Fic: City Lights (1/2)
Title: City Lights (1/2)
Author: Viktoria Angelique (v_angelique)
Pairing: DM/BB/EW
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This never actually happened. It's fiction.
Summary: I've wanted to do an OT3 for a while, and I decided for an AU. It was originally going to focus more on the three cities (New York, London, and Paris) but it ended up being more about the boys, and really, who could blame me? I strongly recommend downloading the mix CD here as you read. It should be done (unless you're on dialup) by the time you get to it in the story (in the second part), and not only are they great songs but it's a lot of fun to listen to the CD along with Billy when you get to it, and I suggest you follow the instructions included in Elijah's note yourself. Because this is a fic that encourages you to get off your arse for once! *g* About half the files are mp3 and the others are m4a, so if you don't have iTunes you can still listen to some of it. Also note that the fic is in two parts because LJ hates me, but it should be read as one.
In the gutter on the northwest side of the Central Park West and 86th Street intersection, a lit cigarette dropped from the fingers of one Elijah Jordan Wood, only to be stomped out by said smoker’s boot. Seventy-six seconds later, Elijah Wood boarded the C train heading downtown. Four of the orange plastic seats in the second-to-last car of this train were empty; Elijah chose to stand.
At 8:58 am, Eastern Standard Time, an elevator car on the fifty-first floor of a crowded midtown office building chirped pleasantly and jolted to a stop. The squeak of leather on tile was familiar, and the secretary waved pleasantly as the youngest music critic on staff passed her desk. Elijah stepped into his office exactly one-and-a-half minutes early this morning; the phone was on the third ring.
“Wood speaking.”
“Um, yes… hi. I’m actually not sure if this is the correct number; it’s probably not, in fact…” Elijah rolled his eyes as he fed the twisted plastic cord over his desk and around to the other side, where he took a seat in his comfortable leather office chair and pushed a pair of black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. Too often would these kids somehow find his extension, hoping to give their highly opinionated critique of his most recent album or concert review and be instantly praised for their creativity and musical savoir-faire. Elijah rolled his eyes, but the voice gave him pause. It didn’t even sound like a teenager this time, and the accent had a certain pleasant lilt to it.
“Sir, if you let me know what this call is with reference to, perhaps I can be the judge of that,” he replied in a tone that was practiced and terse, but not demeaning. He was surprised to hear laughter from the other end.
“Right, of course. I’m Billy Boyd, owner of the Corner Bookshop. I’m looking to carry your magazine here, and I’m afraid I found it almost impossible to locate the correct number for your distribution department on the website, so… well, I sort of dialled a random extension.” The man paused, and Elijah could detect a nervous intake of breath from the other side. He grinned, suddenly feeling much less annoyed, and leaned forward in his chair.
“Well, Mr. Boyd…”
“Billy.”
“Right, Billy. I’m afraid you’re way off there, buddy; I’m just a critic, but I’d be happy to find the number for you myself. Where you calling from, Ireland?”
“London,” the voice on the other end corrected. “But I’m Scottish,” he added with just a hint of indignation. Elijah grinned as he wheeled his chair over to the bookshelf on the wall and ran his fingertip across the spines, looking for the office phone directory. Normally he would forward such a call to Elisabeth, who could find the number much more efficiently without wasting his own time, but he kind of liked the stranger’s voice and didn’t mind getting a little more time with it.
“Right, my mistake. Hmm, this number has to be somewhere…”
“Really Mr. Wood…”
“Elijah.”
Billy laughed and corrected himself. “Elijah, of course. I don’t need to waste your time with this; I can figure it out…”
“Nonsense! I have nothing better to do, anyway.” This statement wasn’t strictly true, but Elijah normally spent the first 15 minutes at work unproductively anyway, so he didn’t see how a short phone call could throw him off all that much.
“Oh, um… okay. So you’re a critic, then?”
“That I am. I cover the indie circuit. Local shows, album releases, that sort of thing. The occasional interview with someone really local, but those rarely actually see the light of day. I’m just twenty-two and fresh out of school, anyway. So what about you, Billy Boyd? How old are you?” Elijah asked, smiling as he held his finger over the open directory, marking the place of distribution’s extension.
“Thirty-four,” Billy answered after a brief pause. Probably thought Elijah was crazy, but he was somewhat used to that.
“And you own a bookshop in London?”
“That I do.”
“What sort of books?”
“Oh, all sorts. I cater to the university set, though, hence the need for a good magazine selection…”
“Of course. Well I shan’t take up your time any further, Mr… Billy. The extension you’re looking for is 0214.”
“Cheers. Oh, and Elijah?”
“Yes?”
“You’re not wasting my time.”
------
In a one-bedroom corner apartment on the Upper West Side, Elijah checked to be sure there was water in his cat’s bowl, clapped once to switch off the single overhead light in the cosy living room, and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The little waterproof clock in the shower read 11:03, and he sighed as he reset the alarm to 6:30. Tomorrow was his morning to bring in the bagels, and it was for that reason alone that he loathed Tuesdays. Waking up, he felt, was highly overrated, and it was for this reason that he kept his alarm in the bathroom in the first place-only the walk required to shut it off and the following blast of a cold shower would keep him from dozing off again.
After blotting his face gently with a warm flannel, Elijah walked back into the bedroom. He opened the armoire and selected a well-worn pair of blue woollen pyjama bottoms, then draped them over the unmade double bed, closing the armoire doors and slowly undoing the buttons on his black dress shirt. His yellow tie had already been thrown over the couch as soon as he had gotten home; his certain disdain for business clothing was one reason that he enjoyed his job, where no one really gave a fuck if he showed up looking like a stand-in member for the Hives.
As he unbuttoned and pulled down the zip of his well-worn dark wash jeans, he cocked his head and frowned at the image in the mirror. At Columbia, the university gym had kept him at least basically toned in a lean, compact way; now he was simply skinny. His skin was two shades too pale from being inside all the time; when he wasn’t working in the office he was going to shows for work which all begun well after the sun went down. He shook his head as he changed into the pyjamas. Elijah needed a holiday, but now was not the time.
Sliding in between cool sheets, Elijah sighed and reached for his stereo’s remote control. Tonight, he opted for the Shins, something soothing, and then let his gaze flicker over to the side, where an oft-thumbed through volume sat on his glass nightstand. He let a slight smile come to his lips as he pulled the heavy book into his lap, a hardback volume of erotic black and white photography shot by a favourite artist of his. The pages naturally fell open to a shot near the centre, and he smiled broadly as the pad of his index finger trailed over the two dimensional images.
To the right-hand side of the page, a tall women in suspenders and thigh high black stockings, a lacy black bra revealing a healthy dose of cleavage, turned to the camera with a pouty look. Her face was heavily made up, hair pulled into a tight bun, and her head was cocked slightly to the side, resting on a blonde man’s shoulder.
To the left, another man, dark haired and olive-skinned, was engaging the blonde in a sultry kiss. A bit of the blonde’s lower lip was visible, peeking out from between the darker man’s teeth, and his cock was firmly trapped in the darker man’s fist.
It was the blonde man, however, who most captivated Elijah, and had for the past few months since he had bought the book. Actually, Elijah would point out if asked, he wasn’t an actual blonde, for the darker roots were clear at his crown. A thin black blindfold, tightly tied at the back of his head, obscured his eyes. His wrists were casually held behind his back by the female’s hand, curled into tight fists that accented the muscles in his forearms and made the veins visible beneath pale skin. His shirt was a simple black singlet, but what was most noticeable, what really kept Elijah turning back to this page again and again, was the way a pair of dark blue jeans were held tightly in place by the separation of the man’s legs, allowing his cock to stand proudly free from its nest of dark curls. The other man’s fist obscured most of the organ, but Elijah could just make out a bit of slickness around the head, brushing again the other man’s clothed crotch.
Sucking in a breath, Elijah sat back against the pillows and let his hand slide beneath the pyjama pants, exhaling in a long, familiar pattern as his other hand traced the lines of this seductive figure. The man in the photograph had no name, but in dreams, he was Elijah’s. Tonight, with only a hint of shame, he closed his eyes and recreated the voice on the phone this morning, then peered through lowered lashes and imagined the man in the photo speaking with that gravely Scottish accent, lacing the two inextricably in his brain and crying out with a jerk of his hips as he threw the book to the side at the last minute.
“Billy!”
------
When Dominic Monaghan emerged from the St. Michel metro station, the sun was just setting over the square. He smiled at the early crowd gathered in a half circle to watch the break dancers-things always got started early at night during the tourist season-and headed by instinct to the corner where he purchased une crepe au jambon-beurre et une au nutella et noix de coco. The Nutella was a holdover from his school days in Freiberg and Berlin, and although it tasted slightly different encased in the cone of warm, thin pancake than on toasted plain brown bread, the effect was the same. It was only at the corner, past the ubiquitous Latin club and at least four gyro stands, that he noticed the buzzing in his knee.
“Oh, bloody…” His mutter was cut off by the abrupt start of a busker’s violin, and he would have smiled if he wasn’t trying to keep the nutella from dripping out of his crepe while simultaneously bending sideways to open the Velcro pocket of his khaki cargo pants.
“Oui?”
The voice on the other end was soft, female, and Scottish, a fact which immediately made him smile. “Dom, hi. This is Margaret… I was just wondering if you’d thought about my idea yet?”
“Marg, love, it’s been two days.”
“Well I know dear, but it’s just that I want to be able to tell Billy so that he can get things ready, and…”
“I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I can. I told my agent I’d like to have a holiday for the weekend, and beyond that there isn’t much I can do.”
“I know Dom, I know, it’s just that I’d like you to be there, and it’s rare that my brother has company for Easter, and…”
“Margaret.” Dom’s tone was gently chiding. If he knew the woman at all, he posited with a gentle chuckle to himself, she had a plan. It was only a matter of weaselling it out of her.
“What, Dominic?”
“You’re going to be there, are you not?”
“Well, of course, but…”
“Margaret.”
“What?”
“This brother of yours, is he… married?”
“Well no, of course not. If he were he wouldn’t need us to entertain him, now would he?” Entertain. Dom smirked at her choice of words as he climbed the narrow steps to his walk-up.
“Well I suppose not, love. And is this single brother of yours attracted to women, pray tell?”
“Well… not… exactly.”
“Ah ha! I knew it!”
“Oh come on Dommeh, it’s just a little holiday… you don’t really want to spend your Easter all alone in France now, do you?”
“How do you know I don’t have a hot French date?”
“You would have mentioned it.”
“I might have to work.”
“It’s Easter! And you’re Catholic!”
“So are a lot of the French, Marg. Doesn’t mean…”
“Please, Dommeh? For me?”
“Well I don’t know. Is this brother of yours half as cute as you are?”
Margaret giggled pleasantly and Dom smiled, kicking open his door once he had finally gotten the tricky lock open and picking up the pile of mail that had been slid underneath. “You know, Dominic, if you hadn’t decided you were gay and moved to Paris…”
“We’d still be dating, and probably married by now. I’m well aware, love.”
Margaret sighed dramatically and Dom grinned, flopping onto his couch. “I’ll see what I can do.”
------
Elijah hated Thursdays.
Thursday was like a cruel joke, saying, “hey kid, you’re so close to the weekend but nuh-uh, not yet, still gotta get out of bed and go to work.” Fucking Thursdays. This Thursday, Elijah was sitting in his office, writing. Or pretending to be writing. He had several concerts to review this week so he didn’t have to come in tomorrow, and really everything he had to be done with before then was done already. So this was his excuse for, come three o’ clock, looking to see just how many Billy Boyds there are in London, anyway.
It was after four English accents that Elijah had almost given up (he was after all, calling international numbers on a company line). However, there was nothing better to do, and so after a brief pause decided to scan the Williams.
“Hello, this is Billeh.”
Brilliant. “Hi Billy. This is Elijah Wood. We spoke earlier in the week…?”
“The music critic, of course.” From his voice, Elijah could picture a fond smile on the unknown face. Or rather, the face of the man in his book, if he really was being honest with himself. “What can I do for you, Elijah?”
Oh, plenty of things, Billy Boyd. “Nothing particular. I was just… well, I was bored. And you seem like a nice guy.”
Billy laughed aloud, and Elijah grinned at this, kicking his feet up on the desk and leaning back in his chair. “You must be quite bored to be calling someone you ‘met’ by way of a wrong number in London, lad.”
“Yeah… that’s about the size of it. I’m at work.” Billy laughed again. “It’s not that bad, really…. it’s just not that impressive either. What are you up to?”
