Fic: Home Movies, Monaboyd
Fic: Home Movies
Author: Nakanna Lee
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: Mature
Summary: First time, South Islands.
Disclaimer: None of this is true or means any harm.
Word Count: 1600
Breath on his nose and mouth wakes Dom initially.
The room remains dark when he slowly opens his eyes; everything is coated in blue shadow, outlined starkly in black. Eyes adjusting, he recognizes the slope of Billy’s nose inches from his own. He inhales and can almost feel Billy’s sleepy, murmuring mouth changing the temperature and current.
Dom stays still.
Very slowly, he glances down their bodies, scarcely clothed in tanks and boxers, and finds their arms and legs entangled. They’re nearly chest-to-chest, among other things. He scoots his leg and notices that his knee is tucked securely between Billy’s.
His mind tugs clumsily at a thought but the sun isn’t even up yet. Too early to think. The formless mess of the unlit room doesn’t come with a time. It’s too steady and silent to belong to morning or night. Dom watches Billy sleeping curled against him and a swollen, heavy urge-the same feeling that is piquing his awareness between his legs-circles closer.
He tries once to block it out, but he has no interest in untangling himself and moving away. Closing his eyes, he focuses on centering his body, picking out all the sleep-clogged sensations and righting their order. He bites his lower lip as the heat in his hips deepens and settles insistently in his stomach.
He’s long started feeling silly around Billy, almost dangerously ecstatic. But bloody hell.
Eyes open again, Dom moves slightly. His hips bump Billy’s thigh-accidentally, he assures himself-and a searing, sweet burst rocks through him. He clenches his teeth to keep from moaning and forces himself to stay fucking still. It would be best to move now, find another sleeping spot. And get to the bathroom and relieve himself.
But it’s too close where he is now. Dom concentrates on the encircling pressure of Billy’s arms around him.
Sharing a place in the South Islands hadn’t guaranteed this would happen, he supposes. If it hadn’t rained, then Elijah and Sean could have finished up, and Pete wouldn’t have called him and Billy down to do some indoor Merry and Pippin shots. They wouldn’t have been given this comfortable little house to crash in, and they wouldn’t have kicked back for a week and ended up in bed together.
Not this way. Although it isn’t a shite way either. Dom just thought they’d both have to be bloody piss-drunk before it happened. As it were they only spent the previous day filming skits-Let’s Count Billy’s Nose Hairs; Dom Reveals He’s Actually A DJ’ing Brainwashing German Spy; Viggo is the Devil; among others. All were absurd and probably too loaded with inside-jokes to be deciphered by anyone outside the Fellowship.
Dom had laughed so hard he thought he’d be sick. If Orlando was missing his video camera that they’d lifted, it was quite worth it. It’s only Wednesday and already they’ve whipped through three full tapes.
By the end of yesterday, Billy wanted to crawl into bed early. Dom followed, wide-awake, and tackled him into the mattress, insisting that it was not normal for even an old codger to be put out by nine-thirty. Billy decided he’d let him hang around and be as annoying as he’d like, so long as he was entertaining. Dom was always entertaining and said so with full cheeky grin.
Dom vaguely recalls falling asleep on the open side of the king-sized bed, the comforter tossed to the floor and only the sheets needed. He does not remember meeting Billy halfway in the center of the bed.
“Bills?” Dom asks now. He mostly mouths the name, hesitating to make noise. When there’s no response, he relaxes a bit. His eyes drop from Billy’s closed lids to the swirl of Billy’s lips. He licks his own and catches his breath, before leaning in and resting their foreheads together.
Fuck. He feels high.
Only when he wakes up again does he realize he drifted off. They’ve shifted. This time they’re further on Dom’s side, with Billy almost straddling his leg, and Dom freezes when feels the warm bulge against his bare thigh. He thinks of Billy in boxers below the sheets that have fallen down to their mid-chests and hums tensely to himself. He’s too tired. The room comes and recesses in blurs.
Dom quietly nudges Billy’s nose with his own. Again he does it until Billy murmurs in sleep, inhales and sighs. Then, barely, Dom brushes his lips on Billy’s mouth. He lingers there for a second until he feels pressure returned. Fingers curl at his back.
They kiss in a lazy, subconscious sway. Dom fights between focusing on Billy’s lips and telling the rest of his sodding body to settle down. Then Billy stirs against his thigh and presses hard against him, and Dom fails at stopping a short moan and opening his mouth more. He wonders if Billy is even fully awake yet.
Tongue to tongue, Dom licks in a smooth flecking motion inside Billy’s mouth. Billy pushes back, and without seeing Dom can picture how pink and wet their lips must look. Already it’s stifling hot beneath the sheets but Dom is lax to move. The position feels too perfect right now. It’s an indulgent extension of the laughing embraces they’ve shared, or the quick pecks on the cheek that have started to come with lengthier eye contact afterwards.
He trails his fingers up Billy’s neck and around his ear, bringing their mouths closer. Dom murmurs between long kisses and despite himself, his hips begin rocking, rubbing against Billy’s waist with more frequency.
“Dom...”
Billy’s hoarse whisper is lost in the rustle of sheets as Dom repositions himself more firmly against him. It’s as if Billy has just given permission. Suddenly everything has quickened. Billy, eyes opened, has slipped his hands around Dom’s neck, and Dom has grasped Billy’s waist, crushing them together.
“Come on,” Dom murmurs. He arches to get closer, the pleasure of persistent contact so overwhelming that it’s almost a footnote they’re still wearing clothes.
Bollocks. It’s going to be over before they’ve had time to rid themselves of everything-Dom figures he’s been at least half-hard for most of the night, even before he fell asleep, before he jokingly followed Billy into the room.
He’d swear then it was joking.
But it’s all built up. He’s been spending almost every waking moment with Billy. He’s been watching his face avidly when he talked, enjoying subtle body movements, touching his arm or shoulder or waist for the most mundane reason. Billy nipped at his neck to josh him during a phone call yesterday afternoon and Dom completely lost all train of thought.
Fumbling, Dom pushes a hand up under Billy’s shirt and touches the overheated and trembling skin there. Billy kisses him deeply and shoves him backwards, pinning his hips suddenly to the bed and thrusting hard, breathing overexerted. Dom, taken aback, breaks the kiss to turn his head to the side and groan. The sharp building in his hips is close, frantic and nearly gone, and he’s barely holding onto the awareness that Billy hasn’t even really touched him yet.
As if reading his mind, Billy quickly tugs his boxers down, freeing him, and circles his hand around him. Dom yells, actually fucking yells, and the volume of his own voice breaks whatever drowsiness has remained. He arches frantically as well as he can with Billy pressing full weight on top of him, hand stroking, and almost immediately he comes, gasping for breath and the coherency to say Billy’s name.
He can’t move. Bless. Dom moans to himself as if injured, rocking his heavy head to the side to let his eyes fall on Billy.
Beside him, Billy has pressed his forehead to Dom’s shoulder, and his hand works himself quickly, mouth open and face wracked with concentration. Limbless, Dom watches with exhausted intrigue for a long second before reaching out and touching Billy’s wrist, finally letting his fingers fan out over his grasp to take over himself. Billy’s in another world and lax to let go; Dom instead slips their fingers side by side and doubles the touch, following along to the pace Billy has already established.
“Come on,” Dom says again, ducking to whisper in his ear. He slips his tongue inside for a moment and Billy writhes, voice cracking. “That’s it, Bills, I want you to, I want to make you-”
He stifles his strangled, pitchy cry into Dom’s shoulder. His teeth graze the skin and the warm, sticky evidence of what they’ve just done mixes between their bodies as Dom grabs Billy and pulls him close.
They hold each other almost roughly. The sharp smell hovers in Dom’s head and he can’t tell which one of them is shaking more.
“Shite.” He presses his face against Billy’s neck and tastes salt and heat and dampness. “Fucking... Bill. Billy?” He looks up questioningly.
The returned gaze is far less confused, though tired and numbed. But his lips curve.
“’s all right,” Billy manages. He sighs, swallows, tangles his hand in Dom’s disheveled hair, the bangs mussed over his forehead and streaking into his eyes. Billy looks much the same.
“You wanna...” Dom blinks a couple times. At a loss, he leans up and kisses Billy’s chin. “You wanna clean up?”
“Let’s lie here for a moment, yeah?”
Dom relaxes. Randomly he recalls Orlando’s video camera and can’t decide whether he’s happy or not that the thing wasn’t filming. A lingering wave of pleasure courses through him.
Billy strokes circles around Dom’s hips and grins, eyes closing.
“I know what you’re thinking, Monaghan. You can shut it before you say it. Aye?”
Dom bites his lip but doesn't stop himself from smiling.
end