Two Sides of the Situation

[ceartas.livejournal.com]

Title: Two Sides of the Situation
Author: ceartas AND perianella
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: R for sexual innuendo
Summary: Dom gets a new outfit...and we get to see what Billy thinks of it, as well as what Dom thinks of Billy's reaction.
Feedback: Is framed and hung on my walls.
Disclaimer: As real as swiss cheese is solid.
Beta: the lovely, wonderful nickelsandcoats
A/N: This was an experiment in which I wrote half and perianella wrote half. To make a long story short, it started out as talk about stripper!fic and somehow ended up as rockstar!Dom in two parts. Hrm. And no, I'm not telling who wrote what part. HA.




I timed it just right, thanks to a helpful telephone call from Orlando who tipped me off as to when Billy left the restaurant. I could hear him in the kitchen; the refrigerator door opened and closed, his soft footsteps came back down the hall. I arranged my stance very carefully, leaning against the back of the sofa, one leg cocked up slightly just to tighten the leather a bit across my hips. He had a beer in one hand and stopped dead when he caught sight of me.

“Hey, Bill. Just got in myself,” I greeted innocently enough.

“Unhh…”

“Yeah?” I asked, trying not to smile at his reaction. Fuck, I loved making him stammer. I could see him searching for words, but he only came out with another stutter. So I pushed another button, pitching my voice low and a little raspy before asking, “Like what you see, Boyd?”

I watched Billy closely, trying to figure out which way he’d jump. He was quick on his feet but I figured I could stay one step ahead of him. I watched as he rubbed a palm down his thigh before taking a swig of beer.

“You look like a feckin’ idiot, Dom.”

“You sure?” I asked, and couldn’t keep the grin from splitting my face. I think he was blushing as he took a good, long look at me. My hair was all over the place, like usual. I needed a shave, too, but he’d never quite seen me dressed like this. No baggy sweats and tees tonight, instead a snug, sleeveless black tee tucked into even tighter black leather pants.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Billy said, somehow making that lovely lilting voice flat and hard. “You look like a biker experiment gone soddin’ wrong.”

Biker! Biker?? I flipped a hand at him in disgust. God, he could be frickin’ dense sometimes. “I’m a ROCK STAR, Bill. Get it straight, will ya?” I tossed the aviator sunglasses away so I could glare at him.

“Straight like you, huh?” he snorted a bit smugly, knowing he’d riled me.

Then his gaze was finally caught and held by my new wrist cuffs. They were wide and thick, black leather studded with bright, shiny silver spikes and they matched the spiked leather collar hugging my throat. Billy’s eyes widened as they took them in. 'Ooh, yeah, Billy-baby,' I thought gleefully, 'I’ve got you now.' He shifted on his feet, but I kept my eyes carefully on his face, thinking I could take my time with him now, though the leather trousers were pulled a wee bit snugger on me. Sometimes I forgot to account for just how much his wide green eyes on my body could get to me.

“You like my new cuffs, Billy?” I asked sweetly, idly rubbing one hand across my midsection, and watched as he watched the movement, knowing he was going to melt at any second now, and waiting to see it, ready to scoop him up and—

“Quite a fashion statement. If you’re a bulldog,” Billy told me politely, blasting apart my little fantasy of him melting for me. He sauntered over, ignoring my spluttering and glaring, picking up my wrist with exaggerated care as if to examine the spikes in more detail.

He looked straight into my eyes, grinning wide, having neatly turned the tables, “Best take care you don’t catch any important parts on these things, Dom. Better yet—” In a flash he had the cuff unhooked and was just as quickly fastening it on his own wrist.

“Hey!” I tried to protest his thievery when he brought his thigh to rest deliberately hard against the point where the black leather trousers bulged and hooked one finger under the collar to pull it tight.

“You wanna rock my world, tonight, Dommie?” he asked softly, tightening the pull of the collar deliberately. I swallowed hard. He knew I did. Sweat beaded on my upper lip. Laid back Billy didn’t often take the lead but when he did— His grin widened.

“Then come on, rockstar-boy. You're gonna sing. For me.”


