FIC: Bungee Jumping Of Their Own
Title: Bungee Jumping Of Their Own
Author: feelforfaith
Pairing: Dominic/Billy
Rating: NC17
Word count: 2,515
Summary: He hopes Billy will understand, just like he understands everything else about Dominic.
Notes: Big thank-you to themoononastick for the beta.
Disclaimer: This is fiction, which means that while the characters depicted are based on public personas of real celebrities, the events described in the story never happened. This story in no way claims to represent the truth about the people mentioned within or the way they would behave.
Dominic lets himself in with his key. The hallway is dark, but a sliver of light coming out from half-open bedroom door cuts into the gloom-Billy is awake and waiting for him. Of course he is. His mouth goes dry.
He hesitates a moment before he opens the bedroom door all the way. "Hi, Bill."
Billy doesn't lift his head from the script he's reading. "You're late."
Dominic drops his keys and his wallet onto the dresser and toes off his trainers. When he turns to face Billy, he has his answer ready. "You know how it is. You lose track of time when you're having fun."
He is all sticky from dried-out sweat-he didn't have a shower. That's how Billy wanted it.
Billy makes a note on the margin and turns the page. "So, how was he?" he asks, still not looking at Dominic.
Dominic is determined to make him look. In a low voice he uses to whisper dirty things into Billy's ear, stretching out the words, he says, "He was . . . good. Really fucking good."
Billy finally looks up and Dominic feels his gaze on him. It's almost physical, a delicate touch, like spider legs on his skin. He hooks his thumbs behind the waistband of his jeans and pushes his hips forward.
Slowly, Billy stretches his arms, letting the script and the pen slide off the bed. The sheet he's covered with falls lower, revealing more of his naked chest. He folds one arm behind his head and slips the other one under the covers. Dominic can see its shape traveling under thin fabric and settling below Billy's belly. Billy pulls up and bends his leg, sets his foot on the mattress, and his hand starts moving.
The sheet that obstructs Dominic's view does not obstruct his imagination. Heat gathers low in his belly. He licks his lips. "Billy . . ."
He didn't mean for it to come out like a plea, not yet at least, but tonight his sense of balance is disturbed more than on any other night, and there's not one damn thing he can do about it when he's with Billy. He's not sure he would like to change that, even if he could.
Billy is still moving his hand. He's looking Dominic straight in the eyes and Dominic trusts that the pleasure that makes Billy's face soften and makes his eyelids fall down half-way is because of him, that Billy is thinking about him, imagining him, that he can't help himself either.
Billy's voice is quiet and breathless when he says, "Strip."
Yes. Because Dominic wants to get out of his clothes, for the second time tonight-this time for Billy. He tries to make a show of it, tries to gain the edge over Billy any way he can, even if it's just for a moment. Even if Billy can take it away with one word or one gesture, like he's prone to do. Dominic pulls his t-shirt over his head, drops it to the floor, and as deliberately as Billy moves his hand, one by one, he pops out the buttons on his jeans and stops.
Billy lifts an eyebrow, but his gaze does not stray from Dominic's face. "Go on, don't be shy now," he says.
Dominic tugs his jeans down his hips-not all the way down, just enough to show his cock. He's hard. He was thinking about Billy all the way home and watching him now makes him want Billy even more. He wants Billy to see it, because it's a give-and-take kind of thing, and he's rewarded when Billy's gaze slides off his face and down his body. He spreads his feet as much as his jeans around his thighs let him and straightens his shoulders.
Familiar heat flickers in Billy's eyes. "Come here," he says and throws off the duvet. "Naked."
Dominic doesn't have to be told twice. There's no more teasing in his movements when he pulls his jeans off and steps out of them. He can't decide if he wants to look at Billy's face or at Billy's cock, hard and gorgeous, and he wishes he could bury his face in ginger curls around it, but he knows that's not what Billy meant. He kneels on the bed, one knee, then the other, and crawls on all fours until he's above Billy. Billy slides his palms up Dominic's thighs and hips and grips hard, digging his fingers in. Dominic doesn't wince-he's waited for this touch all evening.
"Who topped?" Billy asks.
Billy's fingers are roaming Dominic's belly; they brush Dominic's cock, and every time they touch, Dominic jerks and shivers. "Billy. . ."
