next door with that Wu Tang Clan you think I didn't see you bring home last week. I hope you're dreaming enough for both of us.
That full day later now almost done, Billy's in his Edinburgh hotel room, getting his shoes and jacket off with no particular elegance, and waiting for what is supposed to be the relaxation of his tensed shoulders and the slowing of his blood. For all his patience in class and with those he cares for and about, Billy's impatience with himself--especially in an unfamiliar setting like this room, with nowhere to go with his frustration other than inward--leads him to pace like a much older man.
He stops his wandering at the room's window, staring down at the street below. This side of Edinburgh is just coming proper alive in the dark, in these hours between evening meal and last call, punters in groups of all types sizing each other up outside the Playhouse and bar next door and up the street to the cinemas and restaurants. Billy's certain his younger colleagues--and perhaps some of his older, too, colleagues he'd left behind for the refuge of the room--are still out there, enjoying the last night of this conference before they must get through the last meetings and then trundle, bleary-eyed, onto the train or a short-hop plane back home. Billy's already socialized as much as he can handle, and hadn't even looked in the direction of the bar downstairs on his way into the hotel this time; he was certain he could achieve the same tired effect a trip there might have caused with the help of the room's minibar, and its charming midsized bottles of Macallan that never seem to run out.
Billy's eyes flit to his nightstand, where one of those bottles sits half-emptied, and he crawls onto the bed from its opposite side, taking his time, hands and knees maybe just beginning to feel unsteady on the mattress. He gathers pillows, pressing them into an undignified lump at the headboard, and slumps against them, suddenly full of harsh feeling for the well-meaning department secretary who'd booked him a non-smoking room. Not that he's got any cigarettes on him; it's the principle of the thing.
When Billy looks down at his hands, he's amused to find that the bottle has appeared in one of them. He reads the label over and over again, scratching at it lightly, and then takes a sip, planning to draw this out as long as possible. The television remote, after all, is still across the room where Billy chucked it upon first coming back up here, and his papers are all the way over on the table. He's got nothing better to do than drink, he supposes, until his mind stops working in all the wrong directions, and he can finally fall asleep.
He's not given much of a chance at it, though; before long there's the chirrup of the mobile phone Billy's only owned for a few weeks now, after hours spent in an electronics store happily allowing Dominic to work out the options he would need, followed by several more hours at home both admiring Dominic's ability to program the damn thing and begrudging the amount of time it took. Once finished, Dominic had taken a deep breath, put the phone down on the coffee table between him and Billy, and then delivered the sweetest of scoldings for Billy's impatience. It's the thought of that night that twists Billy's frown someplace kinder as he shifts down the bed and reaches for his jacket again, digging inside it as the insistent noise of the phone becomes louder. The screen's lit up with Dominic's number, and Billy's smile widens a bit as he crawls back up the mattress, a significant portion of his irritation already leaving him.
"Dom," he murmurs slurry and soft down the phone, Dominic's answering hum makes Billy shift up against his pillows. "This isn't you telling me the house has caught fire, is it? It's a lot safer with you there than it would be with me. Did you get my email, Dom? This fucking conference, these people, I can't begin to-hmm?" Dominic says something Billy strains to hear, but can't quite, and so he continues as if he's been urged to. "D'you know, you've started me thinking I'm the luckiest bastard on the planet these days, but you're holding the title till I get back, because you're home, and I'm not. What have you been doing, chiontach? It's after dark; why the hell are you not enjoying that bed for both of us?"
"I went up north, Billy," Dominic laughs. "Thought I'd make a run up to see my mum if you weren't around to keep me awake back home."
"You're in Manchester?" Billy's frown returns, but Dominic's hum is an easy little unconcerned noise, no trace in it of his typical nerves when he mentions going back to his parents' home for even the briefest of visits.
"Couldn't sleep even if I were back at yours," Dominic laughs. "You've spoiled me. I don't like an empty bed anymore. Haven't since--us, I think." There's a pause, and Billy holds his smile, imagining Dominic's. "I'm sorry it's all gone to shit up there, Billy," Dominic says after a moment. "Anything I can do?"
"Hop another train and find me here?" Billy sighs, pushing the now closed bottle to the nightstand. "Would that it were that easy. No, you don't need to--you should see your family. I must have sounded like an arse in that email, Dom. I wouldn't take it back, though. Sometimes I think I was bred to be a teacher, yeah? Other days I think I should be in a field somewhere, fending off students trying to stage festivals in my grass. Or some crap docent, tripping children who run through museums. There's a career for me." Billy slumps a bit against the pillows and runs one hand through his hair, looking down at his chest. "I've still got my fucking tie on, Dom; give me a second."
Billy drops the telephone to the bed and yanks at the already loosened tie, freeing it only to play with its end in one hand, threading the silk between his fingers once he's retrieved the phone with his other hand. Dominic talks Billy through the past few days' comings and goings at home and the school, telling Billy that the man they'd called about the furnace had finally come and fixed the damn thing, though the heat had been taking its time making the place as warm as Dominic would have liked, and explaining to Billy that yes, the German literature essay Dominic was meant to be finishing was indeed sorted before he'd left for Manchester, along with the unassigned duties Dominic had chosen for himself, such as clearing out Billy's excuses for back garden and kitchen, working through a mountain of general household tasks they'd both ignored, and claiming for his own at least a dozen of Billy's CDs and perhaps five or six old t-shirts as well.
Billy laughs at this news and changes position again on the bed, until he's almost on his back, and he continues to play with the tie, pulling it taut and then releasing it over and over again. It's one of his favourites, but it's growing old, and will soon be relegated to the pile he uses for more imaginative things than to accessorise suits. The thought makes Billy's mind wander, but not far. "It'll take a while for the furnace to get the place back to what it was. Y'should have had a fire going in the meantime," Billy murmurs. "That'd work, wouldn't it. Generally does."
"No fire," Dominic laughs again. "No fire, no bed, no dinner yet today, either; I got a bit distracted--"
"Your mum didn't sort you out?" Billy laughs, and Dominic laughs, too.
"Only so much she can do. You know how it is." Dominic pauses once more and then releases a sigh as if he's stretching long and hard. "And I don't make it easy for anyone to look after me. I don't take care of your boy nearly as well as you do, Billy."
"No one takes care of you as well as I do," Billy murmurs, and the low sound of the words surprises him, accompanied by the sudden ache he feels from the pit of his stomach to between his legs. "No one will; don't forget that."
"I won't," Dominic says softly, and then the smile returns to his voice, confident and warm. "I think I might've told you that first."
Billy hums in his turn, and in the moment's silence that follows, he reaches to flick off the light next to him, inhaling when he sees the moonlight crossing the bed from where he's left the curtains open. "No fire, no bed, no dinner. I don't like it, Dom," Billy sighs, tossing his tie to the other pillow before throwing one hand above his head to wrap its fingers loosely around the thick spindles of the headboard while he shifts on top of the duvet. "You'll get back to Baskerville in time for class tomorrow, yeah? And we'll have a feast once I'm home. Start it in the kitchen and finish it in bed. You remember the bed, do you not? Where we allegedly sleep?"
