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monaboyd Sep. 22nd, 2007 08:03 pm)
flybynite29.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Sep. 22nd, 2007 08:03 pm)Title: Original Prankster, Pt. 1 of 2
Author: flybynite29
Pairing: Monaboyd, hints of Orlando/Elijah.
Rating: R for language and sexual references.
Summary: Drunken wagering is never a good idea. It's especially dangerous when Dom's the one making the rules.
WARNING this part: Crack!fic ... seriously. Drunkeness.
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: Title comes from The Offspring. I'm not sure where the rest of this textbook example of insanity came from. Takes place during the filming of Rings. The second and final part - heaven help us - will be posted in the next couple of days.
"Dommie, you're off yer head!" Billy snorted, refilling his tumbler of whisky and taking a hearty drink. He'd already downed five rounds, but the way this conversation was shaping up he was going to need a whole lot more before all was said and done. When Dom went off on one of his tangents all Billy could do was sit back and brace himself for the ride.
"Totally fuckin' mental, dude. Totally.", Elijah slurred up at Dom, abandoning his fourth giant rum and Coke in favor of snuggling. He scootched around, making himself more comfortable on Orlando's lap, nuzzling against his neck, a growing puddle of drool pooling on the collar of Orli's silk paisley shirt.
"Definitely off your head and most assuredly fuckin' mental.", Orlando agreed woozily, taking another sip of his drink and sighing in satisfaction. "Christ, I bloody love this peach shite!"
Dom, after months of witnessing the monstrosity that was intoxicated Bloom, had surreptitiously switched Orlando's apricot schnapps for a glass of water twenty minutes earlier, adding a wee pink brolly to the drink for decoration. After a couple of shots, it only took the mere suggestion of alcohol to keep Orlando happy.
"I'm none of the above." Dom grinned around at his snookered audience. "I'm dead serious. Haven't you ever watched him, guys?"
The four of them were sitting in Viggo's den, the rest of the party having moved on to other parts of the house. The subject of the heated debate was Sir Ian, who was at that moment holding forth in the adjoining room. It could be termed nothing else; Ian McKellen did not merely speak, especially after a snoot-full of brandy. He held forth, oftentimes at great length. He was presently talking Rhys-Davies' ear off about textile factories in China. John was desperately trying to distract him from his spiel by the temptation of more alcohol, but Ian was having none of it; seemed to, in fact, have altogether forgotten John was even there.
Which all led right up to the point Dom was emphatically - if drunkenly - trying to make.
"I'm telling you, a bloody mastodon could come prancing into the room and he wouldn't notice a thing! When he's talking, he goes off ... somewhere. Does the same thing when he's acting. The rest of the cast and crew may as well have gone on holiday, for all he knows." He turned on the couch, emphasizing his point to Billy by jabbing his glass at him, liberally spraying Billy's crotch with tequila.
"Dom, man ... maybe he's just ... becomin' one with the fuckin' stage, ya know? Feeling the stage.", Lij gurgled importantly, vainly trying to raise his head from where it was rapidly becoming glued to Orlando's shoulder.
Dom rolled his eyes heavenward. "Just close those baby blues, Elwood. That's a good lad. We'll wake you when you start puking in elfboy's lap."
"Pukin' in my lap!", Orli giggled into his drink, the tip of the umbrella slipping partway up his left nostril. When trolleyed, Orlando had the perfectly annoying habit of parroting back anything said within earshot ... which was only one of the countless examples of why alcohol and Bloom did not mix. Dom, for some unknown reason, seemed to be the favorite target of these booze-fueled outbursts; and also happened to be the one driven most bugshit by them.
Billy chose to ignore the comments from the peanut gallery, focusing only on Dom. "That's patently ludicrous, Dommie. No one gets that involved. Mastodon ignorance does not a fool make." He paused a moment, then cocked an eyebrow at the incomprehensibility of his own statement.
Dom, however, never missed a beat. "Don't believe me, Bill? Observe ..."
He plunked his drink down on the coffee table, sloshing what little he hadn't already dumped on Billy over the side, then rose from the sofa and without warning began madly dancing around the room in jerky little spurts, his body jolting as if he were receiving an electrical shock every few seconds. He went boogieing up to within three feet of Sir Ian, waving his arms wildly and pistoning his hips in an absurd sexual parody. John sensed movement behind him and turned his head, stared at Dom for a long moment, eyebrows raised, then dismissed him, deciding that even textile mills beat watching a drunk hobbit attempt to get jiggy with it. Ian - who had already been facing in Dom's direction - looked right through him, his eyes far off and dreamy, missing not one word of his soliloquy.
