monaboyd | Fatherhood, Football, and Other Contact Sports

Title: Fatherhood, Football, and Other Contact Sports - 5/16
Author:

dylan_dufresne
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: Very hard R
Summary: A late night visit creates more complications and pushes the line between doctor and patient.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Many thanks to

frojane, for the beta. Credit for the banner goes to the very talented

loki_girl. Thank you so much.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. This is my imagination at work.
A/N: Once again, thank you so much for all the feedback. *loves you all* To reward you, here’s a chapter that’s over 9700 words. Wheee!
A/N 2 : Omg. So *bleep*ing sick. Tummy very, very angry. Exhausted and going back to bed to whimper, but I had to post this first.
Previous Parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Hot Chocolate & Honest Conversation

Billy desperately tries his best to stop his imagination from conjuring up vivid pictures of what Dom is doing on his date while the evening progresses at an agonizing pace. Throwing himself into the work he hasn’t had time for until now, Billy is determined to make some inroads into the herculean task before him. Making his way through the last of the boxes in the kitchen first, Billy vows to go shopping during his lunch break tomorrow and buy some nutritious food. While he knows that Cameron will happily continue eating takeaway Chinese or Thai and pizza for the rest of his life, Billy feels immensely guilty about not providing him with home-cooked, well-balanced meals. It’s a part of his parenting that Billy is determined to improve upon, to ensure that his son grows up healthy and strong.

By midnight, Billy has emptied all the boxes in the kitchen, dining room and living room and arranged the furniture to his satisfaction. After flattening the boxes, Billy tucks them into the back of the hall closet to get them out of the way and tidy the space. Cameron has been sound asleep for hours when Billy walks quietly upstairs, stripping away his rumpled work clothes to take a hot shower, scrubbing the sweat and newsprint stains off his pale skin. Stepping out of the glass and tile enclosure and grabbing a fresh towel from an open box sitting on the floor by the basin, Billy starts to rub himself dry with the soft material as his mind wanders once again into fantasies about the touch of Dom’s long, elegant fingers on his firm, naked body.

What is Dom doing right now, Billy wonders, wrapping the towel around his trim waist as he walks across the bedroom, his bare feet sinking into the plush, beige carpet. Is Dom laying in bed with some voluptuous blonde, his lips and fingertips caressing every lush curve? Maybe Dom is stretched out over her naked skin right now, overwhelming her with pleasure as their bodies rock together. Or maybe they’ve already finished, and are basking in the afterglow of their intense orgasms. Allowing the towel to drop unheeded to the floor, Billy’s thoughtful gaze takes in his reflection in the long mirror next to his closet.

“You’re too furry for a man like him,” Billy murmurs aloud to himself, knowing that while his body is fit and trim, he’ll never have a photographer knocking on his door, asking to take nude pictures for a layout in a magazine like Dom. Splaying his fingers at his waist, Billy gives himself credit for the nearly flat expanse, thanks to running every single day and a regular fitness routine. However, as his small hands smooth over his slightly curved belly and down to the juncture of his thighs, Billy admits that while he still appears somewhat youthful and slightly more than average in looks, it’s doubtful that he’d ever inspire erotic fantasies with the ready-made harem Dominic Monaghan more than likely possesses.

His thighs are firm from running, and the well-defined curve of his calves lead to strong, yet trim ankles. “Maybe he’s a leg man,” Billy muses, wondering if he has the nerve to wear a pair of his running shorts around Dom to see if they would garner his attention.

Shaking himself firmly back into reality, Billy opens the closet door, pulls out a forest green robe and slips it on, covering himself from neck to ankles. “The idea is bloody ridiculous for someone your age, with a young child to raise, no less,” Billy scolds his reflection firmly after closing the door. “Next you’ll be thinking about running around without a shirt on so he can see you half naked. Physicians do not dress like surfers, and they definitely do not fantasize about having wild, uninhibited sex with their patients, no matter how attractive they are or how much the patient wants to!”

Still irritatingly wide awake, despite the late hour, Billy wanders back downstairs and into the kitchen to make himself a cup of hot milk and honey, hoping that it’ll help him sleep. Setting a pot on the cooker after pouring some milk into it and turning up the flame, Billy battles with himself for a few moments. In the end, he can’t resist glancing out the window and across the back garden in the direction of Dom’s. While Billy was in the shower it has begun to rain, and through the slanting drops, Billy can see a few random lights through the windows over at Dom’s house. Is Dom in one of those darkened rooms, Billy wonders, his belly twisting at the idea of anyone, male or female, touching Dom in an intimate way. Is Dom lying in a passionate embrace, his masculine appetites temporarily satiated by a willing woman, since Billy refused him?

Groaning, Billy is unwilling to submit himself to any further mental torture and drags his gaze downward to the pan of milk, determinedly watching for the the little ring of bubbles. Moments later, a soft knock at the kitchen door startles him, causing his heart to skip a beat.

“Dom!” Billy stares at him as Dom opens the door and pokes his blonde head inside.

“Hey, Billy. I saw your light on and thought maybe you wouldn’t mind some company.” Leaning casually against the door frame and crossing his arms loosely across his chest, Dom smiles at Billy as if there’s nothing unusual at all about him dropping in unannounced at this very late hour.

In truth, Dom has forced himself to wait this long, pacing back and forth in his living room endlessly, and now, it retrospect, Dom’s very glad he waited. Billy’s flushed, his freshly bathed skin exuding a faint, intoxicating fragrance that weakens Dom’s battered knees. Then belatedly, Dom realizes that he hasn’t come up with an excuse for coming over here, because he only got as far as wanting to see Billy, especially after the way they parted at the practice field. He simply cannot allow Billy to think his only motive is the simple, overwhelming need to see him again. To be close to him.

“I thought you might like a little help with your unpacking,” Dom adds quickly, ad-libbing the lie, cringing internally and hoping that it sounds better to Billy than it does to his own ears.

This can’t become a habit, Billy tells himself. If you let him come over here after dates like this, you’re only going to end up hurt.

“I was just going to bed,” Billy lies badly, his small fingers gripping the edges of his robe at his chest a little closer together. From the gleam of lustful interest that suddenly flashes in Dom’s eyes, Billy knows that Dom has figured out that he’s completely starkers under the robe.