"I remember," Dominic says quietly, and Billy can hear him moving, as if Dominic's curling up tight inside himself again, and then there's a hushed confidence in Dominic's next words. "I miss you. I haven't touched myself, not since the shower we took before you left."
There's no mistaking the surge of heat and energy that runs through Billy's body for anything else: it's the thrill of possession and straight lust, tempered by love and the knowledge that Dominic's giving himself up to whatever Billy wants as well as letting Billy take it. "I don't recall giving you any directive, Dom," Billy says, slurry again, but even more pleased. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't approve, though. You could--" Billy's words trail off with his thoughts as he blinks away another prickly, thrilling rush of energy, and Dominic's next low run of laughter is gentle, teasing and teased at once.
"Hang on, yeah?" Dominic says softly. "Let me just--" There's a sound of quick, controlled breaths, as if Dominic's moving somewhere with a purpose to his step, and Billy raises his eyes and his smile to the ceiling of his room, imagining now Dominic on his way finally to that bed in the house, falling to his back on it to await what directives they can maybe give each other. Billy closes his eyes and opens them only when another noise can faintly be heard down the line, a few dull thuds in succession and the harmony of Dominic hushed, resigned little curse and apology.
"Anyway," Dominic laughs. "You were saying."
"It's been full seconds, Dom. I can't possibly remember."
"Lying." Dominic clicks his tongue, the tease in his voice sharpening now. "You only get so many."
"Let's not take that road," Billy murmurs, but there's no malice in it. "Most of the fight's beat out of me for today. Part of the problem, Dominic, was that ancient argument about how much guidance a teacher can give before his instruction becomes some kind of--" Billy huffs, looking for the words. "Ever-tightening net around students who've not yet figured out how to fly under their own strength. I don't know exactly how I feel about it, see. I don't know if I can always believe anymore that the freedom I give my students--and don't you start;" Billy laughs, a dry sound made raspier by what he's said and swallowed all day and tonight. "I allow for a great deal of independent thought in my classes--I just don't know if it's right anymore. So I end up reaching for--clinging to what I do know is finally going fucking right in my life, academic or otherwise, which is so little in the end, isn't it? You've gone right, haven't you. We've gone right. We always were." Billy takes a deep breath, staring at the ceiling again. "I'm boring the fuck out of you."
"You're not. You never do."
"You say that now."
"Tomorrow, too, if you're lucky," Dominic laughs. "We've gone right, Billy. And throw your net, okay; some of us need it or we'll fucking drown. I don't mind being caught."
"No, y'never have, have you--" A sharp rap on wood startles Billy enough that his words catch in his throat, and he stares at the room's door accusingly. "Of all the fucking things--hello?"
"What is it?"
"Hang on," Billy tells Dominic, shifting off the bed a bit uneasily and moving for the door, working to keep down the frustration at being interrupted and the fear of being dragged back out into another round of socialization he absolutely cannot bear right now. The only thing he wants and needs is something and someone he can't have, short of a--well, short of the smirking miracle standing in front of him now outside the open door, a bucket of ice in one hand and a mobile phone in the other.
"That stuff's better on ice, whatever you think," Dominic sighs, nodding toward the bottle he can see on the table behind Billy. "And you're had enough anyway, yeah? So."
"So," Billy breathes, and Dominic laughs before he closes the door and leaves the bucket of ice on the first surface he can find, turning back to pull Billy to him. Billy doesn't fight it--shock has never felt this good, and Dominic's confidence is as much a lure as his arms--but when Dominic takes a step back again, Billy narrows his eyes a little even as he smiles. "Is my house still standing?"
"Steadier than you are."
"That's not telling me very much. What were you thinking, Dom?" Billy asks, still a little breathless, and caught between pleasure and confusion as he watches Dominic work off his own jacket, making himself immediately at home in Billy's hotel room.
"Same thing you were a few minutes ago. Making your wish come true and all that."
"You've got no idea," Billy murmurs, but Dominic hears it, advancing on Billy again, another tiger's smile creasing his face.
"I'm pretty sure I do."
"Your mum--" Billy starts, but Dominic kisses him before pulling back, shaking his head.
"Told her I'd be back for tea tomorrow."
Billy blinks. "This is costing you more than it's worth," he says quietly, and Dominic shakes his head again.
"Let me make that call, yeah? You threw the net, I'm caught." Dominic steps closer and Billy finds himself backed up against the wall near the door, his hands rising to close around Dominic's forearms, proving Dominic's point happily. Dominic's eyes close and then he leans to kiss Billy again, his own fingers searching for the buttons of Billy's shirt and working two open before Billy turns his chin and takes a deep breath.
"And you're not even struggling in it, are you. More's the pity."
Dominic releases a scoffing little noise and rests his forehead against Billy's, just letting them breathe for a moment. "Is that what you want?"
"I haven't got a clue." Billy tips his head back and lets his shoulders drop before his hands follow, slipping to Dominic's waist. "You've got this far, you tell me what I want."
Dominic hums and leans in again, his lips brushing beneath Billy's ear and the sensitive patch of skin there. Billy inhales sharply and rises a little on his toes before he gets control of himself again, but Dominic's not about to be stopped; his teeth drag lightly over where he's just kissed, and Billy arches this time, almost laughing at how easily Dominic's sussed him out again.
"I think you want to get out of this city," Dominic says softly. "You want to love it; it's like you think you're supposed to, like it's been drilled into you that you have to, but it's not yours, is it, Billy. Wrong sort of ghosts and too many of them."
"Christ, Dom, what did I say in that email--"
Dominic silences Billy with a deeper kiss. "I think you want to teach and be left alone to do it, and write and take your pictures and get up your trees and out from under all these shadows, Billy," he murmurs. "Second step's getting back home, isn't it."
"Second?" Billy nudges his cheek against Dominic and hums too. "Second. What's first?"
"First step's now. Here."
Billy thinks that if he had a little more energy and little less to drink earlier, he'd have some response to Dominic's logic other than to give in to it, but surrender works, too; it's easy and comfortable, even more so when Dominic walks them both to the edge of the mattress and tugs at the hem of Billy's shirt, freeing it from Billy's trousers and then letting his fingers trace warm up Billy's sides.
"Can't believe you picked up the phone, actually," Dominic says, and Billy blinks again, wondering for a moment while they're still talking when they could just as happily be doing something else that isn't talking, but Dominic's voice is as lulling and persuasive at once as his hands. "Thought I'd get the voicemail. Again."
Billy ducks his head, but doesn't bother to hide his smile when he raises it again. "I've got an excuse this time. Can't take calls while I'm pretending to give a presentation."
"I don't know, Billy; you haven't always been shit at multitasking." Dominic pulls Billy closer, his fingers sliding inside the waist of Billy's trousers. "We should take this one thing at a time, then, yeah? One thing you want at a time."