**************************


I turned the knob on the door and let myself quietly into the apartment. It was eerily quiet and dark, save for one lamp that Dom had left on in the living room. Kicking off my shoes, I hung up my coat in the closet and padded my way to the kitchen. Stifling a yawn, I tossed my keys onto the table then pulled open the refrigerator door.

“Hmm,” I thought to myself, “Milk? Nah. Water? Nah.”

Making a decision, I grabbed a beer and closed the door with a kick behind me. As I made my way back to the living room, I tried to remember where Dom said he was going and when he was going to be back. I stopped suddenly when I saw him leaning casually on the back of the sofa, one leg propped up on the empty stereo box that hadn’t been taken out to the trash yet.

“Hey, Bill. Just got in myself,” he greeted innocently.

“Uhhhh…”

“Yeah?” Dom quirked an eyebrow in my direction, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

I ran my dry tongue over equally dry lips, trying to maintain some level of composure, “Ehm…”

“Like what you see, Boyd?”

Another flick of pink tongue with the addition of rubbing sweaty palms on thighs and I knew that my defences were slowly breaking down. But I couldn’t let him see that. He was an arrogant little shit when he knew I was at my breaking point. I’d have to pull out the big guns. That’s right. Resort to bold-faced lying. Sometimes I could trick him for a moment or two.

“You look like a feckin’ idiot, Dom.”

“You sure?” the grin was out in full force, cheeky from ear to ear.

I cautiously let my eyes trail down his body, taking in and enjoying the choice of apparel for the day. Dirty blonde hair was tousled in all directions, but the stormy grey eyes were covered with a pair of dark aviator sunglasses. Tight, black tee shirt stretched snugly over taut pectoral muscles. Shiny-new black leather jacket to match the … oh my. Painted-on black leather pants that clung to all the right places. I swallowed with extreme difficulty.

“Yeh, I’m sure,” I replied, feigning indifference, “you look like a biker experiment gone soddin’ wrong.”

He made a disgusted grunting sound and waved his right hand in the air to signify the overplayed “talk to the hand” gesture.

“I’m a friggen’ ROCK STAR, Bill. Get it straight, will ya?”

“Straight like you, huh?” I snorted.

If looks could kill, I’d probably be dead right now. I grinned. But only for a second because then I caught a glimpse of them. The wrist cuffs. But not his regular ones. No, these had spikes on them. And the collar round his neck. With more spikes. A warm tingling sensation spread throughout my body and nestled quickly in my groin. This pretending not to be turned on thing was harder than I had earlier anticipated. Harder in every sense of the word, I noted, as I tried to inconspicuously shift my position.

“You like my new cuffs, Billy?” he asked almost sweetly, as he lazily rubbed a hand across his stomach, and mine started doing cartwheels.

‘Breathe, Boyd. Don’t let him get the upper hand here,’ I thought to myself before responding blandly, “Quite a fashion statement. If you’re a bulldog.”

I repressed another quick grin by taking a swig of my beer and walking over to where he was standing, glaring at me again and making little frustrated ‘pfffft’ noises. I delicately lifted his wrist and ran my fingers lightly over the spikes, examining them with great interest. Lifting my gaze back up to meet his grey eyes straight on, I grinned and continued, “Best take care you don’t catch any important parts on these things, Dom.” Then an idea struck me and I quickly unfastened his cuff and transferred it to my own wrist.

“Hey!” was the only thing he managed to get out as I leaned in tightly against him, slipping a finger underneath the strip of leather around his neck.

“So you’re a rock star, are ye, Dommie?” I asked, raising an eyebrow and sliding my finger back and forth a few inches under his collar, before giving it a slight tug.

“Uh-huh,” he choked out as a bead of sweat broke out on his upper lip.

I grinned wickedly and gave another tug on his collar, “Come.”

“Where?” he whispered.

I just smiled and pulled him along by the collar as I walked backwards down the hall to our bedroom. Once I stepped through the doorway, I turned him around and pushed him back towards the bed. His knees buckled as he hit the edge of the bed and he sat down heavily. Putting my hands on his chest, I straddled his waist and grinned again,

“Then sing for me.”