Feigning absolute innocence, Dom shifts and directs his gaze past Billy’s shoulder. “Your milk’s burning,” he says mildly.

“Oh shite!” Spinning around, Billy quickly takes the pot off the cooker and then pours the caramelized remains down the drain. “Dammit. Now I have to start over again.”

“Let me,” Dom suggests lightly. “I make a hell of a cup of cocoa.”

“You?” Billy arches a challenging eyebrow as he looks over at Dom, meeting his eyes. “I find that extremely difficult to believe.”

“Why?” Dom asks with a lopsided grin, moving further into the room, wanting to be closer to Billy.

“I just can’t imagine you being handy in the kitchen,” Billy admits, a blush rising in his cheeks briefly. “Sorry.”

Dom’s eyes darken with a provocative message. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been assured that I’m pretty handy all over the house.” He allows a long, wicked pause as his seductive eyes smolder intently. “Want me to audition?” he asks in a low, raspy voice.

Gaze narrowing as he holds the lapel of his robe more tightly, the increased beat of Billy’s heart thumps wildly in his ears. Irrationally, Billy’s breath catches as he wonders if Dom can hear it as well.

“We’re talking cocoa, yeah?” Billy clarifies, arching an eyebrow at Dom expectantly.

“Of course. From scratch, actually,” Dom states calmly, eyeing the container of instant hot chocolate mix sitting out with a frown. Turning and digging around in Billy’s cupboards, Dom pulls items out and begins lining them up on the counter. “Let’s see, cocoa, sugar, salt, a wee bit of vanilla, cinnamon?”

At Billy’s sharp intake of breath and shudder, Dom nods.

“Okay, no cinnamon,” Dom decides, filing that knowledge away for future reference. “You’re going to love this.”

Unfortunately, Billy believes him. He’s having a great deal of trouble finding something about the man that he doesn’t like. “What happened to your date?” he asks coolly, hoping that he doesn’t sound too eager or desperate. “Did the great Dominic Monaghan get knocked back?”

“Sorry, Dr. Boyd.” Dom’s eyes twinkle with unmistakable sexual suggestion. “As much as I hate to disappoint you, I never kiss and tell.”

“Well what do you know? A casanova with principles,” Billy muses aloud, not quite sure if no news is better than bad news. “Will wonders never cease?”

Dom tosses a grin over his shoulder as he observes Billy. “Ouch. ‘They have sharpened their tongues like a snake.’ ”

“Is that Shakespeare?” Billy inquires as a furrow forms between his eyebrows, wishing that his pre-med studies had allowed more of an acquaintance with liberal arts.

Billy’s always feels uneasy with people who can spout clever quotations at the drop of a hat. It’s certainly not that he’s undereducated; he’s just never found an way to fit the structure of the DNA molecule into casual conversation. For more than half of his life, Billy’s world has revolved around medicine, and some subjects were pushed to the side. It was inevitable, not that he’s happy about that.

“Nope. The Bible. Psalms.” Stirring the chocolatey mixture and giving it his full attention, Dom misses Billy’s jaw dropping open and his incredulous gaze.

“A casanova who quotes Psalms? Now that is unique,” Billy replies.

Head tilting to one side, Billy gazes at Dom thoughtfully. It seems that every time he turns around, Dom is surprising him about one thing or another. Billy wonders if at some point, he’ll ever get used to it, but then again, part of Billy hopes that never happens as it’s part of Dom’s charm.

“Yeah, I’m one in a million,” Dom agrees cheerfully, sliding over a couple of feet, reaching into the cupboard next to the sink and pulling out two mugs. The first mug is stamped with a nearly completely worn off crest that Dom can’t read, the other cheerfully emblazoned with ‘#1 Dad’ in red and green plaid.

Noticing that the cup has a large, superficial crack along one side, from top to bottom, Dom arches an eyebrow in concern.

“Damaged in the move?” he asks, looking around to see if anything else was broken.

“No. Well loved,” Billy corrects softly, his eyes focused on the cup, a warm, intimate smile turning up the corners of his cherubic mouth as he remembers. “Cameron and I were out at the shops together when he insisted on picking out a present for Father’s Day. He was only three years old, but he knew his Daddy’s favorite colors.”

Catching the excess moisture shining in Billy’s warm, green eyes, Dom smiles tenderly and then very carefully pours the dark chocolate mixture into the mug. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, Billy watches the small spiral of steam rise as Dom pours a second cup.

“Here. Try this.”

Cradling the beloved mug gently in both hands, Billy lifts it to his mouth and take a tentative sip. It’s rich, sweet and definitely an improvement over the uninspired drink he was going to make. It takes everything in Billy to keep from moaning in ecstasy at the delicious treat.

“You’re hired,” Billy announces after swallowing and regaining his control.

Chuckling, Dom pulls up a chair and straddles it, folding his arms along the top, mug in one hand. “So why do I get the feeling that while you are probably one terrific Dr. Frankenstein in the laboratory, you’re not that comfortable in the kitchen?”

“Probably because I’ve been known to burn water,” Billy admits reluctantly after taking another sip. “Fortunately for me, Cameron has very simple tastes. His mother was far too busy and couldn’t be bothered with culinary efforts at all, so she always ate at the hospital.” Billy manages a wry grin. “If you’ve ever tasted institutional food, that gives some indication of my questionable abilities in the kitchen.”

Dom’s intense gaze is as warm as Billy’s cocoa. “I think you’re underestimating yourself,” he murmurs, blue-grey eyes moving across Billy’s face with the impact of a physical caress. “I’m sure you’re incredible in the kitchen, in the living room, in the bedroom-”

“Dom . . .” Billy cuts him off with a shaky note of warning.

“Spoilsport.”

While Dom’s smile is enticingly challenging as he eyes Billy over the top of his mug, Billy is surprised to notice that when Dom pats his lips with a paper napkin, he finds the simple, seemingly innocent gesture very provocative. Focusing on Dom’s sensual, pouty lower lip, Billy finds his blood warming at the memory of Dom’s mouth against his own, remembering the kisses they shared by the pool. It surprises Billy how quickly he can recall the taste of Dom’s lips, and the talented thrust of his sinful, delicious tongue. The memory is more than enough to cause a reaction in Billy’s body, especially considering Dom’s proximity.