“Not much. I’m in my flat, which I suppose you know if you somehow managed to find this number.” Elijah blushed. “No matter though. I was just having a glass of scotch and flipping through the telly.”
“Anything good on?”
“All crap.”
Elijah laughed and slid his glasses off, setting them on the desk next to his calves. “What time is it over there, anyway?”
“Little after eight. There?”
“Little after three. Do you live alone?”
“Are you hinting at something, lad?” Now Elijah was really blushing. Billy laughed. “I’m just teasing you. I do, live alone. Do you?”
“Yes. Are you gay?” There was a pause and Elijah waited for Billy to hang up on him.
“A little forward, aren’t you?” Billy finally responded.
“I’m sorry, I… you sounded like you were flirting.”
“Ah. Well I suppose I was. But then, where I come from, the typical reaction is to dodge around the issue for at least eleven point two years before ever actually saying anything about it.”
Elijah smiled. There was laughter in his voice. “Sorry, man. I’m an American, and a born again New Yorker. We don’t do that shit.”
“Born again New Yorker?”
“I’m from Iowa. But I’ve been here for nearly five years, and I’ve kind of adopted the city.”
“Ah, I see. And what about you, Mr. Wood? Are you gay?”
Elijah grinned. “Yes, sir. Well the operative term is ‘bisexual,’ but I haven’t put that into practice for quite awhile.”
Billy laughed. “I sympathise. So I guess this is the point where I offer to buy you a cup of coffee, but I’m here, and you’re there…”
“Fair enough. How about you offer to call me back tomorrow?”
“A phone date?”
“Indeed.”
“Well it is international,” Billy pointed out.
“Buy a fucking phone card,” Elijah retorted playfully.
“Well then. I don’t know if I should be asking you out after that, Mr. Wood.”
“I can always call you,” Elijah pointed out.
“I could always not pick up,” Billy shot back, but his tone was teasing.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
Elijah rolled his eyes at the wall. “Do you like American accents?” he questioned randomly, changing the subject.
“I don’t know. I like yours.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Might be. You like Scottish ones?”
“God, of course. Who doesn’t?”
“Would you have called me if I didn’t have an accent?” Billy asked, and Elijah had to think for a moment.
“I think so, yeah. You intrigued me.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah.”
“Well do this then. Get back to work, and I’ll call you tomorrow when you’re done.”
“I’m working at night tomorrow. Call anytime.”
“I wake up at seven, which is two am in the States…”
“I’ll still be awake.”
Billy laughed. “Okay, I’m hanging up now. Get some work done.”
“You’ll call me?”
“I’ll call. What’s your home number?”
“Look it up. I did,” Elijah replied with a grin, hanging up before he could get a response. He did hope Billy called…
------
“Hello?”
“Good morning.”
“Hi, Billy.” Elijah smiled, picked the remote up off the coffee table, and muted reruns of the Daily Show. “How are you?”
“Not bad, considering the hour. And you? Did I wake you?”
“No. I told you I’d be up.”
“Of course. Not interrupting anything?”
“Wish you were, man. Just watching TV,” Elijah admitted.
“Thursday night, no work till tomorrow night? And you live in New York? And you’re how old?” Billy asked, his tone teasing.
“Twenty-two, smart ass. I went out earlier, nothing really interested me.”
“Or no one?”
“That too. I’m kind of used to living alone. Don’t like to break routine by inviting people back.”
“Shame, that. And here I was hoping this second date might have promise.” Elijah laughed, and the sound of running water started in the background. “Hang on a tic, I’m brushing my teeth. You can keep talking; tell me about your evening.”
“Okay. Um… let’s see, what did I do tonight? Well, first there was Thai for dinner. Quite good Thai, actually. And then I came back to my apartment, stripped down…” Elijah thought he heard a grunt over the sounds of teeth being brushed, but couldn’t be sure. “…and changed into my going out clothes. Which are pretty much my work clothes, but my sister always says it’s good to put on fresh clothing if you want to feel a transition between work and play. So yeah, I got dressed and went to this bar… I never go to music clubs when I’m not working anymore, because I get kind of sick of it, believe it or not, but I’ve found this gay bar I kind of like in the West Village. Not much tonight though. I ordered a beer, no one interesting showed up, I left. And now I’m watching John Stewart on cable. So there you have it.”
“You are right boring there, aren’t you lad?” Billy joked.
“Hey! I could hang up on you, asshole.”
“You could, but you won’t. C’mon, I’m only teasing you. My life is dreadfully boring, I’m sure not a mite more interesting than yours.”
“Yeah? Well what do you do all day, then?”
“Go to work, obviously. I open the store at nine or ten, depending on the day. Closed Sundays. Stay there till six, then get dinner, some “bachelor shite” as my sister puts it, and then I come home and watch the telly or do my laundry or read a book. See?’
Elijah laughed and slumped further down on the couch, closing his eyes as he slid his glasses off and got comfortable. “Our sisters should meet, I think. Maybe they could hang out and spend time doing something other than driving us crazy.”
Billy laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”
“What are you doing now?” Elijah asked, letting Billy’s voice lull him into something akin to relaxation.
“Well, highly interesting lad that I am, I’m getting dressed… which is quite difficult to do while holding a telephone, I might add…”
“Wow, you really just got up.”
“Turned the alarm off, took a piss, and rang you, lad. Didn’t want to keep you up.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
“Mm hmm. Bet you’ve been waiting for me to ring all day, you have.”
“Have not,” Elijah mumbled, but it wasn’t true. “What are you putting on, then?”
Billy laughed and Elijah thought he heard vague sounds of struggle in the background. “If I tell you, do you promise not to turn this into a phone wank session?” he asked, his tone laughing.
“No. It’s two in the morning, and I’m young and horny!” Elijah joked, but his brain was almost toying with the idea.
“Ha, ha. Well if you are, I guess I’ll never know. Anyway, I am wearing, from toe to head, an incredibly stylish pair of grey socks, black leather dress shoes, dark grey trousers, white pants, a white undershirt, white dress shirt, dark red tie, navy blue jumper, and matching scarf. Satisfied?”
“God, you’re boring.”
“Thanks, lad.”
“Is it cold in London in April?” Elijah asked, snuggling into the couch cushions as he tugged his blanket up higher.
“No colder than April in New York, I’d imagine. What are you doing now?”
“Trying not to fall asleep,” Elijah admitted. “It’s been a long week.”
“Oh. Should I let you go?”
“Nah. I like your voice. It’s like an aphrod… no, that’s not it. A sound that puts you to sleep, is there a word for that?” Elijah cursed himself mentally, but if Billy noticed his Freudian slip, he didn’t mention it.
“Not sure, lad. Shall I tell you a bedtime story, then?”
“Why don’t you sing me a lullaby? Do you know any?”
“Um… not off the top of my head.”
“Then sing me something. Whatever you like.” There was a long pause, and Elijah assumed his request was going to be denied, but then he smiled as a soft but pleasant singing voice came through the line. By the time “Imagine” was over, Elijah was fast asleep.
------
When the phone rang Sunday morning, Billy almost ignored it. Rolling over and groaning, he blinked several times at the caller ID until he recognized the area code. Glasgow. Fuck.
“Margie pargie, it’s nine o clock in the morning on a Sunday.”
“So maybe you should be getting your arse out of bed and ready for church, Billy boy,” a chipper female voice rang out.
“Right. How bout you go do that getting ready thing, and I’ll do the going back to sleep thing…”
“Billy!”
“Fine, fine. What did you need?”
“We’ll get to that. What I want to know, first of all, is why my dear brother is sleeping in on a Sunday morning, which I know for a fact he never does… hot date last night?”
“Well… not exactly,” Billy mumbled, pulling the pillow over his face and willing some national emergency to call Margaret away.
“Meaning?”
“I was on the phone. For a long time. Till almost four, actually. With a man.”
“What man? Billy! Tell!” Billy rubbed his temples at the near-squeak of her excitement, rolling over and blindly groping around the nightstand for aspirin.
“He’s just… a bloke in New York. We haven’t met, but we’ve been talking…”
“Oh Billy, please tell me you didn’t meet him on the internet. I’ve seen documentaries about that lately, you know…”
“No, Margaret. I didn’t meet him online. You know I never bother with that stuff, anyway. It’s a long story, but we’ve been talking a lot this weekend, and last night I called him when I got off of work and we just kind of stayed on the phone until he had to go to work.”
“And what does he do?”
“He’s a critic, for an American music magazine. He had to go review a show.”
“Yeah? That sounds interesting.”
“Yeah. He’s very… passionate.”
“You don’t say.”
“Oh come on, Margie. I don’t mean it like that.”
“And do you think you’ll meet him?”
“I don’t know. Probably not. I’d like to, but America’s rather far…”
“True. Hey, that reminds me, Billy, the reason I called. I wanted to tell you that we’ll definitely be three for Easter and that you can meet me at Charing Cross at noon Saturday. The better half needs the car, so I’m taking the train. And Dominic will be in on the 12:30 from Paris at Waterloo Station… I explained that we’ll be in church, but he insists that he’ll have no problem finding your flat alone, and he can meet us there when we’re done. The poor dear had to work on Saturday, or he would have…”
“Wait, Margaret. You’re telling your poor friend to find his own way to my flat just because you want to go to church? Why can’t we just skip services…?”
“Billy, no. I won’t give up Easter service, and you know it. Besides, he’s English. I’m sure he’s familiar with London.”
“Where’s he from again? Manchester?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell you what. I’ll pick the Manc up at Waterloo and you can meet us at my flat after church. Sound like a plan?”
“Billy! You can’t just…”
“Take it or leave it, Margie.”
“Fine… fine.”
“Great. Now I’m going back to bed. Love you, sis.”
“Love you too, Billy. Say hi to virtual lover boy for me.” Billy rolled his eyes, blew a kiss to the phone, and promptly hung up on his sister.
-------
“My sister says hi.”
“Yeah? Give my best to the infamous Miss Margaret, then. When did you talk to her?”
“This morning. She’s coming for Easter and bringing a friend. She was going to let the poor guy wander around London alone after his train got in because she wanted to go to church together.”
Elijah laughed slightly at that, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder as he opened the refrigerator and located a pint of milk for his cereal. “I suppose you nobly volunteered to duck out of church to pick him up, then?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t be going to church in the first place, mate. Do you know the bloke, though? Is he cute?”
Billy laughed on the other end and Elijah smiled at the sound, settling in on the couch with his bowl of Lucky Charms in his lap. “No idea. Never met the man in my life, Margaret just used to date him.”
“Oh. Straight, then?” Elijah tried not to sound hopeful.
“Used to date him before he turned gay and moved to Paris to become a fashion model.”
“Oh.”
Billy laughed louder this time, but his voice was soft and serious when he spoke again. “Margaret kind of wants to hook us up, but say the word and I won’t so much as think it. Even if he’s… I don’t know, Brad Pitt. I won’t.”
Elijah smiled broadly and reminded himself not to start bouncing if he didn’t want a lapful of milk. “No, I won’t tell you that. After all, I’m here and you’re there. But if anything happens, you’d better tell me every detail, you dog.”
Billy snickered and Elijah grinned. “Of course. Just do my poor ears a favour and save the wanking session until after we’ve hung up.”
“Oh come on, you sexy bastard. You know you’d like to hear what I sound like when I come,” Elijah joked, but he realised as he was saying it that his voice was coming off a little too husky.
“Aye,” Billy replied, and Elijah nearly spat out a mouthful of brightly coloured marshmallow gunk.
“Oh Jesus, Billy,” Elijah breathed, setting his cereal safely on the coffee table and letting his hand rest on his stomach, fingers toying with the hem of his tshirt.
“I’m sorry, lad. I know I shouldn’t, but God help me I wish there weren’t three thousand miles between us…I wish I could take you out on a real date, and then take you home and….”
Billy paused, and Elijah’s hand was now dipping lower to toy with the waistband of his pyjama pants. “And what, Billy?” He held in a breath, hoping he wouldn’t get hung up on, but he had to know this. One weekend and approximately thirteen hours of telephone time, and he just had to know what Billy Boyd sounded like when he came, even if it was on the other end of three thousand miles of phone line. He could handle that.
“And… I’d take you home and I’d fuck you, Elijah. Later, the next morning maybe, we’d make love, nice and slow and done all right like, but this time I wouldn’t be able to wait. I’d have to have you right there, right at the end of the night, maybe bent over my kitchen table…” Billy’s breathing was ragged, and Elijah made no effort to muffle his gasp, letting his hand slip below his pyjamas and cotton briefs to grasp extremely overheated flesh.
