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monaboyd Oct. 24th, 2005 08:34 pm)
wordsandkay.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Oct. 24th, 2005 08:34 pm)Title: Double or Nothing
Author: Kay
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A humble offering for the Two Lines Challenge.
Notes: Self-beta'ed in last-minute fashion. My apologies for any errors and/or rough edges.
Disclaimer: Fictional Friendly Competition. Okay, more than friendly. But still fictional.
Feedback: Hits the spot. ;)
Assigned Lyrics:
And you would boast that you knew
All the pressure points inside
--Cowboy Junkies, Postcard Blues
"I most certainly did not!"
"Yes, you did."
"I didn't!"
Billy arches an eyebrow. "Dominic..." he warns.
"I did not scream," Dom insists. "That was more of a, er, a surprised sound, like a--"
Dom shrieks loudly as Billy's thumb digs into his forearm again, sending another sharp, wicked pain shooting up his arm.
"Did," Billy smiles smugly.
Dom wrenches out of Billy's grasp the instant it loosens. "Okay, maybe a little," he mumbles, glaring at Billy from what he hopes is a safe distance.
"Like a girl!" Billy says with a proud grin.
"Oh, like you're so tough with your little pressure points," Dom grouses, prodding gently at his arm to assess the damage. He decides that he'll probably live, but that some attempt at salvaging his dignity will definitely have to be made.
"Got the job done, didn't it?" Billy replies, undaunted. "One hand tied, that was me ... one scream, that was you," he reminds Dom helpfully. "I think," he goes on to ponder, frowning up at the ceiling as though deep in thought, "Line up the decimals, carry the one ... I think that means I win!" Billy concludes cheerfully. "Now untie me and pay up."
"Cheater," Dom mutters, and Billy snickers quietly. The bastard. Still eyeing Billy with caution, Dom moves behind him and begins unfastening the belt that binds Billy's wrist to the center belt loop of his jeans. The knots and twists of the leather give Dom no trouble, but Dom is in no hurry to undo them. He's also in no hurry to let Billy have his victory, or the spoils thereof. He's in a prime position for retaliation, and there's a playful sense of danger buzzing through him as he takes this time to consider his next move. Such close proximity to Billy offers much in the way of distraction, though, and warm tingles of interest spark low in Dom's belly as his knuckles brush against the small of Billy's back. And then there are the jeans -- the well-worn, faded jeans settled precariously below Billy's waist that catch Dom's eye and make him want to test their loose fit, see how far they might slide down over Billy's narrow hips should he give into the surprisingly powerful urge to slip his fingers into the space between denim and skin and just tug ... and a slow curve of a smile appears on Dom's lips as distraction becomes inspiration.
Leaving Billy's belt half-threaded through his jeans, Dom replaces the last wrap of the leather around Billy's wrist with the tight grip of his fingers. "Wanna go double or nothing?" he offers, stepping even closer.
"What's the bet?" Billy asks over his shoulder as he flexes against Dom's hold experimentally, both of them knowing full well that Billy could reverse this situation in a fraction of a second, and both of them choosing to ignore this fact for the time being as they continue these new negotiations.
"I bet," Dom says conspiratorially as his free hand sneaks around Billy's waist, "that I could make you scream with both hands tied," he challenges, nudging the front of his trousers against the back of Billy's as his fingers wander lightly into Billy's front pocket.
"Both of yours, or both of mine?" Billy asks after a moment's consideration -- rightly suspicious, yet clearly interested, as Dom's teasing fingertips are pleased to report.
"Mine," Dom answers, and before the word can clear his lips, Billy spins out of his grasp and turns to face him with a gleam of anticipation in his eyes and his right hand extended to seal the deal.
"You're on," Billy accepts as they shake hands, then he slides his belt free from his jeans, loops it around Dom's wrist, and leads him toward the bedroom.
* * *
Billy doesn't make a sound when Dom enters him, a single nod his only response to the Okay? whispered against his neck.