"Tell me who topped."
Blood surges through Dominic's veins at the memory, but also because of the tone of Billy's voice, because Billy is closing his hand around him, because of where this is heading.
"Guess," he says, and it comes out all throaty, like a challenge. The need to challenge Billy and the need to obey him are woven tightly together in him and even though it's not a new feeling by any means, it has a new edge to it tonight.
Billy pushes him off and in a practiced movement flips them both over. He rolls willingly; his body accepts the weight of Billy on top of him.
"I was right about him, wasn't I," Billy says.
"Well, who knew."
"I did. There's just something about him . . ." Billy rubs his chin on Dominic's shoulder and bites Dominic right where his shoulder meets his neck. "You smell of him."
"I'd be surprised if I didn't, considering we fucked each other's brains out," Dominic says, shuddering from the pain and the heat that spreads from where Billy's teeth caught his skin.
"Keep talking," Billy says. He finds Dominic's wrists and pulls his arms all the way up, above his head.
It hurts, but, god, does it feel good . . . . Dominic closes his eyes and arches under Billy, seeking his touch. He dreams about it at night, when he's away from Billy, and sometimes he dreams about it when he's with Billy and then he wakes up and Billy is on top of him, dragging his arms up and pressing his hips against Dominic's.
"He was . . . bloody good," Dominic says, in a voice broken with gasps because Billy is pressing down on him, his cock between Dominic's thighs, slipping on the sweaty skin there.
"So maybe you should go back to him." Billy grips both Dominic's wrists with one hand, while he's leaning over the side of the bed, reaching for lube and condoms. With his teeth he rips a packet open.
"Maybe I should," Dominic says. "I bet he's good for another round." One corner of his mouth twists up in a half-grin, half-snarl. Billy's cock is hard and hot and he's squirming, trying to get more friction, trying to feel more of Billy, everywhere. Billy is holding his wrists, holding a condom, waiting. Dominic thrusts his hips up against Billy's. "Or maybe I should let you fuck me now, because you look like you really want to."
"Maybe you should," Billy says and releases Dominic. He kneels up over Dominic. "Considering you don't have much say about it."
Billy is straddling his thighs, but he's not touching him anymore, and Dominic misses him as if Billy were a part of him that makes him whole. He lifts himself on his elbows and reaches up, wraps his arm around Billy's neck to bring him closer.
Billy lets him, leans in, and opens his mouth when Dominic kisses him. There was no kissing on the mouth earlier tonight, almost no words, only frantic hands and a thrill of an unfamiliar body against him and an unfamiliar tongue on his skin. Billy's tongue is exploring gently, without rushing, and he could kiss Billy all night, but Billy breaks away.
"Put it on me," Billy says, handing Dominic the condom.
Dominic does, then rolls over onto his stomach, his hands above his head, crossed at the wrists. Is this how you want me? He doesn't have to ask.
"Just like that," Billy says and presses his cock between Dominic's legs, letting it slip and slide and rub.
The sharp edges of need inside Dominic are getting sharper with every teasing movement Billy makes. He's not above begging-with Billy, he's taken the art of begging to quite a new level-but now begging might not get him anywhere. "Just bloody do it," he says through gritted teeth.
"Don't tell me what to do. I might change my mind."
Billy wouldn't. He wouldn't change his mind, Dominic knows, hopes, wants to believe, but he's smart enough not to test that belief, just in case.
"I want you like this, under me, worn out and wanting," Billy says, dragging his lips along Dominic's spine, kissing his way up, to Dominic's neck. "How many times, Dom? How many times?"
Dominic can't stop a shiver that rushes through him. He shakes his head. As many times as you want me to. No matter what the question is, his answer is still the same. He shakes his head again. "Once."
Billy pulls them both up and Dominic goes to his hands and knees, his head down and his knees spread for balance. One by one, Billy drags Dominic's arms up to the top of the headboard. Dominic closes his fingers around the wood that has been soaked with his sweat before. He flexes and bends, molds himself into whatever position Billy wants him in, and sometimes it seems that all these hours he spends doing yoga are only so that Billy can bend him more, bend him further, see how much Dominic is willing to give. For Billy, he's willing to give a lot.
"Billy." He can't wait. He's waited enough tonight.