“Oh God, Billy… keep talking, please...”
“You like that, do you lad? You want me to fuck you? Well I would, then, just like that… get you all nice and worked up and then I’d bend you over and finger-fuck you, just at the right angle, I’d flick you just right so you were seeing stars…”
“Yes…. oh God… Jesus, Billy…”
“Mmm fuck, lad, you sound so good like that. So nice and hot and out of breath for me. Jesus. If I were there, I’d get you all stretched out beneath me, and then I’d just tease you, just a little, running my cock up between your arse cheeks, just so like…. I’d suck on your neck while rubbing myself, right against your tight little hole…”
“Oh fuck, Billy. I need it…. please,” Elijah groaned, as if Billy really was there waiting to fuck him.
“Patience, lad. You want to know what I’d do next? I’d stretch you open with my thumbs, just enough, and then I’d bury myself inside you with just a single stroke, all the way up inside you. I’d slide my arm around your waist, and I’d pull you up so that your back was to my chest, and I’d nibble on your ear just the way you like…”
Elijah gasped. He didn’t know how the fuck Billy knew he liked that but didn’t care, his hand now working enthusiastically on his cock, pyjamas and underwear both yanked to mid thigh. “Jesus, Billy. Need it now… need to come… oh, fuck.”
“Mmm, yeah lad. That’s it. Just like that. Oh God… Jesus lad, you know I’d fuck you so hard, fuck you till you were screaming and panting my name, and then just when I knew you couldn’t take any more, I’d reach down and take your cock in my hand…”
“Oh, fuck!” Elijah yelled, come splattering all over his hand, and he heard Billy’s breathing speed up as his own began to slow.
“Yeah Elijah, just like that… oh God, lad, I wish I could see yeh…. wish I could just look at you like that, all spread out with your come on your hand, just like that for me… oh… oh God…”
“Come for me, Billy,” Elijah whispered, and Billy groaned on cue, long and low, Elijah’s eyes shutting as he tried to imagine Billy in that position.
“Fuck. That was… fuck,” Billy whispered when he finally had his breath back.
“That’s… yeah. Me too,” Elijah replied with a little laugh, and he grinned when he heard Billy laughing in response, a little out of breath but happy, and that was the important thing.
“I wish I could see you, lad. Wish I could touch you. I want to cuddle and kiss you, and Jesus fuck but I sound like such a romantic sap…”
Elijah giggled, kicking his clothing off and heading to the bathroom to clean up. “It’s okay; you’re allowed the standard three and a half minutes of post-orgasmic sappiness,” he joked. “But seriously. I wish you could do that, too. I wish you could be here.”
“Jesus, if I could get the money for a ticket, I would. I mean maybe…”
“No, it’s okay. I want to meet you in person, but… I don’t know, maybe it’s good this way. I mean I love your voice, and talking to you like this… it’s almost more intimate than sex, you know? It’s better than a relationship, because I don’t know what I could be missing. I don’t have to get upset when you go on vacation, because there are phones everywhere. And you can fuck this friend of your sister’s all night long, for I care, for then it’ll give you more masturbatory fodder for conversations like this…”
Billy laughed out loud at that suggestion, and Elijah found himself plotting ways to hear that sound more often. “Fair enough, lad. But I do admit to having entered to win a free trip to New York online by signing up for a credit card offer…”
Elijah giggled as he climbed back into bed, suddenly ready for a few more hours’ sleep. “You’re hopeless, Boyd. Utterly and completely hopeless.”
“Aye, lad. That I am. Hopelessly infatuated with you, I’m afraid.” Elijah grinned and started prematurely looking forward to tomorrow’s call.
-------
“Do you see him yet? Is he cute? Should I be jeal…”
“Elijah, slow down,” Billy chided, laughing at his enthusiastic friend. “The train just got in, I haven’t spotted him yet. Honestly, I can’t believe you woke up at seven on a holiday just to ‘be with me’ when I meet Dominic.”
“Oh shut up. I haven’t gotten any in forever. I have to live vicariously through you. I mean… not that I’m ugly or anything. I don’t want you to think I’m some pathetic unattractive kid with pimples who can’t…”
“Elijah! Stop it. I think you’re beautiful.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do. You’re beautiful, and that’s that.”
“You’ve never…”
“I just know. Hey, I think I might see him.”
“Yeah? What’s he look like then?”
“Well I don’t know that it’s him, but he’s looking around, doesn’t seem to be with anyone…”
“Describe, damn you!”
Billy chuckled and lowered his voice as he approached the man on the platform. “Um, he’s blonde, but I don’t think it’s real…. kind of short, about my height, actually. He’s wearing grey trousers and a leather jacket…”
“Cute?”
The guy spun around suddenly, looking right at Billy, and Billy got his first good look at his eyes. “Oh… oh, yeah,” he breathed. “Elijah I… I have to go now.”
Elijah gulped, suddenly slightly afraid, but vowed to put on a brave face, or brave voice, at least. “Okay Billy. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Elijah joked, hearing Billy’s laughter in response on the other end.
“No promises, mate. Talk to you later.”
------
Dominic gulped, watching the stranger’s eyes crinkle up in laughter. Oh, God. Please let that be Margaret’s brother, he prayed. He had turned around when he heard a Scottish accent, and was now facing down this man on a mobile phone, who had yet to draw his eyes away from Dom’s.
“Um… are you Billy Boyd, by chance?” he asked, stepping forward a bit as the man slid his mobile back in a coat pocket.
“Indeed I am,” the other man replied with a mirthful twinkle in his eyes, smiling and extending his right hand. “Dominic, I presume?”
Oh thank you, God. “That’s me, mate. Thank you again for picking me up, I really would’ve been fine if you’d gone to church, I mean I hate to mess up your Easter plans…”
“No worries, Dominic. I’ll admit that you weren’t the only motivation for my skipping going to church with my sister,” he confided with a grin, and Dom smiled widely as he followed Billy out of the station and into the tube.
“Well all the same, I should thank you for your hospitality. It’s not often I get a chance to be part of a family holiday celebration, as it were.”
“No? Well me either, I guess. I’m a bit of a recluse, but Margaret always makes the effort to bring us together on the holidays. What about your family, then? Do you see them much?”
“Not really,” Dom admitted with a shrug as Billy waited for him to purchase a book of tickets from the automated machine. “We kind of went our separate ways when I moved to Paris. I guess modelling wasn’t quite the career my father had in mind for me.”
Billy nodded and led the way to the appropriate line. “What kind of modelling do you do, then? Print adverts and such?”
“Um, it varies. I’ve done a lot in print, yeah, mainly fashion modelling for magazines and such. A few photo books, um, occasionally adverts but not as much. I do runway sometimes as well, but not as much.”
“Runway? Like the pretty girls in stilettos?”
Dom snickered as they got into a train car, taking seats next to each other near the back. “Not exactly, mate, but the same idea.”
“I could never keep a straight face.”
“What about you, then? Margaret said you own a bookshop?”
“Yeah, that I do. It’s not a bad job.”
“Is it any special sort of bookshop, or just general interest?”
“Just general, yeah. I get a lot of uni kids, though, so I try to carry some more alternative titles to cater to that crowd. I guess the shop appeals, you know, kind of cluttered, comfortable chairs, free tea to those I like…”
Dominic grinned broadly. “Those you like, eh mate? Hope you’re not using your job as a front to pick up college girls…”
“Girls? No,” Billy replied with a steady smile, meeting Dom’s eyes with a bit of a sparkle in his own.
“No? Well you’re in good company, mate.” Billy smiled and they fell into a momentary silence when the train stopped at a busy station, girls in Easter dresses and disgruntled travellers all falling into the car in a disorganized mass. Three stops later, Billy nodded and he and Dominic left the train, heading up a flight of stairs and emerging again into the chill air.
“It’s just a couple of blocks this way,” Billy said, leading the way down a side street to his flat, a small third-story walk up. “Sorry, it’s not much,” he apologised when they were both inside, unwinding his green and grey scarf and throwing it around a hanger in the closet. “Can I take your coat?”
“Hey, it’s warm and there’s a roof over our heads. I’m not picky,” Dominic replied with a smile as he shrugged out of his leather jacket and passed it to Billy, who hung it in the closet next to his own wool coat.
“Well, this is pretty much it. I’m meant to ask you, if you’d like to stay the night you’re welcome. The couch there folds out and all. Margaret was worried about you taking the last train back, being exhausted and all, and I’m inclined to agree with her…”
Dominic grinned as he stepped into the living room with Billy and shook his head. “Thanks mum, but I’ll be fine. I do appreciate the offer, though.”
Billy rolled his eyes as he flipped some lamps on and headed into the kitchen. “Feel free to have a seat anywhere, I’m just going to get some of this food started. Will you take a glass of wine? I have Scotch if you’d prefer…”
“What I’d prefer is to help you out in the kitchen, mate,” Dominic insisted, sliding into the small kitchen where Billy was pulling out glasses so that he ended up nearly chest-to-back with Billy.
Billy gulped at the sudden proximity of his sister’s very attractive (and gay! his brain screamed) friend. It would be so easy just to turn around and… but no. If Billy Boyd had anything, it was class. And patience. He wouldn’t really want to give away his upstanding reputation on a sudden impulse to snog a near-stranger in his kitchen. That wouldn’t do at all.
“Well, if you insist. But it is rather small…”
“Small is fine,” Dominic replied with a slightly mischievous smile as Billy shifted to the side to give them more room before facing him.
“Right then. Um, there’s a bottle of white open in the fridge there. Why don’t you pour us some to drink while we work?” Billy suggested, passing the glasses off to Dominic and turning to the oven to check the ham he had put in earlier in the morning.
“That smells fantastic,” Dominic complimented as he corked the wine and poured two glasses.
“Cheers. It’s our mum’s recipe, actually. Margaret insisted that I give it a go.”
“Well it looks fabulous. Here you are.” Billy smiled and accepted the glass, which Dominic clinked against his own with a grin.
“To… new friends,” he toasted, and Billy smiled, raising his glass slightly.
“I’ll drink to that.” For a moment, in fact, the atmosphere in the kitchen was quite comfortable, as they each sipped their wine. After a moment, however, Billy started to wonder how long was an acceptable silence, and Dom’s eyes seemed almost darker, almost… glittering? Nervously, he turned to a cabinet and pulled out a saucepan. “Could you grab the asparagus out of the fridge, please? There’s a little pre-made jar of hollandaise sauce from Marks & Sparks in there as well, if you could grab that…”
“No problem, mate,” Dominic replied, almost cheeky as he bent over to rummage through the refrigerator. Billy was sure his tension was palpable, and Dominic definitely had the upper hand at the moment. He almost hoped Margaret would walk in the door right now, even though she wasn’t due for another half hour, but then another part of his brain was enjoying this flirtatious sparring indeed, and it had been so long since he had taken part in such games.
“So who were you on the phone with at the station?” Dominic asked. Oh, yeah. Elijah. Billy resisted the urge to groan. “You looked pretty happy there, mate. Boyfriend?”
The question was pointed, and Billy resisted the urge to glare as he set the water to boil and began washing asparagus spears the sink. “No… well, he’s kind of complicated. That was Elijah.”
“Complicated, eh? I specialise in complicated,” Dominic replied with a smile, settling back against the fridge with wine glass in hand, and damn he looked like he owned the place in his crisp black dress shirt, collar undone, grey slacks and only a little silver cartilage ring on his right ear to hint that he wasn’t so conservative as his clothes would suggest.
“Well, I met him on the phone. Funny thing, really,” Billy explained, babbling as he did when he was nervous, scrubbing the asparagus with extra vigour. “See, I phoned the magazine where he worked, trying to get the distribution department, and I ended up getting him instead. And then we actually talked a bit, and he called back, and… well we’ve been talking pretty much all the time lately.”
“Does he like men? Or do you even know?”
“Oh, he likes men,” Billy replied, smirking like cat got the cream. Dominic grinned in response and raised his glass again, taking a long sip.
“Good for you, mate.”
“Well, it’s not like we’re dating or anything. I mean, we can’t. He lives in New York.”
“Yeah? That’s a long way.”
“It is,” Billy agreed, pulling out a chef’s knife to chop the asparagus spears in half. “And we both know it, but… he’s an extremely interesting lad. And beautiful. I mean, his voice… well I haven’t actually seen him.”