"See?!" Dom pumped a fist in victory, dancing his way back over to where Billy sat. "Not one single fucking glance!"
Orlando blinked and grinned owlishly at the spectacle, while Elijah looked as if he might be trying to memorize Dom's every move for later use.
Billy only hid his face in his hands and groaned. "Sit the bloody hell down, Dominic! 'tis not that he's not seeing you, just that he's ignoring you. Which, if we had any sodding sense, we'd be doing, as well. Y' look like a rooster on crack."
"Crackhead rooster, Dommie!", Orlando chortled merrily, then went to take another drink, his face crumpling as he blearily realized there was nothing left in his glass. He gazed up at Dom imploringly, looking as if he might burst into tears at any moment."'My peach shite's all gone..."
Dom sighed wearily at Orlando before settling back on the couch, wrapping his arms around Billy and climbing into his lap.
"Gerroff! 'm mortified, truly.", Billy said, vainly pushing at Dom. "And the point of that entire wee horror show was?"
"My point is that the four of us could walk in right in front of McKellan when he's gone off like that, any place, any time, doing any thing, and he'd know nothing about it, wouldn't even bloody recognize us. In fact - I'll bet on it, Bills. And you know my dancing only makes you want me more, baby.", he added huskily, peering into Billy's eyes for a moment before running a finger sensuously over his lips.
Billy batted at the finger in irritation. "Fuck no, it doesn't. I think you just turned me straight, Monaghan.", he muttered dryly, then immediately made a liar out of himself by snaking his hand beneath Dom's shirt and leaning forward to suck on his earlobe.
Dom shivered a little and pressed back into Billy, but refused to be dissuaded from his argument. “A wager, Bills. You name the time and the place. I, of course, name everything else. You game, love?"
Billy, who would never turn down a challenge issued by Dom, no matter how absurd, immediately took him up on it, leaving off tweaking Dom's nipple long enough to shake his hand. "You've got a bet."
Dom shook with him then reached for his drink, studying the empty glass for a long moment, frowning. "I seem to've lost my tequila."
Billy blinked down at the large wet spot on his crotch. "I believe most of it's on m' tadger, Dom."
"Ah ... brilliant!" Dom dipped his head eagerly.
Billy reluctantly tugged him back up by the ears. "Children present, love." He inclined his head towards the other two occupants of the room.
Dom glanced over in their direction, then looked back to Billy, smirking crookedly. "Children, yes. Present ... no." Orlando was serenely petting the air five inches from Elijah's head, sighing happily as he ran his fingers through silky, non-existent strands of hair. What was worse; Elijah had his eyes closed in bliss, content smile on his face, purring into the 'touch'.
"You were saying something about a bet ...", Billy prodded Dom. "Could we get on with it, do y’ think, so we can go home and commence with the tadger de-liquoring?"
"Absolutely.", Dom grinned, turning in Billy's arms to face him, straddling his thighs and aligning their bodies. "All that's left is to decide the losing penalty. Your call, Bill ... I'm in a magnanimous mood tonight." This last was said with a teasing forward bump of the hips.
"Christ ... I dunno ..." Billy could barely remember his own name - let alone make any type of coherent decision - with a lap full of warm, wriggling Dominic. "Let’s see ... loser does all the laundering for a month?"
"Where's the fun in that, Boyd?", Dom pouted. "You've the imagination of a turnip.” He winced even as he said it - Orlando would repeat just about anything in his current state, but some words were positively guaranteed to set him off.
Billy raised his voice a bit to be heard over the gleeful cries of 'Turnip!' echoing throughout the room. "And I suppose you have a better idea than laundry, Dominic?" It was a dangerous question, but whisky and lust had dulled Billy’s senses.
"Mmmm, we'll just call it a small addition, Pip. Meant for your ears only. C'mere ..." Dom crooked a finger, winking seductively.
Billy warily bent in and Dom whispered to him, Billy's eyes going wide after a moment.
"Agreed?", Dom asked softly, laying a path of butterfly kisses up Billy's neck.
"Aye.", Billy sighed, breath hitching. "Agreed. Against every bit of m' better judgment."