Billy rests his whole weight on Dominic's back, his thighs against the back of Dominic's thighs and wraps his arm around Dominic's chest.
Dominic struggles to keep his stretched arms straight to support them both, but he doesn't complain. "Billy . . ." How many times can he repeat Billy's name like that, like it's not made of consonants and vowels, but of need and hunger? How many times? As many times as Billy wants him to. "Billy . . . please."
"Maybe he's good, but he's not as good as I am," Billy whispers into his ear and pushes into him, quick and sharp.
Dominic gasps. "God, yes." He clenches around Billy, then relaxes and Billy is shifting, shoving him forward, pushing into him again, and nothing feels as good as Billy inside him.
What happened earlier is a distant memory he's forgetting with each thrust; the smell, the heat, the sounds, the eager body that was not Billy's-none of it matters, it never did.
Billy grunts and his words are smeared into something intelligible, something that sounds like "Dominic," and Dominic grips the headboard harder. Whatever Billy wants, he'll give it to him. Anything, everything, to make Billy happy.
They are moving together-the harder Billy pushes into him, the harder Dominic pushes back-a perfect fight, a perfect harmony. His fingers are slipping from sweat and he struggles to keep his grip on the headboard. He's not smiling anymore, he's not thinking, and when Billy wraps his fingers around him, he bites his lip, but hardly notices the pain. He wants to hold off, wants Billy to come first, but tonight it's not for him to decide.
"Dominic. . . Dom. . ." Billy's voice breaks.
Dominic shudders and lets go of the headboard, and he's slipping and falling, but Billy pushes into him again and again, skin slapping against skin, and it's Billy's lips and Billy's teeth, Billy's heat inside him, and he can't keep himself up any longer and they are both collapsing.
It takes a long moment before he can breathe without choking on his own breath, and even longer for his heart to stop thudding like crazy. Billy has slipped off him, but his leg is still across Dominic's thighs and his hand is resting is the small of Dominic's back. Dominic needs that touch, that connection, and Billy always knows what Dominic needs.
He's hot and sweaty, his face pressed into the pillow. He doesn't have the energy to move. Billy strokes his fingers along his back, up his neck, into his hair, and he makes the effort to open his eyes.
Billy's eye are shining; he's smiling. He lets go of Dominic's hair and slides his thumb along Dominic's lip, feeling the place Dominic bit himself.
"That was something, eh?" Billy says.
"Mhm . . ."
Dominic melts into Billy's caress in the silence that follows. The rush and the excitement are over now, and he's not sure what that means, not sure what's going to happen next. They have crossed a line and he can't forget that. Can Billy forget? Will Billy want cross that line again? Where do they go from here?
He doesn't want to think about it. He moves closer to Billy and rests his cheek on Billy's palm.
"Dominic."
He looks up at Billy. The smile is gone from Billy's face and his stomach curls into a prickly ball. "What?"
"Do you want to bring him here?"
Billy's voice doesn't betray any feelings, as if Billy is carefully trying not to influence him in any way, but the tight lines around his mouth tell him more than Billy is willing to say out loud.
His belly contracts with heat at the thought of what happened earlier tonight; images spark through his head like flash snapshots from a disposable camera-uneven colors, too bright, with the background fading sharply into darkness, and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, until they go away. Those images, they are disposable, too.
"No," he says. "I don't want to see him again."
Of course he's going to see him again, on and off the set, but Billy understands what he means.
The expression on Billy's face shifts; the corners of his mouth curl up as he leans over Dominic and whispers, "Good" and kisses him. His tongue slips between Dominic's lips, and Dominic kisses him back, grabs the back of Billy's head with both hands and pulls him more into himself, not letting him go when Billy runs out of breath and laughs.
Dominic loves it when Billy laughs.
He falls asleep with Billy pressed behind him, Billy's breath tickling the back of his neck, Billy arm across his waist, holding him close, as if Billy wanted to make sure Dominic is not going anywhere.
"Billy," he says before he drifts off.
"Hm?"
"You are the best," Dominic says, and sex is only one of the things he means. He hopes Billy will understand that, like he understands everything else about Dominic.
Billy brushes his lips over Dominic's neck. "I know," he says, and adds, "I love you too."
Dominic finds Billy's hand and threads his fingers through Billy's.
