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monaboyd Aug. 15th, 2005 01:53 pm)
wordsandkay.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Aug. 15th, 2005 01:53 pm)Title: Smooth Criminal
Author: Kay (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wordsandkay)
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Modern grooming gadgetry. Attempted pilferage thereof. Jet-lagged Billy. Randy Dom. Shaving. Porn.
Notes: AKA The Shaving Pr0n of Perpetual Unfinishedness, this fic was originally inspired by a conversation withjillybinks more than a year ago (MAY 2004 WTF), begun excitedly, buried under real life, and horribly neglected between fits of inspiration ever since. Jilly, thank you for your patience, and for never laughing at me all those times I said, "omg I really will finish writing that someday." Happy early birthday, sweetheart. I hope this is worth the wait!
cincodemaygirl, thank you for the outstanding beta and for all of your excellent suggestions. ♥
Disclaimer: 5,425 Words of la la la fiction. Just good clean-shaven fun, no disrespect intended.
Feedback: Even one-word comments bring the glee. :)
It's been a good minute or two since Dominic slipped inside, leaving the door open behind him in the hopes that at least some of the humidity would make a bid for freedom, but it’s still muggy as hell in this bathroom. It’s sort of difficult to breathe as well, but Dom figures that this has less to do with the wet, warm steam he's inhaling and more to do with the wet, warm Billy standing over his sink, fresh-scrubbed and pink from one of his trademark eternal hot showers. Billy’s still dripping wet in various locations thanks to his half-assed toweling technique, but no one in the room minds this in the least.
Dominic leans back against the doorframe, watching as Billy fills the sink with hot water, digs through his duffel bag and arranges a few necessary items on the countertop. Razor, shaving lotion, aftershave, and, oh yes, his precious electric shaving cream warmer, a terribly unmanly luxury item that Dom has given Billy endless shit about from the very first time Billy packed it up and carted it across the Atlantic — Or in more recent developments, a modern marvel of technology that Dom has had three clandestine, horizon-broadening encounters with during Billy's latest visits.
Dom's finally admitted to himself that he'd really like to have one of the gadgets for his very own, but he knows that should he ever break down and buy one — and thus be forced to admit this fact to Billy — he'd never hear the bloody end of it. But he is weakening. Last month, succumbing to a fit of temptation, Dom had hidden the little temptress of an appliance beneath a pile of his dirty clothes in the corner of the bathroom on the morning of Billy's departure. He'd then driven Billy to the airport, graciously assisted him with his bags, kissed him goodbye, and headed back to the car park, the usual gloom of seeing Billy off somewhat lifted by visions of three weeks of carefree, uninterrupted warm and lathery indulgences. But before Dom had even made it back to his car, Billy had somehow sensed the absence of his Precious and had rung Dom's mobile from the gate, politely requesting that his hot lathery thingie be airmailed to Glasgow before the close of the business day. Dom had replied with half a dozen gleefully perverted remarks before finally obliging with an airy nonchalance that he felt should have probably earned him some sort of nomination.
Thinking back upon this last failed attempt, Dom momentarily ponders a couple of new schemes for tricking Billy into "forgetting" the contraption behind in L.A. again this trip, but his plotting is short-lived. He's still got several long days in which to formulate a brilliant and foolproof strategy. Besides, distracting little streams of water keep trickling down from the almost-curls at Billy's neck, leading Dom's eyes down over the muscles and lines of Billy's back and his train of thought to musings regarding the best way to get rid of the towel that's slung low around Billy's slender hips. Considering the circumstances, one might say that Dom's got more pressing concerns on his mind than honing his creative borrowing techniques.
He's immersed in a scenario involving the possible combinations of the towel and the shower rod and at least one of Billy's wrists when Billy's hand squeaks across the mirror, revealing a clearer version of his reflection to Dominic and pulling him out of his little reverie. A sleepy smile forms on Billy's lips as he catches Dom’s eye in the glass.
"Why don’t you skip the shave tonight, Bill?" Dom asks. He can’t imagine why Billy, in the face of moderate-to-severe jet lag, would feel the need to shave tonight. He's been on nine different planes and slept in at least three time zones over the past week, and Dom is frankly amazed to see him standing upright unassisted. And furthermore, there are Other Things that they could be doing at the moment, and Dom would insist that those Things should certainly take precedence given the Current Situation. More specifically, they haven't seen each other in almost a month, Billy's been here for nearly an hour now, and neither one of them has slammed the other up against a wall yet, and that's just disconcerting.
"Come to bed," Dom suggests, hoping to right this grave injustice.
"Can't."
"Why not?"
"5 a.m. live news interview, then a photoshoot afterwards." Billy yawns, looking thoroughly knackered and thoroughly shaggable.
"So?"
"So I have to shave, because you never do," Billy explains, running his hand over several days' worth of scratchy stubble. "Last time I showed up in photos looking like this, someone captioned me as 'Dominic Monaghan, the actor who played Pippin in Lord of the Rings.'"
"Well, that's quite a compliment! He’s a sexy, sexy man!" Dom exclaims. "You should send them chocolates! In the morning, after you shave. Now leave your fancy foamy thing alone and come to bed with me," he insists, surveying the reflection of Billy's lower torso along the bottom edge of the mirror.
Billy considers this for a moment. "Could, but if I shave tonight, there's another ten minutes I can sleep in the morning. And I won't have razor burn in the photos, you know how I hate that. And my fancy foamy thing is already warmed up," he says, ticking off the arguments on his fingers and ending the list with one particular digit extended in a gesture that Dom chooses to ignore as accidental. "And there's an extra ten minutes of sleep in it for you, too, you know, because you're getting up to have coffee with me."
"Tea."
"Whatever. Point is, you should be thanking me for my great sacrifice," Billy concludes with a decisive little nod.
"Should thank you for your great vanity, Mr. Boyd, is what I believe you mean?" Dom offers.
Billy gapes at Dom in exaggerated disbelief for a second or two, then wordlessly pulls open the drawer at his left, rummages around noisily, unearths a bottle of bright blue nail polish, and pointedly stares at it. Smirking, he sticks his other hand into the drawer and locates one of Dominic's eyeliner pencils, presents it with a grand flourish, then uses the pencil to gesture toward the plethora of containers of hair products scattered around the countertop, one eyebrow quirked at Dom's reflection in challenge.
"Well said," Dom concedes.
Billy's lips soften into a little half-smile as he replaces Exhibits A and B in the drawer. When he leans over the sink for a closer look at a bottle of Exhibit C, Dom contemplates what the shift of body weight is doing to the set of Billy's hips and wonders with growing impatience why that damned towel isn't on the floor yet. Before he can come up with a satisfactory explanation for this outrage, he's sidetracked again, this time by Billy combing his fingers through his hair, presumably to examine his hairline, but doing an awfully good job of drawing awareness to the shape of his upper arms in the process. Dom's fidgeting absently with the collar of his t-shirt and trying to decide exactly in which order he'd like to bite the muscles in Billy's left shoulder when he notices Billy watching him right back in the mirror.
Not at all ashamed to be caught staring, and rather pleased to have a moment of Billy's undivided attention, he trails his hand down over his chest and spreads his fingers low across his belly. His eyes fixed on Billy's, he catches the hem of his t-shirt just above his hip and slowly drags the material higher, exposing several inches of skin and grinning wickedly when Billy's eyes flicker downward in the mirror. "Come to bed, Billy," he presses.