There's no arguing that, Billy thinks, and when his back hits the mattress he closes his eyes and surrenders a little more. Dominic pushes Billy's shirt open fully and presses kisses down Billy's chest and stomach, clasping Billy's hand gently to push it back to the duvet when Billy reaches for him. It's no real hardship to let Dominic set a pace here, but Billy still shifts beneath him as eagerly as both exhaustion and Dominic will allow.
"I saw you come in," Dominic says softly. "In the lobby. I'd only been here a few minutes, and I was--getting up the courage, like. I was at the bar, and you can just see who's coming through, stumbling in like you were or chin up like the tourists. You looked like you do when you come home on Fridays, until you remember it is Friday."
Billy grunts out a laugh, arching again on the duvet when Dominic's tongue slides warm on his skin. "There's a picture for you. I still can't believe y'did this."
"Believe it. It's more fun if you do."
Billy nods and lets out an agreeable little noise, raising his hips one more time as Dominic pulls at Billy's trousers, easing them and Billy's boxers down. "And you remembered the room number."
"I'm getting better at that," Dominic says, more quietly. "Remembering."
Billy opens his eyes and looks down at Dominic, freeing his hand from Dominic's grasp before he curves it at Dominic's cheek. "Come here," Billy says, and Dominic inches back up the bed , holding himself above Billy just enough that Billy has to work to kiss him, but not enough that it's difficult to pull Dominic back down. When Dominic settles on him after the kiss, Billy turns his chin again, pushing it lightly against Dominic's cheek. "Was it hard? Seeing your mum."
Dominic shakes his head. "My dad's off on the water again, so I didn't have to deal with him. Everything's easier when I don't. It's not perfect, but it's easier."
"Sometimes that's all we can get, easier."
"And better." Dominic rises up on his palms again and smiles down at Billy for a moment, granting them both a little peace before his expression turns more serious. Billy reaches for Dominic's cheek again, and Dominic takes his hand, pressing kisses to Billy's palm before he nips at the pad of Billy's thumb.
"What are you thinking, Dom?"
"I want to fuck you," Dominic says with no hesitation and every certainty, more of those insistent kisses punctuating his words. "I want you to let me. I want you to want it. Me." Billy's nodding before Dominic's even finished, shifting against him and pushing his hand between their bodies to find Dominic's belt. Dominic catches his hands again and draws them back against the mattress, waiting for Billy's reaction to move from mild frustration to concentration again before he continues. "Let me, Billy," he says, the thinnest of edge to it this time, and Billy pushes away the briefest spike of panic before he reads Dominic properly and understands, taking a deep breath and relaxing his hands and shoulders, meeting Dominic's eyes carefully.
"I haven't got anything here," he murmurs, but Dominic's control breaks in another smile.
"I do. I'm not here to play, Billy, and neither are you. I just want this, yeah? Just us, just you like you are now, okay." Billy nods, and Dominic does, too. "Close your eyes. And don't run off."
It's Billy's turn to not hesitate, his move on the board Dominic's set tonight. The mattress shifts when Dominic does, and then there's little but the familiar sound of Dominic shedding his clothes quickly but not carelessly, little but the even more familiar feel of perfect tension between them as Billy senses Dominic pacing himself, taking Billy's measure and his own. The mild crackle of sachets being pulled from the inside pocket of Dominic's jacket follows shortly, then the quiet sound of those sachets falling to the bed near Billy, almost muted by the towel that lands there, too.
The feel of it is a reminder Billy hadn't really needed that they're not a home, but Dominic catches the frown Billy tries to hide and leans to kiss its corners before he slides his hands beneath Billy's knees, raising them. Billy keeps his eyes closed as he sits up enough to rid himself of his shirt, Dominic helping him after a fashion when it proves to be more of a challenge than it would be another, more clearheaded night. Falling back to the pillows feels fantastic after that small struggle, and Billy relaxes again, listening as Dominic fumbles a bit with the sachets, cursing under his breath before he slows himself down and then presses the condom into Billy's right hand, urging the left down to find him.
Billy's good at this, even with eyes closed, but before he sets to work he decides there's more he wants, a more thorough touch he can give. Dominic doesn't hurry him; instead he pushes into Billy's hands slowly, breath stuttering only a little as Billy's fingers play slowly between his legs, cupping his balls to massage them in small circles. There's no rush until Billy scrapes his thumbnail down the pronounced vein underneath Dominic's cock, and then Dominic mutters something dark and needy that makes Billy work the condom on him then and there, his own eagerness a little hard to bear now.
There are a messy few moments Billy has to survive before Dominic takes over, tearing another sachet and then one more, the sounds prompting Billy to release a low whistle of anticipation he can't remember ever letting himself make before. Dominic's laughter in response is kind, but there's a small victory in it, one Billy lets him take before he opens his eyes and Dominic's fingers brush slick and warm between his legs and then press inside. Over time Dominic's become as brilliant at this as he is in receiving it, and he holds Billy's gaze as he works, reading off Billy so well Billy thinks he might as well be directing this until Dominic turns his wrist sweetly, and then Billy's hardly thinking at all.
Billy's hips rise a little from the bed again, his toes curling in the fabric of the duvet and his body bearing down against the feeling of Dominic's fingers playing lower and harder. For a moment Billy curses himself for being unable to hold out as long as he'd like, but it's not his call to make now, he reminds himself; he and Dominic want the same thing, but it's Dominic who will allow it to happen. Billy feels his own body veering off into an exhausted frenzy, but Dominic shushes the next frustrated breath Billy takes and slows them down again, drawing his fingers from inside Billy and pushing Billy's knees farther apart.
The thought crosses Billy's mind that they haven't done this in too long, since before Billy's ended things between them; Dominic's appeal to let me registers properly this time, and Billy swallows hard as he looks at Dominic, an apology dying on his lips before he can say it. Dominic shakes his head and covers Billy's mouth again with his own, pressing his body down so their cocks slide hard against each other before Dominic backs off and grins, and Billy looks for patience and strength in the ceiling above him.
"Steady," Dominic warns him quietly, yanking Billy's attention back where he wants it, and Billy nods, reaching for him but satisfied to just curve a hand around Dominic's arm and then his shoulder. Dominic's barely inside Billy when he goes still as if he's testing them both, and Billy waits him out, resisting the slight urge that never entirely goes away when Billy finds himself on his back, to rush it toward a safe end and control whatever's next, whoever had always been next until he'd met Dominic.
It might as well be a punch and not a breath that Billy takes next, for all the shock of it; recognizing that he'd rarely wanted to be in this position before Dominic is less of a surprise than the realization that he could tell Dominic as much, without the fear of it coming back to haunt him like another one of the wrong sort of ghosts Billy's felt around him in Edinburgh for most of his adult life.
"Wherever you've gone in your head--" Dominic starts, almost teasing, and Billy stops him with a hiss, arching up and urging Dominic to move faster, only a little, something, anything; Dominic answers with a shift of his hips that makes Billy's entire body go first taut and tense and then greedy, nearly shivering as he digs his fingers into Dominic's arms and bares his teeth, well gone past want into a hard need.