Dominic grinned. “Well I guess I should apologise, then. For my attitude thus far. Didn’t know someone else had gotten there first.”
“Oh, well…” Billy paused a moment, for what was he supposed to say to that? He hasn’t? But Elijah had, and Billy knew it. Still… “It’s not like that. I mean Elijah… he knows that it will be a long time before we ever meet in person, if ever. He kind of… well… at the train station… the reason we were talking is that he wanted to be on the phone when I saw you. He kind of gave me his blessing.”
“His blessing, you say?” Dominic’s grin now was positively evil, and Billy had to hold back a groan as he dropped the vegetables in the boiling water. “Been planning this, mate?”
“No,” Billy replied quickly, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Not planning. Margaret, in fact, was playing matchmaker, and I was all ready to ignore her completely. It’s Elijah who told me to keep an open-mind, in fact.”
“And? Is your mind open now, Mr. Boyd?”
Billy gulped, for as he arranged the spears in the pot, Dom had quickly slid up behind him, and was now speaking directly in his ear, one hand bracing him on the counter just next to Billy’s right hip, the other holding the wine glass loosely in an arm that wrapped slightly around Billy’s stomach.
Billy wracked his brain quickly for smart comments, and finding none, was half ready to spin around quickly and show Dom another way he knew how to shut him up, when…
“Billy! I’m back! Service was wonderful, wish you had…”
Margaret trailed off when she poked her head into the kitchen, both men jumping back as if they had been burned. Though, ironically, it was Billy who suffered that cruel fate, for where Dominic simply bumped his head rather hard against the cabinet behind him, Billy’s sudden movement made him knock the saucepan with his hip, boiling water splashing onto his hand with a vengeance.
“Fuck!” Billy exclaimed, jumping back from the stove and inadvertently straight into Dominic’s chest, grabbing his hand with the other and blowing on it to try and ease the pain. “Sorry, sorry…” he mumbled, stumbling away from Dominic as Margaret grinned widely.
“Jesus, mate, I’m sorry,” Dominic exclaimed as he reached to turn the tap on, nudging Billy forward and taking Billy’s wrist in his hands to guide it under the cool water.
After a few seconds, the immediate pain subsided, and Billy was suddenly hyper-conscious of the fact that Dominic was pressing up against him from behind, his arms around Billy’s waist as he held his hand under the tap, Margaret grinning enthusiastically from the doorway.
“Margaret, quit that. You look like loon,” Billy muttered as he finally excused himself from Dominic’s warm and all too tempting embrace, drying his hands on a towel.
“What?? You’re just cute! Both of you!” Margaret exclaimed as she pulled Billy into her arms, and then Dominic. “How are you, Dommeh-boy? Not getting into too much trouble, I hope?”
“Not too much, Margie,” he replied with a grin, giving her an affectionate smack on the cheek. “Though I think your dear brother here may be encouraging me.”
“You don’t say? William Boyd, didn’t you ever learn to mind your manners?” she teased as Billy turned a deep shade of crimson from his cheeks to his collar, suddenly busying himself with warming the hollandaise sauce.
“Right, then. Why don’t you pour yourself a glass of wine, Margaret, and you two can catch up in the living room while I finish getting Easter dinner ready, hmm?”
Margaret just giggled, pulling Dom away by the elbow once he had retrieved the bottle and a glass, and leaving Billy to heat the rolls and generally stay out of the way.
“So…? What do you think of my dear little brother, Dominic?” Margaret whispered when they were seated on the couch. “Is he to your liking?”
“Oh, I think he’ll do just fine, my dear little matchmaker,” Dominic agreed, clinking his glass with hers when it was full.
Margaret grinned, but let the topic drop momentarily. “So how’s business then, Dommeh? Haven’t seen your gorgeous mug in the magazines for awhile.”
Dom laughed and took a sip of his wine, settling back into the cushions with one ankle crossed at the opposite knee. “You know I tend away from the commercial stuff, Marge. But I did do one teensy spread for Dolce, so I’m sure the advert will be in one of those fluffy women’s publications you buy.”
Margaret swatted Dom’s shoulder playfully and shook her head. “Quit making fun of my magazines, Monaghan. I don’t make fun of the fact that you still subscribe to Attitude, even while living in France, nor do I bat an eye at your impressive stack of pornographic….”
“Okay Marge, that’s quite all right,” Dom interrupted hastily, clapping a hand over Margaret’s mouth as Billy walked into the dining area, basket of rolls in one hand and the butter plate in the other.
“Pornographic what, pray tell? Does our dear sweet Dominic have a naughty little habit?” Billy asked with a twinkle in his eye, glad to have regained the upper hand. Margaret nodded enthusiastically and squealed underneath Dom’s hand, while Billy just shook his head and laughed. “Unhand my sister, you brute, and give me a hand serving all this up. Margaret, have a seat and we’ll be with you momentarily.”
Dom laughed as he followed Billy back into the kitchen, taking the dish of asparagus and another filled with wild rice as Billy grabbed the large plate of carved ham. “Later on, I’ll show you the meaning of erotica,” he whispered, too low for Margaret to hear, before turning away and bringing the food to the table without waiting for Billy’s reaction.
Sure enough, Billy was a little red around the collar and in the ears as he sat down, but quickly brought up another topic, asking Margaret about her husband as he served the ham and trying to steer the conversation into a nice, safe area. Dom, for his part, seemed to be done with teasing Billy for the next hour or so at least, and they went through the usual list of subjects-Billy’s business, the latest French strikes, the Easter sermon-as they made their way through the rather impressive meal. After dinner, there was time for a slice of lemon meringue pie and a cup of coffee, but Margaret then insisted that she hurry to the station, wanting to be home in time for supper. Billy acquiesced and kissed his sister goodbye, sending her home with plastic containers full of leftovers and love for the family. It was only when she was safely out the door that Dom’s smile turned evil again.
“So, my dear Mr. Boyd. You now have a choice,” Dom announced with a smirk, leaning against the wall of the entryway.
“Oh do I?”
“Yes. You may send me home on the next train back to Paris, which leaves in an hour, or, if you fancy a shag, you can let me stay a few hours.”
“How romantic. I can’t see how anyone would resist you.”
“Hey, I’m giving you an option.”
Billy rolled his eyes and stepped past Dominic and into the living room, making a stack of the plates from their meal. “I’m just saying, you could’ve worded it a bit less crudely. But if you’d like to give me a hand, we can get these dishes put away and then you’re welcome to stick around…”
“Aw, c’mon, Billy. The dishes aren’t going to spontaneously combust if you leave them for a couple of hours,” Dom protested, sidling up behind Billy and reaching around him to gently take the stack of plates and put them back on the table. “Now c’mere, you.”
Billy took in a sharp breath as Dom wrapped his arms more fully around Billy’s torso and pressed his lips to the side of Billy’s neck, suckling lightly.
“You have no idea how much I want this,” Dom admitted in a husky whisper. “Come on, Billy. Give.”
Billy gasped again as Dom’s lips detoured to his earlobe, biting lightly, and then decided he had had enough, turning suddenly in Dom’s arms and putting both hands flat on his chest, pushing him away for a moment. They stood facing each other for a long pause, Dom’s eyes dark with desire and Billy’s large, his face flushed with arousal and his chest heaving as breathing became a secondary concern.
Then, quick as a flash, the silent moment was broken, and Billy’s hands, still resting palms-out on Dom’s chest, clenched into fists, taking a hold of Dom’s black dress shirt and yanking him in for a hot kiss, wet and urgent, his tongue quickly finding its way between Dom’s lips and licking his palate, one hand drifting to Dom’s hip to push him towards the couch.
“Mm, tasty,” Dom commented breathlessly with a cheeky grin when they finally pulled apart, Dom sitting on the arm of the sofa with his legs stretched straight out at an angle and Billy almost straddling his hips.
“Fucking hell, Dominic. I’ve half a mind to turn you over the arm of this sofa and…”
“God, please do,” Dom replied, not giving Billy a chance to finish his sentence before he joined their lips again, his hands sneaking down to get a good hold on Billy’s arse and pull him closer.
“Shite, wait,” Billy interrupted, pulling away with one knee up on the arm next to Dom’s hips and Dom’s opposite leg wrapped partially around his waist. Dom smirked at the state of Billy’s hair, sticking up every which way as a result of his own frantic hands, and his shirt, half untucked from his trousers.
“Yes?”
“Condoms… and lube. Wait, I’ll be right back.” Dom smiled as Billy hurried into the bedroom, running a hand through his own hair. He then got an idea, and stood up to undo his belt quickly.
When Billy returned, a condom and a small tube of lube in one hand, he gasped at the scene in front of him. Dom was bent over the arm of the sofa as requested, his elbows resting on the cushions, bare arse in the air with his trousers tossed to the side, grinning cheekily over his shoulder as Billy. “Well? This is what you wanted, yeah?”
“Oh fucking hell you’d better not need too much of this,” Billy breathed as he flipped the cap off the lube with one hand, using the other to undo his trousers as he crossed the room. Dom gasped as a slick finger pushed determinedly inside him, but relaxed quickly, moaning as Billy bent to lick a trail up his spine and simultaneously slip another finger in.
“Good… yeah, that’s it, God,” Dom breathed as Billy hooked his fingers and used his other hand to urge Dom’s legs apart.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Billy muttered, twisting and scissoring his fingers as Dom’s opening reluctantly began to stretch.
“It’s all right… I can take it, just… damn, that’s good…”
“Oh God… fuck… let me kiss you,” Billy gasped, plunging his fingers deeply as he rolled the condom on with the other hand. Dom groaned with pleasure as he reached up to twist one hand around behind Billy’s neck and pull him down for a long, desperate kiss, Dom’s weight supported by his other hand as he still rocked back onto the fingers inside his body.
“Fuck, now, please,” Dom whispered against Billy’s lips when he pulled away, and was pleasantly surprised at the dark fire in Billy’s eyes before he pushed Dom back down to the couch and lined up, pushing inside in one long stroke. Once inside, he paused for just a moment to let Dom adjust, his hand flat on Dom’s lower back in a soothing position as the other gripped the arm of the sofa next to Dom’s shoulder tightly to avoid losing control. It had been awhile, and Dom was so tight and hot that it was tempting just to start thrusting with no regard for his partner, but Billy wasn’t like that.
“Dommeh, Jesus… you’re…”
“Is it good, Billy?” Dom’s voice was low and feral, his back arching as he pushed back against Billy and lodged him deeper inside.
“Fuck. Yes…”
“Fuck me then, now, please. Don’t hold back, I need it as hard as you can give.”
Billy growled, Dom’s words pulling at something deep in his belly, and he let his left hand slide from Dom’s back to wrap around his torso, bracing Dom before he pulled back, slipping back inside quickly and with an abrupt stroke that made them both groan in pleasure. He maintained a fast pace, unable to hold back much after all the teasing of the morning, and soon found himself getting close, his nails scratching across Dom’s nipples as he tugged him up by the chest and pressed himself to Dom’s back.
“Jesus fuck, Dommeh, please, oh God…” Billy vaguely registered it as odd that he was the one begging while he fucked Dominic, but didn’t reserve much brain power to think of it as his thrusts went deeper, scraping across Dom’s prostate as his hand came down to wrap mercifully on Dom’s cock.
“Yes, fuck Billy, God, fuck me…” Dom’s breaths came short as Billy’s small hand formed a tight fist for him to thrust into, the friction of the couch arm combined with this new stimulation pulling him quickly to the brink of orgasm. When he came, throwing his head back onto Billy’s shoulder as a strangled cry caught in his throat, he was intensely aware of Billy’s arms around him and Billy’s teeth latching between neck and shoulder. Billy came quickly behind him, and they rested together in panting breaths slumped against the couch until Billy had the sense to pull out and dispose of the condom, fetching a blanket and wrapping both of them in it, naked, spooning on the sofa.
“Well that was… unexpected,” Billy commented, his tone soft and sleep-tinged.
Dom smiled and imagined that that voice would be quite effective when singing a lullaby. “Yeah, unexpected but nice. Most blokes I would kill for marking me, but I like this one,” he admitted, his hand trailing up to brush over the two little red teeth marks.
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think, with you being a model…”
“Billy. I said I liked it,” Dom reassured, smiling as he pulled Billy’s arm tighter where it was draped across his hip and twisted his neck back for a kiss. It was gladly given, and Dom found himself drifting off to sleep quickly and without dreams.
