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monaboyd Jun. 26th, 2006 08:35 pm)
butterflyweb.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Jun. 26th, 2006 08:35 pm) Okay, so here are a couple little pieces I don't really know what to do with. They were for an abandoned story idea, but I like them well enough on their own to not want them to just sit on my harddrive. The first four are AU drabbles, Billy and Dom in different lives. I've been considering perhaps continuing one or more of them, and wouldn't mind so input on the matter. The fifth is a little pornlet that came to me, and is, I think, the smuttiest I've yet tried to go. So, feedback would be appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own Billy or Dom's likeness. The first of these was inspired by a fic I do not remember the name or author of, and can't find anywhere to check. As soon as monaboyd.net's AU section is up, I will add it here. The fourth is, of course, inspired by PotC. Just covering the bases here. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Billy or Dom's likeness. The first of these was inspired by a fic I do not remember the name or author of, and can't find anywhere to check. As soon as monaboyd.net's AU section is up, I will add it here. The fourth is, of course, inspired by PotC. Just covering the bases here. :)
“You have no reason to fear.”
The Roman knelt beside Uilleam, whose shock at hearing perfectly spoken Gaelic was painfully evident. It gained the solider no trust from the wary Scott, however, and his hesitant touch fell on thin air.
Dominic, son of Arden, sighed heavily, rising once more to his feet. He didn’t know what about this man made him different from the other slaves, but it was there nonetheless, and it intrigued him. Which was lucky for the Scot; Dominic’s patience was not legendary.
“Come, speak to me,” he cajoled, hoping his entreaties would gain him some ground. The ragged Highlander scowled at him, sharp little teeth bared in anger.
“Do not talk to me as if I were a child,” he spat. “You may be a mere boy, but I am certainly not.”
Dominic felt his face redden. Furious, and unthinking, he grabbed the Scot by his worn, useless bandolier, and yanked him to his feet. He spoke between gritted teeth, their faces mere inches apart, alike with mutual anger.
“Understand this. You are my slave, and I your master. I shall speak to you however I please.” He shook Uilleam roughly. “Do you understand me?”
Green eyes as dark as fir needles bore into his own, unrelenting. “I belong to no one.”
“We shall see.”
*
“Dommeh, would ye hurry it up fer God’s sake?” Liam hissed, green eyes frantically skimming their surroundings, fighting not to jump at the slightest shadow.
“Shut your trap, Boyd. And don’t rush me.” A small pink tongue poked from between pierced lips, an odd habit of a concentrating Dominic. He paused to shake the spray can vigorously, before once more resuming his work.
Liam, for his part the lookout, was growing impatient. “Dommeh…”
“Shut it!”
Liam sighed, disgusted. He ran a shaking hand through dark red, nearly crimson, hair, cursing as his fingers snagged on what were the beginning of dreadlocks. He’d never had the nerves for this kind of stuff, no matter how devil-may-care anarchist he deemed himself to be. As far as he was concerned, old Joe had it right, the law did win, and as starved as he may be, he wouldn’t trade his freedom for a meal behind bars..
A siren in the distance made them both jump, and sped Dominic along enough to finish his artwork in mere moments.
“There,” he declared, voice thick with satisfaction, and leaned to place a kiss on Liam’s open mouth, the safety pin adorning his lower lip bearing cold pressure.
*
Dami could feel his claws digging into his palms, betraying his rage as he chittered, absolutely incoherent. Silken wings folded themselves inward, clutching tight about his shoulders in some measure of comfort. He didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand…
“Dami,” came the sigh, like raindrops on a still lake, plopping with disappointment. And trust him to still be poetic, standing here as his heart broke.
Wim shook his delicate head, flaxen hair whipping against ivory skin. “Our choice, she is not. Love her, we do not. Want you, our Dami. You.”
“Then why go, do you?” Steel eyes flashed against golden features. “We thinks you are lying to us.”
Wim flitted over to him, glowing in sadness and shame. “Dami…we loves you. Hurt us not this way.”