It's still Dominic's show, though, and he won't be rushed any more than that. He's learned enough of Billy that he can safely bring Billy to a certain edge and then back away from it before Billy's begging, something he won't do without the kind of fight neither of them is looking for now. In the end, they're both going to give, and that's what makes it easy for Billy to do so first. Dominic takes the cue from the slow easing of Billy's grip to push inside Billy harder than before and not let up until Billy sees a different urge begin to overcome him. Billy takes another deep breath when Dominic gathers his strength and retreats, just barely inside Billy now and holding his gaze again hard.
"Dom--"
"One thing you want at a time," Dominic whispers. "What d'you want, Billy?"
"You," Billy says, breathless again and shifting beneath him. "Dom, what--you. This."
"Us," Dominic says patiently, and Billy watches the muscles of Dominic's arms tremble slightly as he leans closer. "Say it, Billy. What do you want."
Billy forces himself still and nods. "Us."
Dominic closes his eyes and lowers his chin, his expression hidden for the longest second Billy can remember surviving until he looks up again and then moves, reaching to wrap Billy's hand around his own cock before he shoves back inside Billy, both of them shocked into the rush now. Billy's breath comes hard, chattering into slurry nothings as his focus is shot from his own touch to Dominic's press and back again. Billy digs his heels into the mattress as his hand races up and down his cock, coaxing sensation that's already too much, wanting Dominic to see what he's wanted, too.
Dominic can only watch so much, though, Billy knows from brilliant experience; eventually Dominic's eyes close and the words now, c'mon tumble from his lips as his rhythm goes short and fast and Billy feels them both falling over that edge, hears them both hissing and then falling silent for that blackout of thrilling seconds, Billy first, then Dominic, both collapsing a little harder than they have since that night in the crumbling bed-and-breakfast, in another, less accommodating unfamiliar bed.
Unlike that night, Billy finds it easy to drift off afterward, not even Dominic weight on him enough to make him stir for several minutes. It's Dominic who eventually moves, some mixture of memory and instinct telling him he should, from what Billy sees working in Dominic's eyes. He's careful not to shift away from Billy too quickly, but there's still discomfort, still an almost petulant huff in Billy's worn exhale, and Dominic eases one hand down Billy's body as if in apology before Billy turns to his side to hide the next flush in his skin and tug weakly at the duvet, wanting little more than to be beneath it now, between cool sheets and his dreams.
He's almost fallen asleep when Dominic comes back to bed, another towel in his hand and smelling of Billy's own soap. It's easy to imagine they're back at home with Dominic this close, his touch more nervous now but still wanting to get it right. Billy doesn't open his eyes until Dominic settles him on his back and rests half on Billy, pressing kisses from Billy's cheeks to his throat and chest and back again.
"I'll bring you back here," Billy says quietly, between Dominic's slow kisses. "This isn't how y'should have seen it on your first go, Dom, and I'm not--it could have been better."
"We'll come back," Dominic nods against Billy's shoulder. "I'm not here for the city, Billy. Not this time."
"Good thing, too; all you've seen of it's a hotel bar and this room."
"Well, and that station. It's a start." Dominic kisses him again, more heatedly, but with as broad a smile as he can manage as he pulls back. "I like starts."
"I've heard that."
"You should sleep, Billy," Dominic says, and in it Billy hears the echo of too many times he's said the same to Dominic, sometimes for the right reasons and sometimes not. He looks at Dominic carefully, wondering if he's ever appeared as calm as Dominic does now, pushing damp hair from Billy's forehead before he falls to the pillow beside Billy. "I'll remember this," Dominic continues, and smiles when Billy turns to face him. "On the train. I'm going to have t'leave before you wake up."
Billy shakes his head. "The train can't be that early. I'll take you to the station."
Another smile, and then Dominic closes his eyes. "That'll be worse. You know what I mean. We'll both be home day after tomorrow, yeah? We'll just remember this. And don't expect a repeat performance, yeah?"
This time Billy smiles, touching his forehead to Dominic's. "No? You don't think so?"
"Not anytime soon."
"I'm a patient man, Dominic."
Dominic has the grace to hide his laughter mostly in the fabric of the pillow before he lifts his chin to kiss Billy. "You've got another hell of a day tomorrow, and I've got to face my mum while she wonders why I look like I'm falling asleep on m'feet."
"Blame your coursework," Billy murmurs, beginning to fall into that sleep Dominic's demanding of him, and Dominic offers him an approving little noise.
"Who d'you get to blame, then? Billy." Dominic nudges against him, and Billy forces his eyes open again. "Tomorrow, when you're faced with all those colleagues again, who are you going to blame when they ask why you're barely standing?"
"Myself," Billy laughs. "Well, no; depends on how bored they're looking and whether they're really listening. I could tell them I pulled someone in the bar--"
"Y'did, yeah."
"And this lot would buy it," Billy sighs, burrowing a little deeper in the bedclothes. "I've got some ghosts walking among the living here, Dom, and they know me, they know what I was like, what I've done here--"
"Sleep, Billy," Dominic says, quietly but more firmly, too. Billy looks up, ready to say more and tiredly surprised Dominic's not wanting to hear it, but when Dominic shakes his head, it's gently; he's just as exhausted as Billy, and it would be unkind to turn this perfect night into something less so. "You can tell me another time, okay?"
Billy nods and closes his eyes again, and knows nothing until several hours later, when his hand reaches for Dominic's wrist blindly and instead finds the note Dominic's left behind, true to his word and gone before Billy found reason or strength to wake. You weren't dreaming, Dominic tells him. Or maybe it came true. Go present your ideas, Billy. Then disappear and come home.
It's the best possible advice Billy could take for the last day of this conference, and it reads better presented in Dominic's scrawl. Billy allows himself the longest yawn and deepest stretch he can handle before he sits up in the bed, squinting at the front of the minibar to see another note, this one sticky-backed and an eye-searing yellow. Billy crawls down the mattress gingerly to read what else Dominic's got to say, and then laughs at the even easier to follow directive, to Bring some of these bottles back with you.
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy/Dominic
Word count: 6040
Summary: Home is where you find it.
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.
It's been almost a full twenty-four hours since Billy sent the email from one of the conference's ever-ready business centres to Dominic's address, but he's as tense now as if he'd just done so. When he closes his eyes, he can see his own words typed on the screen, the cursor blinking beside them to the rhythm the frustrated, pounding vein in his forehead had kept the night before.
You're likely asleep now, or at least in bed, and if you're not asleep I shouldn't think too hard on whatever else you might be doing in bed. It's just gone past eleven, and I haven't come down from dinner and everything after. This conference has taken a lot out of me, Dom; I've had to speak to people who call themselves my colleagues, who are eager to tell me in one breath that we're all in this together, and that of course we must examine other ways to teach philosophy, and then in the next tell me that I can only push the boundaries of teaching so far, that we exist only to present ideas, and then to disappear. In their minds, to invite or encourage one's students to develop their personal philosophies smacks of hand-holding; to pursue more discussion or god fucking forbid any of what they call that 'new age personal growth shite' is to turn the wrong corner. One cannot apparently be professional and personal at once. One cannot be approachable and authoritative. And I've got no room to move on that, have I.
