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monaboyd Jan. 27th, 2007 02:05 pm)
flybynite29.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Jan. 27th, 2007 02:05 pm)Title: Dance With Me - 1/?
Author: flybynite29
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: PG-13 - NC17 overall, this part R for sexual situations
Summary: A shy, lonely scientist, Billy stumbles into a club and finds more than he bargained for. But it may also turn out to be the greatest discovery of his life.
Warnings For Series: AU; slight mentions of past het forays; angst, heavy in parts; medical squick
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author does not know, and is in no way affiliated with the persons mentioned in this work. No disrespect is intended to the persons mentioned in this work. No money is in any way being made from this piece of pure fiction.
Feedback: Yes please; I would absolutely adore it : )
A/N: Here we go with another series. *eye roll* Muses seem to be attacking me from every direction just lately. Very special thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silentdescant, who is the reason this fic came about in the first place. Ta and big hugs for the wonderful ideas! : )
Another fella told me
he had a sister who looked just fine
Instead of being my deliverance
she had a strange resemblance
to a cat named Frankenstein
It's hard on a fella
when he don't know his way around
If I don't find me a honey
to help me spend my money
I'm gonna have to blow this town
Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody
I got some money 'cause I just got paid
How I wish I had someone to talk to
I'm in an awful way
~ Sam Cooke
Billy had meandered into the dance club quite by accident.
Manchester was not his town, he was here on convention- this had simply been the closest drinking spot to his hotel. The sign outside was not at all flashy, only Freeman's in plain red lettering, nothing even announcing it was a primarily gay nightclub; in fact, Billy had thought it a quiet corner pub until he came through the door and saw a throng of people having sex standing up.
At least that's what it looked like; one could hardly term their wild gyrations 'dancing'.
A reserved, studious scientist, this riotous place was really not Billy's type of thing. He recognized none of the music blasting deafeningly through the speakers; his taste ran more to Bach and golden oldies. When feeling particularly adventurous he'd put on Creedence or The Stones. Billy had intended to have a quick drink or two, then go on back to his hotel and turn in sensibly early.
Instead, he had been here three hours now, utterly entranced by a perfect stranger.
Billy had spotted the bloke straightaway, near the center of the dance floor. He was really no different than the others milling around him - less remarkable than some - but Billy could not tear his eyes away. Dressed in tattered jeans and revealing black silk shirt, eyes the color of the storm-swept sea, body lithe and supple, moving in all the right rhythms, wild and free under the strobes and thick haze of smoke, drenched in sweat, unabashedly touching and grinding against his male dancing partner... the man was beautiful.
At one point during the evening, Billy had a gin and tonic dumped down the back of his shirt by a novice waitress, and his stoolmate to the left had boaked noisily all over his own shoes, but these things barely even registered with Billy. The man on the dance floor held every bit of his attention.
Several times Billy thought the fellow made eye contact with him, but he finally dismissed the looks as a trick of the strobes. Why would the man be paying him any bit of mind when he had a gorgeous, young, and very pliable dance partner?
The bloke didn't seem to tire, had been going strong for hours, only stopping long enough to gulp a drink from the twin bar across the room or to sneak a few puffs of a cigarette in between dances. Billy himself, to keep up appearances, had been ordering whiskies right along the whole evening, and he suddenly realized he was far beyond tipsy, was very close to being all-out blootered. He hadn't been really drunk in ages, and he'd undoubtedly spend the large part of the next day draped over the rim of the toilet ... but the sight tonight was more than worth it. The next time the bartender made his rounds Billy waved him off, though he knew the damage had already been done.
Drunkenness, however, was the very least of Billy's worries. Far more disturbing was his current state of arousal: a large pup tent appeared to have been permanently erected in the crotch of his trousers. He didn't dare leave his seat, even to visit the loo. The situation suddenly grew worse: as Billy watched, the object of his fascination bent at the knees, then slowly licked his way up his partner's exposed stomach and chest. Billy could see the flick of his tongue from where he sat, and when it lapped rhythmically at the partner's nipple, Billy groaned aloud.
He'd never seen anything so blatantly carnal before in all his life.