The square metal buckle pressing against the inside of Dom's wrist is unforgiving; the long leather tail of the belt winds around the top railing of the headboard and circles Dom's other wrist, then wraps up and over the railing again. Billy's hands are closed tightly around two vertical slats of the headboard where his left fist holds the end of the belt between his palm and the dark wood. His breathing is deep and controlled, his shoulders tense as he braces himself for the first strong, slow push of Dom's hips.
Dom shifts and sinks deeper, fitting his body completely against Billy's and resting his forehead on Billy's shoulder with a groan. His eyes fall closed and his breath catches as he adjusts to the tight clenching heat surrounding him; his heart hammers against Billy's back.
Billy answers with motionless silence.
Brushing his lips over the ridge of Billy's shoulder blade, Dom withdraws in a slow, patient slide, angling his stroke downward and holding his breath in concentration as he waits for Billy's body to betray him. It does so before long, with no more than a sharp inhale and a brief tensing of muscles -- subtle, but enough. Dom pauses in his motion, reversing direction to press back into Billy at the same searching angle.
Billy jerks in soundless, involuntary confirmation.
Dom hums his gratitude and repeats the movement, barely shifting away before nudging back again, again, again, a steady, continuous rhythm that immediately sets Billy trembling beneath him. Billy's back arches instinctively. He lifts his hips to meet Dom's, wordlessly demanding more force, but Dom isn't so keen to accommodate him. Not yet. Instead he pulls back slightly and resumes the patient roll of his hips, intent on maintaining his control as long as possible while continuing this slow deconstruction of Billy's.
A flush begins to rise on Billy's skin. A sheen of perspiration glistens on his shoulders and his back, dampening the hair at the nape of his neck into dark almost-curls and drawing Dom's lips down for a taste. Soft and salt and heat meet Dom's tongue and he sighs shakily down Billy's back, his eyes fluttering closed as his mouth hovers over the curve of Billy's neck and shoulder. Dom's teeth sink in gently and Billy's weight shifts beneath him, the movement prompting Dom to open his eyes just in time to see Billy's right hand moving away from the headboard in the clear direction of his cock. Dom growls in protest and moves to swat Billy's hand away, but only succeeds in yanking sharply against his bonds. Adapting, he shoves forward roughly instead, making Billy gasp and clench as he resumes his two-fisted grip on the headboard.
"No hands, one scream, that's the bet," Dom demands.
"Never said anything about my hands," Billy argues hoarsely.
"No hands," Dom insists, thrilling at Billy's broken silence and at the desperation in his tone.
"How is this fair?" Billy hisses, and Dom can't help but smirk and agree that he does seem to have the advantage in this situation. Still, he can't take all the blame here -- Billy has let Dom call all the shots. He'd made no argument when Dom had ordered him onto the bed and onto all-fours. He certainly hadn't complained while Dom's tongue had circled and swirled, patiently stroking him open, and Dom doesn't remember having to ask twice for a hand with the lube. And now, to Dom's delighted disbelief, Billy's fingers remain obediently wrapped around the slats of the headboard, even as he sulks. "Should've made you suck my cock," he grumbles.
"Maybe you should've," Dom moans agreeably, intending to gloat, but a sudden image -- himself kneeling in front of Billy, belt biting into his wrists, fingers twisting into his hair, Billy's silky cock pulsing against his tongue -- flashes through his mind. A swell of excitement rises deep within him and propels him into Billy, surprising another moan of pleasure from his own lips as he moves a little faster, a little more forcefully than he'd intended to.
"Yeah, you want that? Not too late, Dominic," Billy says breathlessly. "Can tell you're close ... know you want to come," he urges, his voice low and thick and evidently hard-wired to all of Dom's erogenous zones. Dom suppresses a groan, forcing his rocking motion to a halt and trying to temper his body's traitorous reaction to Billy's voice. Billy pushes back against him stubbornly, clearly aware of the effect he's having, and keeps talking. "You can come first, Dom," he coaxes, "Want to feel you ... Then you can put your money where your mouth is, yeah? C'mon ... You know what your fucking mouth does to me ..."