He is not going anywhere.
(end)
Author: feelforfaith
Pairing: Dominic/Billy
Rating: NC17
Word count: 2,515
Summary: He hopes Billy will understand, just like he understands everything else about Dominic.
Notes: Big thank-you to themoononastick for the beta.
Disclaimer: This is fiction, which means that while the characters depicted are based on public personas of real celebrities, the events described in the story never happened. This story in no way claims to represent the truth about the people mentioned within or the way they would behave.
Dominic lets himself in with his key. The hallway is dark, but a sliver of light coming out from half-open bedroom door cuts into the gloom-Billy is awake and waiting for him. Of course he is. His mouth goes dry.
He hesitates a moment before he opens the bedroom door all the way. "Hi, Bill."
Billy doesn't lift his head from the script he's reading. "You're late."
Dominic drops his keys and his wallet onto the dresser and toes off his trainers. When he turns to face Billy, he has his answer ready. "You know how it is. You lose track of time when you're having fun."
He is all sticky from dried-out sweat-he didn't have a shower. That's how Billy wanted it.
Billy makes a note on the margin and turns the page. "So, how was he?" he asks, still not looking at Dominic.
Dominic is determined to make him look. In a low voice he uses to whisper dirty things into Billy's ear, stretching out the words, he says, "He was . . . good. Really fucking good."
Billy finally looks up and Dominic feels his gaze on him. It's almost physical, a delicate touch, like spider legs on his skin. He hooks his thumbs behind the waistband of his jeans and pushes his hips forward.
Slowly, Billy stretches his arms, letting the script and the pen slide off the bed. The sheet he's covered with falls lower, revealing more of his naked chest. He folds one arm behind his head and slips the other one under the covers. Dominic can see its shape traveling under thin fabric and settling below Billy's belly. Billy pulls up and bends his leg, sets his foot on the mattress, and his hand starts moving.
The sheet that obstructs Dominic's view does not obstruct his imagination. Heat gathers low in his belly. He licks his lips. "Billy . . ."
He didn't mean for it to come out like a plea, not yet at least, but tonight his sense of balance is disturbed more than on any other night, and there's not one damn thing he can do about it when he's with Billy. He's not sure he would like to change that, even if he could.
Billy is still moving his hand. He's looking Dominic straight in the eyes and Dominic trusts that the pleasure that makes Billy's face soften and makes his eyelids fall down half-way is because of him, that Billy is thinking about him, imagining him, that he can't help himself either.
Billy's voice is quiet and breathless when he says, "Strip."
Yes. Because Dominic wants to get out of his clothes, for the second time tonight-this time for Billy. He tries to make a show of it, tries to gain the edge over Billy any way he can, even if it's just for a moment. Even if Billy can take it away with one word or one gesture, like he's prone to do. Dominic pulls his t-shirt over his head, drops it to the floor, and as deliberately as Billy moves his hand, one by one, he pops out the buttons on his jeans and stops.
Billy lifts an eyebrow, but his gaze does not stray from Dominic's face. "Go on, don't be shy now," he says.
Dominic tugs his jeans down his hips-not all the way down, just enough to show his cock. He's hard. He was thinking about Billy all the way home and watching him now makes him want Billy even more. He wants Billy to see it, because it's a give-and-take kind of thing, and he's rewarded when Billy's gaze slides off his face and down his body. He spreads his feet as much as his jeans around his thighs let him and straightens his shoulders.
Familiar heat flickers in Billy's eyes. "Come here," he says and throws off the duvet. "Naked."
Dominic doesn't have to be told twice. There's no more teasing in his movements when he pulls his jeans off and steps out of them. He can't decide if he wants to look at Billy's face or at Billy's cock, hard and gorgeous, and he wishes he could bury his face in ginger curls around it, but he knows that's not what Billy meant. He kneels on the bed, one knee, then the other, and crawls on all fours until he's above Billy. Billy slides his palms up Dominic's thighs and hips and grips hard, digging his fingers in. Dominic doesn't wince-he's waited for this touch all evening.
"Who topped?" Billy asks.
Billy's fingers are roaming Dominic's belly; they brush Dominic's cock, and every time they touch, Dominic jerks and shivers. "Billy. . ."
"Tell me who topped."