He surreptitiously slipped a hand beneath the bar and pressed it firmly against his cock, willing the hardness to subside. The motion had the opposite of the desired effect, however ... instead of calming things down, Billy found his hips rising to meet his palm. He permitted himself a few very subtle thrusts, hoping to relieve the low, deep-seated ache, but forced his hand away after another minute.
Bad enough he'd allowed himself to reach this stage of public intoxication; he was damned if he was going to wank whilst perched on a bar stool in the middle of a crowded club. He needed to find some way to make a quick, unnoticed exit; if he had to, he'd nick his neighbor's jacket off the bar and use it as cover till he got to the doorway. It was time to leave this place ... Billy did not belong here; all he could do here was fantasize, work himself into more of a frenzy. He could never in a million years get up the nerve to do what he wanted to do, which was go out onto the floor, walk right up to his beautiful stranger, and ask him for a dance.
Billy could recite precisely the Darwinian Theory of Evolution, knew the scientific classification of nearly every plant and tree in existence, could tell you the complete genetic makeup of a soil sample ... but not what it was like to awaken in the arms of a lover. The two paltry sexual experiences he had had over the course of his life included a seamy meeting in a back alley with a lass who never rose from her knees and an utterly disturbing trip to a whore in Edinburgh who - although equipped with all the proper female bits - had borne an uncanny resemblance to Iggy Pop. The latter experience had left Billy so scarred that he'd dared not try again since. He'd never been with a lad at all, though he'd known since adolescence that he fancied both sexes. In his circle it was simply not done, not overtly at any rate, and even if it had been, Billy was far too timid to go trolling for a partner. He wasn't a loner, exactly, just solitary by nature and circumstance, very dedicated to his work. It was only recently that work didn't seem to be enough to fill the empty places inside him.
When Billy looked back out to the group of dancers, his stranger was gone.
He was surprised at the jolt of disappointment that shot through him. After all, it was for the best- he could now stumble back to his room and try to recuperate in time for tomorrow's lecture. He waited a few moments for his erection to subside, and had just tucked his wallet away and was getting ready to rise when a hand fell on his shoulder.
He turned and found himself staring into familiar blue/grey eyes. Up close, Billy realized what had made them stand out so- the man was wearing a generous amount of black eyeliner. Billy's only experience with blokes in makeup had been a Kiss concert, back in his youth. This was nothing at all like that nonsense... on this man, the makeup was dead sexy. Billy's breath caught in his throat.
The bloke yelled something, obviously trying to get some point across to Billy, but it was lost in the thumping of the music.
Billy shook his head, not understanding.
The man repeated it, a bit louder this time.
"Eh??", Billy hollered back, cupping his ear for emphasis, like a senile old geezer. He colored in embarrassment as soon as he made the ridiculous motion.
Looking amused, the man plucked a Sharpie from his back pocket, grabbed Billy's hand, and wrote across his palm: Dominic. Dom. Then he pointed to himself and smiled.
Smiling back - not knowing if he was more shocked by the man approaching him or by his own sudden boldness - Billy borrowed the marker and returned the favor, scribbling Billy across the top of Dominic's hand, a thrill coursing through him when Dominic didn't let go right away, instead let their fingers deliberately brush together for a moment.
Dom snatched Billy's other hand, took the Sharpie back, and wrote again, eyes holding his.
Dance with me, Billy.
tbc .....
Author: flybynite29
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: PG-13 - NC17 overall, this part R for sexual situations
Summary: A shy, lonely scientist, Billy stumbles into a club and finds more than he bargained for. But it may also turn out to be the greatest discovery of his life.
Warnings For Series: AU; slight mentions of past het forays; angst, heavy in parts; medical squick
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author does not know, and is in no way affiliated with the persons mentioned in this work. No disrespect is intended to the persons mentioned in this work. No money is in any way being made from this piece of pure fiction.
Feedback: Yes please; I would absolutely adore it : )
A/N: Here we go with another series. *eye roll* Muses seem to be attacking me from every direction just lately. Very special thank you to
silentdescant, who is the reason this fic came about in the first place. Ta and big hugs for the wonderful ideas! : )Another fella told me
he had a sister who looked just fine
Instead of being my deliverance
she had a strange resemblance
to a cat named Frankenstein
It's hard on a fella
when he don't know his way around
If I don't find me a honey
to help me spend my money
I'm gonna have to blow this town
Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody
I got some money 'cause I just got paid
How I wish I had someone to talk to
I'm in an awful way
~ Sam Cooke
Billy had meandered into the dance club quite by accident.