Dom doesn’t miss the rosy flush of arousal under Billy’s skin, but he forces himself to keep the conversation casual. For now. He’s going to wait until the iron is hot. Then, and only then, will it be the right time to take advantage of the situation.

“So, Cam’s mother is a doctor, too?”

Silently, Billy nods, averting his eyes and focusing on his cocoa.

“Sports?”

That earns him a bitter, empty laugh, quite unlike the Billy that Dom has come to know in such a short period of time. “Hardly.”

“Is there something less than honorable in treating football players?” Dom asks, curious as to Billy’s abrupt change in mood, and the tension that is beginning to form in his shoulders.

Dom has to fight hard to keep his eyes on Billy’s face, as the Scotsman’s robe has parted enough to allow an enticing, mouthwatering view of silky, pale skin and soft, gingery chest hair, causing Dom to long for the opportunity to view Billy’s body at his leisure. ‘Beyond Paradise’ suits Billy perfectly, Dom decides, stealing another surreptitious glance at the delectable, creamy flesh. What he wouldn’t give for just one opportunity to lay close to that, press against Billy and experience the wonder of him completely. There is not a single doubt in Dom’s mind that it would be incredible and beyond . . .

“No, it’s just that Abby chose a specialty more suited to her image of herself as a healer,” Billy explains, with surprisingly little emotion. “She’s a very skilled cardiovascular surgeon, brilliant actually. I’ve seen her work. She feels that it inspires more awe than general practitioners taking care of grandmothers with shortness of breath, toddlers with runny noses, or sports specialists taping up swollen ankles and splinting broken fingers.”

“Well, I suppose I can understand that on some level, but I, for one, am very glad you chose your particular specialty, Dr. Boyd.” Dom’s seductive eyes are dark and glittering pools, filled to overflowing with insinuation. As his hungry gaze drops to the open folds of Billy’s robe, intense flames suddenly rise in their depths, like a shower of sparks escaping a fire that’s been doused in gasoline.

“How are you feeling?” Billy asks, drawing the edges of his robe back together, clearing his throat and forcing his voice into a professional tone.

“Billy-”

“I do hope you weren’t too overly energetic on your date,” Billy says swiftly, not willing to accept the way Dom’s lush voice embraces his name, sinking into the iron wall safety of his profession. “I probably should have warned you to stay away from positions number forty-seven and eighty-nine with that knee. After all, Mr. Monaghan, it may be my job to glue you back together after a match, but any injuries you get on your own time are solely your responsibility.”

Billy knows he’s babbling, teetering on the edge of uncalled for harshness, but he’s helpless to stop it. He doesn’t want to hear about someone else touching Dom, kissing him. It hurts enough to think about it, the knowledge and details will be far too much to handle. Better to drive Dom away quickly to ensure that nothing too personal is revealed, and protecting Billy’s heart until this overwhelming attraction passes.

“Dammit, Billy,” Dom curses, running the fingers of one hand through his tousled hair to draw it off his face. “I didn’t come over here for a round of verbal sparring.”

“Well, since you brought it up, why did you come over here, Dom?” Billy asks, honestly curious.

Not really having a clear answer, Dom shrugs noncommittally. “I don’t know.”

Averting his eyes, Dom stares into the dark chocolate depths of his mug, as if the swirling liquid holds some special meaning to him. When Dom slowly lifts gaze to Billy’s face, his expression is unnervingly solemn.

“Actually, that’s not true,” Dom corrects, shifting uncomfortably. “I think I wanted to explain to you about tonight.”

“Your date?” Billy surmises coolly.

Silently, Dom nods.

Rising immediately, Billy takes his mug to the sink, washes and rinses it before setting it carefully on the countertop at the back by the wall, ensuring that it won’t accidentally be knocked to the floor. Billy keeps his back to Dom the entire time, fighting to control the turbulent emotions rushing through his body, desperate not to reveal too much.

“Don’t worry about it, Dom,” Billy finally says when he can speak normally again. “I never expected anything because of last night. Who was it who said, ‘one swallow doesn’t make a summer’?”

“Aristotle.”

Dom amazes Billy again by answering his rhetorical question.

Turning around and staring at Dom, Billy wishes he could understand this man who has more facets to his personality than a well-cut diamond. If he understood, maybe it would easier to free his thoughts of Dom, and let him go, instead of constantly feeling so jumbled up inside.

“Aristotle,” Billy repeats slowly. Then, gathering his scattered thoughts, he nods firmly. “Well, just as one swallow doesn’t make a summer, one kiss certainly doesn’t make a love affair. So don’t worry about me misunderstanding, Dom. I understand perfectly. No explanations are required.”

Slamming his mug down on the table in frustration and crossing the kitchen in two long strides, Dom is then at Billy’s side, their bodies so close Billy can feel the heat rolling off Dom’s tanned skin in waves. “We shared two kisses last night, Billy. Not one. I’m hurt you could so easily forget.”

Suddenly drowning in the warm, intoxicating pools of Dom’s blue-grey eyes, Billy knows that a blind man could read the answering spark in his own gaze.

“I didn’t forget,” Billy whispers hoarsely, his breath catching in his throat.

Dom reminds himself that while Billy is incredibly attractive and definitely appealing, especially wearing nothing except a robe that is currently displaying his furry chest rather enticingly, his little black book is filled with women who are just as attractive, just as appealing, and don’t expect anything but a good time.

That’s a bloody lie, Dom admits inwardly. He knows of no man or woman as appealing as Billy Boyd. Nobody. The truth is, Dom doesn’t want anyone who isn’t Billy. Why couldn’t they have met two years ago, when Dom was on top of the world, when everything was perfect? Before his fantastic life had begun unraveling at the seams and he lost sight of who he really is. Only David has stood by his side, watching over him, doing his best to protect Dom, sometimes from himself.

That is the Dom that he wishes Billy knew.

“I didn’t forget either,” Dom growls under his breath, hands grabbing at the lapels of Billy’s robe and yanking the Scotsman against him.

Fingers tightening around the thick material covering Billy’s chest, Dom’s hot mouth suddenly closes over Billy’s in a bruising kiss that threatens to steal his breath. Frustration and pent up emotions over the situation has made Dom rash, and there is no trace of the tenderness he’d displayed with the intoxicating, exploring, experimental kisses of last night by the pool. Now he’s all primitive need as he wants and takes, his burning desire spiraling completely out of control. Hungrily, Dom’s long tongue pushes its way between Billy’s shocked lips as their mouths crush together in electric, endless demand.