Blood surges through Dominic's veins at the memory, but also because of the tone of Billy's voice, because Billy is closing his hand around him, because of where this is heading.
"Guess," he says, and it comes out all throaty, like a challenge. The need to challenge Billy and the need to obey him are woven tightly together in him and even though it's not a new feeling by any means, it has a new edge to it tonight.
Billy pushes him off and in a practiced movement flips them both over. He rolls willingly; his body accepts the weight of Billy on top of him.
"I was right about him, wasn't I," Billy says.
"Well, who knew."
"I did. There's just something about him . . ." Billy rubs his chin on Dominic's shoulder and bites Dominic right where his shoulder meets his neck. "You smell of him."
"I'd be surprised if I didn't, considering we fucked each other's brains out," Dominic says, shuddering from the pain and the heat that spreads from where Billy's teeth caught his skin.
"Keep talking," Billy says. He finds Dominic's wrists and pulls his arms all the way up, above his head.
It hurts, but, god, does it feel good . . . . Dominic closes his eyes and arches under Billy, seeking his touch. He dreams about it at night, when he's away from Billy, and sometimes he dreams about it when he's with Billy and then he wakes up and Billy is on top of him, dragging his arms up and pressing his hips against Dominic's.
"He was . . . bloody good," Dominic says, in a voice broken with gasps because Billy is pressing down on him, his cock between Dominic's thighs, slipping on the sweaty skin there.
"So maybe you should go back to him." Billy grips both Dominic's wrists with one hand, while he's leaning over the side of the bed, reaching for lube and condoms. With his teeth he rips a packet open.
"Maybe I should," Dominic says. "I bet he's good for another round." One corner of his mouth twists up in a half-grin, half-snarl. Billy's cock is hard and hot and he's squirming, trying to get more friction, trying to feel more of Billy, everywhere. Billy is holding his wrists, holding a condom, waiting. Dominic thrusts his hips up against Billy's. "Or maybe I should let you fuck me now, because you look like you really want to."
"Maybe you should," Billy says and releases Dominic. He kneels up over Dominic. "Considering you don't have much say about it."
Billy is straddling his thighs, but he's not touching him anymore, and Dominic misses him as if Billy were a part of him that makes him whole. He lifts himself on his elbows and reaches up, wraps his arm around Billy's neck to bring him closer.
Billy lets him, leans in, and opens his mouth when Dominic kisses him. There was no kissing on the mouth earlier tonight, almost no words, only frantic hands and a thrill of an unfamiliar body against him and an unfamiliar tongue on his skin. Billy's tongue is exploring gently, without rushing, and he could kiss Billy all night, but Billy breaks away.
"Put it on me," Billy says, handing Dominic the condom.
Dominic does, then rolls over onto his stomach, his hands above his head, crossed at the wrists. Is this how you want me? He doesn't have to ask.
"Just like that," Billy says and presses his cock between Dominic's legs, letting it slip and slide and rub.
The sharp edges of need inside Dominic are getting sharper with every teasing movement Billy makes. He's not above begging-with Billy, he's taken the art of begging to quite a new level-but now begging might not get him anywhere. "Just bloody do it," he says through gritted teeth.
"Don't tell me what to do. I might change my mind."
Billy wouldn't. He wouldn't change his mind, Dominic knows, hopes, wants to believe, but he's smart enough not to test that belief, just in case.
"I want you like this, under me, worn out and wanting," Billy says, dragging his lips along Dominic's spine, kissing his way up, to Dominic's neck. "How many times, Dom? How many times?"
Dominic can't stop a shiver that rushes through him. He shakes his head. As many times as you want me to. No matter what the question is, his answer is still the same. He shakes his head again. "Once."
Billy pulls them both up and Dominic goes to his hands and knees, his head down and his knees spread for balance. One by one, Billy drags Dominic's arms up to the top of the headboard. Dominic closes his fingers around the wood that has been soaked with his sweat before. He flexes and bends, molds himself into whatever position Billy wants him in, and sometimes it seems that all these hours he spends doing yoga are only so that Billy can bend him more, bend him further, see how much Dominic is willing to give. For Billy, he's willing to give a lot.
"Billy." He can't wait. He's waited enough tonight.