Manchester was not his town, he was here on convention- this had simply been the closest drinking spot to his hotel. The sign outside was not at all flashy, only Freeman's in plain red lettering, nothing even announcing it was a primarily gay nightclub; in fact, Billy had thought it a quiet corner pub until he came through the door and saw a throng of people having sex standing up.
At least that's what it looked like; one could hardly term their wild gyrations 'dancing'.
A reserved, studious scientist, this riotous place was really not Billy's type of thing. He recognized none of the music blasting deafeningly through the speakers; his taste ran more to Bach and golden oldies. When feeling particularly adventurous he'd put on Creedence or The Stones. Billy had intended to have a quick drink or two, then go on back to his hotel and turn in sensibly early.
Instead, he had been here three hours now, utterly entranced by a perfect stranger.
Billy had spotted the bloke straightaway, near the center of the dance floor. He was really no different than the others milling around him - less remarkable than some - but Billy could not tear his eyes away. Dressed in tattered jeans and revealing black silk shirt, eyes the color of the storm-swept sea, body lithe and supple, moving in all the right rhythms, wild and free under the strobes and thick haze of smoke, drenched in sweat, unabashedly touching and grinding against his male dancing partner... the man was beautiful.
At one point during the evening, Billy had a gin and tonic dumped down the back of his shirt by a novice waitress, and his stoolmate to the left had boaked noisily all over his own shoes, but these things barely even registered with Billy. The man on the dance floor held every bit of his attention.
Several times Billy thought the fellow made eye contact with him, but he finally dismissed the looks as a trick of the strobes. Why would the man be paying him any bit of mind when he had a gorgeous, young, and very pliable dance partner?
The bloke didn't seem to tire, had been going strong for hours, only stopping long enough to gulp a drink from the twin bar across the room or to sneak a few puffs of a cigarette in between dances. Billy himself, to keep up appearances, had been ordering whiskies right along the whole evening, and he suddenly realized he was far beyond tipsy, was very close to being all-out blootered. He hadn't been really drunk in ages, and he'd undoubtedly spend the large part of the next day draped over the rim of the toilet ... but the sight tonight was more than worth it. The next time the bartender made his rounds Billy waved him off, though he knew the damage had already been done.
Drunkenness, however, was the very least of Billy's worries. Far more disturbing was his current state of arousal: a large pup tent appeared to have been permanently erected in the crotch of his trousers. He didn't dare leave his seat, even to visit the loo. The situation suddenly grew worse: as Billy watched, the object of his fascination bent at the knees, then slowly licked his way up his partner's exposed stomach and chest. Billy could see the flick of his tongue from where he sat, and when it lapped rhythmically at the partner's nipple, Billy groaned aloud.
He'd never seen anything so blatantly carnal before in all his life.
He surreptitiously slipped a hand beneath the bar and pressed it firmly against his cock, willing the hardness to subside. The motion had the opposite of the desired effect, however ... instead of calming things down, Billy found his hips rising to meet his palm. He permitted himself a few very subtle thrusts, hoping to relieve the low, deep-seated ache, but forced his hand away after another minute.
Bad enough he'd allowed himself to reach this stage of public intoxication; he was damned if he was going to wank whilst perched on a bar stool in the middle of a crowded club. He needed to find some way to make a quick, unnoticed exit; if he had to, he'd nick his neighbor's jacket off the bar and use it as cover till he got to the doorway. It was time to leave this place ... Billy did not belong here; all he could do here was fantasize, work himself into more of a frenzy. He could never in a million years get up the nerve to do what he wanted to do, which was go out onto the floor, walk right up to his beautiful stranger, and ask him for a dance.