At the first, startling impact, a kaleidoscope of swirling colors explode behind Billy’s eyes like thousands fireworks in a midnight sky, unleashing the desire that has been building for Dom since the very moment they met. Small fingers moving from Dom’s tight fists, up his tanned, bare forearms to his t-shirt clad biceps, Billy digs into Dom’s lean shoulders as he clings to the strength, pulling Dom closer, tight to his trembling body and further into his embrace. Giving himself up entirely to the overwhelming demands rushing through his body, Billy craves Dom’s intimate touch, in truth needing it in a way that he cannot begin to express with words. Dom’s physical aggression is allowing Billy to fling aside his rigid mental restraints, meeting Dom with an equal passion of his own.

Groaning his approval when Billy’s pointy tongue thrusts hungrily between his lips, Dom feels him sweeping deep into the honeyed cavern of his sweet mouth, gathering the moisture from every corner. Dragging his fingers through Dom’s silky, sun streaked blonde hair, Billy deftly holds Dom’s head in his small hands as he greedily deepens the kiss, his own need no gentler than Dom’s, his own demands no less desperate. In the blink of an eye, their roles are reversed, Billy, the dominant aggressor, and Dom, the submissive, arching into Billy’s touch. The ease in which Dom allows Billy to take over surprises Billy, and only serves to heighten his arousal.

Grabbing a handful of denim at Dom’s waist, Billy spins their entwined bodies quickly, almost shoving Dom against the refrigerator, pressing close and trapping Dom between the heavy appliance and his body. As their lips continue to meet and part in deep, wet kisses, Billy’s fingers tighten in Dom’s mussed hair, hot breath rushing out to caress each others faces. Hips thrusting hungrily, Billy is lost in a sea of lust and heat, his only clear thought the desire to have Dom beneath him. To be inside him, having Dom wrapped around him. Erotic sensation driving him to the edge, a ragged whimper then fills the air, and Billy realizes that it’s Dom, his gorgeous hands finally releasing the labels of Billy’s robe and sliding down his body, seeking and exploring.

Eagerly, Dom’s long arms tighten around Billy to hold him closer, and as their bodies cling together, Dom can feel Billy’s heaving chest, firm belly and taut thighs aligning perfectly with his. It’s as though their bodies were made for one another, it feels that natural, that perfect. On the very brink of sanity, Dom slides a hand between them, tugging insistently at the belt of Billy’s robe until it finally falls open, allowing his hands to skim the length of Billy’s bared body, and then Dom knows there’s no turning back.

Closing his eyes to the erotic torment of Dom’s hands roaming endlessly over his body at will, Billy feels his reason scatter to the four winds as he allows Dom forbidden intimacies, encouraging Dom with his breathless moans of pleasure. It’s been so long. So very, very long since anyone has touched him, or for Billy to want to be touched this way. As Dom’s long, elegant fingers squeeze the round curve of his arse, Billy finds his hand moving as well, tugging up the worn cotton covering Dom’s lower back. Fingertips tracing the lean, muscled flesh, Billy trails hot, wet, nibbly kisses down the smooth column of Dom’s neck, lapping at his pulse point.

When Dom’s skilled fingers begin stroking the soft skin of Billy’s inner thighs and gently cupping his heavy arousal, Billy throws his head back, moans breathlessly, and then shoves his hands deftly down the back of Dom’s low slung jeans. Finding bare skin instead of the expected cotton briefs, Billy sucks in a ragged breath, barely restraining the urge to sink his teeth into Dom’s tanned shoulder and mark him. Instead, Billy buries his face in Dom’s neck, sucking at his throbbing pulse while his small hands squeeze and stroke the sweet curve of Dom’s arse in a rhythm beyond his control. Hips locked together, hard erections rub enthusiastically through the denim material separating them, aching for friction.

Dom’s touch is everything Billy’s imagined and more. So much more. Dom’s hands are everywhere, leaving a warmth that engulfs Billy in a cresting tide of desire. Then there’s Dom’s mouth, or more specifically his obscenely long and luscious tongue. While Dom’s hands may be expertly seeking out all of Billy’s hidden places to bring him exquisite pleasure, Dom’s tongue seems content to stoke the inferno in Billy’s belly, rushing through his strong limbs. Nibbling, kissing and lapping at Billy’s neck, Dom’s teeth nip ever so lightly at the soft skin, and Billy can feel Dom’s smile when the desired effect is achieved.

Hands searching and exploring every last inch of tantalizing, bare skin, Dom makes no sounds of protest when Billy turns again and maneuvers their bodies across the room, backing Dom against the kitchen table. However, when Billy’s index finger slides between Dom’s cheeks to tease at his tight entrance, the reaction is loud and immediate, Dom crying out breathlessly, shuddering and writhing in Billy’s arms. A moment later, when Billy’s fingers withdraw, Dom whimpers, only to gasp when he feels Billy tugging at the button and zip of his jeans. Wanting to help in any way that he can, Dom grabs a fistful of cotton at his waist and with his eyes flaming as they burn into Billy’s, Dom holds his gaze as he deftly strips off his shirt with one hand and lets it drop to the floor. Dom’s skin burns with the need of Billy’s touch and as Billy’s palms press against his chest, Dom sucks in a deep, harsh breath.

Craving more of Billy’s touch, Dom guides Billy’s hand into the open V of his jeans, parting his lean thighs wide within the denim confines. The sensation of Billy’s small fingers wrapping snugly around his throbbing arousal causes Dom to mewl breathlessly and arch wantonly into Billy’s touch before bringing their lips back together. In a slower, sensual response, Dom’s hands trace the lines of Billy’s collarbones before sliding lower, like explorers mapping out an exotic, foreign territory. The darker ginger hair covering Billy’s chest is so soft, the skin beneath seeming to flow warmly under Dom’s touch, like liquid satin. Dragging his swollen mouth from Billy’s, Dom presses his scruffy cheek against the silky strands of Billy’s hair, breathing in the gently fragrant scent of his shampoo. Free arm wrapping around Dom’s vibrating body, Billy’s hand splays across Dom’s lean back, stroking the dimples he finds just above the sweet curve of Dom’s arse as he thrusts his body against Dom’s in spiraling, achingly wanton need.