"Excellent." Dom smiled in satisfaction before placing a hot, openmouthed kiss over Billy's clavicle. "Where and when, then?", he breathed against Billy’s skin.
Billy bit back a moan before answering in a low, shaky voice. "Dunno ...it'd have to be somewhere off-set, I suppose ...."
Dom pulled back and sat up, his expression thoughtful, leaving Billy to whimper a bit at the loss. "Where could we get to Gandalf off set, I wonder? Not like he drops in for karaoke night at the Blue Platypus."
"He's got tha' ... whatchamafuckin'callit ...thing ... at tha' place tomorrow, 'member, Sblomie?!", Elijah piped up proudly, hand fluttering aimlessly in the air to make his point. He gave one last emphatic wave, then passed out cold in Orlando's arms.
"The thing at that place.", Orli echoed, nodding sagely at Dom, then joined Lij in dreamland, head lolling back on the armchair, snoring delicately.
Dom shook his head despairingly in Orlando's direction, then turned back to Billy. "I think Doodle means that talk Sir Ian's supposed to give tomorrow, at the drama University."
"Och ... tha's right, he is!", Billy said. "Lovely. Tomorrow 'tis, then." He moaned as Dom squirmed back into his lap, rotating his hips in a maddeningly slow circle. "Now, can we please, for the love of Jaysus, get home and ..."
"Yes." Dom's grin was positively lecherous. "Just satisfy me on one last point and I'll go ring for a ride. In fact ...", Dom leaned forward and murmured into Billy's ear, tongue dragging hotly along the shell, "satisfy me on this, and I won't even make you wait till we get home, Bills- I'll have you off right in the cab."
"If you don't make your point within the next two seconds, Dominic,”, Billy growled, “you can forget the cab altogether, because I'm going to bend y' over right here on Vig's antique coffee table and fuck you raw."
“Cheeky, filthy wench.” Dom, never one to care about who might be watching, dove in and sucked on Billy’s tongue until Billy was quivering beneath him. When he finally tore himself away and pulled back, his eyes were dark with equal parts lust and challenge. “Okay. Here’s the rub, Billy: No safe-word.”
Billy’s eyebrows shot skyward. This was the ultimate dare. To the rest of the world ‘safe-word‘ referred to putting the brakes on some over-the-top sexual act. In the Universe Of Dom-n-Billy - where perfect sexual compatibility had never been a problem and no such thing as too kinky existed - it stood for something completely different. It was a top-secret phrase reserved solely for the wagering game, in the event that one of them ventured too far into the realm of insanity to suit the other. The phrase had never before been implemented, because the one who cried uncle would be teased mercilessly for the rest of eternity - but the option had always been there. Until now. Dom had just pulled the safety net right out from under them. Billy felt the smallest tremor of anxiety at this turn of events ... but he wasn‘t about to let Dom know it. He grinned complacently. “Not a problem, Dominic. I don’t need the bloody safe-word. Because I’ve got a guaranteed win.”
Dom snorted. “Guaranteed win, my arse.“ He paused a moment to count, then smirked cheekily and pointed at himself. “Twenty-seven bets, only six losses. Respect it, Bill.”
Orlando’s head suddenly popped up from its resting place and an impromptu serenading of Viggo’s floor lamp quickly ensued. “R.E.S.P.E.C.T.! Find out what it means to me!“
“For fuck’s sake, someone put a muzzle on him, yeah?!”, Dom cried, burying his face in his hands.
Billy patted the top of Dom’s head and rose from the couch. "I’ll go call for that cab, Dommie ... you just sit here and prepare yourself for defeat. No matter what you say, there's no way in holy hell the four of us can march in right in front of McKellan without his noticing."
As Billy walked over to the phone, Dom raised his head and grinned smugly at his lover‘s back. "There's one way..."
to be continued....
Author: flybynite29
Pairing: Monaboyd, hints of Orlando/Elijah.
Rating: R for language and sexual references.
Summary: Drunken wagering is never a good idea. It's especially dangerous when Dom's the one making the rules.
WARNING this part: Crack!fic ... seriously. Drunkeness.
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: Title comes from The Offspring. I'm not sure where the rest of this textbook example of insanity came from. Takes place during the filming of Rings. The second and final part - heaven help us - will be posted in the next couple of days.
"Dommie, you're off yer head!" Billy snorted, refilling his tumbler of whisky and taking a hearty drink. He'd already downed five rounds, but the way this conversation was shaping up he was going to need a whole lot more before all was said and done. When Dom went off on one of his tangents all Billy could do was sit back and brace himself for the ride.
"Totally fuckin' mental, dude. Totally.", Elijah slurred up at Dom, abandoning his fourth giant rum and Coke in favor of snuggling. He scootched around, making himself more comfortable on Orlando's lap, nuzzling against his neck, a growing puddle of drool pooling on the collar of Orli's silk paisley shirt.
"Definitely off your head and most assuredly fuckin' mental.", Orlando agreed woozily, taking another sip of his drink and sighing in satisfaction. "Christ, I bloody love this peach shite!"
Dom, after months of witnessing the monstrosity that was intoxicated Bloom, had surreptitiously switched Orlando's apricot schnapps for a glass of water twenty minutes earlier, adding a wee pink brolly to the drink for decoration. After a couple of shots, it only took the mere suggestion of alcohol to keep Orlando happy.
"I'm none of the above." Dom grinned around at his snookered audience. "I'm dead serious. Haven't you ever watched him, guys?"
The four of them were sitting in Viggo's den, the rest of the party having moved on to other parts of the house. The subject of the heated debate was Sir Ian, who was at that moment holding forth in the adjoining room. It could be termed nothing else; Ian McKellen did not merely speak, especially after a snoot-full of brandy. He held forth, oftentimes at great length. He was presently talking Rhys-Davies' ear off about textile factories in China. John was desperately trying to distract him from his spiel by the temptation of more alcohol, but Ian was having none of it; seemed to, in fact, have altogether forgotten John was even there.
Which all led right up to the point Dom was emphatically - if drunkenly - trying to make.
"I'm telling you, a bloody mastodon could come prancing into the room and he wouldn't notice a thing! When he's talking, he goes off ... somewhere. Does the same thing when he's acting. The rest of the cast and crew may as well have gone on holiday, for all he knows." He turned on the couch, emphasizing his point to Billy by jabbing his glass at him, liberally spraying Billy's crotch with tequila.
"Dom, man ... maybe he's just ... becomin' one with the fuckin' stage, ya know? Feeling the stage.", Lij gurgled importantly, vainly trying to raise his head from where it was rapidly becoming glued to Orlando's shoulder.
Dom rolled his eyes heavenward. "Just close those baby blues, Elwood. That's a good lad. We'll wake you when you start puking in elfboy's lap."
"Pukin' in my lap!", Orli giggled into his drink, the tip of the umbrella slipping partway up his left nostril. When trolleyed, Orlando had the perfectly annoying habit of parroting back anything said within earshot ... which was only one of the countless examples of why alcohol and Bloom did not mix. Dom, for some unknown reason, seemed to be the favorite target of these booze-fueled outbursts; and also happened to be the one driven most bugshit by them.
Billy chose to ignore the comments from the peanut gallery, focusing only on Dom. "That's patently ludicrous, Dommie. No one gets that involved. Mastodon ignorance does not a fool make." He paused a moment, then cocked an eyebrow at the incomprehensibility of his own statement.
Dom, however, never missed a beat. "Don't believe me, Bill? Observe ..."
He plunked his drink down on the coffee table, sloshing what little he hadn't already dumped on Billy over the side, then rose from the sofa and without warning began madly dancing around the room in jerky little spurts, his body jolting as if he were receiving an electrical shock every few seconds. He went boogieing up to within three feet of Sir Ian, waving his arms wildly and pistoning his hips in an absurd sexual parody. John sensed movement behind him and turned his head, stared at Dom for a long moment, eyebrows raised, then dismissed him, deciding that even textile mills beat watching a drunk hobbit attempt to get jiggy with it. Ian - who had already been facing in Dom's direction - looked right through him, his eyes far off and dreamy, missing not one word of his soliloquy.
"See?!" Dom pumped a fist in victory, dancing his way back over to where Billy sat. "Not one single fucking glance!"
Orlando blinked and grinned owlishly at the spectacle, while Elijah looked as if he might be trying to memorize Dom's every move for later use.
Billy only hid his face in his hands and groaned. "Sit the bloody hell down, Dominic! 'tis not that he's not seeing you, just that he's ignoring you. Which, if we had any sodding sense, we'd be doing, as well. Y' look like a rooster on crack."
"Crackhead rooster, Dommie!", Orlando chortled merrily, then went to take another drink, his face crumpling as he blearily realized there was nothing left in his glass. He gazed up at Dom imploringly, looking as if he might burst into tears at any moment."'My peach shite's all gone..."
Dom sighed wearily at Orlando before settling back on the couch, wrapping his arms around Billy and climbing into his lap.
"Gerroff! 'm mortified, truly.", Billy said, vainly pushing at Dom. "And the point of that entire wee horror show was?"
"My point is that the four of us could walk in right in front of McKellan when he's gone off like that, any place, any time, doing any thing, and he'd know nothing about it, wouldn't even bloody recognize us. In fact - I'll bet on it, Bills. And you know my dancing only makes you want me more, baby.", he added huskily, peering into Billy's eyes for a moment before running a finger sensuously over his lips.
Billy batted at the finger in irritation. "Fuck no, it doesn't. I think you just turned me straight, Monaghan.", he muttered dryly, then immediately made a liar out of himself by snaking his hand beneath Dom's shirt and leaning forward to suck on his earlobe.
Dom shivered a little and pressed back into Billy, but refused to be dissuaded from his argument. “A wager, Bills. You name the time and the place. I, of course, name everything else. You game, love?"
Billy, who would never turn down a challenge issued by Dom, no matter how absurd, immediately took him up on it, leaving off tweaking Dom's nipple long enough to shake his hand. "You've got a bet."
Dom shook with him then reached for his drink, studying the empty glass for a long moment, frowning. "I seem to've lost my tequila."
Billy blinked down at the large wet spot on his crotch. "I believe most of it's on m' tadger, Dom."
"Ah ... brilliant!" Dom dipped his head eagerly.
Billy reluctantly tugged him back up by the ears. "Children present, love." He inclined his head towards the other two occupants of the room.
Dom glanced over in their direction, then looked back to Billy, smirking crookedly. "Children, yes. Present ... no." Orlando was serenely petting the air five inches from Elijah's head, sighing happily as he ran his fingers through silky, non-existent strands of hair. What was worse; Elijah had his eyes closed in bliss, content smile on his face, purring into the 'touch'.
"You were saying something about a bet ...", Billy prodded Dom. "Could we get on with it, do y’ think, so we can go home and commence with the tadger de-liquoring?"
"Absolutely.", Dom grinned, turning in Billy's arms to face him, straddling his thighs and aligning their bodies. "All that's left is to decide the losing penalty. Your call, Bill ... I'm in a magnanimous mood tonight." This last was said with a teasing forward bump of the hips.
"Christ ... I dunno ..." Billy could barely remember his own name - let alone make any type of coherent decision - with a lap full of warm, wriggling Dominic. "Let’s see ... loser does all the laundering for a month?"
"Where's the fun in that, Boyd?", Dom pouted. "You've the imagination of a turnip.” He winced even as he said it - Orlando would repeat just about anything in his current state, but some words were positively guaranteed to set him off.
Billy raised his voice a bit to be heard over the gleeful cries of 'Turnip!' echoing throughout the room. "And I suppose you have a better idea than laundry, Dominic?" It was a dangerous question, but whisky and lust had dulled Billy’s senses.
"Mmmm, we'll just call it a small addition, Pip. Meant for your ears only. C'mere ..." Dom crooked a finger, winking seductively.
Billy warily bent in and Dom whispered to him, Billy's eyes going wide after a moment.
"Agreed?", Dom asked softly, laying a path of butterfly kisses up Billy's neck.
"Aye.", Billy sighed, breath hitching. "Agreed. Against every bit of m' better judgment."
"Excellent." Dom smiled in satisfaction before placing a hot, openmouthed kiss over Billy's clavicle. "Where and when, then?", he breathed against Billy’s skin.
Billy bit back a moan before answering in a low, shaky voice. "Dunno ...it'd have to be somewhere off-set, I suppose ...."
Dom pulled back and sat up, his expression thoughtful, leaving Billy to whimper a bit at the loss. "Where could we get to Gandalf off set, I wonder? Not like he drops in for karaoke night at the Blue Platypus."
"He's got tha' ... whatchamafuckin'callit ...thing ... at tha' place tomorrow, 'member, Sblomie?!", Elijah piped up proudly, hand fluttering aimlessly in the air to make his point. He gave one last emphatic wave, then passed out cold in Orlando's arms.
"The thing at that place.", Orli echoed, nodding sagely at Dom, then joined Lij in dreamland, head lolling back on the armchair, snoring delicately.
Dom shook his head despairingly in Orlando's direction, then turned back to Billy. "I think Doodle means that talk Sir Ian's supposed to give tomorrow, at the drama University."
"Och ... tha's right, he is!", Billy said. "Lovely. Tomorrow 'tis, then." He moaned as Dom squirmed back into his lap, rotating his hips in a maddeningly slow circle. "Now, can we please, for the love of Jaysus, get home and ..."
"Yes." Dom's grin was positively lecherous. "Just satisfy me on one last point and I'll go ring for a ride. In fact ...", Dom leaned forward and murmured into Billy's ear, tongue dragging hotly along the shell, "satisfy me on this, and I won't even make you wait till we get home, Bills- I'll have you off right in the cab."
"If you don't make your point within the next two seconds, Dominic,”, Billy growled, “you can forget the cab altogether, because I'm going to bend y' over right here on Vig's antique coffee table and fuck you raw."
“Cheeky, filthy wench.” Dom, never one to care about who might be watching, dove in and sucked on Billy’s tongue until Billy was quivering beneath him. When he finally tore himself away and pulled back, his eyes were dark with equal parts lust and challenge. “Okay. Here’s the rub, Billy: No safe-word.”
Billy’s eyebrows shot skyward. This was the ultimate dare. To the rest of the world ‘safe-word‘ referred to putting the brakes on some over-the-top sexual act. In the Universe Of Dom-n-Billy - where perfect sexual compatibility had never been a problem and no such thing as too kinky existed - it stood for something completely different. It was a top-secret phrase reserved solely for the wagering game, in the event that one of them ventured too far into the realm of insanity to suit the other. The phrase had never before been implemented, because the one who cried uncle would be teased mercilessly for the rest of eternity - but the option had always been there. Until now. Dom had just pulled the safety net right out from under them. Billy felt the smallest tremor of anxiety at this turn of events ... but he wasn‘t about to let Dom know it. He grinned complacently. “Not a problem, Dominic. I don’t need the bloody safe-word. Because I’ve got a guaranteed win.”
Dom snorted. “Guaranteed win, my arse.“ He paused a moment to count, then smirked cheekily and pointed at himself. “Twenty-seven bets, only six losses. Respect it, Bill.”
Orlando’s head suddenly popped up from its resting place and an impromptu serenading of Viggo’s floor lamp quickly ensued. “R.E.S.P.E.C.T.! Find out what it means to me!“
“For fuck’s sake, someone put a muzzle on him, yeah?!”, Dom cried, burying his face in his hands.
Billy patted the top of Dom’s head and rose from the couch. "I’ll go call for that cab, Dommie ... you just sit here and prepare yourself for defeat. No matter what you say, there's no way in holy hell the four of us can march in right in front of McKellan without his noticing."
As Billy walked over to the phone, Dom raised his head and grinned smugly at his lover‘s back. "There's one way..."
to be continued....
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Apart from that, though, I love it.
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Thanks, too, for the heads-up on 'rutabaga' - I never even considered that the word might not be universally known. I'm not entirely certain what a rutabaga is myself, to be honest, other than some type of root veggie, but I had Dom use that word because it's so goofy sounding. Btw, now you have me curious as to what the Blackadder connotation of 'turnip' might be. Lol Would love to hear that!
At any rate, your kind comments are greatly appreciated. : )
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Thanks so much for reading! : )
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hee! great idea for a wager. I some how suspect Ian does notice everything that goes on around him, he's just better at not letting on unless it suits his needs.
I can't wait to see what they bet, why Billy's gonna wish he had his safe-word, and just what you've got Dom thinking up in that twisted brain of his.
Kerry =)
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Thanks so much for reading. : )
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That was so well done matey, I especially liked the fact we're not quite sure what the challenge is because of all of that mischievous whispering. You build the tension (and potential filthiness) up really well.
The drunken, petting Orlando was very cute as well. ;-)
I can't wait for the next part.
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I'm not entirely positive what the exact challenge is myself ... the muses haven't revealed quite all to me just yet. Lol
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Love drunk Dom and Billy making some sort of bet. Can't wait to see the outcome :)
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Liquor + Monaboyd = Dangerous Fun ;P