Continued in part two.
Author: Viktoria Angelique (v_angelique)
Pairing: DM/BB/EW
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This never actually happened. It's fiction.
Summary: I've wanted to do an OT3 for a while, and I decided for an AU. It was originally going to focus more on the three cities (New York, London, and Paris) but it ended up being more about the boys, and really, who could blame me? I strongly recommend downloading the mix CD here as you read. It should be done (unless you're on dialup) by the time you get to it in the story (in the second part), and not only are they great songs but it's a lot of fun to listen to the CD along with Billy when you get to it, and I suggest you follow the instructions included in Elijah's note yourself. Because this is a fic that encourages you to get off your arse for once! *g* About half the files are mp3 and the others are m4a, so if you don't have iTunes you can still listen to some of it. Also note that the fic is in two parts because LJ hates me, but it should be read as one.
In the gutter on the northwest side of the Central Park West and 86th Street intersection, a lit cigarette dropped from the fingers of one Elijah Jordan Wood, only to be stomped out by said smoker’s boot. Seventy-six seconds later, Elijah Wood boarded the C train heading downtown. Four of the orange plastic seats in the second-to-last car of this train were empty; Elijah chose to stand.
At 8:58 am, Eastern Standard Time, an elevator car on the fifty-first floor of a crowded midtown office building chirped pleasantly and jolted to a stop. The squeak of leather on tile was familiar, and the secretary waved pleasantly as the youngest music critic on staff passed her desk. Elijah stepped into his office exactly one-and-a-half minutes early this morning; the phone was on the third ring.
“Wood speaking.”
“Um, yes… hi. I’m actually not sure if this is the correct number; it’s probably not, in fact…” Elijah rolled his eyes as he fed the twisted plastic cord over his desk and around to the other side, where he took a seat in his comfortable leather office chair and pushed a pair of black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. Too often would these kids somehow find his extension, hoping to give their highly opinionated critique of his most recent album or concert review and be instantly praised for their creativity and musical savoir-faire. Elijah rolled his eyes, but the voice gave him pause. It didn’t even sound like a teenager this time, and the accent had a certain pleasant lilt to it.
“Sir, if you let me know what this call is with reference to, perhaps I can be the judge of that,” he replied in a tone that was practiced and terse, but not demeaning. He was surprised to hear laughter from the other end.
“Right, of course. I’m Billy Boyd, owner of the Corner Bookshop. I’m looking to carry your magazine here, and I’m afraid I found it almost impossible to locate the correct number for your distribution department on the website, so… well, I sort of dialled a random extension.” The man paused, and Elijah could detect a nervous intake of breath from the other side. He grinned, suddenly feeling much less annoyed, and leaned forward in his chair.
“Well, Mr. Boyd…”
“Billy.”
“Right, Billy. I’m afraid you’re way off there, buddy; I’m just a critic, but I’d be happy to find the number for you myself. Where you calling from, Ireland?”
“London,” the voice on the other end corrected. “But I’m Scottish,” he added with just a hint of indignation. Elijah grinned as he wheeled his chair over to the bookshelf on the wall and ran his fingertip across the spines, looking for the office phone directory. Normally he would forward such a call to Elisabeth, who could find the number much more efficiently without wasting his own time, but he kind of liked the stranger’s voice and didn’t mind getting a little more time with it.
“Right, my mistake. Hmm, this number has to be somewhere…”
“Really Mr. Wood…”
“Elijah.”
Billy laughed and corrected himself. “Elijah, of course. I don’t need to waste your time with this; I can figure it out…”
“Nonsense! I have nothing better to do, anyway.” This statement wasn’t strictly true, but Elijah normally spent the first 15 minutes at work unproductively anyway, so he didn’t see how a short phone call could throw him off all that much.
“Oh, um… okay. So you’re a critic, then?”
“That I am. I cover the indie circuit. Local shows, album releases, that sort of thing. The occasional interview with someone really local, but those rarely actually see the light of day. I’m just twenty-two and fresh out of school, anyway. So what about you, Billy Boyd? How old are you?” Elijah asked, smiling as he held his finger over the open directory, marking the place of distribution’s extension.
“Thirty-four,” Billy answered after a brief pause. Probably thought Elijah was crazy, but he was somewhat used to that.
“And you own a bookshop in London?”
“That I do.”
“What sort of books?”
“Oh, all sorts. I cater to the university set, though, hence the need for a good magazine selection…”
“Of course. Well I shan’t take up your time any further, Mr… Billy. The extension you’re looking for is 0214.”
“Cheers. Oh, and Elijah?”
“Yes?”
“You’re not wasting my time.”
------
In a one-bedroom corner apartment on the Upper West Side, Elijah checked to be sure there was water in his cat’s bowl, clapped once to switch off the single overhead light in the cosy living room, and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The little waterproof clock in the shower read 11:03, and he sighed as he reset the alarm to 6:30. Tomorrow was his morning to bring in the bagels, and it was for that reason alone that he loathed Tuesdays. Waking up, he felt, was highly overrated, and it was for this reason that he kept his alarm in the bathroom in the first place-only the walk required to shut it off and the following blast of a cold shower would keep him from dozing off again.
After blotting his face gently with a warm flannel, Elijah walked back into the bedroom. He opened the armoire and selected a well-worn pair of blue woollen pyjama bottoms, then draped them over the unmade double bed, closing the armoire doors and slowly undoing the buttons on his black dress shirt. His yellow tie had already been thrown over the couch as soon as he had gotten home; his certain disdain for business clothing was one reason that he enjoyed his job, where no one really gave a fuck if he showed up looking like a stand-in member for the Hives.
As he unbuttoned and pulled down the zip of his well-worn dark wash jeans, he cocked his head and frowned at the image in the mirror. At Columbia, the university gym had kept him at least basically toned in a lean, compact way; now he was simply skinny. His skin was two shades too pale from being inside all the time; when he wasn’t working in the office he was going to shows for work which all begun well after the sun went down. He shook his head as he changed into the pyjamas. Elijah needed a holiday, but now was not the time.
Sliding in between cool sheets, Elijah sighed and reached for his stereo’s remote control. Tonight, he opted for the Shins, something soothing, and then let his gaze flicker over to the side, where an oft-thumbed through volume sat on his glass nightstand. He let a slight smile come to his lips as he pulled the heavy book into his lap, a hardback volume of erotic black and white photography shot by a favourite artist of his. The pages naturally fell open to a shot near the centre, and he smiled broadly as the pad of his index finger trailed over the two dimensional images.
To the right-hand side of the page, a tall women in suspenders and thigh high black stockings, a lacy black bra revealing a healthy dose of cleavage, turned to the camera with a pouty look. Her face was heavily made up, hair pulled into a tight bun, and her head was cocked slightly to the side, resting on a blonde man’s shoulder.
To the left, another man, dark haired and olive-skinned, was engaging the blonde in a sultry kiss. A bit of the blonde’s lower lip was visible, peeking out from between the darker man’s teeth, and his cock was firmly trapped in the darker man’s fist.
It was the blonde man, however, who most captivated Elijah, and had for the past few months since he had bought the book. Actually, Elijah would point out if asked, he wasn’t an actual blonde, for the darker roots were clear at his crown. A thin black blindfold, tightly tied at the back of his head, obscured his eyes. His wrists were casually held behind his back by the female’s hand, curled into tight fists that accented the muscles in his forearms and made the veins visible beneath pale skin. His shirt was a simple black singlet, but what was most noticeable, what really kept Elijah turning back to this page again and again, was the way a pair of dark blue jeans were held tightly in place by the separation of the man’s legs, allowing his cock to stand proudly free from its nest of dark curls. The other man’s fist obscured most of the organ, but Elijah could just make out a bit of slickness around the head, brushing again the other man’s clothed crotch.
Sucking in a breath, Elijah sat back against the pillows and let his hand slide beneath the pyjama pants, exhaling in a long, familiar pattern as his other hand traced the lines of this seductive figure. The man in the photograph had no name, but in dreams, he was Elijah’s. Tonight, with only a hint of shame, he closed his eyes and recreated the voice on the phone this morning, then peered through lowered lashes and imagined the man in the photo speaking with that gravely Scottish accent, lacing the two inextricably in his brain and crying out with a jerk of his hips as he threw the book to the side at the last minute.
“Billy!”
------
When Dominic Monaghan emerged from the St. Michel metro station, the sun was just setting over the square. He smiled at the early crowd gathered in a half circle to watch the break dancers-things always got started early at night during the tourist season-and headed by instinct to the corner where he purchased une crepe au jambon-beurre et une au nutella et noix de coco. The Nutella was a holdover from his school days in Freiberg and Berlin, and although it tasted slightly different encased in the cone of warm, thin pancake than on toasted plain brown bread, the effect was the same. It was only at the corner, past the ubiquitous Latin club and at least four gyro stands, that he noticed the buzzing in his knee.
“Oh, bloody…” His mutter was cut off by the abrupt start of a busker’s violin, and he would have smiled if he wasn’t trying to keep the nutella from dripping out of his crepe while simultaneously bending sideways to open the Velcro pocket of his khaki cargo pants.
“Oui?”
The voice on the other end was soft, female, and Scottish, a fact which immediately made him smile. “Dom, hi. This is Margaret… I was just wondering if you’d thought about my idea yet?”
“Marg, love, it’s been two days.”
“Well I know dear, but it’s just that I want to be able to tell Billy so that he can get things ready, and…”
“I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I can. I told my agent I’d like to have a holiday for the weekend, and beyond that there isn’t much I can do.”
“I know Dom, I know, it’s just that I’d like you to be there, and it’s rare that my brother has company for Easter, and…”
“Margaret.” Dom’s tone was gently chiding. If he knew the woman at all, he posited with a gentle chuckle to himself, she had a plan. It was only a matter of weaselling it out of her.
“What, Dominic?”
“You’re going to be there, are you not?”
“Well, of course, but…”
“Margaret.”
“What?”
“This brother of yours, is he… married?”
“Well no, of course not. If he were he wouldn’t need us to entertain him, now would he?” Entertain. Dom smirked at her choice of words as he climbed the narrow steps to his walk-up.
“Well I suppose not, love. And is this single brother of yours attracted to women, pray tell?”
“Well… not… exactly.”
“Ah ha! I knew it!”
“Oh come on Dommeh, it’s just a little holiday… you don’t really want to spend your Easter all alone in France now, do you?”
“How do you know I don’t have a hot French date?”
“You would have mentioned it.”
“I might have to work.”
“It’s Easter! And you’re Catholic!”
“So are a lot of the French, Marg. Doesn’t mean…”
“Please, Dommeh? For me?”
“Well I don’t know. Is this brother of yours half as cute as you are?”
Margaret giggled pleasantly and Dom smiled, kicking open his door once he had finally gotten the tricky lock open and picking up the pile of mail that had been slid underneath. “You know, Dominic, if you hadn’t decided you were gay and moved to Paris…”
“We’d still be dating, and probably married by now. I’m well aware, love.”
Margaret sighed dramatically and Dom grinned, flopping onto his couch. “I’ll see what I can do.”
------
Elijah hated Thursdays.
Thursday was like a cruel joke, saying, “hey kid, you’re so close to the weekend but nuh-uh, not yet, still gotta get out of bed and go to work.” Fucking Thursdays. This Thursday, Elijah was sitting in his office, writing. Or pretending to be writing. He had several concerts to review this week so he didn’t have to come in tomorrow, and really everything he had to be done with before then was done already. So this was his excuse for, come three o’ clock, looking to see just how many Billy Boyds there are in London, anyway.
It was after four English accents that Elijah had almost given up (he was after all, calling international numbers on a company line). However, there was nothing better to do, and so after a brief pause decided to scan the Williams.
“Hello, this is Billeh.”
Brilliant. “Hi Billy. This is Elijah Wood. We spoke earlier in the week…?”
“The music critic, of course.” From his voice, Elijah could picture a fond smile on the unknown face. Or rather, the face of the man in his book, if he really was being honest with himself. “What can I do for you, Elijah?”
Oh, plenty of things, Billy Boyd. “Nothing particular. I was just… well, I was bored. And you seem like a nice guy.”
Billy laughed aloud, and Elijah grinned at this, kicking his feet up on the desk and leaning back in his chair. “You must be quite bored to be calling someone you ‘met’ by way of a wrong number in London, lad.”
“Yeah… that’s about the size of it. I’m at work.” Billy laughed again. “It’s not that bad, really…. it’s just not that impressive either. What are you up to?”