Oh fucking Christ Billy please shut the fuck up for a minute, Dom wants to plead as Billy's mouth does considerable damage of its own. Every moan, every word, every sound Billy makes sends pure, dangerous lust surging through Dom's veins; still, Dom's somehow retained enough blood flow to the brain to reason that the louder Billy gets, the closer Dom gets to victory. He's got to regain some control, and do so without letting Billy revert to silence. Nearly wild with the need to lock his hands around Billy's hips and hold him fucking still for five seconds, Dom presses himself forward and down until the leverage of his weight overpowers Billy, leaving him no room to maneuver. "I'm not coming 'til you do, and you're not coming 'til I hear you," he grates into Billy's ear, holding himself completely still within Billy for several long, shaking breaths before daring to move again.
Dom's recovery is short-lived, as is Billy's cooperation. "Ahhgod, Dom, I'm so hard," Billy moans urgently, his hips shoving back and up as soon as Dom's resume their motion, the naked need in his voice twisting deep in Dom's body and turning his careful new thrusts fierce. Dom can't seem to stop himself, almost can't remember why he'd ever wanted to, and panicked moans rise in his throat as momentum threatens to overtake him. The harder he drives into Billy, the harder Billy pushes back, the clearer the articulation of the muscles in his arms and back, every stroke seeming to strengthen Billy as Dom's restraint weakens.
"Yeah ... should've fucked your mouth ... mmmm, gonna ..." Billy pants, making Dom's balls ache, ohjesus, "Want to tie your hands behind you ... have you down on your knees--" A particularly vicious and well-placed thrust makes Billy's voice rise to a sharp cry on the last word, and Dom's toes curl into the mattress.
"Louder!" Dom hisses eagerly, but Billy's pleading threats come to an abrupt stop. His body strains with coiled tension beneath Dom; his knuckles turn white as his fists tighten visibly around the slats of the headboard, yet despite Billy's silence -- or because of it -- Dom can practically taste victory. He knows the sharp corners of the boards are digging into Billy's palms, into his fingers, leaving grooves of redness to match the ones around Dom's wrists, and Dom can attest that pain is just as potent as pleasure at this point, with every sensation being translated and magnified into shove after overwhelming shove toward release.
With a rush of determination and the sound of Billy's cry still echoing in his ears, Dom swirls his hips in a series of shallow, probing strokes, turning Billy's breath to arrhythmic gasps as Dom finds his mark with persistent accuracy. "Talk to me, Billy," Dom coaxes, listening for Billy's voice to start sneaking into those ragged breaths in whimpers. When the first sound escapes Billy's lips, Dom shoves in fast, rough, deep, down. Arms pulling and abs burning and teeth clenching, he slams into Billy again and again until Billy is not just whimpering, but moaning, "Oh, you son of a -- oh God," crying out, "there -- oh," yelling, "now, please ... Alright! Please! JesusFUCK!" and bet or no bet, Dom would definitely have to classify that last exclamation as a bona-fide scream.
"I win!" Dom laughs, his winded declaration of victory barely audible over Billy's shouts.
"Winning's oh -- god -- overrated," Billy stutters, hips jerking violently and words devolving into broken sounds of relief as he wraps his hand around his cock and begins working himself frantically. The leather around Dom's wrists loosens as Billy's grip fails from lack of concentration or care, but Dom's fingers only tighten on the railing of the headboard as one final push sends his climax tearing through him, turning his breathless laughter to an exhilarated shout.
* * *
Blood cooling and breath slowing, Dom wraps himself around his best friend in a tangle of heavy limbs and rubs his cheek against Billy's damp hair. "Chunky Monkey," he purrs into Billy's ear, snuggling closer and releasing a deep breath of glorious contentment.
"Dom," Billy objects drowsily into his pillow. "I'm hurt. You know this is my winter weight."
"'s barely fall, Billy," Dom snorts. "And you know perfectly well what I meant. Now go get," he says with a teasing poke at Billy's midsection, "My Chunky Monkey." Billy makes a noise of protest and squirms away from Dom's finger. "Two pints, loudmouth," Dom prompts, executing another poke when Billy doesn't respond.
"Shhhhh," Billy whispers, shooing Dom's hand away. "Sleepy now."
"We shook on it," Dom insists, and Billy replies with a loud, fake snore. "I cannot believe you, Billy. Go and get my ice cream! I won!" Dom orders, snatching Billy's pillow from beneath his head.
Suddenly awake, Billy whirls and grabs wildly at his stolen pillow, his hair madly askew. "Did you now?!" he asks as he gives up on the pillow, groping instead for the belt still looped loosely around Dom's wrist. "Ha! What's this?" Billy hoots, triumphantly waggling the free end of the belt in Dom's face. "Your hands were untied! Disqualified!"
"You are such a cheater!" Dom exclaims with a quick biff of pillow to Billy's head. "You let go of it! While you were screaming!"
Billy flails at him and reclaims his pillow with a sharp jerk. "I did not scream," he huffs. "It was more of a manly sort of shouting, swearing ... thing."
"Billy..." Dom glares. "Don't make me tie-dye all your socks again," he threatens with a look intended to convey his half-hope for an excuse to do just that, and Billy finally utters a long sigh of defeat.
"But the grocery store's so far away," Billy groans as he reaches down for the tangled sheets and pulls them up over his head. "And it's cold where the ice cream is," he adds, wriggling against Dom and burrowing deeper beneath his covers. "And I'm naked," he confides in an exaggerated whisper.
"So you are," Dom agrees as he begins the methodical confiscation of Billy's sheets. "But I? Won," he says firmly, yanking the last bit of the covers away from Billy and yelping in surprise when Billy suddenly climbs atop him, straddles his thighs, and pins both wrists above his head in a quick flash of movement. Eyes glittering with amusement, Billy expertly adjusts his grip, transferring to a single-fisted hold and releasing one of Dom's wrists in favor of the belt wrapped around it. His mouth curls into a mischievous smile as he drags the length of the leather through a loosely curled fist, then trailing the tip of the belt over Dom's parted lips, he bends low to whisper...
"Best two out of three?"
Author: Kay
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A humble offering for the Two Lines Challenge.
Notes: Self-beta'ed in last-minute fashion. My apologies for any errors and/or rough edges.
Disclaimer: Fictional Friendly Competition. Okay, more than friendly. But still fictional.
Feedback: Hits the spot. ;)
Assigned Lyrics:
And you would boast that you knew
All the pressure points inside
--Cowboy Junkies, Postcard Blues
"I most certainly did not!"
"Yes, you did."
"I didn't!"
Billy arches an eyebrow. "Dominic..." he warns.
"I did not scream," Dom insists. "That was more of a, er, a surprised sound, like a--"
Dom shrieks loudly as Billy's thumb digs into his forearm again, sending another sharp, wicked pain shooting up his arm.
"Did," Billy smiles smugly.
Dom wrenches out of Billy's grasp the instant it loosens. "Okay, maybe a little," he mumbles, glaring at Billy from what he hopes is a safe distance.
"Like a girl!" Billy says with a proud grin.
"Oh, like you're so tough with your little pressure points," Dom grouses, prodding gently at his arm to assess the damage. He decides that he'll probably live, but that some attempt at salvaging his dignity will definitely have to be made.
"Got the job done, didn't it?" Billy replies, undaunted. "One hand tied, that was me ... one scream, that was you," he reminds Dom helpfully. "I think," he goes on to ponder, frowning up at the ceiling as though deep in thought, "Line up the decimals, carry the one ... I think that means I win!" Billy concludes cheerfully. "Now untie me and pay up."
"Cheater," Dom mutters, and Billy snickers quietly. The bastard. Still eyeing Billy with caution, Dom moves behind him and begins unfastening the belt that binds Billy's wrist to the center belt loop of his jeans. The knots and twists of the leather give Dom no trouble, but Dom is in no hurry to undo them. He's also in no hurry to let Billy have his victory, or the spoils thereof. He's in a prime position for retaliation, and there's a playful sense of danger buzzing through him as he takes this time to consider his next move. Such close proximity to Billy offers much in the way of distraction, though, and warm tingles of interest spark low in Dom's belly as his knuckles brush against the small of Billy's back. And then there are the jeans -- the well-worn, faded jeans settled precariously below Billy's waist that catch Dom's eye and make him want to test their loose fit, see how far they might slide down over Billy's narrow hips should he give into the surprisingly powerful urge to slip his fingers into the space between denim and skin and just tug ... and a slow curve of a smile appears on Dom's lips as distraction becomes inspiration.
Leaving Billy's belt half-threaded through his jeans, Dom replaces the last wrap of the leather around Billy's wrist with the tight grip of his fingers. "Wanna go double or nothing?" he offers, stepping even closer.
"What's the bet?" Billy asks over his shoulder as he flexes against Dom's hold experimentally, both of them knowing full well that Billy could reverse this situation in a fraction of a second, and both of them choosing to ignore this fact for the time being as they continue these new negotiations.
"I bet," Dom says conspiratorially as his free hand sneaks around Billy's waist, "that I could make you scream with both hands tied," he challenges, nudging the front of his trousers against the back of Billy's as his fingers wander lightly into Billy's front pocket.
"Both of yours, or both of mine?" Billy asks after a moment's consideration -- rightly suspicious, yet clearly interested, as Dom's teasing fingertips are pleased to report.
"Mine," Dom answers, and before the word can clear his lips, Billy spins out of his grasp and turns to face him with a gleam of anticipation in his eyes and his right hand extended to seal the deal.
"You're on," Billy accepts as they shake hands, then he slides his belt free from his jeans, loops it around Dom's wrist, and leads him toward the bedroom.
Billy doesn't make a sound when Dom enters him, a single nod his only response to the Okay? whispered against his neck.
The square metal buckle pressing against the inside of Dom's wrist is unforgiving; the long leather tail of the belt winds around the top railing of the headboard and circles Dom's other wrist, then wraps up and over the railing again. Billy's hands are closed tightly around two vertical slats of the headboard where his left fist holds the end of the belt between his palm and the dark wood. His breathing is deep and controlled, his shoulders tense as he braces himself for the first strong, slow push of Dom's hips.
Dom shifts and sinks deeper, fitting his body completely against Billy's and resting his forehead on Billy's shoulder with a groan. His eyes fall closed and his breath catches as he adjusts to the tight clenching heat surrounding him; his heart hammers against Billy's back.
Billy answers with motionless silence.
Brushing his lips over the ridge of Billy's shoulder blade, Dom withdraws in a slow, patient slide, angling his stroke downward and holding his breath in concentration as he waits for Billy's body to betray him. It does so before long, with no more than a sharp inhale and a brief tensing of muscles -- subtle, but enough. Dom pauses in his motion, reversing direction to press back into Billy at the same searching angle.
Billy jerks in soundless, involuntary confirmation.
Dom hums his gratitude and repeats the movement, barely shifting away before nudging back again, again, again, a steady, continuous rhythm that immediately sets Billy trembling beneath him. Billy's back arches instinctively. He lifts his hips to meet Dom's, wordlessly demanding more force, but Dom isn't so keen to accommodate him. Not yet. Instead he pulls back slightly and resumes the patient roll of his hips, intent on maintaining his control as long as possible while continuing this slow deconstruction of Billy's.
A flush begins to rise on Billy's skin. A sheen of perspiration glistens on his shoulders and his back, dampening the hair at the nape of his neck into dark almost-curls and drawing Dom's lips down for a taste. Soft and salt and heat meet Dom's tongue and he sighs shakily down Billy's back, his eyes fluttering closed as his mouth hovers over the curve of Billy's neck and shoulder. Dom's teeth sink in gently and Billy's weight shifts beneath him, the movement prompting Dom to open his eyes just in time to see Billy's right hand moving away from the headboard in the clear direction of his cock. Dom growls in protest and moves to swat Billy's hand away, but only succeeds in yanking sharply against his bonds. Adapting, he shoves forward roughly instead, making Billy gasp and clench as he resumes his two-fisted grip on the headboard.
"No hands, one scream, that's the bet," Dom demands.
"Never said anything about my hands," Billy argues hoarsely.
"No hands," Dom insists, thrilling at Billy's broken silence and at the desperation in his tone.
"How is this fair?" Billy hisses, and Dom can't help but smirk and agree that he does seem to have the advantage in this situation. Still, he can't take all the blame here -- Billy has let Dom call all the shots. He'd made no argument when Dom had ordered him onto the bed and onto all-fours. He certainly hadn't complained while Dom's tongue had circled and swirled, patiently stroking him open, and Dom doesn't remember having to ask twice for a hand with the lube. And now, to Dom's delighted disbelief, Billy's fingers remain obediently wrapped around the slats of the headboard, even as he sulks. "Should've made you suck my cock," he grumbles.
"Maybe you should've," Dom moans agreeably, intending to gloat, but a sudden image -- himself kneeling in front of Billy, belt biting into his wrists, fingers twisting into his hair, Billy's silky cock pulsing against his tongue -- flashes through his mind. A swell of excitement rises deep within him and propels him into Billy, surprising another moan of pleasure from his own lips as he moves a little faster, a little more forcefully than he'd intended to.
"Yeah, you want that? Not too late, Dominic," Billy says breathlessly. "Can tell you're close ... know you want to come," he urges, his voice low and thick and evidently hard-wired to all of Dom's erogenous zones. Dom suppresses a groan, forcing his rocking motion to a halt and trying to temper his body's traitorous reaction to Billy's voice. Billy pushes back against him stubbornly, clearly aware of the effect he's having, and keeps talking. "You can come first, Dom," he coaxes, "Want to feel you ... Then you can put your money where your mouth is, yeah? C'mon ... You know what your fucking mouth does to me ..."
Oh fucking Christ Billy please shut the fuck up for a minute, Dom wants to plead as Billy's mouth does considerable damage of its own. Every moan, every word, every sound Billy makes sends pure, dangerous lust surging through Dom's veins; still, Dom's somehow retained enough blood flow to the brain to reason that the louder Billy gets, the closer Dom gets to victory. He's got to regain some control, and do so without letting Billy revert to silence. Nearly wild with the need to lock his hands around Billy's hips and hold him fucking still for five seconds, Dom presses himself forward and down until the leverage of his weight overpowers Billy, leaving him no room to maneuver. "I'm not coming 'til you do, and you're not coming 'til I hear you," he grates into Billy's ear, holding himself completely still within Billy for several long, shaking breaths before daring to move again.
Dom's recovery is short-lived, as is Billy's cooperation. "Ahhgod, Dom, I'm so hard," Billy moans urgently, his hips shoving back and up as soon as Dom's resume their motion, the naked need in his voice twisting deep in Dom's body and turning his careful new thrusts fierce. Dom can't seem to stop himself, almost can't remember why he'd ever wanted to, and panicked moans rise in his throat as momentum threatens to overtake him. The harder he drives into Billy, the harder Billy pushes back, the clearer the articulation of the muscles in his arms and back, every stroke seeming to strengthen Billy as Dom's restraint weakens.
"Yeah ... should've fucked your mouth ... mmmm, gonna ..." Billy pants, making Dom's balls ache, ohjesus, "Want to tie your hands behind you ... have you down on your knees--" A particularly vicious and well-placed thrust makes Billy's voice rise to a sharp cry on the last word, and Dom's toes curl into the mattress.
"Louder!" Dom hisses eagerly, but Billy's pleading threats come to an abrupt stop. His body strains with coiled tension beneath Dom; his knuckles turn white as his fists tighten visibly around the slats of the headboard, yet despite Billy's silence -- or because of it -- Dom can practically taste victory. He knows the sharp corners of the boards are digging into Billy's palms, into his fingers, leaving grooves of redness to match the ones around Dom's wrists, and Dom can attest that pain is just as potent as pleasure at this point, with every sensation being translated and magnified into shove after overwhelming shove toward release.