Lust and desire overwhelming him, his control hanging on by a thread, Billy pushes gently, yet firmly at Dom’s bare chest, urging him to lay back on the table. Eyes glazed and half lidded with passion, Dom complies without complaint, stretching out, almost as though he’s on display, his bare skin covered with a light sheen of sweat from his forehead to where Billy’s hand disappears into his jeans. The invitation for Billy to do whatever he pleases is clear in Dom’s aroused eyes.

Not giving Billy a chance to back away, Dom reaches up and drags Billy’s mouth down to his, long fingers releasing the collar of Billy’s robe only to slide around Billy’s bare waist. Swollen lips meeting in long, deep, wet kisses, Dom writhes shamelessly beneath Billy, wrapping his good leg around the backs of Billy’s thighs to bring their hard erections together. At the same time, Billy’s fist pumps Dom’s cock in a fast rhythm, somewhat uneven, thanks to the limited space between their bodies.

Drawing his thumb across the leaking tip, Billy gently strokes the slit of Dom’s arousal with his fingernail while thrusting his tongue into Dom’s mouth in time to the sensual rocking of his hips. Bucking and moaning uncontrollably, trapped between the unyielding table and Billy’s firm body, Dom pants for breath, fingernails of one hand scratching lightly across Billy’s back, a whimpering jumble of incoherent words tumbling from his lips as he threads his elegant fingers through Billy’s ginger hair. Blissful release is so close, Dom can feel it rising inside him like a tidal wave when Billy presses down with his whole body, craving closer contact, some of his weight settling on Dom’s chest. Dom is unable to stifle a groan as he sucks air into his lungs in a harsh breath, causing Billy to freeze.

“You’re hurt!” Billy gasps as he breaks the kiss, his wide green eyes search Dom’s face, seeking the truth there first.

Shrugging in a dismissing gesture, Dom rubs the nape of Billy’s neck and strokes the shallow groove of his spine, trying to ignore the untimely interruption. “Football players are always hurt, Billy. And let me assure you that all the important parts are in full working order, just in case you’ve any lingering questions along those lines.”

Eyes narrowing, Billy lays his free hand on the table and pushes himself up a few inches. “Don’t joke about this, Dom. I probed around your knee yesterday without you flinching, and it had to be tender. You have a very high tolerance for pain, so for you to moan like that, something’s definitely wrong.”

Pulling his other hand out of Dom’s jeans and shrugging out of his intimate embrace, Billy’s fingers begin to move over Dom’s body again. Unfortunately, their intent now is more precise, more determined than the sinfully erotic pattern they’d danced around his throbbing cock just a moment ago, driving Dom to the brink of orgasm.

“That was merely a moan of passion,” Dom tries hopefully, sighing inwardly and wincing at the ache in his trousers, knowing that the mood has been shattered for tonight and there is most definitely a round of wanking in his very near future.

Not answering because he is focused on his examination of Dom, Billy gently slides a hand under Dom’s lean back to raise him to a sitting position before pressing against Dom’s ribcage, causing Dom to draw in an involuntary breath.

“Hey, that tickles,” Dom complains in a last ditch effort at distraction.

“Lift up your ams,” Billy instructs firmly.

“Not until you answer a question for me,” Dom fires back, jaw set in a hard line.

Fingers carefully tracing a line from Dom’s side to the center of his chest, Billy is furious, but certainly not at Dom as he tries to keep the anger from his voice. Still, his words come out short and crisp.

“What now, Dom?”

“Are we finished with the passionate part of the evening?” The sight of Billy’s forbidden, pearly skin, not to mention obvious and impressive arousal, is making concentration more than a wee bit difficult, and Dom forces his gaze to a point somewhere beyond Billy’s left shoulder.

Looking up, Billy finds Dom’s face a disconcerting, unreadable mask. “Yes,” he acknowledges with a sigh. “It was a bad idea in the first place.”

“I don’t know about that, I rather enjoyed it,” Dom argues, gritting his teeth as Billy’s fingers probe deeper into his flesh. “Very much so, actually.”

“So did I,” Billy admits to his own surprise. “But we’ve satisfied as much curiosity as I’m going to allow.” Billy doesn’t miss Dom’s short intake of breath as his fingers hit home.

“Ow!”

“That’s just what I thought. You’ve gone and cracked a rib,” Billy says, shaking his head sadly. “You’re bloody lucky that’s all that happened, the way you were running and jumping around during practice. I thought you weren’t going to try to be a damn hero.”

“Believe me, Billy, I didn’t try to get in the way of those blokes. It certainly isn’t my idea of fun to get run over by a human mountain.”

“I don’t understand why they were crowding you like that, forcing more pressure on your knee. It’s no bloody wonder they kept running into you,” Billy complains.

Reading the clear distress in Billy’s mossy green eyes, Dom wonders how it can affect him so deeply. Every single thing about Billy Boyd hits like a jolt of lightening from a clear blue sky, and Dom’s not sure he likes the feeling. Then again, Dom likes knowing that Billy really does care about what happens to him.

“They want to play,” Dom says simply, grimacing slightly as he tries to carelessly shrug. “If they don’t play by Holm’s rules, they’ll be warming the bench on match day. It’s his way or the highway, or that’s what he’s fond of quoting to the press anyways.”

“Sometimes I think you’re all bloody crazy.” Billy sighs heavily in exasperation. “At least promise me that you’ll be careful at your next match?”

Realizing that they’re not going to get into another argument, Dom is relieved, really not in the mood to explain how important the next match is. How vital this season is. He’s Dominic Monaghan, star football player. That’s who he’s been for as long as he can remember, and Dom doesn’t know how to separate the man from the football player, even if he wanted to. Which he bloody well doesn’t.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Dom pledges, making a corresponding sign over his bare chest. A wicked light then dances in his sparkling blue-grey eyes. “Are you sure you’re not interested in indulging in a little heavy breathing? Or perhaps finishing what you started?”

Billy’s soft, caring gaze hardens, his eyes flat and distant. “I really hate it when you slip into that automatic seduction routine.”

A smile plays on Dom’s sensuous lips. “That’s a no, yeah?”

“Correct. That’s a no.”