“Not much. I’m in my flat, which I suppose you know if you somehow managed to find this number.” Elijah blushed. “No matter though. I was just having a glass of scotch and flipping through the telly.”
“Anything good on?”
“All crap.”
Elijah laughed and slid his glasses off, setting them on the desk next to his calves. “What time is it over there, anyway?”
“Little after eight. There?”
“Little after three. Do you live alone?”
“Are you hinting at something, lad?” Now Elijah was really blushing. Billy laughed. “I’m just teasing you. I do, live alone. Do you?”
“Yes. Are you gay?” There was a pause and Elijah waited for Billy to hang up on him.
“A little forward, aren’t you?” Billy finally responded.
“I’m sorry, I… you sounded like you were flirting.”
“Ah. Well I suppose I was. But then, where I come from, the typical reaction is to dodge around the issue for at least eleven point two years before ever actually saying anything about it.”
Elijah smiled. There was laughter in his voice. “Sorry, man. I’m an American, and a born again New Yorker. We don’t do that shit.”
“Born again New Yorker?”
“I’m from Iowa. But I’ve been here for nearly five years, and I’ve kind of adopted the city.”
“Ah, I see. And what about you, Mr. Wood? Are you gay?”
Elijah grinned. “Yes, sir. Well the operative term is ‘bisexual,’ but I haven’t put that into practice for quite awhile.”
Billy laughed. “I sympathise. So I guess this is the point where I offer to buy you a cup of coffee, but I’m here, and you’re there…”
“Fair enough. How about you offer to call me back tomorrow?”
“A phone date?”
“Indeed.”
“Well it is international,” Billy pointed out.
“Buy a fucking phone card,” Elijah retorted playfully.
“Well then. I don’t know if I should be asking you out after that, Mr. Wood.”
“I can always call you,” Elijah pointed out.
“I could always not pick up,” Billy shot back, but his tone was teasing.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
Elijah rolled his eyes at the wall. “Do you like American accents?” he questioned randomly, changing the subject.
“I don’t know. I like yours.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Might be. You like Scottish ones?”
“God, of course. Who doesn’t?”
“Would you have called me if I didn’t have an accent?” Billy asked, and Elijah had to think for a moment.
“I think so, yeah. You intrigued me.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah.”
“Well do this then. Get back to work, and I’ll call you tomorrow when you’re done.”
“I’m working at night tomorrow. Call anytime.”
“I wake up at seven, which is two am in the States…”
“I’ll still be awake.”
Billy laughed. “Okay, I’m hanging up now. Get some work done.”
“You’ll call me?”
“I’ll call. What’s your home number?”
“Look it up. I did,” Elijah replied with a grin, hanging up before he could get a response. He did hope Billy called…
------
“Hello?”
“Good morning.”
“Hi, Billy.” Elijah smiled, picked the remote up off the coffee table, and muted reruns of the Daily Show. “How are you?”
“Not bad, considering the hour. And you? Did I wake you?”
“No. I told you I’d be up.”
“Of course. Not interrupting anything?”
“Wish you were, man. Just watching TV,” Elijah admitted.
“Thursday night, no work till tomorrow night? And you live in New York? And you’re how old?” Billy asked, his tone teasing.
“Twenty-two, smart ass. I went out earlier, nothing really interested me.”
“Or no one?”
“That too. I’m kind of used to living alone. Don’t like to break routine by inviting people back.”
“Shame, that. And here I was hoping this second date might have promise.” Elijah laughed, and the sound of running water started in the background. “Hang on a tic, I’m brushing my teeth. You can keep talking; tell me about your evening.”
“Okay. Um… let’s see, what did I do tonight? Well, first there was Thai for dinner. Quite good Thai, actually. And then I came back to my apartment, stripped down…” Elijah thought he heard a grunt over the sounds of teeth being brushed, but couldn’t be sure. “…and changed into my going out clothes. Which are pretty much my work clothes, but my sister always says it’s good to put on fresh clothing if you want to feel a transition between work and play. So yeah, I got dressed and went to this bar… I never go to music clubs when I’m not working anymore, because I get kind of sick of it, believe it or not, but I’ve found this gay bar I kind of like in the West Village. Not much tonight though. I ordered a beer, no one interesting showed up, I left. And now I’m watching John Stewart on cable. So there you have it.”
“You are right boring there, aren’t you lad?” Billy joked.
“Hey! I could hang up on you, asshole.”
“You could, but you won’t. C’mon, I’m only teasing you. My life is dreadfully boring, I’m sure not a mite more interesting than yours.”
“Yeah? Well what do you do all day, then?”
“Go to work, obviously. I open the store at nine or ten, depending on the day. Closed Sundays. Stay there till six, then get dinner, some “bachelor shite” as my sister puts it, and then I come home and watch the telly or do my laundry or read a book. See?’
Elijah laughed and slumped further down on the couch, closing his eyes as he slid his glasses off and got comfortable. “Our sisters should meet, I think. Maybe they could hang out and spend time doing something other than driving us crazy.”
Billy laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”
“What are you doing now?” Elijah asked, letting Billy’s voice lull him into something akin to relaxation.
“Well, highly interesting lad that I am, I’m getting dressed… which is quite difficult to do while holding a telephone, I might add…”
“Wow, you really just got up.”
“Turned the alarm off, took a piss, and rang you, lad. Didn’t want to keep you up.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
“Mm hmm. Bet you’ve been waiting for me to ring all day, you have.”
“Have not,” Elijah mumbled, but it wasn’t true. “What are you putting on, then?”
Billy laughed and Elijah thought he heard vague sounds of struggle in the background. “If I tell you, do you promise not to turn this into a phone wank session?” he asked, his tone laughing.
“No. It’s two in the morning, and I’m young and horny!” Elijah joked, but his brain was almost toying with the idea.
“Ha, ha. Well if you are, I guess I’ll never know. Anyway, I am wearing, from toe to head, an incredibly stylish pair of grey socks, black leather dress shoes, dark grey trousers, white pants, a white undershirt, white dress shirt, dark red tie, navy blue jumper, and matching scarf. Satisfied?”
“God, you’re boring.”
“Thanks, lad.”
“Is it cold in London in April?” Elijah asked, snuggling into the couch cushions as he tugged his blanket up higher.
“No colder than April in New York, I’d imagine. What are you doing now?”
“Trying not to fall asleep,” Elijah admitted. “It’s been a long week.”
“Oh. Should I let you go?”
“Nah. I like your voice. It’s like an aphrod… no, that’s not it. A sound that puts you to sleep, is there a word for that?” Elijah cursed himself mentally, but if Billy noticed his Freudian slip, he didn’t mention it.
“Not sure, lad. Shall I tell you a bedtime story, then?”
“Why don’t you sing me a lullaby? Do you know any?”
“Um… not off the top of my head.”
“Then sing me something. Whatever you like.” There was a long pause, and Elijah assumed his request was going to be denied, but then he smiled as a soft but pleasant singing voice came through the line. By the time “Imagine” was over, Elijah was fast asleep.
------
When the phone rang Sunday morning, Billy almost ignored it. Rolling over and groaning, he blinked several times at the caller ID until he recognized the area code. Glasgow. Fuck.
“Margie pargie, it’s nine o clock in the morning on a Sunday.”
“So maybe you should be getting your arse out of bed and ready for church, Billy boy,” a chipper female voice rang out.
“Right. How bout you go do that getting ready thing, and I’ll do the going back to sleep thing…”
“Billy!”
“Fine, fine. What did you need?”
“We’ll get to that. What I want to know, first of all, is why my dear brother is sleeping in on a Sunday morning, which I know for a fact he never does… hot date last night?”
“Well… not exactly,” Billy mumbled, pulling the pillow over his face and willing some national emergency to call Margaret away.
“Meaning?”
“I was on the phone. For a long time. Till almost four, actually. With a man.”
“What man? Billy! Tell!” Billy rubbed his temples at the near-squeak of her excitement, rolling over and blindly groping around the nightstand for aspirin.
“He’s just… a bloke in New York. We haven’t met, but we’ve been talking…”
“Oh Billy, please tell me you didn’t meet him on the internet. I’ve seen documentaries about that lately, you know…”
“No, Margaret. I didn’t meet him online. You know I never bother with that stuff, anyway. It’s a long story, but we’ve been talking a lot this weekend, and last night I called him when I got off of work and we just kind of stayed on the phone until he had to go to work.”
“And what does he do?”
“He’s a critic, for an American music magazine. He had to go review a show.”
“Yeah? That sounds interesting.”
“Yeah. He’s very… passionate.”
“You don’t say.”
“Oh come on, Margie. I don’t mean it like that.”
“And do you think you’ll meet him?”
“I don’t know. Probably not. I’d like to, but America’s rather far…”
“True. Hey, that reminds me, Billy, the reason I called. I wanted to tell you that we’ll definitely be three for Easter and that you can meet me at Charing Cross at noon Saturday. The better half needs the car, so I’m taking the train. And Dominic will be in on the 12:30 from Paris at Waterloo Station… I explained that we’ll be in church, but he insists that he’ll have no problem finding your flat alone, and he can meet us there when we’re done. The poor dear had to work on Saturday, or he would have…”
“Wait, Margaret. You’re telling your poor friend to find his own way to my flat just because you want to go to church? Why can’t we just skip services…?”
“Billy, no. I won’t give up Easter service, and you know it. Besides, he’s English. I’m sure he’s familiar with London.”
“Where’s he from again? Manchester?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell you what. I’ll pick the Manc up at Waterloo and you can meet us at my flat after church. Sound like a plan?”
“Billy! You can’t just…”
“Take it or leave it, Margie.”
“Fine… fine.”
“Great. Now I’m going back to bed. Love you, sis.”
“Love you too, Billy. Say hi to virtual lover boy for me.” Billy rolled his eyes, blew a kiss to the phone, and promptly hung up on his sister.
-------
“My sister says hi.”
“Yeah? Give my best to the infamous Miss Margaret, then. When did you talk to her?”
“This morning. She’s coming for Easter and bringing a friend. She was going to let the poor guy wander around London alone after his train got in because she wanted to go to church together.”
Elijah laughed slightly at that, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder as he opened the refrigerator and located a pint of milk for his cereal. “I suppose you nobly volunteered to duck out of church to pick him up, then?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t be going to church in the first place, mate. Do you know the bloke, though? Is he cute?”
Billy laughed on the other end and Elijah smiled at the sound, settling in on the couch with his bowl of Lucky Charms in his lap. “No idea. Never met the man in my life, Margaret just used to date him.”
“Oh. Straight, then?” Elijah tried not to sound hopeful.
“Used to date him before he turned gay and moved to Paris to become a fashion model.”
“Oh.”
Billy laughed louder this time, but his voice was soft and serious when he spoke again. “Margaret kind of wants to hook us up, but say the word and I won’t so much as think it. Even if he’s… I don’t know, Brad Pitt. I won’t.”
Elijah smiled broadly and reminded himself not to start bouncing if he didn’t want a lapful of milk. “No, I won’t tell you that. After all, I’m here and you’re there. But if anything happens, you’d better tell me every detail, you dog.”
Billy snickered and Elijah grinned. “Of course. Just do my poor ears a favour and save the wanking session until after we’ve hung up.”
“Oh come on, you sexy bastard. You know you’d like to hear what I sound like when I come,” Elijah joked, but he realised as he was saying it that his voice was coming off a little too husky.
“Aye,” Billy replied, and Elijah nearly spat out a mouthful of brightly coloured marshmallow gunk.
“Oh Jesus, Billy,” Elijah breathed, setting his cereal safely on the coffee table and letting his hand rest on his stomach, fingers toying with the hem of his tshirt.
“I’m sorry, lad. I know I shouldn’t, but God help me I wish there weren’t three thousand miles between us…I wish I could take you out on a real date, and then take you home and….”
Billy paused, and Elijah’s hand was now dipping lower to toy with the waistband of his pyjama pants. “And what, Billy?” He held in a breath, hoping he wouldn’t get hung up on, but he had to know this. One weekend and approximately thirteen hours of telephone time, and he just had to know what Billy Boyd sounded like when he came, even if it was on the other end of three thousand miles of phone line. He could handle that.
“And… I’d take you home and I’d fuck you, Elijah. Later, the next morning maybe, we’d make love, nice and slow and done all right like, but this time I wouldn’t be able to wait. I’d have to have you right there, right at the end of the night, maybe bent over my kitchen table…” Billy’s breathing was ragged, and Elijah made no effort to muffle his gasp, letting his hand slip below his pyjamas and cotton briefs to grasp extremely overheated flesh.