"Oh, don't tempt me, Dom, 'm so tired," Billy sighs, failing to look away as Dom's hand sneaks further up under his shirt toward his chest, scratching softly over his ribs, revealing even more of his tanned, tight stomach. "I was this close to dropping my bags by the front door and passing out in your coat closet the minute I got here, but I was afraid you might take advantage of me."
"Oh, please," Dom snorts.
"Ah, see there, now you're beggin' me," Billy says, his half-smile becoming something more like a grin, and although his tone suggests teasing, when he lifts his eyes again to meet Dom's in the mirror, Dom immediately recognizes the hint of serious invitation building there.
"Am I?" Dom asks innocently, stepping from the doorway and not breaking eye contact until he's standing just behind Billy, close enough to lean forward and press his lips against the clean, damp skin of Billy's nape as his arms sneak around Billy's waist.
"Are you?" Billy whispers, his breath catching a little as Dom's fingertips tease his navel and dip down to trace feather-light touches along the line where towel meets skin. Dom smiles against Billy's neck and places a timid bite there before moving a few inches to the right, closing his teeth more boldly around an earlobe and giving it a sudden tug that makes Billy's entire body go still.
"Only if you want me to," Dom breathes hot and low into Billy's ear, and Billy turns in his arms with a greedy little growl. He grips Dom's hips and pulls him closer, grinding their bodies together through denim and damp terrycloth, the growing hardness beneath Billy's towel and the undisguised hunger in his eyes conveying much more now than just a hint of invitation. More like a flashing neon billboard of invitation, Dom thinks vaguely as he presses forward slowly, pinning Billy against the counter with his hips and thighs, harder, until Billy's eyes fall closed and his mouth opens around a soft moan.
"D'you want me to, Bill?" Dom whispers as he threads his fingers through Billy's wet hair, slowly guiding Billy's mouth to meet his own. Fascinated by the contrast of scratchy stubble and soft lips, Dom traces the tip of his tongue along the line of a perfect cupid's bow and thrills as Billy shivers against him. "D'you want me on my knees for you?" Dom murmurs against Billy's parted lips, barely breathing in anticipation of his response.
"Yes," comes the answer, "Fuck ... yes," and it's nearly inaudible, but Dom feels it everywhere, in the flutters of breath against his lips, in the hands that clench his ass and pull him impossibly closer, in the sudden dizzying rush of heat and want and need that speeds straight to his cock and nearly sends him to his knees out of sheer reflex. He's about half a second away from just hitting the floor and swallowing Bill's cock without further warning or preamble — a very tempting option indeed, especially when he imagines how Billy would cry out in surprise, hips jerking uncontrollably against Dom's palms, unprepared for the intensity of Dom's lips and tongue and hands. But how nice it would be, Dom suddenly thinks, to draw things out just a bit longer, make Billy wait for it the way that Billy so very frequently enjoys making him wait for it.
It takes considerable effort, but Dom pulls his mouth away from Billy’s, panting slightly. Billy's more than a little breathless himself, his eyes glazed, his mouth slack and sweet and gorgeous and just so fucking irresistible that Dom has to force himself to look elsewhere, trying to think of something other than the aching in his cock and the resultant, all-consuming need to grind it against anything within reach. Promptly remembering why he has so often failed in his rare attempts to play this little game with Billy, he's veering steadily back to Option #1 when, in his frantic search for distraction, his gaze happens to land upon another object of his desire.
"Mmmm," Dom hums thoughtfully as he begins to extricate himself from Billy's grasp, calmly disentangling Billy's fingers from various pockets and beltloops of his jeans and curling them gently around the edge of the countertop instead. "Think you can hold off for a while, Bill? I think I might like to get that extra ten minutes of sleep in the morning after all," he purrs, eyeing Billy's shaving cream warmer. "And you really do need a shave, mate."
"Exactly what are you proposing, Monaghan?" Billy asks, leaving his hands where Dom's placed them like the very picture of obedience, except for the part where he's still leaning hungrily toward Dom's lips and keeping his pelvis slanted against Dom's in a terribly maddening fashion.
"That you stand still and be quiet and stop making sexual advances toward me until I've finished relieving you of that facial hair," Dom requests in a breezier tone than he'd actually thought himself capable of. “And this towel,” he continues, feeling rather proud of himself as he presses Billy’s ass smoothly back against the countertop to separate their hips. "Among other things," he adds with a glance down at the erection now distinctly visible beneath Billy's towel … and realizing his mistake a moment too late as the sight sends a vicious jolt of lust through his body. He bites back a groan and tries to pretend the only reason his hand has just flown to his crotch is that he's simply in need of a bit of rearranging, although he doesn't really expect Billy to buy that for a second. Which, of course, Billy doesn't.
"Alright," Billy says after a pause, leaning back casually against the counter. A glimmer in his eyes and a slight curl of his lips betray his amusement, as though he knows exactly what Dominic is trying to do with this situation and is looking forward to watching him crumble in spectacular defeat. Which, of course, Billy is.
Which, of course, just makes Dom all the more determined to be the one still standing — or kneeling, as the case may be — at the end of this evening’s little showdown.
"Alright," Dom repeats, nodding resolutely and summoning all the willpower at his disposal. "Head back, eyes closed, then," he instructs, and Billy obeys without hesitation. Dom takes a deep breath, pushes a few damp locks of hair away from Billy's forehead and temples, and tries desperately not to kiss him. Shaving cream, Dom decides. Shaving cream might help.
Dom reaches around Billy for a washcloth, taking care not to lean any closer into him than absolutely necessary as he dunks the cloth into the sink. "Hot," he warns, placing the cloth carefully onto Billy's face and letting it rest there while he dispenses a handful of warm shaving lotion into his palm and studiously avoids looking down at Billy's naked chest.
"Okay," Dom says, mostly to himself, as he removes the cloth and begins dabbing warm lather onto Billy's face and chin and throat, earning a glare and a little grunt of protest when a bit of what was intended for Billy's jawline somehow finds its way into his ear.
"Sorry," Dom chuckles as he swipes at the stray foam with a corner of the washcloth. "Never done this to anyone else before," he adds, a quiet admission that suddenly calls to mind another scene wherein Billy whispered those words to New Zealand night sky with his hands down the front of Dom's trousers and Dom's lips on his throat. Judging from the flicker in Billy's eyes, that memory has just flashed through his mind as well.
Dom clears his throat and looks away, a little flustered, as he reaches around Billy again to rinse his hands and retrieve the razor. He's struggling not to think about how quick of a study Bill had turned out to be that first evening and already failing quite miserably when his thigh accidentally brushes against Billy's cock. Shitshitshit, Dom thinks in mild panic as Billy stiffens and inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering closed just the way they did years ago on the porch of their house in South Island, and Dom is nearly overcome with the urge to press his thigh back in between Billy's just to see if he'll still whimper his name the same way.
Instead he steps back quickly and freezes as he watches Billy intently, waiting for any further reaction and trying not to make any sudden moves. Billy recovers in stages, keeping his eyes closed as he takes deep, slow breaths and deliberately relaxing his posture, settling himself back against the countertop as if everything were normal and he weren’t standing there half-naked and inches away from someone who wanted very badly to do a variety of debauched things to him. Dom is impressed. Taking the cue to move on, and ignoring the fact that his jeans have become slightly less comfortable than spending an afternoon in the clutches of a giant mechanical ent, Dom chooses to focus on deciding where exactly to start with this whole shaving affair. Sideburns, he thinks, rolling his shoulders to shake out some tension.