“Then could you do me a small favor, Dr. Boyd?” Dom inquires innocently, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his swollen, rosy lips.

Billy eyes Dom suspiciously. “What kind of favor?”

Rubbing a palm over his face, Dom sighs and shakes his head with regret. “Could you please tie the belt on that robe? It’s awfully hard to behave with that lovely temptation so deliciously near.”

Glancing down, Billy realizes that in his concern for Dom, he’s completely forgotten about his state of undress. He’s starkers and very hard, his thick arousal jutting out from his body, as though searching for Dom’s touch. Quickly wrapping the heavy material around his trim body, Billy yanks the belt tight and firmly knots it.

“You should’ve said something,” he says sharply, an embarrassed blush rising in his cheeks.

Snorting in derision, Dom arches an incredulous eyebrow and braces his hands on the table behind him. “Hey, I thought we’d at least determined that I’m not a stupid football player. Why should I give up such delectable scenery? You were the one who wanted me on this table. Don’t try to deny it, Billy. You did want me. You still want me.”

“You’re incorrigible, Dom,” Billy fires back, his eyes flashing dangerously.

“Honestly, I tried to tell you, Billy,” Dom adds pointedly. “But Dr. Boyd was too busy sadistically poking his lovely fingers into my battered old flesh.”

Billy’s anger dissolves as rapidly as it has flared, and his brow furrows with concern. “It’s far from old, Dom. And it would be in nearly perfect condition if you’d just quit playing football.”

In an instant, Dom’s face turns from warm and playful, cheeks rosy with arousal, to hard stone. “Don’t even suggest that,” he warns in a cold, remote tone. “Because it isn’t going to happen.”

He’s taking the piss about it. He has to be, Billy decides. “Sure,” he shoots back flippantly. “You’re going to play football until they carry you off the field at the ripe old age of ninety-nine. And I’ll be submitting all your doctor bills through the old age home.”

Watching Dom jerk his fingers though his sun-streaked hair, and the way they’re trembling with barely restrained fury, Billy realizes that Dom finds nothing humorous about the turn their conversations has taken.

“You and Holm should get together and take that act on the road,” Dom snarls, wincing quietly, his breath catching again as he slides off the table to stand. Jerking up the zipper of his jeans roughly, Dom then reaches down and scoops his t-shirt up off the floor before spinning on his heel and marching out the door, slamming it thunderously behind him.

Billy is left staring out into the rainy darkness, stunned into silence by this new aspect of Dominic Monaghan’s frustratingly complex personality. The words Billy wants to say get stuck in his throat. He never meant to upset Dom. This isn’t how he wanted the night to end, despite what he said before. Pulling air into his lungs and then slowly exhaling several times, Billy picks up Dom’s abandoned mug off the table and rinses it in the sink before finally switching off the light and leaving the kitchen.

Climbing the stairs with a heavy heart, Billy checks on Cameron before slipping into his own room, shutting door behind him. Sighing heavily, Billy fights with the knot in the belt of his robe for a moment, and when it comes loose, tosses the robe over the end of the bed rather than hanging it up. Exhausted and confused, his chest aching, Billy crawls under the coverlet, telling himself to stop wondering if he should go next door and apologize. There’s clearly been enough damage done for one night.

As his weary eyes close, the exquisite taste of Dom lingers in Billy’s mouth, over his tongue, the memory of Dom’s bared, tantalizing skin refusing to fade away. One thing is for certain: It’s not going to be a restful night.

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

At least the rain has helped to cool things off, Billy considers, breathing in the fresh, moist air as he drives to the clinic with the windows of his Mini rolled down. His somewhat uplifted spirits plummet as he reaches his office, finding it occupied by two burly workmen with a stepladder and a large drop cloth.

“Sorry, Doc. The roof leaked last night,” one of them explains, pointing to the gaping hole above his head, directly over Billy’s desk.

As if Billy could miss the cracked and dripping plaster where a pristine, white ceiling once was.

Grimacing, Billy’s eyes find a stack of damp papers covering the flat surface of his desk. “Is my office the only one affected?” he asks with a heavy sigh.

“Nope. A few of the private treatment rooms are going to be out of commission for a while, too. Unless I miss my guess, the tar shingles pulled loose on this part of the building.” Shaking his head, the man starts to turn back towards the stepladder, returning to work. “It’s a bad idea to trust these older roofs in the rain.”

Billy isn’t looking forward to working another day in the fishbowl atmosphere of the common treatment room, under the intense scrutiny of Dr. McKellan, but pragmatically, Billy realizes that he has no choice. Stifling another heavy sigh, Billy hangs up his jacket, straightens his tie and gets to work.

Sometime later, Billy looks up from the inflamed hamstring he’s been examining when the perky blonde receptionist calls his name.

“Dr. Boyd, there’s a call for you on line five,” she says with a smile.

“Can you take a number for me and I’ll call them back?” Billy requests mildly, resuming his examination.

“Of course.” A moment later, the receptionist is back, her smile even bigger now. “Mr. Monaghan says he’ll hold.”

Glancing across the room quickly, searching for any sight of Dr. McKellan, Billy doesn’t miss Orlando’s smug, knowing smile. “All right. Fine,” Billy agrees, picking up a receiver of the wall phone and pressing it to his ear. “Hello?”

“I just called to tell you I’ll pick up Cam after school today,” Dom begins without preamble. “I’ll bring him to practice with me.”

“That’s not necessary,” Billy replies flatly. “I can take care it myself.”

“But I want to.”

This is definitely no place for a personal conversation, as Orlando is displaying unabashed interest as he rummages through a stack of wrist splints. As well, Billy can now feel Dr. McKellan’s blue eyes boring a hole in his back, as the older man has emerged from his office. Right on schedule. Shite.

“Thank you anyway,” Billy replies briskly. “I’d really prefer if you didn’t.”

“Would it help if I apologized?” Dom asks, his voice low and gently enticing.

“No.”

“I am sorry, you know,” Dom says, now sounding rather contrite to Billy’s ears. “Really sorry, Billy.”

“Well, thank you for calling,” Billy says lightly, wanting to end this conversation before it becomes so personal every interested bystander in the treatment room will know the intimate details of his private life.

Instantly, Dom perceives his intention. “If you hang up on me, Billy, you’re only going to have to continue this conversation in person. I’ll be down at the clinic in half an hour.”