“Oh God, Billy… keep talking, please...”
“You like that, do you lad? You want me to fuck you? Well I would, then, just like that… get you all nice and worked up and then I’d bend you over and finger-fuck you, just at the right angle, I’d flick you just right so you were seeing stars…”
“Yes…. oh God… Jesus, Billy…”
“Mmm fuck, lad, you sound so good like that. So nice and hot and out of breath for me. Jesus. If I were there, I’d get you all stretched out beneath me, and then I’d just tease you, just a little, running my cock up between your arse cheeks, just so like…. I’d suck on your neck while rubbing myself, right against your tight little hole…”
“Oh fuck, Billy. I need it…. please,” Elijah groaned, as if Billy really was there waiting to fuck him.
“Patience, lad. You want to know what I’d do next? I’d stretch you open with my thumbs, just enough, and then I’d bury myself inside you with just a single stroke, all the way up inside you. I’d slide my arm around your waist, and I’d pull you up so that your back was to my chest, and I’d nibble on your ear just the way you like…”
Elijah gasped. He didn’t know how the fuck Billy knew he liked that but didn’t care, his hand now working enthusiastically on his cock, pyjamas and underwear both yanked to mid thigh. “Jesus, Billy. Need it now… need to come… oh, fuck.”
“Mmm, yeah lad. That’s it. Just like that. Oh God… Jesus lad, you know I’d fuck you so hard, fuck you till you were screaming and panting my name, and then just when I knew you couldn’t take any more, I’d reach down and take your cock in my hand…”
“Oh, fuck!” Elijah yelled, come splattering all over his hand, and he heard Billy’s breathing speed up as his own began to slow.
“Yeah Elijah, just like that… oh God, lad, I wish I could see yeh…. wish I could just look at you like that, all spread out with your come on your hand, just like that for me… oh… oh God…”
“Come for me, Billy,” Elijah whispered, and Billy groaned on cue, long and low, Elijah’s eyes shutting as he tried to imagine Billy in that position.
“Fuck. That was… fuck,” Billy whispered when he finally had his breath back.
“That’s… yeah. Me too,” Elijah replied with a little laugh, and he grinned when he heard Billy laughing in response, a little out of breath but happy, and that was the important thing.
“I wish I could see you, lad. Wish I could touch you. I want to cuddle and kiss you, and Jesus fuck but I sound like such a romantic sap…”
Elijah giggled, kicking his clothing off and heading to the bathroom to clean up. “It’s okay; you’re allowed the standard three and a half minutes of post-orgasmic sappiness,” he joked. “But seriously. I wish you could do that, too. I wish you could be here.”
“Jesus, if I could get the money for a ticket, I would. I mean maybe…”
“No, it’s okay. I want to meet you in person, but… I don’t know, maybe it’s good this way. I mean I love your voice, and talking to you like this… it’s almost more intimate than sex, you know? It’s better than a relationship, because I don’t know what I could be missing. I don’t have to get upset when you go on vacation, because there are phones everywhere. And you can fuck this friend of your sister’s all night long, for I care, for then it’ll give you more masturbatory fodder for conversations like this…”
Billy laughed out loud at that suggestion, and Elijah found himself plotting ways to hear that sound more often. “Fair enough, lad. But I do admit to having entered to win a free trip to New York online by signing up for a credit card offer…”
Elijah giggled as he climbed back into bed, suddenly ready for a few more hours’ sleep. “You’re hopeless, Boyd. Utterly and completely hopeless.”
“Aye, lad. That I am. Hopelessly infatuated with you, I’m afraid.” Elijah grinned and started prematurely looking forward to tomorrow’s call.
-------
“Do you see him yet? Is he cute? Should I be jeal…”
“Elijah, slow down,” Billy chided, laughing at his enthusiastic friend. “The train just got in, I haven’t spotted him yet. Honestly, I can’t believe you woke up at seven on a holiday just to ‘be with me’ when I meet Dominic.”
“Oh shut up. I haven’t gotten any in forever. I have to live vicariously through you. I mean… not that I’m ugly or anything. I don’t want you to think I’m some pathetic unattractive kid with pimples who can’t…”
“Elijah! Stop it. I think you’re beautiful.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do. You’re beautiful, and that’s that.”
“You’ve never…”
“I just know. Hey, I think I might see him.”
“Yeah? What’s he look like then?”
“Well I don’t know that it’s him, but he’s looking around, doesn’t seem to be with anyone…”
“Describe, damn you!”
Billy chuckled and lowered his voice as he approached the man on the platform. “Um, he’s blonde, but I don’t think it’s real…. kind of short, about my height, actually. He’s wearing grey trousers and a leather jacket…”
“Cute?”
The guy spun around suddenly, looking right at Billy, and Billy got his first good look at his eyes. “Oh… oh, yeah,” he breathed. “Elijah I… I have to go now.”
Elijah gulped, suddenly slightly afraid, but vowed to put on a brave face, or brave voice, at least. “Okay Billy. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Elijah joked, hearing Billy’s laughter in response on the other end.
“No promises, mate. Talk to you later.”
------
Dominic gulped, watching the stranger’s eyes crinkle up in laughter. Oh, God. Please let that be Margaret’s brother, he prayed. He had turned around when he heard a Scottish accent, and was now facing down this man on a mobile phone, who had yet to draw his eyes away from Dom’s.
“Um… are you Billy Boyd, by chance?” he asked, stepping forward a bit as the man slid his mobile back in a coat pocket.
“Indeed I am,” the other man replied with a mirthful twinkle in his eyes, smiling and extending his right hand. “Dominic, I presume?”
Oh thank you, God. “That’s me, mate. Thank you again for picking me up, I really would’ve been fine if you’d gone to church, I mean I hate to mess up your Easter plans…”
“No worries, Dominic. I’ll admit that you weren’t the only motivation for my skipping going to church with my sister,” he confided with a grin, and Dom smiled widely as he followed Billy out of the station and into the tube.
“Well all the same, I should thank you for your hospitality. It’s not often I get a chance to be part of a family holiday celebration, as it were.”
“No? Well me either, I guess. I’m a bit of a recluse, but Margaret always makes the effort to bring us together on the holidays. What about your family, then? Do you see them much?”
“Not really,” Dom admitted with a shrug as Billy waited for him to purchase a book of tickets from the automated machine. “We kind of went our separate ways when I moved to Paris. I guess modelling wasn’t quite the career my father had in mind for me.”
Billy nodded and led the way to the appropriate line. “What kind of modelling do you do, then? Print adverts and such?”
“Um, it varies. I’ve done a lot in print, yeah, mainly fashion modelling for magazines and such. A few photo books, um, occasionally adverts but not as much. I do runway sometimes as well, but not as much.”
“Runway? Like the pretty girls in stilettos?”
Dom snickered as they got into a train car, taking seats next to each other near the back. “Not exactly, mate, but the same idea.”
“I could never keep a straight face.”
“What about you, then? Margaret said you own a bookshop?”
“Yeah, that I do. It’s not a bad job.”
“Is it any special sort of bookshop, or just general interest?”
“Just general, yeah. I get a lot of uni kids, though, so I try to carry some more alternative titles to cater to that crowd. I guess the shop appeals, you know, kind of cluttered, comfortable chairs, free tea to those I like…”
Dominic grinned broadly. “Those you like, eh mate? Hope you’re not using your job as a front to pick up college girls…”
“Girls? No,” Billy replied with a steady smile, meeting Dom’s eyes with a bit of a sparkle in his own.
“No? Well you’re in good company, mate.” Billy smiled and they fell into a momentary silence when the train stopped at a busy station, girls in Easter dresses and disgruntled travellers all falling into the car in a disorganized mass. Three stops later, Billy nodded and he and Dominic left the train, heading up a flight of stairs and emerging again into the chill air.
“It’s just a couple of blocks this way,” Billy said, leading the way down a side street to his flat, a small third-story walk up. “Sorry, it’s not much,” he apologised when they were both inside, unwinding his green and grey scarf and throwing it around a hanger in the closet. “Can I take your coat?”
“Hey, it’s warm and there’s a roof over our heads. I’m not picky,” Dominic replied with a smile as he shrugged out of his leather jacket and passed it to Billy, who hung it in the closet next to his own wool coat.
“Well, this is pretty much it. I’m meant to ask you, if you’d like to stay the night you’re welcome. The couch there folds out and all. Margaret was worried about you taking the last train back, being exhausted and all, and I’m inclined to agree with her…”
Dominic grinned as he stepped into the living room with Billy and shook his head. “Thanks mum, but I’ll be fine. I do appreciate the offer, though.”
Billy rolled his eyes as he flipped some lamps on and headed into the kitchen. “Feel free to have a seat anywhere, I’m just going to get some of this food started. Will you take a glass of wine? I have Scotch if you’d prefer…”
“What I’d prefer is to help you out in the kitchen, mate,” Dominic insisted, sliding into the small kitchen where Billy was pulling out glasses so that he ended up nearly chest-to-back with Billy.
Billy gulped at the sudden proximity of his sister’s very attractive (and gay! his brain screamed) friend. It would be so easy just to turn around and… but no. If Billy Boyd had anything, it was class. And patience. He wouldn’t really want to give away his upstanding reputation on a sudden impulse to snog a near-stranger in his kitchen. That wouldn’t do at all.
“Well, if you insist. But it is rather small…”
“Small is fine,” Dominic replied with a slightly mischievous smile as Billy shifted to the side to give them more room before facing him.
“Right then. Um, there’s a bottle of white open in the fridge there. Why don’t you pour us some to drink while we work?” Billy suggested, passing the glasses off to Dominic and turning to the oven to check the ham he had put in earlier in the morning.
“That smells fantastic,” Dominic complimented as he corked the wine and poured two glasses.
“Cheers. It’s our mum’s recipe, actually. Margaret insisted that I give it a go.”
“Well it looks fabulous. Here you are.” Billy smiled and accepted the glass, which Dominic clinked against his own with a grin.
“To… new friends,” he toasted, and Billy smiled, raising his glass slightly.
“I’ll drink to that.” For a moment, in fact, the atmosphere in the kitchen was quite comfortable, as they each sipped their wine. After a moment, however, Billy started to wonder how long was an acceptable silence, and Dom’s eyes seemed almost darker, almost… glittering? Nervously, he turned to a cabinet and pulled out a saucepan. “Could you grab the asparagus out of the fridge, please? There’s a little pre-made jar of hollandaise sauce from Marks & Sparks in there as well, if you could grab that…”
“No problem, mate,” Dominic replied, almost cheeky as he bent over to rummage through the refrigerator. Billy was sure his tension was palpable, and Dominic definitely had the upper hand at the moment. He almost hoped Margaret would walk in the door right now, even though she wasn’t due for another half hour, but then another part of his brain was enjoying this flirtatious sparring indeed, and it had been so long since he had taken part in such games.
“So who were you on the phone with at the station?” Dominic asked. Oh, yeah. Elijah. Billy resisted the urge to groan. “You looked pretty happy there, mate. Boyfriend?”
The question was pointed, and Billy resisted the urge to glare as he set the water to boil and began washing asparagus spears the sink. “No… well, he’s kind of complicated. That was Elijah.”
“Complicated, eh? I specialise in complicated,” Dominic replied with a smile, settling back against the fridge with wine glass in hand, and damn he looked like he owned the place in his crisp black dress shirt, collar undone, grey slacks and only a little silver cartilage ring on his right ear to hint that he wasn’t so conservative as his clothes would suggest.
“Well, I met him on the phone. Funny thing, really,” Billy explained, babbling as he did when he was nervous, scrubbing the asparagus with extra vigour. “See, I phoned the magazine where he worked, trying to get the distribution department, and I ended up getting him instead. And then we actually talked a bit, and he called back, and… well we’ve been talking pretty much all the time lately.”
“Does he like men? Or do you even know?”
“Oh, he likes men,” Billy replied, smirking like cat got the cream. Dominic grinned in response and raised his glass again, taking a long sip.
“Good for you, mate.”
“Well, it’s not like we’re dating or anything. I mean, we can’t. He lives in New York.”
“Yeah? That’s a long way.”
“It is,” Billy agreed, pulling out a chef’s knife to chop the asparagus spears in half. “And we both know it, but… he’s an extremely interesting lad. And beautiful. I mean, his voice… well I haven’t actually seen him.”