He places the head of the razor against Billy’s jaw and makes a short, hesitant stroke. "This okay?" he asks, unsure of how hard to press and not quite comfortable with the angle of his wrist. Billy answers with a closed-mouthed, "Mm-hmm."
Dom makes a few more tentative passes with the blade, and is pleased when his efforts reveal bare, smooth skin beneath a nice, normal-looking sideburn. Gaining a little confidence, he switches over to the other side, taking care to get things lined up evenly, and occasionally reminding himself to breathe. Another crisp edge of a sideburn appears, and Dom leans back, critically evaluating the symmetry and mentally congratulating himself on a job well begun.
He guides the razor over the rest of Billy's face, gradually growing more comfortable, skillfully negotiating the territory around Billy’s mouth and nose and snickering out loud when he glances in the mirror and notices the involuntary and extremely odd faces he's making while doing so.
“Mmf?” Billy asks.
Dom can’t resist. “I was just wondering if your hot lather thingie came with free lace knickers or not,” he says casually as he finishes off the last tricky bit of Billy’s filtrum. “Marketing, you know. Anticipating the customer’s interests and all,” he clarifies, tipping his fingers under Billy’s chin to tilt his head back slightly.
“Mmf,” Billy huffs, and Dom’s cheeky grin changes slowly back into a tiny frown of scrutiny as he returns to his task. His eyes narrowed with keen focus, Dom chews his lip in concentration, taking his time as he carefully maneuvers the blade along Billy's jawline. He glances down and notices Billy's pulse jumping softly at the base of his throat, and he touches his fingers there, just for a moment. He imagines that he can hear Billy's heartbeat blending its rhythm with the soft sounds of their shallow breathing, the hushed rasp of the razor's edge on skin, the gentle swish of the water and the clink of the blade in the sink. Dom’s own pulse quickens as he thinks of how Billy’s heart will be pounding faster before long, how sharper sounds than these will cut through the taut stillness of the room.
A few cautious last strokes now, over the curve of Billy’s throat, around the delicate ridge of his adam's apple, and then Dom runs his fingertips over Billy's skin in search of any spots he might have missed. Finding none, he gives the razor one final swirl through the sink and releases the water, all the while becoming more aware of Billy's eyes on him, and of the powerful need to feel Billy's hands on him as well. Soon, he tells himself as he runs clean water over the cloth and carefully removes all traces of foam from Billy's skin. Letting the cloth fall to the floor, Dom lifts his gaze to meet Billy’s and takes Billy's face lightly in his hands.
Billy's kiss is impossibly soft, his skin cool and fresh and smooth against the tender press of Dom’s lips. Dom's fingers stroke Billy's face, graze his throat, and come to rest again on the flutter of his pulse, and Dom’s mouth follows. Billy sways forward with a small noise of encouragement, his hands rising and curling tightly around Dom's wrists. Dom’s teeth tease a slow scrape along Billy’s collarbone, and fingernails scratch deliciously down Dom’s forearms in response, rough enough to burn. Dom growls in appreciation. He inhales deeply, dizzied by the familiar scent of Billy mingled with the sharp fragrance of his own soap, the fresh, clean smell of the shaving lotion, and ... "Mmm, I almost forgot," Dom hums, nibbling at Billy’s shoulder as he lowers Billy's hands back onto the countertop and reaches around him again to grope for the aftershave.
Billy steels himself dramatically at the sight of the little blue bottle, and Dom can’t hold back a laugh. "Ready?" he asks, twisting off the lid and wincing apologetically as he splashes a bit of the liquid into his palms.
"Go ahead," Billy grits out, squeezing his eyes shut and flinching as Dom pats the aftershave onto his skin. "STINGS," Billy announces in distress, and Dom tries to hide his amusement.
"Alright, you big baby," he teases, blowing a light gust of air across Billy's face. His hands move down to Billy's throat and Dom bends lower to deliver another soothing stream of cool air.
"Oh. That's nice," Billy murmurs, his head falling back with a sigh as Dom's hands drift over his chest, his body tensing all over as Dominic bites down gently on the curve of his neck and shoulder. "That, too," he breathes. Dom's fingertips tease circles along Billy's sides, sending chillbumps over his skin.
"And this?" Dom wonders, ducking his head to graze his teeth over a nipple, scratching his beard lightly down Billy's chest, nipping and licking his way down Billy's stomach, escalating the pace of Billy’s sharp breaths until he's kneeling on the floor in front of Billy's hips, which are pressing forward affirmatively.
Dom tucks his thumbs inside the edge of Billy's towel and tugs softly. The ease with which the towel falls away from Billy's body causes Dom to wonder how it's possibly managed to stay put all this time, a mystery of physics that pales in comparison to the complexities of deciding exactly which one of these newly visible and highly appetizing parts of Billy he'd like to sample first.
He strokes his palms up and down Billy's thighs, considering his options. He thinks the inside of Billy's right thigh looks particularly enticing, so he licks it experimentally. Billy’s cock twitches and he draws in a jagged breath. Dom enjoys that so much that he elects to sample Billy's other thigh next, this time sealing his lips and drawing the skin between his teeth, shoving Billy's hips back firmly when they buck against his hands in impatience. "Almost," he whispers into the hollow beneath Billy's hip bone. He dips his head lower to place the flat of his tongue against Billy's balls, pressing gently upward, lifting, cooing in sympathy as Billy moans his name. Inching closer, he sweeps his tongue along the underside of Billy's erection, swirls it around the head, and slowly eases him into his mouth, just barely skimming his lips along the shaft until his mouth comes to rest at the base of Billy's cock.
When Dominic finally closes his lips and hollows his cheeks in a long, slow pull, the breath Billy's been holding escapes with a loud groan — and apparently most of the bone structure of his legs. Dom's prepared, though, and he holds Billy tightly against the counter, supporting him until he is able to regain at least a limited capacity to stand. Billy's fingers go white-knuckled around the counter's edge and his thighs tremble against Dom’s forearms when Dom’s mouth begins to move on him. Dom’s pace is slow, almost reverent, but he is not gentle. He works Billy fervently, changing depth and angle and intensity without warning, sometimes letting Billy feel a brief scrape of teeth just to hear him whimper in alarm and exhilaration. Occasional little ahs and gods and Doms break the silence and spark flares of heat between Dom's legs until, nearly frantic with the need to be touched, Dom moves one hand away from Billy's hip and rubs it roughly against the length of his own trapped erection.
Dom moans around Billy, incapable of anything much more involved than stroking himself absently through his jeans as he loses himself in Billy’s pleasure. He responds to Billy instinctively, the pace and depth of Billy's breathing telling him when to let up, when to go faster; nearly imperceptible tilts and jerks of Billy’s hips indicating where to flick his tongue, when to take him even deeper. Sudden panicked breaths infused with half-uttered profanities warn of Billy’s impending unraveling and Dom braces him up against the counter again, moving his mouth in time with the rhythmic thrusts of Billy’s hips until Billy’s fingers twist tightly in his hair, then for a long moment everything is stillness.
Billy jerks violently and cries out once, then draws in a sharp breath and goes quiet. His fingers bite into Dom's shoulders and Dom clings to him, swallowing hard around his cock again and again as Billy shakes and pants and bucks, his voice fragile as he chants Dom's name in a stream of gratitude and relief. With a long, satisfied sigh, Billy rakes his shaky fingers through Dom’s hair and gently eases him away, whimpering softly as his cock slides from Dom’s mouth, then he places a hand on Dom’s shoulder and lowers himself carefully onto the floor.
After a brief internal victory celebration, Dom turns and slumps down beside Billy, who is flushed and breathless and regarding Dominic's right hand through half-closed eyes. Dom knows the reason for Billy's interest in his right hand, and it is because it has moved practically of its own volition back to his jeans and is pushing at buttons and pulling at a zipper and fumbling past hot, constrictive denim in a great humanitarian effort to finally free Dom's cock from the torture device known as his jeans. Dom decides, at this point, that he couldn't care less if the entire western hemisphere was watching him jerk off, so he takes himself firmly and unashamedly in hand and tips his head back against the cabinet, closing his eyes and uttering a moan of long-awaited pleasure.
His lips are drawn between his teeth in concentration, the details of Billy's recent climax playing in slow motion in his head when he feels Billy start to nuzzle against his neck. Billy’s breath is hot, and Dom shivers. An open mouth is drifting leisurely over Dom's throat, a hand is teasing down the center of Dom's body, destination unmistakable. Dom could easily come from the mere idea of Billy's fingers replacing his own around his cock, and he nearly does so, groaning in emphatic approval when Billy's hand finally sneaks into his jeans.
"Oh god Billy yes," Dom breathes, pulling his hand away to give Billy more room, but Billy's grip closes firmly around his fingers and traps Dom’s hand around his cock.
"No, don't stop," Billy croons into Dom's ear as he squeezes Dom's fist tighter and guides him through a long, slow stroke, "... But don't come," he demands in a whisper, and goddamn if that doesn't send Dom careening right to the edge, choking on a gasp and pushing up violently into his fist as Billy grabs the waist of his jeans and jerks them down.
"Fuck!" Dom hisses, viciously gripping the base of his cock and struggling to still his hips in desperate effort to postpone the inevitable. He miraculously manages to do so, but for how long is extraordinarily debatable, what with Billy leaning over him now, one hand bracing his weight on the floor, the other joining his mouth in a merciless assault on the remnants of Dom's restraint.
Billy's everywhere at once, it seems, gently tugging on Dom’s balls, biting at his thighs, licking slowly along the crease of his groin, pushing up his shirt to lazily tease his nipples, unquestionably back in control as Dom feverishly pumps his cock and fights for air. Billy's tongue darts out from time to time, licking at Dom's fingers as they squeeze and twist and tug, coaxing moan after moan from Dom's lips, each one a little more desperate than the last. Dom keens and arches off the floor when Billy’s tongue starts flicking relentlessly against the head of his cock, his free hand clutching at Billy's back as he is finally overwhelmed.
"Bill … fuck… let me ... I can't ..." Dom pants, and Billy grabs his wrist, shoving his hand up and away from his cock. Their fingers entwine tightly as Billy presses their hands against Dom's chest, then he lowers his head, taking Dom swiftly and completely into his mouth, and the world shifts and fades until there is only hot and wet and tight and perfect devastation as Dom's cries echo loudly off the tiles.
* * *
Dom doesn't know how long he’s stayed here, sated and heavy-limbed, half-lying, half-sitting on the floor beside Billy, a drawer handle digging into his shoulder and his left buttock cold and wet from sitting on Billy's washcloth. Long enough, he supposes, as he's starting to get a crick in his neck. "Hrrrkgh," he croaks articulately, attempting to drag himself to his feet while tugging his shirt over his head and kicking his trousers off and having considerable difficulty doing all of these things simultaneously.
Billy, who had no clothing to sort out, has already achieved a somewhat steady standing position, so he reaches out a hand to pull Dom to his feet. Groggy and grinning, they prop themselves weakly against the counter. Having regained a few more of his basic motor skills, Dom wins the battle with his t-shirt and is all set to return his attentions to escaping his trousers when Billy steps closer and gathers Dom into his arms. “Beautiful,” Billy whispers, his body warm and solid against Dom’s bared skin, then he kisses Dom slowly and thoroughly as his toes seek out the frayed ends of Dom’s jeans. Billy’s arms offer balance, and he stands on the legs of Dom’s trousers, holding them down as Dom finally wriggles the rest of the way out of the overpowered denim.
"You know, you could stand a bit of a shave yourself," Billy remarks after he breaks their kiss, gingerly touching his chin where it's rubbed against Dom's. "It's a good thing I’ll be leaving you alone with my fancy foamy thing all morning," he adds as he leans toward the mirror to further assess the damage, shooting Dom a sidelong glance that does nothing to disguise the sudden gleam of mischief in his eyes.
"And just what would I want with your poncy fancy foamy thing?" Dom scoffs, slightly alarmed, willing his ears not to turn red and coming nowhere close to succeeding.
"You forgot to turn it off last time you used it, Dom," Billy says smugly, and Dom's jaw drops. He clamps his mouth shut, then opens it again to deliver a brilliant retort, but his brain stalls out and all he can manage is a highly undignified little squeak.
"Such an amateur," Billy snickers.
"Can we just go to bed now?" Dom groans at the ceiling as he turns toward the door.
"Yeah, we really should. I'm too exhausted to mock you properly tonight," Billy yawns, picking up his towel and Dom’s discarded clothing and tossing them toward the laundry bin. "But I'm thinking I might want to set the alarm a bit early anyway, maybe get in a couple minutes of quality piss-taking and then shag you against the kitchen counter while the coffee's brewin'?"
"Tea," Dom argues, whirling around to glare at Billy sleepily. "And I would much prefer you shag me over the kitchen table. Angle's much better."
"Whatever," Billy agrees. "And then when we're done, you can put your dress back on and cook me breakfast," he proclaims happily, scooting Dom out into the hallway, ignoring his inarticulate sputters of protest and smacking him lightly on the ass as he flicks off the light behind them.
Author: Kay (
wordsandkay)Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Modern grooming gadgetry. Attempted pilferage thereof. Jet-lagged Billy. Randy Dom. Shaving. Porn.
Notes: AKA The Shaving Pr0n of Perpetual Unfinishedness, this fic was originally inspired by a conversation with
jillybinks more than a year ago (MAY 2004 WTF), begun excitedly, buried under real life, and horribly neglected between fits of inspiration ever since. Jilly, thank you for your patience, and for never laughing at me all those times I said, "omg I really will finish writing that someday." Happy early birthday, sweetheart. I hope this is worth the wait! cincodemaygirl, thank you for the outstanding beta and for all of your excellent suggestions. ♥Disclaimer: 5,425 Words of la la la fiction. Just good clean-shaven fun, no disrespect intended.
Feedback: Even one-word comments bring the glee. :)
It's been a good minute or two since Dominic slipped inside, leaving the door open behind him in the hopes that at least some of the humidity would make a bid for freedom, but it’s still muggy as hell in this bathroom. It’s sort of difficult to breathe as well, but Dom figures that this has less to do with the wet, warm steam he's inhaling and more to do with the wet, warm Billy standing over his sink, fresh-scrubbed and pink from one of his trademark eternal hot showers. Billy’s still dripping wet in various locations thanks to his half-assed toweling technique, but no one in the room minds this in the least.
Dominic leans back against the doorframe, watching as Billy fills the sink with hot water, digs through his duffel bag and arranges a few necessary items on the countertop. Razor, shaving lotion, aftershave, and, oh yes, his precious electric shaving cream warmer, a terribly unmanly luxury item that Dom has given Billy endless shit about from the very first time Billy packed it up and carted it across the Atlantic — Or in more recent developments, a modern marvel of technology that Dom has had three clandestine, horizon-broadening encounters with during Billy's latest visits.
Dom's finally admitted to himself that he'd really like to have one of the gadgets for his very own, but he knows that should he ever break down and buy one — and thus be forced to admit this fact to Billy — he'd never hear the bloody end of it. But he is weakening. Last month, succumbing to a fit of temptation, Dom had hidden the little temptress of an appliance beneath a pile of his dirty clothes in the corner of the bathroom on the morning of Billy's departure. He'd then driven Billy to the airport, graciously assisted him with his bags, kissed him goodbye, and headed back to the car park, the usual gloom of seeing Billy off somewhat lifted by visions of three weeks of carefree, uninterrupted warm and lathery indulgences. But before Dom had even made it back to his car, Billy had somehow sensed the absence of his Precious and had rung Dom's mobile from the gate, politely requesting that his hot lathery thingie be airmailed to Glasgow before the close of the business day. Dom had replied with half a dozen gleefully perverted remarks before finally obliging with an airy nonchalance that he felt should have probably earned him some sort of nomination.
Thinking back upon this last failed attempt, Dom momentarily ponders a couple of new schemes for tricking Billy into "forgetting" the contraption behind in L.A. again this trip, but his plotting is short-lived. He's still got several long days in which to formulate a brilliant and foolproof strategy. Besides, distracting little streams of water keep trickling down from the almost-curls at Billy's neck, leading Dom's eyes down over the muscles and lines of Billy's back and his train of thought to musings regarding the best way to get rid of the towel that's slung low around Billy's slender hips. Considering the circumstances, one might say that Dom's got more pressing concerns on his mind than honing his creative borrowing techniques.
He's immersed in a scenario involving the possible combinations of the towel and the shower rod and at least one of Billy's wrists when Billy's hand squeaks across the mirror, revealing a clearer version of his reflection to Dominic and pulling him out of his little reverie. A sleepy smile forms on Billy's lips as he catches Dom’s eye in the glass.
"Why don’t you skip the shave tonight, Bill?" Dom asks. He can’t imagine why Billy, in the face of moderate-to-severe jet lag, would feel the need to shave tonight. He's been on nine different planes and slept in at least three time zones over the past week, and Dom is frankly amazed to see him standing upright unassisted. And furthermore, there are Other Things that they could be doing at the moment, and Dom would insist that those Things should certainly take precedence given the Current Situation. More specifically, they haven't seen each other in almost a month, Billy's been here for nearly an hour now, and neither one of them has slammed the other up against a wall yet, and that's just disconcerting.
"Come to bed," Dom suggests, hoping to right this grave injustice.
"Can't."
"Why not?"
"5 a.m. live news interview, then a photoshoot afterwards." Billy yawns, looking thoroughly knackered and thoroughly shaggable.
"So?"
"So I have to shave, because you never do," Billy explains, running his hand over several days' worth of scratchy stubble. "Last time I showed up in photos looking like this, someone captioned me as 'Dominic Monaghan, the actor who played Pippin in Lord of the Rings.'"
"Well, that's quite a compliment! He’s a sexy, sexy man!" Dom exclaims. "You should send them chocolates! In the morning, after you shave. Now leave your fancy foamy thing alone and come to bed with me," he insists, surveying the reflection of Billy's lower torso along the bottom edge of the mirror.
Billy considers this for a moment. "Could, but if I shave tonight, there's another ten minutes I can sleep in the morning. And I won't have razor burn in the photos, you know how I hate that. And my fancy foamy thing is already warmed up," he says, ticking off the arguments on his fingers and ending the list with one particular digit extended in a gesture that Dom chooses to ignore as accidental. "And there's an extra ten minutes of sleep in it for you, too, you know, because you're getting up to have coffee with me."
"Tea."
"Whatever. Point is, you should be thanking me for my great sacrifice," Billy concludes with a decisive little nod.
"Should thank you for your great vanity, Mr. Boyd, is what I believe you mean?" Dom offers.
Billy gapes at Dom in exaggerated disbelief for a second or two, then wordlessly pulls open the drawer at his left, rummages around noisily, unearths a bottle of bright blue nail polish, and pointedly stares at it. Smirking, he sticks his other hand into the drawer and locates one of Dominic's eyeliner pencils, presents it with a grand flourish, then uses the pencil to gesture toward the plethora of containers of hair products scattered around the countertop, one eyebrow quirked at Dom's reflection in challenge.
"Well said," Dom concedes.
Billy's lips soften into a little half-smile as he replaces Exhibits A and B in the drawer. When he leans over the sink for a closer look at a bottle of Exhibit C, Dom contemplates what the shift of body weight is doing to the set of Billy's hips and wonders with growing impatience why that damned towel isn't on the floor yet. Before he can come up with a satisfactory explanation for this outrage, he's sidetracked again, this time by Billy combing his fingers through his hair, presumably to examine his hairline, but doing an awfully good job of drawing awareness to the shape of his upper arms in the process. Dom's fidgeting absently with the collar of his t-shirt and trying to decide exactly in which order he'd like to bite the muscles in Billy's left shoulder when he notices Billy watching him right back in the mirror.
Not at all ashamed to be caught staring, and rather pleased to have a moment of Billy's undivided attention, he trails his hand down over his chest and spreads his fingers low across his belly. His eyes fixed on Billy's, he catches the hem of his t-shirt just above his hip and slowly drags the material higher, exposing several inches of skin and grinning wickedly when Billy's eyes flicker downward in the mirror. "Come to bed, Billy," he presses.
"Oh, don't tempt me, Dom, 'm so tired," Billy sighs, failing to look away as Dom's hand sneaks further up under his shirt toward his chest, scratching softly over his ribs, revealing even more of his tanned, tight stomach. "I was this close to dropping my bags by the front door and passing out in your coat closet the minute I got here, but I was afraid you might take advantage of me."
"Oh, please," Dom snorts.
"Ah, see there, now you're beggin' me," Billy says, his half-smile becoming something more like a grin, and although his tone suggests teasing, when he lifts his eyes again to meet Dom's in the mirror, Dom immediately recognizes the hint of serious invitation building there.
"Am I?" Dom asks innocently, stepping from the doorway and not breaking eye contact until he's standing just behind Billy, close enough to lean forward and press his lips against the clean, damp skin of Billy's nape as his arms sneak around Billy's waist.
"Are you?" Billy whispers, his breath catching a little as Dom's fingertips tease his navel and dip down to trace feather-light touches along the line where towel meets skin. Dom smiles against Billy's neck and places a timid bite there before moving a few inches to the right, closing his teeth more boldly around an earlobe and giving it a sudden tug that makes Billy's entire body go still.
"Only if you want me to," Dom breathes hot and low into Billy's ear, and Billy turns in his arms with a greedy little growl. He grips Dom's hips and pulls him closer, grinding their bodies together through denim and damp terrycloth, the growing hardness beneath Billy's towel and the undisguised hunger in his eyes conveying much more now than just a hint of invitation. More like a flashing neon billboard of invitation, Dom thinks vaguely as he presses forward slowly, pinning Billy against the counter with his hips and thighs, harder, until Billy's eyes fall closed and his mouth opens around a soft moan.
"D'you want me to, Bill?" Dom whispers as he threads his fingers through Billy's wet hair, slowly guiding Billy's mouth to meet his own. Fascinated by the contrast of scratchy stubble and soft lips, Dom traces the tip of his tongue along the line of a perfect cupid's bow and thrills as Billy shivers against him. "D'you want me on my knees for you?" Dom murmurs against Billy's parted lips, barely breathing in anticipation of his response.
"Yes," comes the answer, "Fuck ... yes," and it's nearly inaudible, but Dom feels it everywhere, in the flutters of breath against his lips, in the hands that clench his ass and pull him impossibly closer, in the sudden dizzying rush of heat and want and need that speeds straight to his cock and nearly sends him to his knees out of sheer reflex. He's about half a second away from just hitting the floor and swallowing Bill's cock without further warning or preamble — a very tempting option indeed, especially when he imagines how Billy would cry out in surprise, hips jerking uncontrollably against Dom's palms, unprepared for the intensity of Dom's lips and tongue and hands. But how nice it would be, Dom suddenly thinks, to draw things out just a bit longer, make Billy wait for it the way that Billy so very frequently enjoys making him wait for it.
It takes considerable effort, but Dom pulls his mouth away from Billy’s, panting slightly. Billy's more than a little breathless himself, his eyes glazed, his mouth slack and sweet and gorgeous and just so fucking irresistible that Dom has to force himself to look elsewhere, trying to think of something other than the aching in his cock and the resultant, all-consuming need to grind it against anything within reach. Promptly remembering why he has so often failed in his rare attempts to play this little game with Billy, he's veering steadily back to Option #1 when, in his frantic search for distraction, his gaze happens to land upon another object of his desire.
"Mmmm," Dom hums thoughtfully as he begins to extricate himself from Billy's grasp, calmly disentangling Billy's fingers from various pockets and beltloops of his jeans and curling them gently around the edge of the countertop instead. "Think you can hold off for a while, Bill? I think I might like to get that extra ten minutes of sleep in the morning after all," he purrs, eyeing Billy's shaving cream warmer. "And you really do need a shave, mate."
"Exactly what are you proposing, Monaghan?" Billy asks, leaving his hands where Dom's placed them like the very picture of obedience, except for the part where he's still leaning hungrily toward Dom's lips and keeping his pelvis slanted against Dom's in a terribly maddening fashion.
"That you stand still and be quiet and stop making sexual advances toward me until I've finished relieving you of that facial hair," Dom requests in a breezier tone than he'd actually thought himself capable of. “And this towel,” he continues, feeling rather proud of himself as he presses Billy’s ass smoothly back against the countertop to separate their hips. "Among other things," he adds with a glance down at the erection now distinctly visible beneath Billy's towel … and realizing his mistake a moment too late as the sight sends a vicious jolt of lust through his body. He bites back a groan and tries to pretend the only reason his hand has just flown to his crotch is that he's simply in need of a bit of rearranging, although he doesn't really expect Billy to buy that for a second. Which, of course, Billy doesn't.
"Alright," Billy says after a pause, leaning back casually against the counter. A glimmer in his eyes and a slight curl of his lips betray his amusement, as though he knows exactly what Dominic is trying to do with this situation and is looking forward to watching him crumble in spectacular defeat. Which, of course, Billy is.
Which, of course, just makes Dom all the more determined to be the one still standing — or kneeling, as the case may be — at the end of this evening’s little showdown.
"Alright," Dom repeats, nodding resolutely and summoning all the willpower at his disposal. "Head back, eyes closed, then," he instructs, and Billy obeys without hesitation. Dom takes a deep breath, pushes a few damp locks of hair away from Billy's forehead and temples, and tries desperately not to kiss him. Shaving cream, Dom decides. Shaving cream might help.
Dom reaches around Billy for a washcloth, taking care not to lean any closer into him than absolutely necessary as he dunks the cloth into the sink. "Hot," he warns, placing the cloth carefully onto Billy's face and letting it rest there while he dispenses a handful of warm shaving lotion into his palm and studiously avoids looking down at Billy's naked chest.
"Okay," Dom says, mostly to himself, as he removes the cloth and begins dabbing warm lather onto Billy's face and chin and throat, earning a glare and a little grunt of protest when a bit of what was intended for Billy's jawline somehow finds its way into his ear.
"Sorry," Dom chuckles as he swipes at the stray foam with a corner of the washcloth. "Never done this to anyone else before," he adds, a quiet admission that suddenly calls to mind another scene wherein Billy whispered those words to New Zealand night sky with his hands down the front of Dom's trousers and Dom's lips on his throat. Judging from the flicker in Billy's eyes, that memory has just flashed through his mind as well.
Dom clears his throat and looks away, a little flustered, as he reaches around Billy again to rinse his hands and retrieve the razor. He's struggling not to think about how quick of a study Bill had turned out to be that first evening and already failing quite miserably when his thigh accidentally brushes against Billy's cock. Shitshitshit, Dom thinks in mild panic as Billy stiffens and inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering closed just the way they did years ago on the porch of their house in South Island, and Dom is nearly overcome with the urge to press his thigh back in between Billy's just to see if he'll still whimper his name the same way.
Instead he steps back quickly and freezes as he watches Billy intently, waiting for any further reaction and trying not to make any sudden moves. Billy recovers in stages, keeping his eyes closed as he takes deep, slow breaths and deliberately relaxing his posture, settling himself back against the countertop as if everything were normal and he weren’t standing there half-naked and inches away from someone who wanted very badly to do a variety of debauched things to him. Dom is impressed. Taking the cue to move on, and ignoring the fact that his jeans have become slightly less comfortable than spending an afternoon in the clutches of a giant mechanical ent, Dom chooses to focus on deciding where exactly to start with this whole shaving affair. Sideburns, he thinks, rolling his shoulders to shake out some tension.
He places the head of the razor against Billy’s jaw and makes a short, hesitant stroke. "This okay?" he asks, unsure of how hard to press and not quite comfortable with the angle of his wrist. Billy answers with a closed-mouthed, "Mm-hmm."
Dom makes a few more tentative passes with the blade, and is pleased when his efforts reveal bare, smooth skin beneath a nice, normal-looking sideburn. Gaining a little confidence, he switches over to the other side, taking care to get things lined up evenly, and occasionally reminding himself to breathe. Another crisp edge of a sideburn appears, and Dom leans back, critically evaluating the symmetry and mentally congratulating himself on a job well begun.
He guides the razor over the rest of Billy's face, gradually growing more comfortable, skillfully negotiating the territory around Billy’s mouth and nose and snickering out loud when he glances in the mirror and notices the involuntary and extremely odd faces he's making while doing so.
“Mmf?” Billy asks.
Dom can’t resist. “I was just wondering if your hot lather thingie came with free lace knickers or not,” he says casually as he finishes off the last tricky bit of Billy’s filtrum. “Marketing, you know. Anticipating the customer’s interests and all,” he clarifies, tipping his fingers under Billy’s chin to tilt his head back slightly.
“Mmf,” Billy huffs, and Dom’s cheeky grin changes slowly back into a tiny frown of scrutiny as he returns to his task. His eyes narrowed with keen focus, Dom chews his lip in concentration, taking his time as he carefully maneuvers the blade along Billy's jawline. He glances down and notices Billy's pulse jumping softly at the base of his throat, and he touches his fingers there, just for a moment. He imagines that he can hear Billy's heartbeat blending its rhythm with the soft sounds of their shallow breathing, the hushed rasp of the razor's edge on skin, the gentle swish of the water and the clink of the blade in the sink. Dom’s own pulse quickens as he thinks of how Billy’s heart will be pounding faster before long, how sharper sounds than these will cut through the taut stillness of the room.
A few cautious last strokes now, over the curve of Billy’s throat, around the delicate ridge of his adam's apple, and then Dom runs his fingertips over Billy's skin in search of any spots he might have missed. Finding none, he gives the razor one final swirl through the sink and releases the water, all the while becoming more aware of Billy's eyes on him, and of the powerful need to feel Billy's hands on him as well. Soon, he tells himself as he runs clean water over the cloth and carefully removes all traces of foam from Billy's skin. Letting the cloth fall to the floor, Dom lifts his gaze to meet Billy’s and takes Billy's face lightly in his hands.
Billy's kiss is impossibly soft, his skin cool and fresh and smooth against the tender press of Dom’s lips. Dom's fingers stroke Billy's face, graze his throat, and come to rest again on the flutter of his pulse, and Dom’s mouth follows. Billy sways forward with a small noise of encouragement, his hands rising and curling tightly around Dom's wrists. Dom’s teeth tease a slow scrape along Billy’s collarbone, and fingernails scratch deliciously down Dom’s forearms in response, rough enough to burn. Dom growls in appreciation. He inhales deeply, dizzied by the familiar scent of Billy mingled with the sharp fragrance of his own soap, the fresh, clean smell of the shaving lotion, and ... "Mmm, I almost forgot," Dom hums, nibbling at Billy’s shoulder as he lowers Billy's hands back onto the countertop and reaches around him again to grope for the aftershave.
Billy steels himself dramatically at the sight of the little blue bottle, and Dom can’t hold back a laugh. "Ready?" he asks, twisting off the lid and wincing apologetically as he splashes a bit of the liquid into his palms.
"Go ahead," Billy grits out, squeezing his eyes shut and flinching as Dom pats the aftershave onto his skin. "STINGS," Billy announces in distress, and Dom tries to hide his amusement.
"Alright, you big baby," he teases, blowing a light gust of air across Billy's face. His hands move down to Billy's throat and Dom bends lower to deliver another soothing stream of cool air.
"Oh. That's nice," Billy murmurs, his head falling back with a sigh as Dom's hands drift over his chest, his body tensing all over as Dominic bites down gently on the curve of his neck and shoulder. "That, too," he breathes. Dom's fingertips tease circles along Billy's sides, sending chillbumps over his skin.
"And this?" Dom wonders, ducking his head to graze his teeth over a nipple, scratching his beard lightly down Billy's chest, nipping and licking his way down Billy's stomach, escalating the pace of Billy’s sharp breaths until he's kneeling on the floor in front of Billy's hips, which are pressing forward affirmatively.
Dom tucks his thumbs inside the edge of Billy's towel and tugs softly. The ease with which the towel falls away from Billy's body causes Dom to wonder how it's possibly managed to stay put all this time, a mystery of physics that pales in comparison to the complexities of deciding exactly which one of these newly visible and highly appetizing parts of Billy he'd like to sample first.
He strokes his palms up and down Billy's thighs, considering his options. He thinks the inside of Billy's right thigh looks particularly enticing, so he licks it experimentally. Billy’s cock twitches and he draws in a jagged breath. Dom enjoys that so much that he elects to sample Billy's other thigh next, this time sealing his lips and drawing the skin between his teeth, shoving Billy's hips back firmly when they buck against his hands in impatience. "Almost," he whispers into the hollow beneath Billy's hip bone. He dips his head lower to place the flat of his tongue against Billy's balls, pressing gently upward, lifting, cooing in sympathy as Billy moans his name. Inching closer, he sweeps his tongue along the underside of Billy's erection, swirls it around the head, and slowly eases him into his mouth, just barely skimming his lips along the shaft until his mouth comes to rest at the base of Billy's cock.
When Dominic finally closes his lips and hollows his cheeks in a long, slow pull, the breath Billy's been holding escapes with a loud groan — and apparently most of the bone structure of his legs. Dom's prepared, though, and he holds Billy tightly against the counter, supporting him until he is able to regain at least a limited capacity to stand. Billy's fingers go white-knuckled around the counter's edge and his thighs tremble against Dom’s forearms when Dom’s mouth begins to move on him. Dom’s pace is slow, almost reverent, but he is not gentle. He works Billy fervently, changing depth and angle and intensity without warning, sometimes letting Billy feel a brief scrape of teeth just to hear him whimper in alarm and exhilaration. Occasional little ahs and gods and Doms break the silence and spark flares of heat between Dom's legs until, nearly frantic with the need to be touched, Dom moves one hand away from Billy's hip and rubs it roughly against the length of his own trapped erection.
Dom moans around Billy, incapable of anything much more involved than stroking himself absently through his jeans as he loses himself in Billy’s pleasure. He responds to Billy instinctively, the pace and depth of Billy's breathing telling him when to let up, when to go faster; nearly imperceptible tilts and jerks of Billy’s hips indicating where to flick his tongue, when to take him even deeper. Sudden panicked breaths infused with half-uttered profanities warn of Billy’s impending unraveling and Dom braces him up against the counter again, moving his mouth in time with the rhythmic thrusts of Billy’s hips until Billy’s fingers twist tightly in his hair, then for a long moment everything is stillness.
Billy jerks violently and cries out once, then draws in a sharp breath and goes quiet. His fingers bite into Dom's shoulders and Dom clings to him, swallowing hard around his cock again and again as Billy shakes and pants and bucks, his voice fragile as he chants Dom's name in a stream of gratitude and relief. With a long, satisfied sigh, Billy rakes his shaky fingers through Dom’s hair and gently eases him away, whimpering softly as his cock slides from Dom’s mouth, then he places a hand on Dom’s shoulder and lowers himself carefully onto the floor.
After a brief internal victory celebration, Dom turns and slumps down beside Billy, who is flushed and breathless and regarding Dominic's right hand through half-closed eyes. Dom knows the reason for Billy's interest in his right hand, and it is because it has moved practically of its own volition back to his jeans and is pushing at buttons and pulling at a zipper and fumbling past hot, constrictive denim in a great humanitarian effort to finally free Dom's cock from the torture device known as his jeans. Dom decides, at this point, that he couldn't care less if the entire western hemisphere was watching him jerk off, so he takes himself firmly and unashamedly in hand and tips his head back against the cabinet, closing his eyes and uttering a moan of long-awaited pleasure.
His lips are drawn between his teeth in concentration, the details of Billy's recent climax playing in slow motion in his head when he feels Billy start to nuzzle against his neck. Billy’s breath is hot, and Dom shivers. An open mouth is drifting leisurely over Dom's throat, a hand is teasing down the center of Dom's body, destination unmistakable. Dom could easily come from the mere idea of Billy's fingers replacing his own around his cock, and he nearly does so, groaning in emphatic approval when Billy's hand finally sneaks into his jeans.
"Oh god Billy yes," Dom breathes, pulling his hand away to give Billy more room, but Billy's grip closes firmly around his fingers and traps Dom’s hand around his cock.
"No, don't stop," Billy croons into Dom's ear as he squeezes Dom's fist tighter and guides him through a long, slow stroke, "... But don't come," he demands in a whisper, and goddamn if that doesn't send Dom careening right to the edge, choking on a gasp and pushing up violently into his fist as Billy grabs the waist of his jeans and jerks them down.
"Fuck!" Dom hisses, viciously gripping the base of his cock and struggling to still his hips in desperate effort to postpone the inevitable. He miraculously manages to do so, but for how long is extraordinarily debatable, what with Billy leaning over him now, one hand bracing his weight on the floor, the other joining his mouth in a merciless assault on the remnants of Dom's restraint.
Billy's everywhere at once, it seems, gently tugging on Dom’s balls, biting at his thighs, licking slowly along the crease of his groin, pushing up his shirt to lazily tease his nipples, unquestionably back in control as Dom feverishly pumps his cock and fights for air. Billy's tongue darts out from time to time, licking at Dom's fingers as they squeeze and twist and tug, coaxing moan after moan from Dom's lips, each one a little more desperate than the last. Dom keens and arches off the floor when Billy’s tongue starts flicking relentlessly against the head of his cock, his free hand clutching at Billy's back as he is finally overwhelmed.
"Bill … fuck… let me ... I can't ..." Dom pants, and Billy grabs his wrist, shoving his hand up and away from his cock. Their fingers entwine tightly as Billy presses their hands against Dom's chest, then he lowers his head, taking Dom swiftly and completely into his mouth, and the world shifts and fades until there is only hot and wet and tight and perfect devastation as Dom's cries echo loudly off the tiles.
Dom doesn't know how long he’s stayed here, sated and heavy-limbed, half-lying, half-sitting on the floor beside Billy, a drawer handle digging into his shoulder and his left buttock cold and wet from sitting on Billy's washcloth. Long enough, he supposes, as he's starting to get a crick in his neck. "Hrrrkgh," he croaks articulately, attempting to drag himself to his feet while tugging his shirt over his head and kicking his trousers off and having considerable difficulty doing all of these things simultaneously.
Billy, who had no clothing to sort out, has already achieved a somewhat steady standing position, so he reaches out a hand to pull Dom to his feet. Groggy and grinning, they prop themselves weakly against the counter. Having regained a few more of his basic motor skills, Dom wins the battle with his t-shirt and is all set to return his attentions to escaping his trousers when Billy steps closer and gathers Dom into his arms. “Beautiful,” Billy whispers, his body warm and solid against Dom’s bared skin, then he kisses Dom slowly and thoroughly as his toes seek out the frayed ends of Dom’s jeans. Billy’s arms offer balance, and he stands on the legs of Dom’s trousers, holding them down as Dom finally wriggles the rest of the way out of the overpowered denim.
"You know, you could stand a bit of a shave yourself," Billy remarks after he breaks their kiss, gingerly touching his chin where it's rubbed against Dom's. "It's a good thing I’ll be leaving you alone with my fancy foamy thing all morning," he adds as he leans toward the mirror to further assess the damage, shooting Dom a sidelong glance that does nothing to disguise the sudden gleam of mischief in his eyes.
"And just what would I want with your poncy fancy foamy thing?" Dom scoffs, slightly alarmed, willing his ears not to turn red and coming nowhere close to succeeding.
"You forgot to turn it off last time you used it, Dom," Billy says smugly, and Dom's jaw drops. He clamps his mouth shut, then opens it again to deliver a brilliant retort, but his brain stalls out and all he can manage is a highly undignified little squeak.
"Such an amateur," Billy snickers.
"Can we just go to bed now?" Dom groans at the ceiling as he turns toward the door.
"Yeah, we really should. I'm too exhausted to mock you properly tonight," Billy yawns, picking up his towel and Dom’s discarded clothing and tossing them toward the laundry bin. "But I'm thinking I might want to set the alarm a bit early anyway, maybe get in a couple minutes of quality piss-taking and then shag you against the kitchen counter while the coffee's brewin'?"
"Tea," Dom argues, whirling around to glare at Billy sleepily. "And I would much prefer you shag me over the kitchen table. Angle's much better."
"Whatever," Billy agrees. "And then when we're done, you can put your dress back on and cook me breakfast," he proclaims happily, scooting Dom out into the hallway, ignoring his inarticulate sputters of protest and smacking him lightly on the ass as he flicks off the light behind them.
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LMAO.
More specifically, they haven't seen each other in almost a month, Billy's been here for nearly an hour now, and neither one of them have slammed the other up against a wall yet, and that's just disconcerting.
Indeed, wtf.
"Last time I showed up in photos looking like this, someone captioned me as 'Dominic Monaghan, the actor who played Pippin in Lord of the Rings.'"
Mwahaha.
Not at all ashamed to be caught staring, and rather pleased to have a moment of Billy's undivided attention, he trails his hand down over his chest and spreads his fingers low across his belly. His eyes fixed on Billy's, he catches the hem of his t-shirt just above his hip and slowly drags the material higher, exposing several inches of skin and grinning wickedly when Billy's eyes flicker downward in the mirror. "Come to bed, Billy," he presses.
...*swallows*
"Never done this to anyone else before," he adds, a quiet admission that suddenly calls to mind another scene wherein Billy whispered those words to New Zealand night sky with his hands down the front of Dom's trousers and Dom's lips on his throat.
Mmmmmmmmm.
Billy's everywhere at once, it seems, gently tugging on Dom’s balls, biting at his thighs, licking slowly along the crease of his groin, pushing up his shirt to lazily tease his nipples, unquestionably back in control as Dom feverishly pumps his cock and fights for air. Billy's tongue darts out from time to time, licking at Dom's fingers as they squeeze and twist and tug, coaxing moan after moan from Dom's lips, each one a little more desperate than the last. Dom keens and arches off the floor when Billy’s tongue starts flicking relentlessly against the head of his cock, his free hand clutching at Billy's back as he is finally overwhelmed.
God, that is gorgeous.
"Whatever," Billy agrees. "And then when we're done, you can put your dress back on and cook me breakfast," he proclaims happily, scooting Dom out into the hallway, ignoring his inarticulate sputters of protest and smacking him lightly on the ass as he flicks off the light behind them.
MWAHAHA. Yes. >_>
Loved this, mmm.
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This was just perfect, so so perfect and so worth the wait!!! The shaving and the poncy foamy thing and the towel just hanging on Billy and the smooth pink of his skin!!
EEEEEE!!!!
*hearts all over you!!*
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I am just so damned pleased that you enjoyed this. :D
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This was so good! Funny and very Dom and Billy and it was teh hot as well. Not that I was substituting myself for Dom or anything...
mmmmmmmmmmmm
Loved it!
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I haven't written much, really, but if you're looking for more, I've got links to all my other fics in my memories. :)
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"Sorry," Dom chuckles as he swipes at the stray foam with a corner of the washcloth. "Never done this to anyone else before," he adds, a quiet admission that suddenly calls to mind another scene wherein Billy whispered those words to New Zealand night sky with his hands down the front of Dom's trousers and Dom's lips on his throat. Judging from the flicker in Billy's eyes, that memory has just flashed through his mind as well.
Had to take a moment to think about that little scenario, too.
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Thanks, Kim! :D
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Thank you so much for letting me know! :D
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Have a huge shaving kink! Add in some Dom and Billy and... I'm in a VERY happy place. <3
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I'm glad you liked this. Thanks for letting me know!
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Thanks, babe! :D
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Thank you!
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*wriggles delightedly*
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He's immersed in a scenario involving the possible combinations of the towel and the shower rod and at least one of Billy's wrists
And the rest was amazing too!
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seriously though that was like mesmerizingly hot.
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that was a hot tasty treat.
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Hoo boy, that was grand. *bookmarks for reread*
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This was funny and sexy and warm and tender and a million other things I can't seem to put into words. The premise is inspired and all the little hints at how their relationship began gave this piece an unexpected depth.
I loved this immensely. Thank you so much for sharing it.
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