“You’re not on my schedule,” Billy interjects. “I’m very busy today.”

“Pencil me in as an emergency,” Dom instructs, his firm tone indicating he expects nothing less. “You do have those, don’t you?”

“Are you alright? Is it your knee?” Billy asks, a momentary stab of concern rushing through him. Perhaps this is really about Dom needing help, and Billy had missed it last night, since he was clearly distracted.

“My knee is just fine, Billy,” Dom assures him instantly, realizing the conclusion Billy’s mind is racing to. “It’s my ribs. I need them taped up for practice.”

“That’s what the team has physio’s for, Dom,” Billy points out. “You don’t need me for that.”

“What can I say? I’d rather have you do it. See you in a while, Dr. Boyd.” At that, Dom hangs up the phone without saying goodbye or giving Billy a chance to argue further with him.

“That will be fine then, Mr. Monaghan,” Billy says into the disconnected phone, unwilling to let the others know that Dom has hung up on him. “I’ll be expecting you. Good bye.”

“More trouble with that knee?” Orlando asks examining a splint closely before discarding it and picking up another.

“No. He cracked a rib and needs it taped up for practice this afternoon,” Billy explains as he replaces the receiver back in the cradle on the wall unit.

“Oh, I thought team physio’s usually did that sort of thing,” Orlando replies innocently. “Guess my information is wrong.”

Billy shoots him a mock glare. “Don’t push it, Bloom. Or you’ll be back on coffee duty.”

“Please spare us that unspeakable indignity, Dr. Boyd,” Dr. McKellan murmurs as he leaves the room. “Yours, while definitely not gourmet, is at least drinkable.”

Billy watches him go and then shrugs, unable to tell if the man was making a joke or not. Simply put, Dr. McKellan is one of the most complicated men Billy has ever met, right after Dom, that is.

Just over twenty minutes later, Billy doesn’t even need to glance towards the door to know what is causing a flurry of activity. It can only mean one thing. Dom has arrived. Refusing to be a part of the crowd surrounding the football player, Billy leans against the treatment table, arms folded over his chest, watching as Dom makes his way across the room.

“Like Moses parting the Red Sea,” Billy murmurs under his breath.

“I’m afraid that reference escapes me,” Dom admits with a smile as he settles himself on the treatment table, denim clad legs dangling over the edge.

“I was just observing the way you forged your way through a sea of admirers.” Shrugging, Billy turns and digs into a drawer to find a wide roll of tape. “Take your shirt off, Mr. Monaghan.”

Dom doesn’t move, his brow furrowing. “Is it that you don’t like athletes in general, or is it me in particular?”

“I told you, I like athletes. Professionally,” Billy tacks on, his back still to Dom, willing his heartbeat to slow from its sudden increase.

“But not personally.”

Finally turning around, Billy’s expression is set firmly into one of brisk impatience. “Are you going to take your shirt off so I can tape up that rib? You are well aware that you’re cutting into my busy schedule. The very least you can do, is be cooperative.”

Gazing at Billy’s face, Dom spots the soft, violet shadows beneath his deep green eyes, a mute testimony to the fact that Billy hadn’t managed much more sleep than he had. Encouraged, Dom holds his ground.

“Answer my question first,” he says, softer now, knowing that he’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

“Look, Mon- Dom, I’ve already spent in excess of ten, very long years with someone, who in the end, wanted to be treated like a god. If I was masochistic enough to get involved with another, I’d simply go somewhere they practice self-flagellation. It makes about as much sense.”

Blue-grey eyes narrow dangerously, and Billy is intrigued by the muscle jumping along Dom’s jaw line. Before Billy can utter a word of complaint, Dom’s hand is gripping his elbow firmly as he slides off the table.

“You’re coming with me,” Dom orders darkly.

“The hell I am,” Billy retorts in a low, harsh whisper, green eyes darting around the room to see if they’re being observed.

It doesn’t help matters any to discover that he and Dom are the center of attention in the room. The usually bustling and congested atmosphere has suddenly become as quiet as a tomb, the spectators’ attention all directed towards the apparently fascinating drama being played out before them.

Dom’s gaze follows Billy’s. “Shite,” he curses under his breath, realizing his rash idea is not working out as he thought it would. Then, to Billy’s utter amazement, Dom’s fingers slide up Billy’s arm to tighten at his bicep and Dom starts walking across the room.

“Dom, let go of me!” It’s still a whisper, but easily heard in the swirling silence of the room.

“You can come along with me to your office peacefully, or I’ll carry you screaming and kicking over my shoulder,” Dom replies, amazingly calm. “And that’s a guarantee.”

One upward look into those dark and glittering blue-grey eyes assures Billy that Dom means every last word. One word of protest and Billy will be fighting to keep his feet on the floor.

“My office has people working in it,” Billy argues, attempting to tug free of Dom’s iron grip. At Dom’s dubious expression, Billy elaborates. “The roof leaked last night. It’s a mess. Want to check and see if I’m lying?”

“They we’ll go somewhere else,” Dom counters immediately.

“Dom, I have other patients,” Billy protests. “I don’t have time for this.”

“This will only take a minute, Billy.” Continuing across the room, Dom pauses only momentarily at Orlando’s treatment table. “Is there someplace private around here where we can talk?”

Nodding quickly, Orlando points in the direction of the hallway. “Third door on your left. It’s the doctor’s lounge,” he offers helpfully.

“Thanks.” Not releasing the slightly smaller man, Dom resumes walking, causing Billy to almost stumble in order to keep up.

“Thanks a lot,” Billy growls over his shoulder at Orlando, green eyes burning with annoyance and frustration.

The lanky Brit grins unrepentantly and waves. “My pleasure.”

Once inside the lounge with the door firmly shut behind them, Dom turns to face Billy and gets directly to the point.

“I admit, you have every right to be royally pissed at me, alright?” Dom begins, his shoulders slumping a little, his eyes completely serious. “I behaved like a real wanker last night and I ended up taking out my troubles on you. So, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Billy replies in a tight voice, arms folded over his chest, his eyes flat and devoid of emotion. “Now may I return to work?”

“This is more important than your work, Billy!” Dom argues, his temper flaring.