Dominic grinned. “Well I guess I should apologise, then. For my attitude thus far. Didn’t know someone else had gotten there first.”
“Oh, well…” Billy paused a moment, for what was he supposed to say to that? He hasn’t? But Elijah had, and Billy knew it. Still… “It’s not like that. I mean Elijah… he knows that it will be a long time before we ever meet in person, if ever. He kind of… well… at the train station… the reason we were talking is that he wanted to be on the phone when I saw you. He kind of gave me his blessing.”
“His blessing, you say?” Dominic’s grin now was positively evil, and Billy had to hold back a groan as he dropped the vegetables in the boiling water. “Been planning this, mate?”
“No,” Billy replied quickly, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Not planning. Margaret, in fact, was playing matchmaker, and I was all ready to ignore her completely. It’s Elijah who told me to keep an open-mind, in fact.”
“And? Is your mind open now, Mr. Boyd?”
Billy gulped, for as he arranged the spears in the pot, Dom had quickly slid up behind him, and was now speaking directly in his ear, one hand bracing him on the counter just next to Billy’s right hip, the other holding the wine glass loosely in an arm that wrapped slightly around Billy’s stomach.
Billy wracked his brain quickly for smart comments, and finding none, was half ready to spin around quickly and show Dom another way he knew how to shut him up, when…
“Billy! I’m back! Service was wonderful, wish you had…”
Margaret trailed off when she poked her head into the kitchen, both men jumping back as if they had been burned. Though, ironically, it was Billy who suffered that cruel fate, for where Dominic simply bumped his head rather hard against the cabinet behind him, Billy’s sudden movement made him knock the saucepan with his hip, boiling water splashing onto his hand with a vengeance.
“Fuck!” Billy exclaimed, jumping back from the stove and inadvertently straight into Dominic’s chest, grabbing his hand with the other and blowing on it to try and ease the pain. “Sorry, sorry…” he mumbled, stumbling away from Dominic as Margaret grinned widely.
“Jesus, mate, I’m sorry,” Dominic exclaimed as he reached to turn the tap on, nudging Billy forward and taking Billy’s wrist in his hands to guide it under the cool water.
After a few seconds, the immediate pain subsided, and Billy was suddenly hyper-conscious of the fact that Dominic was pressing up against him from behind, his arms around Billy’s waist as he held his hand under the tap, Margaret grinning enthusiastically from the doorway.
“Margaret, quit that. You look like loon,” Billy muttered as he finally excused himself from Dominic’s warm and all too tempting embrace, drying his hands on a towel.
“What?? You’re just cute! Both of you!” Margaret exclaimed as she pulled Billy into her arms, and then Dominic. “How are you, Dommeh-boy? Not getting into too much trouble, I hope?”
“Not too much, Margie,” he replied with a grin, giving her an affectionate smack on the cheek. “Though I think your dear brother here may be encouraging me.”
“You don’t say? William Boyd, didn’t you ever learn to mind your manners?” she teased as Billy turned a deep shade of crimson from his cheeks to his collar, suddenly busying himself with warming the hollandaise sauce.
“Right, then. Why don’t you pour yourself a glass of wine, Margaret, and you two can catch up in the living room while I finish getting Easter dinner ready, hmm?”
Margaret just giggled, pulling Dom away by the elbow once he had retrieved the bottle and a glass, and leaving Billy to heat the rolls and generally stay out of the way.
“So…? What do you think of my dear little brother, Dominic?” Margaret whispered when they were seated on the couch. “Is he to your liking?”
“Oh, I think he’ll do just fine, my dear little matchmaker,” Dominic agreed, clinking his glass with hers when it was full.
Margaret grinned, but let the topic drop momentarily. “So how’s business then, Dommeh? Haven’t seen your gorgeous mug in the magazines for awhile.”
Dom laughed and took a sip of his wine, settling back into the cushions with one ankle crossed at the opposite knee. “You know I tend away from the commercial stuff, Marge. But I did do one teensy spread for Dolce, so I’m sure the advert will be in one of those fluffy women’s publications you buy.”
Margaret swatted Dom’s shoulder playfully and shook her head. “Quit making fun of my magazines, Monaghan. I don’t make fun of the fact that you still subscribe to Attitude, even while living in France, nor do I bat an eye at your impressive stack of pornographic….”
“Okay Marge, that’s quite all right,” Dom interrupted hastily, clapping a hand over Margaret’s mouth as Billy walked into the dining area, basket of rolls in one hand and the butter plate in the other.
“Pornographic what, pray tell? Does our dear sweet Dominic have a naughty little habit?” Billy asked with a twinkle in his eye, glad to have regained the upper hand. Margaret nodded enthusiastically and squealed underneath Dom’s hand, while Billy just shook his head and laughed. “Unhand my sister, you brute, and give me a hand serving all this up. Margaret, have a seat and we’ll be with you momentarily.”
Dom laughed as he followed Billy back into the kitchen, taking the dish of asparagus and another filled with wild rice as Billy grabbed the large plate of carved ham. “Later on, I’ll show you the meaning of erotica,” he whispered, too low for Margaret to hear, before turning away and bringing the food to the table without waiting for Billy’s reaction.
Sure enough, Billy was a little red around the collar and in the ears as he sat down, but quickly brought up another topic, asking Margaret about her husband as he served the ham and trying to steer the conversation into a nice, safe area. Dom, for his part, seemed to be done with teasing Billy for the next hour or so at least, and they went through the usual list of subjects-Billy’s business, the latest French strikes, the Easter sermon-as they made their way through the rather impressive meal. After dinner, there was time for a slice of lemon meringue pie and a cup of coffee, but Margaret then insisted that she hurry to the station, wanting to be home in time for supper. Billy acquiesced and kissed his sister goodbye, sending her home with plastic containers full of leftovers and love for the family. It was only when she was safely out the door that Dom’s smile turned evil again.
“So, my dear Mr. Boyd. You now have a choice,” Dom announced with a smirk, leaning against the wall of the entryway.
“Oh do I?”
“Yes. You may send me home on the next train back to Paris, which leaves in an hour, or, if you fancy a shag, you can let me stay a few hours.”
“How romantic. I can’t see how anyone would resist you.”
“Hey, I’m giving you an option.”
Billy rolled his eyes and stepped past Dominic and into the living room, making a stack of the plates from their meal. “I’m just saying, you could’ve worded it a bit less crudely. But if you’d like to give me a hand, we can get these dishes put away and then you’re welcome to stick around…”
“Aw, c’mon, Billy. The dishes aren’t going to spontaneously combust if you leave them for a couple of hours,” Dom protested, sidling up behind Billy and reaching around him to gently take the stack of plates and put them back on the table. “Now c’mere, you.”
Billy took in a sharp breath as Dom wrapped his arms more fully around Billy’s torso and pressed his lips to the side of Billy’s neck, suckling lightly.
“You have no idea how much I want this,” Dom admitted in a husky whisper. “Come on, Billy. Give.”
Billy gasped again as Dom’s lips detoured to his earlobe, biting lightly, and then decided he had had enough, turning suddenly in Dom’s arms and putting both hands flat on his chest, pushing him away for a moment. They stood facing each other for a long pause, Dom’s eyes dark with desire and Billy’s large, his face flushed with arousal and his chest heaving as breathing became a secondary concern.
Then, quick as a flash, the silent moment was broken, and Billy’s hands, still resting palms-out on Dom’s chest, clenched into fists, taking a hold of Dom’s black dress shirt and yanking him in for a hot kiss, wet and urgent, his tongue quickly finding its way between Dom’s lips and licking his palate, one hand drifting to Dom’s hip to push him towards the couch.
“Mm, tasty,” Dom commented breathlessly with a cheeky grin when they finally pulled apart, Dom sitting on the arm of the sofa with his legs stretched straight out at an angle and Billy almost straddling his hips.
“Fucking hell, Dominic. I’ve half a mind to turn you over the arm of this sofa and…”
“God, please do,” Dom replied, not giving Billy a chance to finish his sentence before he joined their lips again, his hands sneaking down to get a good hold on Billy’s arse and pull him closer.
“Shite, wait,” Billy interrupted, pulling away with one knee up on the arm next to Dom’s hips and Dom’s opposite leg wrapped partially around his waist. Dom smirked at the state of Billy’s hair, sticking up every which way as a result of his own frantic hands, and his shirt, half untucked from his trousers.
“Yes?”
“Condoms… and lube. Wait, I’ll be right back.” Dom smiled as Billy hurried into the bedroom, running a hand through his own hair. He then got an idea, and stood up to undo his belt quickly.
When Billy returned, a condom and a small tube of lube in one hand, he gasped at the scene in front of him. Dom was bent over the arm of the sofa as requested, his elbows resting on the cushions, bare arse in the air with his trousers tossed to the side, grinning cheekily over his shoulder as Billy. “Well? This is what you wanted, yeah?”
“Oh fucking hell you’d better not need too much of this,” Billy breathed as he flipped the cap off the lube with one hand, using the other to undo his trousers as he crossed the room. Dom gasped as a slick finger pushed determinedly inside him, but relaxed quickly, moaning as Billy bent to lick a trail up his spine and simultaneously slip another finger in.
“Good… yeah, that’s it, God,” Dom breathed as Billy hooked his fingers and used his other hand to urge Dom’s legs apart.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Billy muttered, twisting and scissoring his fingers as Dom’s opening reluctantly began to stretch.
“It’s all right… I can take it, just… damn, that’s good…”
“Oh God… fuck… let me kiss you,” Billy gasped, plunging his fingers deeply as he rolled the condom on with the other hand. Dom groaned with pleasure as he reached up to twist one hand around behind Billy’s neck and pull him down for a long, desperate kiss, Dom’s weight supported by his other hand as he still rocked back onto the fingers inside his body.
“Fuck, now, please,” Dom whispered against Billy’s lips when he pulled away, and was pleasantly surprised at the dark fire in Billy’s eyes before he pushed Dom back down to the couch and lined up, pushing inside in one long stroke. Once inside, he paused for just a moment to let Dom adjust, his hand flat on Dom’s lower back in a soothing position as the other gripped the arm of the sofa next to Dom’s shoulder tightly to avoid losing control. It had been awhile, and Dom was so tight and hot that it was tempting just to start thrusting with no regard for his partner, but Billy wasn’t like that.
“Dommeh, Jesus… you’re…”
“Is it good, Billy?” Dom’s voice was low and feral, his back arching as he pushed back against Billy and lodged him deeper inside.
“Fuck. Yes…”
“Fuck me then, now, please. Don’t hold back, I need it as hard as you can give.”
Billy growled, Dom’s words pulling at something deep in his belly, and he let his left hand slide from Dom’s back to wrap around his torso, bracing Dom before he pulled back, slipping back inside quickly and with an abrupt stroke that made them both groan in pleasure. He maintained a fast pace, unable to hold back much after all the teasing of the morning, and soon found himself getting close, his nails scratching across Dom’s nipples as he tugged him up by the chest and pressed himself to Dom’s back.
“Jesus fuck, Dommeh, please, oh God…” Billy vaguely registered it as odd that he was the one begging while he fucked Dominic, but didn’t reserve much brain power to think of it as his thrusts went deeper, scraping across Dom’s prostate as his hand came down to wrap mercifully on Dom’s cock.
“Yes, fuck Billy, God, fuck me…” Dom’s breaths came short as Billy’s small hand formed a tight fist for him to thrust into, the friction of the couch arm combined with this new stimulation pulling him quickly to the brink of orgasm. When he came, throwing his head back onto Billy’s shoulder as a strangled cry caught in his throat, he was intensely aware of Billy’s arms around him and Billy’s teeth latching between neck and shoulder. Billy came quickly behind him, and they rested together in panting breaths slumped against the couch until Billy had the sense to pull out and dispose of the condom, fetching a blanket and wrapping both of them in it, naked, spooning on the sofa.
“Well that was… unexpected,” Billy commented, his tone soft and sleep-tinged.
Dom smiled and imagined that that voice would be quite effective when singing a lullaby. “Yeah, unexpected but nice. Most blokes I would kill for marking me, but I like this one,” he admitted, his hand trailing up to brush over the two little red teeth marks.
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think, with you being a model…”
“Billy. I said I liked it,” Dom reassured, smiling as he pulled Billy’s arm tighter where it was draped across his hip and twisted his neck back for a kiss. It was gladly given, and Dom found himself drifting off to sleep quickly and without dreams.
Continued in part two.