Billy could recite precisely the Darwinian Theory of Evolution, knew the scientific classification of nearly every plant and tree in existence, could tell you the complete genetic makeup of a soil sample ... but not what it was like to awaken in the arms of a lover. The two paltry sexual experiences he had had over the course of his life included a seamy meeting in a back alley with a lass who never rose from her knees and an utterly disturbing trip to a whore in Edinburgh who - although equipped with all the proper female bits - had borne an uncanny resemblance to Iggy Pop. The latter experience had left Billy so scarred that he'd dared not try again since. He'd never been with a lad at all, though he'd known since adolescence that he fancied both sexes. In his circle it was simply not done, not overtly at any rate, and even if it had been, Billy was far too timid to go trolling for a partner. He wasn't a loner, exactly, just solitary by nature and circumstance, very dedicated to his work. It was only recently that work didn't seem to be enough to fill the empty places inside him.
When Billy looked back out to the group of dancers, his stranger was gone.
He was surprised at the jolt of disappointment that shot through him. After all, it was for the best- he could now stumble back to his room and try to recuperate in time for tomorrow's lecture. He waited a few moments for his erection to subside, and had just tucked his wallet away and was getting ready to rise when a hand fell on his shoulder.
He turned and found himself staring into familiar blue/grey eyes. Up close, Billy realized what had made them stand out so- the man was wearing a generous amount of black eyeliner. Billy's only experience with blokes in makeup had been a Kiss concert, back in his youth. This was nothing at all like that nonsense... on this man, the makeup was dead sexy. Billy's breath caught in his throat.
The bloke yelled something, obviously trying to get some point across to Billy, but it was lost in the thumping of the music.
Billy shook his head, not understanding.
The man repeated it, a bit louder this time.
"Eh??", Billy hollered back, cupping his ear for emphasis, like a senile old geezer. He colored in embarrassment as soon as he made the ridiculous motion.
Looking amused, the man plucked a Sharpie from his back pocket, grabbed Billy's hand, and wrote across his palm: Dominic. Dom. Then he pointed to himself and smiled.
Smiling back - not knowing if he was more shocked by the man approaching him or by his own sudden boldness - Billy borrowed the marker and returned the favor, scribbling Billy across the top of Dominic's hand, a thrill coursing through him when Dominic didn't let go right away, instead let their fingers deliberately brush together for a moment.
Dom snatched Billy's other hand, took the Sharpie back, and wrote again, eyes holding his.
Dance with me, Billy.
tbc .....
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG BILLY! NERDY SCIENCE BOY BILLY! AND MANSLUT DOM! OMGZ THIS IS SO WONDERFUL AND SO MANY AMOUNTS OF GUH THAT IT MAKES MY BRAIN MELT!
I bet Billy can recite the periodic table, can't he?
EEEE OMG!
Loved this bit...
Billy could recite precisely the Darwinian Theory of Evolution, knew the scientific classification of nearly every plant and tree in existence, could tell you the complete genetic makeup of a soil sample ... but not what it was like to awaken in the arms of a lover.
*Sits all nice and quiet-like to await the next chapter.*
Billy! Dom! FIC YAY ZOMG!
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I bet Billy can recite the periodic table, can't he?
Backward, forward, and probably in Greek. ; )
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Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Berilium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen...
Yeah. Um. Put me down. Please? ;-)
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Go, Billy, go!! :D:D:D:D:D
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Yay for euphemisms. *grins*
Thanks so very much for reading, glad you enjoyed! : )
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NERDY SCIENCE BOY BILLY! AND MANSLUT DOM! OMGZ THIS IS SO WONDERFUL AND SO MANY AMOUNTS OF GUH THAT IT MAKES MY BRAIN MELT!
yeah, massive amounts of GUH SEXY DOM IN EYELINER DANCING OMG YAY. *ded* :D
can't wait for more of this!!
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(I have to add a sidenote here, nothing at all to do with your lovely comment, but I'm laughing so hard at myself at the moment I can hardly type. When your reply popped up in my inbox, I didn't see the LJ part, only the driveshaft part, and I was sitting here, all confused, wondering Why is the band Driveshaft sending me an email??!' Oh boy, it's time for therapy, seriously. *snorts*)
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Love it... oh, yes, definitely want to see them dance together!
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And their method of communication...writing on hands was cute...and hot.
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So glad you liked this- thank you for reading and commenting. : )
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dance.with.him. oh god, yes!
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