In better news, I've made friends with the minibar. Baskerville's going to end up hocking my car to pay the bill. I'm keeping one of these fucking ridiculous little Macallan bottles as a memory of this waste of my time. To think I wrote a paper for this conference, and led a forum with a straight face.
I hope you've done your part in this and enjoyed the peace and quiet. And that your German paper is well in hand, and that you had a good fire going tonight. I hope you haven't frightened the pensioners next door with that Wu Tang Clan you think I didn't see you bring home last week. I hope you're dreaming enough for both of us.
That full day later now almost done, Billy's in his Edinburgh hotel room, getting his shoes and jacket off with no particular elegance, and waiting for what is supposed to be the relaxation of his tensed shoulders and the slowing of his blood. For all his patience in class and with those he cares for and about, Billy's impatience with himself--especially in an unfamiliar setting like this room, with nowhere to go with his frustration other than inward--leads him to pace like a much older man.
He stops his wandering at the room's window, staring down at the street below. This side of Edinburgh is just coming proper alive in the dark, in these hours between evening meal and last call, punters in groups of all types sizing each other up outside the Playhouse and bar next door and up the street to the cinemas and restaurants. Billy's certain his younger colleagues--and perhaps some of his older, too, colleagues he'd left behind for the refuge of the room--are still out there, enjoying the last night of this conference before they must get through the last meetings and then trundle, bleary-eyed, onto the train or a short-hop plane back home. Billy's already socialized as much as he can handle, and hadn't even looked in the direction of the bar downstairs on his way into the hotel this time; he was certain he could achieve the same tired effect a trip there might have caused with the help of the room's minibar, and its charming midsized bottles of Macallan that never seem to run out.
Billy's eyes flit to his nightstand, where one of those bottles sits half-emptied, and he crawls onto the bed from its opposite side, taking his time, hands and knees maybe just beginning to feel unsteady on the mattress. He gathers pillows, pressing them into an undignified lump at the headboard, and slumps against them, suddenly full of harsh feeling for the well-meaning department secretary who'd booked him a non-smoking room. Not that he's got any cigarettes on him; it's the principle of the thing.
When Billy looks down at his hands, he's amused to find that the bottle has appeared in one of them. He reads the label over and over again, scratching at it lightly, and then takes a sip, planning to draw this out as long as possible. The television remote, after all, is still across the room where Billy chucked it upon first coming back up here, and his papers are all the way over on the table. He's got nothing better to do than drink, he supposes, until his mind stops working in all the wrong directions, and he can finally fall asleep.
He's not given much of a chance at it, though; before long there's the chirrup of the mobile phone Billy's only owned for a few weeks now, after hours spent in an electronics store happily allowing Dominic to work out the options he would need, followed by several more hours at home both admiring Dominic's ability to program the damn thing and begrudging the amount of time it took. Once finished, Dominic had taken a deep breath, put the phone down on the coffee table between him and Billy, and then delivered the sweetest of scoldings for Billy's impatience. It's the thought of that night that twists Billy's frown someplace kinder as he shifts down the bed and reaches for his jacket again, digging inside it as the insistent noise of the phone becomes louder. The screen's lit up with Dominic's number, and Billy's smile widens a bit as he crawls back up the mattress, a significant portion of his irritation already leaving him.
"Dom," he murmurs slurry and soft down the phone, Dominic's answering hum makes Billy shift up against his pillows. "This isn't you telling me the house has caught fire, is it? It's a lot safer with you there than it would be with me. Did you get my email, Dom? This fucking conference, these people, I can't begin to-hmm?" Dominic says something Billy strains to hear, but can't quite, and so he continues as if he's been urged to. "D'you know, you've started me thinking I'm the luckiest bastard on the planet these days, but you're holding the title till I get back, because you're home, and I'm not. What have you been doing, chiontach? It's after dark; why the hell are you not enjoying that bed for both of us?"
"I went up north, Billy," Dominic laughs. "Thought I'd make a run up to see my mum if you weren't around to keep me awake back home."
"You're in Manchester?" Billy's frown returns, but Dominic's hum is an easy little unconcerned noise, no trace in it of his typical nerves when he mentions going back to his parents' home for even the briefest of visits.
"Couldn't sleep even if I were back at yours," Dominic laughs. "You've spoiled me. I don't like an empty bed anymore. Haven't since--us, I think." There's a pause, and Billy holds his smile, imagining Dominic's. "I'm sorry it's all gone to shit up there, Billy," Dominic says after a moment. "Anything I can do?"
"Hop another train and find me here?" Billy sighs, pushing the now closed bottle to the nightstand. "Would that it were that easy. No, you don't need to--you should see your family. I must have sounded like an arse in that email, Dom. I wouldn't take it back, though. Sometimes I think I was bred to be a teacher, yeah? Other days I think I should be in a field somewhere, fending off students trying to stage festivals in my grass. Or some crap docent, tripping children who run through museums. There's a career for me." Billy slumps a bit against the pillows and runs one hand through his hair, looking down at his chest. "I've still got my fucking tie on, Dom; give me a second."
Billy drops the telephone to the bed and yanks at the already loosened tie, freeing it only to play with its end in one hand, threading the silk between his fingers once he's retrieved the phone with his other hand. Dominic talks Billy through the past few days' comings and goings at home and the school, telling Billy that the man they'd called about the furnace had finally come and fixed the damn thing, though the heat had been taking its time making the place as warm as Dominic would have liked, and explaining to Billy that yes, the German literature essay Dominic was meant to be finishing was indeed sorted before he'd left for Manchester, along with the unassigned duties Dominic had chosen for himself, such as clearing out Billy's excuses for back garden and kitchen, working through a mountain of general household tasks they'd both ignored, and claiming for his own at least a dozen of Billy's CDs and perhaps five or six old t-shirts as well.
Billy laughs at this news and changes position again on the bed, until he's almost on his back, and he continues to play with the tie, pulling it taut and then releasing it over and over again. It's one of his favourites, but it's growing old, and will soon be relegated to the pile he uses for more imaginative things than to accessorise suits. The thought makes Billy's mind wander, but not far. "It'll take a while for the furnace to get the place back to what it was. Y'should have had a fire going in the meantime," Billy murmurs. "That'd work, wouldn't it. Generally does."
"No fire," Dominic laughs again. "No fire, no bed, no dinner yet today, either; I got a bit distracted--"
"Your mum didn't sort you out?" Billy laughs, and Dominic laughs, too.
"Only so much she can do. You know how it is." Dominic pauses once more and then releases a sigh as if he's stretching long and hard. "And I don't make it easy for anyone to look after me. I don't take care of your boy nearly as well as you do, Billy."
"No one takes care of you as well as I do," Billy murmurs, and the low sound of the words surprises him, accompanied by the sudden ache he feels from the pit of his stomach to between his legs. "No one will; don't forget that."
"I won't," Dominic says softly, and then the smile returns to his voice, confident and warm. "I think I might've told you that first."
Billy hums in his turn, and in the moment's silence that follows, he reaches to flick off the light next to him, inhaling when he sees the moonlight crossing the bed from where he's left the curtains open. "No fire, no bed, no dinner. I don't like it, Dom," Billy sighs, tossing his tie to the other pillow before throwing one hand above his head to wrap its fingers loosely around the thick spindles of the headboard while he shifts on top of the duvet. "You'll get back to Baskerville in time for class tomorrow, yeah? And we'll have a feast once I'm home. Start it in the kitchen and finish it in bed. You remember the bed, do you not? Where we allegedly sleep?"
"I remember," Dominic says quietly, and Billy can hear him moving, as if Dominic's curling up tight inside himself again, and then there's a hushed confidence in Dominic's next words. "I miss you. I haven't touched myself, not since the shower we took before you left."
There's no mistaking the surge of heat and energy that runs through Billy's body for anything else: it's the thrill of possession and straight lust, tempered by love and the knowledge that Dominic's giving himself up to whatever Billy wants as well as letting Billy take it. "I don't recall giving you any directive, Dom," Billy says, slurry again, but even more pleased. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't approve, though. You could--" Billy's words trail off with his thoughts as he blinks away another prickly, thrilling rush of energy, and Dominic's next low run of laughter is gentle, teasing and teased at once.
"Hang on, yeah?" Dominic says softly. "Let me just--" There's a sound of quick, controlled breaths, as if Dominic's moving somewhere with a purpose to his step, and Billy raises his eyes and his smile to the ceiling of his room, imagining now Dominic on his way finally to that bed in the house, falling to his back on it to await what directives they can maybe give each other. Billy closes his eyes and opens them only when another noise can faintly be heard down the line, a few dull thuds in succession and the harmony of Dominic hushed, resigned little curse and apology.
"Anyway," Dominic laughs. "You were saying."
"It's been full seconds, Dom. I can't possibly remember."
"Lying." Dominic clicks his tongue, the tease in his voice sharpening now. "You only get so many."
"Let's not take that road," Billy murmurs, but there's no malice in it. "Most of the fight's beat out of me for today. Part of the problem, Dominic, was that ancient argument about how much guidance a teacher can give before his instruction becomes some kind of--" Billy huffs, looking for the words. "Ever-tightening net around students who've not yet figured out how to fly under their own strength. I don't know exactly how I feel about it, see. I don't know if I can always believe anymore that the freedom I give my students--and don't you start;" Billy laughs, a dry sound made raspier by what he's said and swallowed all day and tonight. "I allow for a great deal of independent thought in my classes--I just don't know if it's right anymore. So I end up reaching for--clinging to what I do know is finally going fucking right in my life, academic or otherwise, which is so little in the end, isn't it? You've gone right, haven't you. We've gone right. We always were." Billy takes a deep breath, staring at the ceiling again. "I'm boring the fuck out of you."
"You're not. You never do."
"You say that now."
"Tomorrow, too, if you're lucky," Dominic laughs. "We've gone right, Billy. And throw your net, okay; some of us need it or we'll fucking drown. I don't mind being caught."
"No, y'never have, have you--" A sharp rap on wood startles Billy enough that his words catch in his throat, and he stares at the room's door accusingly. "Of all the fucking things--hello?"
"What is it?"
"Hang on," Billy tells Dominic, shifting off the bed a bit uneasily and moving for the door, working to keep down the frustration at being interrupted and the fear of being dragged back out into another round of socialization he absolutely cannot bear right now. The only thing he wants and needs is something and someone he can't have, short of a--well, short of the smirking miracle standing in front of him now outside the open door, a bucket of ice in one hand and a mobile phone in the other.
"That stuff's better on ice, whatever you think," Dominic sighs, nodding toward the bottle he can see on the table behind Billy. "And you're had enough anyway, yeah? So."
"So," Billy breathes, and Dominic laughs before he closes the door and leaves the bucket of ice on the first surface he can find, turning back to pull Billy to him. Billy doesn't fight it--shock has never felt this good, and Dominic's confidence is as much a lure as his arms--but when Dominic takes a step back again, Billy narrows his eyes a little even as he smiles. "Is my house still standing?"
"Steadier than you are."
"That's not telling me very much. What were you thinking, Dom?" Billy asks, still a little breathless, and caught between pleasure and confusion as he watches Dominic work off his own jacket, making himself immediately at home in Billy's hotel room.
"Same thing you were a few minutes ago. Making your wish come true and all that."
"You've got no idea," Billy murmurs, but Dominic hears it, advancing on Billy again, another tiger's smile creasing his face.
"I'm pretty sure I do."
"Your mum--" Billy starts, but Dominic kisses him before pulling back, shaking his head.
"Told her I'd be back for tea tomorrow."
Billy blinks. "This is costing you more than it's worth," he says quietly, and Dominic shakes his head again.
"Let me make that call, yeah? You threw the net, I'm caught." Dominic steps closer and Billy finds himself backed up against the wall near the door, his hands rising to close around Dominic's forearms, proving Dominic's point happily. Dominic's eyes close and then he leans to kiss Billy again, his own fingers searching for the buttons of Billy's shirt and working two open before Billy turns his chin and takes a deep breath.
"And you're not even struggling in it, are you. More's the pity."
Dominic releases a scoffing little noise and rests his forehead against Billy's, just letting them breathe for a moment. "Is that what you want?"
"I haven't got a clue." Billy tips his head back and lets his shoulders drop before his hands follow, slipping to Dominic's waist. "You've got this far, you tell me what I want."
Dominic hums and leans in again, his lips brushing beneath Billy's ear and the sensitive patch of skin there. Billy inhales sharply and rises a little on his toes before he gets control of himself again, but Dominic's not about to be stopped; his teeth drag lightly over where he's just kissed, and Billy arches this time, almost laughing at how easily Dominic's sussed him out again.
"I think you want to get out of this city," Dominic says softly. "You want to love it; it's like you think you're supposed to, like it's been drilled into you that you have to, but it's not yours, is it, Billy. Wrong sort of ghosts and too many of them."
"Christ, Dom, what did I say in that email--"
Dominic silences Billy with a deeper kiss. "I think you want to teach and be left alone to do it, and write and take your pictures and get up your trees and out from under all these shadows, Billy," he murmurs. "Second step's getting back home, isn't it."
"Second?" Billy nudges his cheek against Dominic and hums too. "Second. What's first?"
"First step's now. Here."
Billy thinks that if he had a little more energy and little less to drink earlier, he'd have some response to Dominic's logic other than to give in to it, but surrender works, too; it's easy and comfortable, even more so when Dominic walks them both to the edge of the mattress and tugs at the hem of Billy's shirt, freeing it from Billy's trousers and then letting his fingers trace warm up Billy's sides.
