Hello Monaboydians
Today is my day, and I come with fic this morning. There will be art after I get home from work!
Title: All Dressed Up… (1/1)
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: PG-13ish, maybe R
Word count: ~ 980
Summary: Yay idioms.
Billy turned from the game on the telly as Dom came in from the garage, dropping his keys and money clip on the sideboard. He sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Who’s winning?”
“Brazil,” Billy answered, lounging across the sofa and stretching briefly, “Where’d you go?”
Dom strode back into the living room, Billy pulling his feet back as Dom sat where they’d been a moment before. He held out the hand not holding his beer, palm inward, fingers spread, showing the colors expertly painted across his nails, today a diagonal stripe of silver with a thinner blue stripe on one side, except for the ubiquitous pinky, which was red.
Billy smiled, letting his arm flop over the cushion above his head. “Metro.”
“Had them do my toes, too.”
*
Dom leaned way in toward the mirror, winding the floss around his fingers to work it in between his back molars. Billy smirked, pulling his toothbrush back only long enough to ask, “Shall I fetch your glasses?”
“Thuck oth.”
*
“It’s an exfoliater.”
“It’s an overgrown cucumber or something. Indian soup component. I saw that on the Food channel,” Billy said primly, pushing his hands back through his hair to rinse out the shampoo.
Dom took a step close and leaned to loop the loofah’s rope around the showerhead, tilting his lips to Billy’s ear. “Makes my skin nice and soft, though.”
He left, swiping a towel across said skin with a last look before the steamy glass door snapped shut.
*
Billy strode out of the bathroom clad in a towel, pausing for a second. “Pants?”
Dom flushed a bit, eyes sweeping momentarily down at the unaccustomed garment he was sporting: correctly sized, silk blend boxers, conservative off white with a subtle blue pinstripe. He shrugged.
*
“Dominic,” Billy murmured, the foamy cream on his face doing little to hide the glint in his eye and the foreboding sweetness of his voice.
“Yeah,” Dom breathed, his thumb caressing the engraving on the handle of the straight razor, getting used to the feel of it in his hand.
“If you cut me-”
“You’ll kill me, I know,” Dom shifted the bowl of warm water closer on the sink top, and took the damp cloth in his left hand, swallowing as he lifted the razor with the right.
“No,” Billy reached up to grasp his wrist-gently, not tight-his relaxed smile dripping with that poisoned honey tone, “But I will acquaint your testicles with a feeling that will make even wanking excruciating for a month. So don’t. Aye?”
Billy’s fingers unwound from his arm and dropped to clasp together behind his back. Dom exhaled slowly, his tongue darting across his lips, shifting his weight from foot to foot before he raised the slightly quivering blade to the side of Billy’s cheek.
*
“I do not even want to know what you paid for that shite,” Billy grumbled, standing before the dresser and picking through the box of cufflinks.
Dom tipped the fancy brown bottle with a fingertip over the lip, a subtle hint of oak under citrus, dabbing it on the pulse point only on the side with the freckle, right between his nipples, just below his navel, and making certain Billy was occupied with his shirt sleeves, pushed his hand down the open fly of his trousers to swipe across the top of his inner thigh before capping it, buttoning up the shirt and tucking in the tails. “It’s Tom Ford though.”
“Exactly,” Billy finished his cuffs and let his tie unroll with a slip through his thumb and forefinger, watching Dom’s secret smug grin in the reflection. “Over-priced snake oil.”
*
“No gel.”
Dom stopped with a hand on the tube, “No?”
“No.” Billy pushed his fingers through his own damp fine hair, tugging a tuft here and there. He pulled open a drawer between them, riffling through and found Dom’s eyeliner pencil, holding it out to him.
“Little of that, though.”
*
They faced the mirror side by side, smoothing lapels, tugging collars, regarding their reflections critically.
“This is a prime effort on our part, Bills,” Dom commented, squaring the knot of his tie.
“It is,” Billy agreed, flicking a speck of lint from his sleeve, “We’re looking better tonight than we ever have for these occasions, eh?”
“Mm,” Dom inhaled with anticipation. “Ready, then?”
Billy turned from the mirror to him. “Are you?”
*
One jacket hung from a doorknob while the other hugged the back of the chair. Trousers were strewn across the floor, creases already working their way into the fabric. Silver cufflinks studded the end table while a tie was flung over the footboard, another snaking across the carpet. Pinstriped pants hung from the bedpost. The sheets were pushed nearly to the floor on the right side of the mattress, the duvet in a heap on the left.
Dom threw both arms over his head and arched through a stretch, a satisfied noise squirming out his throat. Billy answered it with a tired but happy hum that resonated across Dom’s belly. His fingers stroked across the dip of one hip, the usual tickle-flutter of that spot gone with sated bliss. “Soft,” Billy whispered.
Dom grinned, dropping one hand to pet through Billy’s hair. “Mmm-hm.”
The point of Billy’s nose swept along the skin, searching with little warm puffs. “’S that lime?”
“Mmm-hm,” Dom cracked an eye down his torso. “Worth every penny, innit?”
Billy huffed, trailing his nose down and down, past Dom’s spent cock, shifting to push Dom’s leg up farther and rubbed the smoothness of his chin across the inside of his thigh, flicking his bright eyes up at Dom’s responding inhale. “Saw what you did here.”