Billy rests his whole weight on Dominic's back, his thighs against the back of Dominic's thighs and wraps his arm around Dominic's chest.
Dominic struggles to keep his stretched arms straight to support them both, but he doesn't complain. "Billy . . ." How many times can he repeat Billy's name like that, like it's not made of consonants and vowels, but of need and hunger? How many times? As many times as Billy wants him to. "Billy . . . please."
"Maybe he's good, but he's not as good as I am," Billy whispers into his ear and pushes into him, quick and sharp.
Dominic gasps. "God, yes." He clenches around Billy, then relaxes and Billy is shifting, shoving him forward, pushing into him again, and nothing feels as good as Billy inside him.
What happened earlier is a distant memory he's forgetting with each thrust; the smell, the heat, the sounds, the eager body that was not Billy's-none of it matters, it never did.
Billy grunts and his words are smeared into something intelligible, something that sounds like "Dominic," and Dominic grips the headboard harder. Whatever Billy wants, he'll give it to him. Anything, everything, to make Billy happy.
They are moving together-the harder Billy pushes into him, the harder Dominic pushes back-a perfect fight, a perfect harmony. His fingers are slipping from sweat and he struggles to keep his grip on the headboard. He's not smiling anymore, he's not thinking, and when Billy wraps his fingers around him, he bites his lip, but hardly notices the pain. He wants to hold off, wants Billy to come first, but tonight it's not for him to decide.
"Dominic. . . Dom. . ." Billy's voice breaks.
Dominic shudders and lets go of the headboard, and he's slipping and falling, but Billy pushes into him again and again, skin slapping against skin, and it's Billy's lips and Billy's teeth, Billy's heat inside him, and he can't keep himself up any longer and they are both collapsing.
It takes a long moment before he can breathe without choking on his own breath, and even longer for his heart to stop thudding like crazy. Billy has slipped off him, but his leg is still across Dominic's thighs and his hand is resting is the small of Dominic's back. Dominic needs that touch, that connection, and Billy always knows what Dominic needs.
He's hot and sweaty, his face pressed into the pillow. He doesn't have the energy to move. Billy strokes his fingers along his back, up his neck, into his hair, and he makes the effort to open his eyes.
Billy's eye are shining; he's smiling. He lets go of Dominic's hair and slides his thumb along Dominic's lip, feeling the place Dominic bit himself.
"That was something, eh?" Billy says.
"Mhm . . ."
Dominic melts into Billy's caress in the silence that follows. The rush and the excitement are over now, and he's not sure what that means, not sure what's going to happen next. They have crossed a line and he can't forget that. Can Billy forget? Will Billy want cross that line again? Where do they go from here?
He doesn't want to think about it. He moves closer to Billy and rests his cheek on Billy's palm.
"Dominic."
He looks up at Billy. The smile is gone from Billy's face and his stomach curls into a prickly ball. "What?"
"Do you want to bring him here?"
Billy's voice doesn't betray any feelings, as if Billy is carefully trying not to influence him in any way, but the tight lines around his mouth tell him more than Billy is willing to say out loud.
His belly contracts with heat at the thought of what happened earlier tonight; images spark through his head like flash snapshots from a disposable camera-uneven colors, too bright, with the background fading sharply into darkness, and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, until they go away. Those images, they are disposable, too.
"No," he says. "I don't want to see him again."
Of course he's going to see him again, on and off the set, but Billy understands what he means.
The expression on Billy's face shifts; the corners of his mouth curl up as he leans over Dominic and whispers, "Good" and kisses him. His tongue slips between Dominic's lips, and Dominic kisses him back, grabs the back of Billy's head with both hands and pulls him more into himself, not letting him go when Billy runs out of breath and laughs.
Dominic loves it when Billy laughs.
He falls asleep with Billy pressed behind him, Billy's breath tickling the back of his neck, Billy arm across his waist, holding him close, as if Billy wanted to make sure Dominic is not going anywhere.
"Billy," he says before he drifts off.
"Hm?"
"You are the best," Dominic says, and sex is only one of the things he means. He hopes Billy will understand that, like he understands everything else about Dominic.
Billy brushes his lips over Dominic's neck. "I know," he says, and adds, "I love you too."
Dominic finds Billy's hand and threads his fingers through Billy's.
He is not going anywhere.
(end)