"Can't believe you picked up the phone, actually," Dominic says, and Billy blinks again, wondering for a moment while they're still talking when they could just as happily be doing something else that isn't talking, but Dominic's voice is as lulling and persuasive at once as his hands. "Thought I'd get the voicemail. Again."
Billy ducks his head, but doesn't bother to hide his smile when he raises it again. "I've got an excuse this time. Can't take calls while I'm pretending to give a presentation."
"I don't know, Billy; you haven't always been shit at multitasking." Dominic pulls Billy closer, his fingers sliding inside the waist of Billy's trousers. "We should take this one thing at a time, then, yeah? One thing you want at a time."
There's no arguing that, Billy thinks, and when his back hits the mattress he closes his eyes and surrenders a little more. Dominic pushes Billy's shirt open fully and presses kisses down Billy's chest and stomach, clasping Billy's hand gently to push it back to the duvet when Billy reaches for him. It's no real hardship to let Dominic set a pace here, but Billy still shifts beneath him as eagerly as both exhaustion and Dominic will allow.
"I saw you come in," Dominic says softly. "In the lobby. I'd only been here a few minutes, and I was--getting up the courage, like. I was at the bar, and you can just see who's coming through, stumbling in like you were or chin up like the tourists. You looked like you do when you come home on Fridays, until you remember it is Friday."
Billy grunts out a laugh, arching again on the duvet when Dominic's tongue slides warm on his skin. "There's a picture for you. I still can't believe y'did this."
"Believe it. It's more fun if you do."
Billy nods and lets out an agreeable little noise, raising his hips one more time as Dominic pulls at Billy's trousers, easing them and Billy's boxers down. "And you remembered the room number."
"I'm getting better at that," Dominic says, more quietly. "Remembering."
Billy opens his eyes and looks down at Dominic, freeing his hand from Dominic's grasp before he curves it at Dominic's cheek. "Come here," Billy says, and Dominic inches back up the bed , holding himself above Billy just enough that Billy has to work to kiss him, but not enough that it's difficult to pull Dominic back down. When Dominic settles on him after the kiss, Billy turns his chin again, pushing it lightly against Dominic's cheek. "Was it hard? Seeing your mum."
Dominic shakes his head. "My dad's off on the water again, so I didn't have to deal with him. Everything's easier when I don't. It's not perfect, but it's easier."
"Sometimes that's all we can get, easier."
"And better." Dominic rises up on his palms again and smiles down at Billy for a moment, granting them both a little peace before his expression turns more serious. Billy reaches for Dominic's cheek again, and Dominic takes his hand, pressing kisses to Billy's palm before he nips at the pad of Billy's thumb.
"What are you thinking, Dom?"
"I want to fuck you," Dominic says with no hesitation and every certainty, more of those insistent kisses punctuating his words. "I want you to let me. I want you to want it. Me." Billy's nodding before Dominic's even finished, shifting against him and pushing his hand between their bodies to find Dominic's belt. Dominic catches his hands again and draws them back against the mattress, waiting for Billy's reaction to move from mild frustration to concentration again before he continues. "Let me, Billy," he says, the thinnest of edge to it this time, and Billy pushes away the briefest spike of panic before he reads Dominic properly and understands, taking a deep breath and relaxing his hands and shoulders, meeting Dominic's eyes carefully.
"I haven't got anything here," he murmurs, but Dominic's control breaks in another smile.
"I do. I'm not here to play, Billy, and neither are you. I just want this, yeah? Just us, just you like you are now, okay." Billy nods, and Dominic does, too. "Close your eyes. And don't run off."
It's Billy's turn to not hesitate, his move on the board Dominic's set tonight. The mattress shifts when Dominic does, and then there's little but the familiar sound of Dominic shedding his clothes quickly but not carelessly, little but the even more familiar feel of perfect tension between them as Billy senses Dominic pacing himself, taking Billy's measure and his own. The mild crackle of sachets being pulled from the inside pocket of Dominic's jacket follows shortly, then the quiet sound of those sachets falling to the bed near Billy, almost muted by the towel that lands there, too.
The feel of it is a reminder Billy hadn't really needed that they're not a home, but Dominic catches the frown Billy tries to hide and leans to kiss its corners before he slides his hands beneath Billy's knees, raising them. Billy keeps his eyes closed as he sits up enough to rid himself of his shirt, Dominic helping him after a fashion when it proves to be more of a challenge than it would be another, more clearheaded night. Falling back to the pillows feels fantastic after that small struggle, and Billy relaxes again, listening as Dominic fumbles a bit with the sachets, cursing under his breath before he slows himself down and then presses the condom into Billy's right hand, urging the left down to find him.
Billy's good at this, even with eyes closed, but before he sets to work he decides there's more he wants, a more thorough touch he can give. Dominic doesn't hurry him; instead he pushes into Billy's hands slowly, breath stuttering only a little as Billy's fingers play slowly between his legs, cupping his balls to massage them in small circles. There's no rush until Billy scrapes his thumbnail down the pronounced vein underneath Dominic's cock, and then Dominic mutters something dark and needy that makes Billy work the condom on him then and there, his own eagerness a little hard to bear now.
There are a messy few moments Billy has to survive before Dominic takes over, tearing another sachet and then one more, the sounds prompting Billy to release a low whistle of anticipation he can't remember ever letting himself make before. Dominic's laughter in response is kind, but there's a small victory in it, one Billy lets him take before he opens his eyes and Dominic's fingers brush slick and warm between his legs and then press inside. Over time Dominic's become as brilliant at this as he is in receiving it, and he holds Billy's gaze as he works, reading off Billy so well Billy thinks he might as well be directing this until Dominic turns his wrist sweetly, and then Billy's hardly thinking at all.
Billy's hips rise a little from the bed again, his toes curling in the fabric of the duvet and his body bearing down against the feeling of Dominic's fingers playing lower and harder. For a moment Billy curses himself for being unable to hold out as long as he'd like, but it's not his call to make now, he reminds himself; he and Dominic want the same thing, but it's Dominic who will allow it to happen. Billy feels his own body veering off into an exhausted frenzy, but Dominic shushes the next frustrated breath Billy takes and slows them down again, drawing his fingers from inside Billy and pushing Billy's knees farther apart.
The thought crosses Billy's mind that they haven't done this in too long, since before Billy's ended things between them; Dominic's appeal to let me registers properly this time, and Billy swallows hard as he looks at Dominic, an apology dying on his lips before he can say it. Dominic shakes his head and covers Billy's mouth again with his own, pressing his body down so their cocks slide hard against each other before Dominic backs off and grins, and Billy looks for patience and strength in the ceiling above him.