“Caught me,” Dom confessed with a grin. “I love staying in.”
Title: All Dressed Up… (1/1)
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: PG-13ish, maybe R
Word count: ~ 980
Summary: Yay idioms.
Billy turned from the game on the telly as Dom came in from the garage, dropping his keys and money clip on the sideboard. He sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Who’s winning?”
“Brazil,” Billy answered, lounging across the sofa and stretching briefly, “Where’d you go?”
Dom strode back into the living room, Billy pulling his feet back as Dom sat where they’d been a moment before. He held out the hand not holding his beer, palm inward, fingers spread, showing the colors expertly painted across his nails, today a diagonal stripe of silver with a thinner blue stripe on one side, except for the ubiquitous pinky, which was red.
Billy smiled, letting his arm flop over the cushion above his head. “Metro.”
“Had them do my toes, too.”
*
Dom leaned way in toward the mirror, winding the floss around his fingers to work it in between his back molars. Billy smirked, pulling his toothbrush back only long enough to ask, “Shall I fetch your glasses?”
“Thuck oth.”
*
“It’s an exfoliater.”
“It’s an overgrown cucumber or something. Indian soup component. I saw that on the Food channel,” Billy said primly, pushing his hands back through his hair to rinse out the shampoo.
Dom took a step close and leaned to loop the loofah’s rope around the showerhead, tilting his lips to Billy’s ear. “Makes my skin nice and soft, though.”
He left, swiping a towel across said skin with a last look before the steamy glass door snapped shut.
*
Billy strode out of the bathroom clad in a towel, pausing for a second. “Pants?”
Dom flushed a bit, eyes sweeping momentarily down at the unaccustomed garment he was sporting: correctly sized, silk blend boxers, conservative off white with a subtle blue pinstripe. He shrugged.
*
“Dominic,” Billy murmured, the foamy cream on his face doing little to hide the glint in his eye and the foreboding sweetness of his voice.
“Yeah,” Dom breathed, his thumb caressing the engraving on the handle of the straight razor, getting used to the feel of it in his hand.
“If you cut me-”
“You’ll kill me, I know,” Dom shifted the bowl of warm water closer on the sink top, and took the damp cloth in his left hand, swallowing as he lifted the razor with the right.
“No,” Billy reached up to grasp his wrist-gently, not tight-his relaxed smile dripping with that poisoned honey tone, “But I will acquaint your testicles with a feeling that will make even wanking excruciating for a month. So don’t. Aye?”
Billy’s fingers unwound from his arm and dropped to clasp together behind his back. Dom exhaled slowly, his tongue darting across his lips, shifting his weight from foot to foot before he raised the slightly quivering blade to the side of Billy’s cheek.
*
“I do not even want to know what you paid for that shite,” Billy grumbled, standing before the dresser and picking through the box of cufflinks.
Dom tipped the fancy brown bottle with a fingertip over the lip, a subtle hint of oak under citrus, dabbing it on the pulse point only on the side with the freckle, right between his nipples, just below his navel, and making certain Billy was occupied with his shirt sleeves, pushed his hand down the open fly of his trousers to swipe across the top of his inner thigh before capping it, buttoning up the shirt and tucking in the tails. “It’s Tom Ford though.”
“Exactly,” Billy finished his cuffs and let his tie unroll with a slip through his thumb and forefinger, watching Dom’s secret smug grin in the reflection. “Over-priced snake oil.”
*
“No gel.”
Dom stopped with a hand on the tube, “No?”
“No.” Billy pushed his fingers through his own damp fine hair, tugging a tuft here and there. He pulled open a drawer between them, riffling through and found Dom’s eyeliner pencil, holding it out to him.
“Little of that, though.”
*
They faced the mirror side by side, smoothing lapels, tugging collars, regarding their reflections critically.
“This is a prime effort on our part, Bills,” Dom commented, squaring the knot of his tie.
“It is,” Billy agreed, flicking a speck of lint from his sleeve, “We’re looking better tonight than we ever have for these occasions, eh?”
“Mm,” Dom inhaled with anticipation. “Ready, then?”
Billy turned from the mirror to him. “Are you?”
*
One jacket hung from a doorknob while the other hugged the back of the chair. Trousers were strewn across the floor, creases already working their way into the fabric. Silver cufflinks studded the end table while a tie was flung over the footboard, another snaking across the carpet. Pinstriped pants hung from the bedpost. The sheets were pushed nearly to the floor on the right side of the mattress, the duvet in a heap on the left.
Dom threw both arms over his head and arched through a stretch, a satisfied noise squirming out his throat. Billy answered it with a tired but happy hum that resonated across Dom’s belly. His fingers stroked across the dip of one hip, the usual tickle-flutter of that spot gone with sated bliss. “Soft,” Billy whispered.
Dom grinned, dropping one hand to pet through Billy’s hair. “Mmm-hm.”
The point of Billy’s nose swept along the skin, searching with little warm puffs. “’S that lime?”
“Mmm-hm,” Dom cracked an eye down his torso. “Worth every penny, innit?”
Billy huffed, trailing his nose down and down, past Dom’s spent cock, shifting to push Dom’s leg up farther and rubbed the smoothness of his chin across the inside of his thigh, flicking his bright eyes up at Dom’s responding inhale. “Saw what you did here.”
“Caught me,” Dom confessed with a grin. “I love staying in.”