Delicate fingers tipped with such wicked claws traced a thin pattern down his strong jaw. He knew consciously that Wim had no choice, that his father was all behind this, and that Iv would love him well. But it hurt, it hurt so, and he wished for simple days beneath the forest canopy, when they drank nectar from buttercups, and lay enveloped in gossamer wings.
*
The stone was cold against his back; hard and unyielding, the prison walls so like the sentence itself. Bill chuckled grimly, crossing booted feet at the ankle and leaning into the corner. As he shifted, the various baubles decorating his belt and hair jingled; a lovely, tinkling sound that had before always pleased him. Now, he wondered if they would sound so when he swung from the gallows.
In the cell beside him there is a youth, not twenty if he were to guess. It is obvious from the first glance that the boy has been here long, and suffered greatly for it. He is rail thin, and his pale blue eyes are dull behind haggard features. Yet he was handsome once, Bill could tell, from the strength of his jaw, and set of his shoulders. There was strength there, not yet defeated, and something like pride stirred in him.
Bill shifted a mite closer to the bars between them. He reached a dirty hand between the metal and laid it cautiously on the lad’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright, lad.” He doesn’t know what compels him to do it.
“Do not touch me, pirate.” The voice is flat, like an open-handed slap, and Bill withdraws his hand.
“Ah, boyo, ye are sitting in a matching cell. Dinnae go getting all high and mighty on me.”
The young man scoffed. “Nothing I have done could equal your sins.”
Bill gave him an ugly smile. “And yet here we sit.”
*
He barely feels the scratch of the rough brick as it digs through his thin dress shirt, catching relentlessly on his hair. All he can feel are long fingers making quick work of his belt buckle, and his heart hammering viciously in his chest.
He’s never done anything like this before. For fuck’s sake, he has a girlfriend, one he’s supposed to meet in less than fifteen minutes, and yet…this stranger, with his devilish smirk, and lean body, and the eyeliner…god the eyeliner…
Those same fingers, strong and sure, are now stroking his erection, heavy and throbbing between his legs, and Billy has to bite his lip nearly through to hold back his moans. “Please..” he whispers, and feels a warm chuckle against his straining erection. He holds back a whimper at the soft breath caressing his sensitive flesh, and opens his mouth to renew his plea…
The other man swallows him whole.
Billy groans, low and long, hands reaching out of their own accord to softly stoke the blonde head between his trembling thighs, gasping as a wicked mouth sucked and licked, pulling back to swirl his tongue around the head, darting it into the weeping slit, causing Billy’s hips to buck uncontrollably. Then back down, all the way down, nose against dark curls.
Clenching his hands into fists, head titled back against the alley wall, panting as the pace increased to a dizzying level, Billy teeters on the edge of release, utterly undone by the man below him. God, he thinks, how can it be so fucking good?
He’s right there, almost there, and when skillful hands lightly caress his taught sac, he is…is coming, his cry muffled around his fist, knees nearly buckling beneath him as he is sucked dry. Sparks shooting behind his eyes, Billy rests his weight against the ragged brick, shaking, head muddled, while the blonde man tucks him neatly back in his trousers.
The other man stands up, odd features pleasant but blank, and after another few moments, clears his throat politely.
“Oh, right.” Billy mumbles, digging his wallet from his pocket, and removing a few crinkled bills. “Here.”
The blue-eyed man crookedly smiles his thanks, and walks jauntily away, hands tucked in his pockets. Behind him, Billy pulls himself together, straightening his tie and smoothing down the wrinkles in his shirt.
Ali will kill him if he’s late.
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*scampers away*
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Amazing.
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And I'm so glad you liked the name changes; I wanted to keep them similar, but reflect the different places and times in which they were. And wow, just thank you once again for your lovely comment.
Those two seem to be garnering the most interesting, so they may just be the lucky winners (that is, if I just don't continue them all).
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*drools*
Please tell me you're going to follow these up, especially that one. Please? With sugar chocolate syrup on top
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Orginally, I was going to wait to see which one got the most reaction, but it seems pretty evenly spread. I want more of this one, though. Cause...yeah. I have my kinks. We'll see. :)
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And I'm glad you like Pirate!Bill. He has a soft little space in my heart.
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Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
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Re: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
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