"Steady," Dominic warns him quietly, yanking Billy's attention back where he wants it, and Billy nods, reaching for him but satisfied to just curve a hand around Dominic's arm and then his shoulder. Dominic's barely inside Billy when he goes still as if he's testing them both, and Billy waits him out, resisting the slight urge that never entirely goes away when Billy finds himself on his back, to rush it toward a safe end and control whatever's next, whoever had always been next until he'd met Dominic.
It might as well be a punch and not a breath that Billy takes next, for all the shock of it; recognizing that he'd rarely wanted to be in this position before Dominic is less of a surprise than the realization that he could tell Dominic as much, without the fear of it coming back to haunt him like another one of the wrong sort of ghosts Billy's felt around him in Edinburgh for most of his adult life.
"Wherever you've gone in your head--" Dominic starts, almost teasing, and Billy stops him with a hiss, arching up and urging Dominic to move faster, only a little, something, anything; Dominic answers with a shift of his hips that makes Billy's entire body go first taut and tense and then greedy, nearly shivering as he digs his fingers into Dominic's arms and bares his teeth, well gone past want into a hard need.
It's still Dominic's show, though, and he won't be rushed any more than that. He's learned enough of Billy that he can safely bring Billy to a certain edge and then back away from it before Billy's begging, something he won't do without the kind of fight neither of them is looking for now. In the end, they're both going to give, and that's what makes it easy for Billy to do so first. Dominic takes the cue from the slow easing of Billy's grip to push inside Billy harder than before and not let up until Billy sees a different urge begin to overcome him. Billy takes another deep breath when Dominic gathers his strength and retreats, just barely inside Billy now and holding his gaze again hard.
"Dom--"
"One thing you want at a time," Dominic whispers. "What d'you want, Billy?"
"You," Billy says, breathless again and shifting beneath him. "Dom, what--you. This."
"Us," Dominic says patiently, and Billy watches the muscles of Dominic's arms tremble slightly as he leans closer. "Say it, Billy. What do you want."
Billy forces himself still and nods. "Us."
Dominic closes his eyes and lowers his chin, his expression hidden for the longest second Billy can remember surviving until he looks up again and then moves, reaching to wrap Billy's hand around his own cock before he shoves back inside Billy, both of them shocked into the rush now. Billy's breath comes hard, chattering into slurry nothings as his focus is shot from his own touch to Dominic's press and back again. Billy digs his heels into the mattress as his hand races up and down his cock, coaxing sensation that's already too much, wanting Dominic to see what he's wanted, too.
Dominic can only watch so much, though, Billy knows from brilliant experience; eventually Dominic's eyes close and the words now, c'mon tumble from his lips as his rhythm goes short and fast and Billy feels them both falling over that edge, hears them both hissing and then falling silent for that blackout of thrilling seconds, Billy first, then Dominic, both collapsing a little harder than they have since that night in the crumbling bed-and-breakfast, in another, less accommodating unfamiliar bed.
Unlike that night, Billy finds it easy to drift off afterward, not even Dominic weight on him enough to make him stir for several minutes. It's Dominic who eventually moves, some mixture of memory and instinct telling him he should, from what Billy sees working in Dominic's eyes. He's careful not to shift away from Billy too quickly, but there's still discomfort, still an almost petulant huff in Billy's worn exhale, and Dominic eases one hand down Billy's body as if in apology before Billy turns to his side to hide the next flush in his skin and tug weakly at the duvet, wanting little more than to be beneath it now, between cool sheets and his dreams.
He's almost fallen asleep when Dominic comes back to bed, another towel in his hand and smelling of Billy's own soap. It's easy to imagine they're back at home with Dominic this close, his touch more nervous now but still wanting to get it right. Billy doesn't open his eyes until Dominic settles him on his back and rests half on Billy, pressing kisses from Billy's cheeks to his throat and chest and back again.
"I'll bring you back here," Billy says quietly, between Dominic's slow kisses. "This isn't how y'should have seen it on your first go, Dom, and I'm not--it could have been better."
"We'll come back," Dominic nods against Billy's shoulder. "I'm not here for the city, Billy. Not this time."
"Good thing, too; all you've seen of it's a hotel bar and this room."
"Well, and that station. It's a start." Dominic kisses him again, more heatedly, but with as broad a smile as he can manage as he pulls back. "I like starts."
"I've heard that."
"You should sleep, Billy," Dominic says, and in it Billy hears the echo of too many times he's said the same to Dominic, sometimes for the right reasons and sometimes not. He looks at Dominic carefully, wondering if he's ever appeared as calm as Dominic does now, pushing damp hair from Billy's forehead before he falls to the pillow beside Billy. "I'll remember this," Dominic continues, and smiles when Billy turns to face him. "On the train. I'm going to have t'leave before you wake up."
Billy shakes his head. "The train can't be that early. I'll take you to the station."
Another smile, and then Dominic closes his eyes. "That'll be worse. You know what I mean. We'll both be home day after tomorrow, yeah? We'll just remember this. And don't expect a repeat performance, yeah?"
This time Billy smiles, touching his forehead to Dominic's. "No? You don't think so?"
"Not anytime soon."
"I'm a patient man, Dominic."
Dominic has the grace to hide his laughter mostly in the fabric of the pillow before he lifts his chin to kiss Billy. "You've got another hell of a day tomorrow, and I've got to face my mum while she wonders why I look like I'm falling asleep on m'feet."
"Blame your coursework," Billy murmurs, beginning to fall into that sleep Dominic's demanding of him, and Dominic offers him an approving little noise.
"Who d'you get to blame, then? Billy." Dominic nudges against him, and Billy forces his eyes open again. "Tomorrow, when you're faced with all those colleagues again, who are you going to blame when they ask why you're barely standing?"
"Myself," Billy laughs. "Well, no; depends on how bored they're looking and whether they're really listening. I could tell them I pulled someone in the bar--"
"Y'did, yeah."
"And this lot would buy it," Billy sighs, burrowing a little deeper in the bedclothes. "I've got some ghosts walking among the living here, Dom, and they know me, they know what I was like, what I've done here--"
"Sleep, Billy," Dominic says, quietly but more firmly, too. Billy looks up, ready to say more and tiredly surprised Dominic's not wanting to hear it, but when Dominic shakes his head, it's gently; he's just as exhausted as Billy, and it would be unkind to turn this perfect night into something less so. "You can tell me another time, okay?"
Billy nods and closes his eyes again, and knows nothing until several hours later, when his hand reaches for Dominic's wrist blindly and instead finds the note Dominic's left behind, true to his word and gone before Billy found reason or strength to wake. You weren't dreaming, Dominic tells him. Or maybe it came true. Go present your ideas, Billy. Then disappear and come home.
It's the best possible advice Billy could take for the last day of this conference, and it reads better presented in Dominic's scrawl. Billy allows himself the longest yawn and deepest stretch he can handle before he sits up in the bed, squinting at the front of the minibar to see another note, this one sticky-backed and an eye-searing yellow. Billy crawls down the mattress gingerly to read what else Dominic's got to say, and then laughs at the even easier to follow directive, to Bring some of these bottles back with you.