With a rush of determination and the sound of Billy's cry still echoing in his ears, Dom swirls his hips in a series of shallow, probing strokes, turning Billy's breath to arrhythmic gasps as Dom finds his mark with persistent accuracy. "Talk to me, Billy," Dom coaxes, listening for Billy's voice to start sneaking into those ragged breaths in whimpers. When the first sound escapes Billy's lips, Dom shoves in fast, rough, deep, down. Arms pulling and abs burning and teeth clenching, he slams into Billy again and again until Billy is not just whimpering, but moaning, "Oh, you son of a -- oh God," crying out, "there -- oh," yelling, "now, please ... Alright! Please! JesusFUCK!" and bet or no bet, Dom would definitely have to classify that last exclamation as a bona-fide scream.
"I win!" Dom laughs, his winded declaration of victory barely audible over Billy's shouts.
"Winning's oh -- god -- overrated," Billy stutters, hips jerking violently and words devolving into broken sounds of relief as he wraps his hand around his cock and begins working himself frantically. The leather around Dom's wrists loosens as Billy's grip fails from lack of concentration or care, but Dom's fingers only tighten on the railing of the headboard as one final push sends his climax tearing through him, turning his breathless laughter to an exhilarated shout.
Blood cooling and breath slowing, Dom wraps himself around his best friend in a tangle of heavy limbs and rubs his cheek against Billy's damp hair. "Chunky Monkey," he purrs into Billy's ear, snuggling closer and releasing a deep breath of glorious contentment.
"Dom," Billy objects drowsily into his pillow. "I'm hurt. You know this is my winter weight."
"'s barely fall, Billy," Dom snorts. "And you know perfectly well what I meant. Now go get," he says with a teasing poke at Billy's midsection, "My Chunky Monkey." Billy makes a noise of protest and squirms away from Dom's finger. "Two pints, loudmouth," Dom prompts, executing another poke when Billy doesn't respond.
"Shhhhh," Billy whispers, shooing Dom's hand away. "Sleepy now."
"We shook on it," Dom insists, and Billy replies with a loud, fake snore. "I cannot believe you, Billy. Go and get my ice cream! I won!" Dom orders, snatching Billy's pillow from beneath his head.
Suddenly awake, Billy whirls and grabs wildly at his stolen pillow, his hair madly askew. "Did you now?!" he asks as he gives up on the pillow, groping instead for the belt still looped loosely around Dom's wrist. "Ha! What's this?" Billy hoots, triumphantly waggling the free end of the belt in Dom's face. "Your hands were untied! Disqualified!"
"You are such a cheater!" Dom exclaims with a quick biff of pillow to Billy's head. "You let go of it! While you were screaming!"
Billy flails at him and reclaims his pillow with a sharp jerk. "I did not scream," he huffs. "It was more of a manly sort of shouting, swearing ... thing."
"Billy..." Dom glares. "Don't make me tie-dye all your socks again," he threatens with a look intended to convey his half-hope for an excuse to do just that, and Billy finally utters a long sigh of defeat.
"But the grocery store's so far away," Billy groans as he reaches down for the tangled sheets and pulls them up over his head. "And it's cold where the ice cream is," he adds, wriggling against Dom and burrowing deeper beneath his covers. "And I'm naked," he confides in an exaggerated whisper.
"So you are," Dom agrees as he begins the methodical confiscation of Billy's sheets. "But I? Won," he says firmly, yanking the last bit of the covers away from Billy and yelping in surprise when Billy suddenly climbs atop him, straddles his thighs, and pins both wrists above his head in a quick flash of movement. Eyes glittering with amusement, Billy expertly adjusts his grip, transferring to a single-fisted hold and releasing one of Dom's wrists in favor of the belt wrapped around it. His mouth curls into a mischievous smile as he drags the length of the leather through a loosely curled fist, then trailing the tip of the belt over Dom's parted lips, he bends low to whisper...
"Best two out of three?"
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