Lifting his chin, Billy meets Dom’s furious gaze with one of his own. “Oh really? And what would you do if I marched out onto your precious football field in the middle of a practice and hauled you off to the showers for a personal conversation?”

“Why I’d offer to wash your back, of course,” Dom says, a smile lighting up his face. “And hope that you’d wash mine.”

“Cute, Dom. Very cute.”

Sighing, Dom’s smile disappears as he shakes his head, and Billy tries not to be affected by the way a sun-streaked lock of hair falls across Dom’s forehead, contrasting so vividly with his bronze skin. Despite all his easy smiles and bravado for his fans, Billy can tell that Dom truly is sorry for the uncharacteristic anger he displayed last night. Observing a rare glimpse of Dom in a vulnerable moment, the urge to pull Dom into his arms and rub away the visible tension along the nape of his tanned neck almost steals Billy’s breath. However, in a heartbeat, Billy forces the thought away, focusing on his profession, desperately hoping that it will give him the control he needs right now.

“I really don’t want to fight with you, Billy. I do understand how important your work is to you. I honestly do,” Dom says quietly, his expressive eyes downcast. “I just want to explain that my behavior last night was due to a personal problem I’m trying to work out. It had absolutely nothing to do with you. With us.”

“That’s just it, Dom. There is no us. You need to get that through your head right now,” Billy warns.

Even as he says it, Billy realizes that it’s a damn lie. He’s grown incredibly close to Dom in just a few short days, but he also knows it’s only a sexual attraction. Dom is handsome, gorgeous really, famous and actually very nice, when he’s not coming on like a storm trooper. Any woman, or man for that matter, would be infatuated. It’s nothing more than that, Billy assures himself - a chemical brain bath. Given some time, it will pass. Billy just needs to be strong, and patient. Very patient.

At this moment, frustrated by Billy’s continued irrational stubbornness, Dom could have cheerfully strangled him. “But there is,” he argues, hitting one fist into his palm. “Number one, we’re neighbors-”

“Lots of people don’t know their neighbors’ first names,” Billy interrupts, arching an eyebrow, refusing to give a single inch.

“Number two, we’re friends.”

“That’s debatable.”

Dom pretends not to hear that one, as well as the twinge of hurt the remark causes. “And reason number three is that you’re going to hurt Cameron if you suddenly cut off practices without a damn good explanation. What are you going to say? That your hands were all over me, that you were naked and that we almost had sex right there on your kitchen table last night?”

“That was a mistake, Dom. I’m sorry that things got out of control,” Billy says, softer now.

“Why?” Dom inquires. “I’m not. It was great, right up until you decided to play doctor instead of lover.”

“But with Cameron-”

“What could you possibly say to him, truthfully, that he would accept as a good enough reason?” Dom presses, interrupting Billy.

Sighing heavily, Billy slumps down in a chair at the table, cupping his chin in his hand as he looks up at Dom. “If you’re honestly concerned about Cameron, let’s talk about what’s going to happen if I let you infiltrate yourself into his life and then you lose interest. That would hurt him a great deal more, Dom.”

While Dom has the feeling that there is a great deal more to Billy’s objection than meets the eye, but wisely decides not to press it for the moment. Instead, Dom sits down next to Billy, their knees almost touching, his gaze unbearably serious. “I wouldn’t do that, Billy. You have to believe that.”

“I believe that you wouldn’t mean to, but soon you’ll have a lot better ways to spend your time with than with a seven-and-a-half year old boy who already idolizes you. The end result would be the same.” Billy’s expression is intent, green eyes pleading as he tries to make Dom understand. “Cameron’s already having enough trouble getting over leaving his mum and his friends. I don’t want him to have the same problem with you. That little boy has been through too much as it is. It’s not fair to him.”

“Billy, I’m not going anywhere,” Dom says simply, his gaze not faltering for an instant. “Look, we’ll stick to being just friends, if that makes you feel any better about the arrangement. And if you want, I’ll start letting Cam down easy, but for now, I really think it’s helping him adjust to the move. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Billy sighs, a deep, shuddering breath. “Alright. But no more late-night visits. It’s strictly a good neighbor policy where you and I are concerned, Dom.”

Giving Billy a crooked smile, Dom nods and sighs. “You’re probably right. One thing neither of us needs right now is more complications.” That much is true, but even as Dom agrees, he knows he’ll never be able to keep his word.

Dom’s eyes darken dangerously, and then he slowly leans forward, tilting his head to one side and bringing their lips together in a gentle, lingering kiss. “But it would’ve been incredible, Billy,” he whispers when they part, foreheads touching. “Really, really incredible.”

A long silent moment passes as the two men stare at one another, not saying a word.

“Cam can come to practice, then?” Dom asks finally, pulling back a few inches.

Unable to force an answer past the lump in his throat, Billy nods.

“I can bring him home,” Dom offers. “Save you some time.”

Billy asks himself if he can honestly bar Dominic Monaghan from his house if he shows up at his door. Especially since Cameron will undoubtedly ask Dom to stay for dinner. It would be inviting disaster, Billy decides.

“Don’t bother,” Billy replies quickly. “I’ll pick him up at the field.”

“Do you promise not to get into any brawls with Coach Holm?” A familiar, dancing light reappears in Dom’s eyes, lightening the mood considerably.

Shoulders vibrating with silent laughter, Billy manages a shaky smile. “I promise to be on my best behavior,” he vows.

“Good.” Dom’s answering grin grows a little wider. “It would play havoc with my tough-guy image if my doctor starts fighting my battles for me.”

“Your doctor’s supposed to watch out for your welfare, Dom,” Billy reminds him softly.

“And such a desirable doctor you are, Billy Boyd,” Dom murmurs, his blue-grey eyes softening as he gazes at Billy thoughtfully. When Dom reaches out and brushes his knuckles ever so slowly across Billy’s cheek, Billy’s certain that he’s stopped breathing. “Overwhelmingly desirable.”

Reluctantly rising to his feet, Dom walks over and opens the door to the lounge, preparing to leave.

“Your rib,” Billy says, shaking his head to clear it and belatedly recalling Dom’s purpose in coming to the clinic in the first place.

Looking over his shoulder, Dom winks. “Hey, what do you think they have team physio’s for, Dr. Boyd?”

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Chapter 6

Current Mood: sick

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Date: 2006-04-28 03:46 pm (UTC)

From:

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags