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[boxcarglamour.livejournal.com]

Title, Unentitled.
Author, pocketofaclown
Rating/Warnings, R
Pairing(s), DM/BB
Summary, Billy and Dom are featured in a motorcyle mag.
Feedback, If you want please. (Do it here) Or post them here and I'll pass them along. :D
Disclaimer, You know the story.
Author's Note(s), First time.. :)
Poster's Notes, A very close friend of mine wrote this and I felt the need to share it with you because I thought it was really, very amazing.



"How do I explain it?"

The two looked at each other over the chrome plated BMW. It was a true monster machine. Twisted iron handle bars that had also been chrome plated. Rings of cold steel rippled to the climax of a yellow diamond worth enough to have been installed with the bike on set. The photographer had made an especially queer comment with his rough, back wood, slur of speech and attendedless strew of hippy hair. "Just what kind of tricky bike is this with diamonds on it?" He was a chopper man, man. The crack alone was enough to make him cock back and laugh. The fact that he imagined it in his favorite comical tone of his favorite person made it all end up as a smile. The secret kind, the kind only Billy saw. The kind only he could produce. His hands relaxed into his pockets, his mind dutifully disarmed. His fingertips rubbed slowly inside the interior of each pocket. From high-high hip to high-low hip, and back again. Billy was getting impatient. God knows when the photographer would get back. And Lord knew if they didn't have the problem unresolved by then..

"You don't. You don't need to. I understand."

The whisper came forced. Dom was concerned about their hippyhappy friend walking in on them at any point in the entirely private conversation. Neither seemed to mind the fact that the gay thing was a rumor and running joke. It was cute. Made for an easy laugh, and an even easier cover. It was a feeling Dom had struggled with. In his mind, he was. Or maybe he was just bisexual. How did you know? It wasn't something talked about in the English rugby muds or soccer fields. Yes. He had to be bisexual. So it was as easy as accepting it...not like that was easy. But when the feeling of his bare tummy on a pillow, hands forward and knees dug down was just as pleasurable as the same situation instead he atop female? It was easy, it seemed. There was a private fear in his mind. Many, if he took the the time to count them. Which he did NOT. Were there fears about Billy's...request? Yes. But those were only natural. He worried about jealousy. Both were posessive. Both emotional. But only Dom seemed to brood. Billy seemed transfixed with the depth and intensity the English boy could offer. And in turn, Dom thanked God for Billy's light spirit and even at times shallowed mind. As horrible as it sounded in his own mind, it was refreshing. A nice escape from himself. His eyes went wide, voice hushed but pulsating all the same.

"Really? Wow...maybe you'd understand the urge of breaking this sweet little trolly in, then?"

Things always got paticularly bad when he started to grin like that. It was as close to a true giggle as Mona would ever allow himself outside the safety and serenity of his own bedroom.

"I don't think they want me scratching up the pretty gas tank, do you?"

"...you could always grab on the handle bar. Or just hang on tight."

"...with this engine, you'll have to hang on tight!", happily hooted the happyhippy, coming around the corner. Completely unaware. Thank every star in the sky. Dom should've known better than to believe his boy would ever let a chance like that go. In true Hobbit fashion, Boyd nudged his chest with an elbow, grinning with a wink.

"Hear that, Dom? You'll have to hang on pretty tight with this 'engine.' White knuckles, even."

It would not be the first time for white knuckles. He never forgot any of their nights. Or early mornings, as the case had been in the Hilton that night. With a Hilton. Now it was his turn to hoot. Although he restrained his happy hollar to the interior of his mind.

"Got that right, boy. Now let's get started. You two just mosey on over behind the Rings bike and we'll start popping pics."

Each picture was a different expression. They photographer's editor had already decided what kind of picture they were going to use. A happy enough picture that didn't "wasn't too 'happy'." (in the editor's own words) The two boys would be shrunk digitially so only their heads would be peeking over the lines of the bike. Like good little Hobbits. It was a nice enough idea that both had been all into it. Now if only the muscle men knew the two boys were talking the subjects they were while posing for chopper nation. Another funny thought. This time each whisper was only enough to hop from one boy's ear to the other.

"...I really don't mind. I'm even kinda excited...but it has to be a blond. White knuckle purposes only."