Part 3: ...And Call Me in the Morning ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Dom." Now here was a dream he’d had many times. Billy’s voice in low stereo, breathing softly into one upturned ear and humming deep in the chest below his other. As warm as the sheets tangled amongst their legs, and as thick as the sleep that curled heavily in Dom’s skin. He sighed and snuggled closer to that voice, flexing the arm that lay across warm soft flesh. One of his favorite dreams. "Dom." Of course, Dom’s dreams usually involved rather nice visuals, and all he could see right now were the insides of his eyelids. And in his dreams, when he pressed his sleeping half-erection into the thigh wedged solidly between his own, the resulting call of his name usually did not have that tone of quiet amusement. But if he wasn’t dreaming, then... "Dom, wake up." Oh, shit. Dom’s eyes snapped open, and he raised his head to look blearily up into a twinkling pair of green eyes. "Comfortable?" Dom’s mouth opened, and a sound came out. "Eh..." Billy’s lip twitched in a dry smile. "Well it’s good to know I make such a fine pillow. Remind me to get to the gym next week." At this point, Dominic became fully and painfully aware of his precise entanglement, from the chest hair tickling his nose to the ankle that fitted so snugly into the curve of his bare foot. He waited for Billy to laugh, to jerk and buck him off with an oi! and a wisecrack, but Billy merely smiled at him, amused at Dom’s sleep-cluttered speechlessness, and it was then that he became aware of the hand resting lightly on his back and the toe brushing beneath the sole of his foot. Dom knew it was imperative that he move in the very near future, or not even his Levi’s would save him from the humiliation of a raging hard-on playing bumper cars with the thigh wedged firmly beneath his leg, covered only in dangerously thin cotton. Moving was definitely necessary, and Billy was sure to pitch him off any moment, but neither of them moved and long seconds ticked by. "Did, uh, did you sleep well?" Christ, you’re on a roll, Monaghan. Brilliant. "Yeah, I did, actually." "Oh, good." Well this is the stuff romance novels are made of. Just close your mouth. Billy stifled a yawn. "Unfortunately, I believe I went a bit heavy on the apple juice." Seeing Dom’s brow crease, he added, "I have to piss, Dominic. Get off me." "Oh!" Dom shook himself and rolled off of Billy’s chest and to the side. When he pulled his foot back into his own personal space, his eyebrows shot up as he realized which of Billy’s legs had been pressed between his own. "Jesus, Bill, your leg! I’m sorry--I didn’t--" Billy shook his head, still smiling, but as he pulled himself up into a sitting position Dom saw his nostrils twitch in concealed reaction. "It’s fine, Dom. It’s not bad -- I mean, it’s bad, but I’ll live. You’ve got some Panadol in your bag, right? I think I can switch to that." His grin turned a shade more wicked as he added, "Unless you’d like to keep me in my state for a bit longer." Dom stared at that grin, blinking. Oh my God, is he fucking flirting with me? He realized that his mouth was doing quite a good fish-out-of-water impersonation. That last sentence echoed in his brain. Mah steht, repeated the morning-thick accent. Mah steht. I see th’ way you look at me, Dom. "Panadol," Dom said. He drug himself off the bed, coming round to offer Billy an arm and help haul him to his feet. It was much easier this time around, what with Billy being completely sober and not breathing moist heat onto the thin skin of Dom’s neck, and the very comparison made Dom clear his throat and suddenly find many interesting things to look at on the other side of the room. He only needed to walk beside Billy, taking the weight off his left leg, and when they got to the bathroom Billy clapped him on the shoulder with a casual "thanks, mate" and hopped inside, closing the door behind him. Dom leaned on the door, letting his head hit the wood with a loud thunk. Get it the fuck together, Monaghan. Jesus, you’re acting like a little kid. He’s said shit like that to you hundreds of times, and you’ve done the same. The Dom and Billy show, remember? He let out a long sigh, punctuating his thoughts with sharp knocks of his skull on the door. Just. Knock. It. Off. From inside the bathroom came Billy’s muffled voice. "I’m going as fast as I can here, Dom." Dom flinched. "Oh, uh, sorry Bill." He shuffled into the kitchen and poured a glass of apple juice, wishing blearily that they hadn’t finished the Macallan the other day because he needed a drink, early morning be damned. He was setting the glass on the nightstand in the bedroom when he heard the toilet flush and the bathroom door bump open. Hurrying to meet Billy, Dom gave him an arm and helped him make the slow choppy progression back to bed. Billy sat down, feet on the floor, and sipped his juice while Dom dug through his luggage until he found the little bottle of Panadol. His head tilted back sharply as he popped two of the little tablets into his mouth and downed the rest of the juice. "Thanks, Dom," he said. "Welcome, Bill," Dom replied. Dom moved away to close up the little bottle. Beside him, Billy remarked idly, "I’m glad I don’t need to take that bloody Percocet anymore. I didn’t like what it did to me at all." Dom tried to hide his pained wince. "Oh?" "Yeah. Gave me some damn bizarre dreams. Some of them involving that awful movie you forced upon me in my helpless condition." Dom chuckled. "Ah no, my lad, you asked for that one. That’s entirely on your head." He left the bottle on the nightstand next to the empty juice glass and squatted down by Billy’s bandaged calf. "Come on," he said, grasping the ankle carefully, and Billy scooted back against the headboard and let Dom set his injured leg on a spare pillow. "And I told you to eat something," Dom continued, still grinning. "I take no responsibility for what you dreamt." "I dreamt about you," Billy said. Dom’s chest contracted and his hand froze on Billy’s shin. He suddenly felt like the distance between their bodies had decreased significantly. He stared up at Billy, heart pounding so hard in his ribcage that he could see his t-shirt trembling. "Did you?" "I dreamt you kissed me." Dom’s squat fell forward abruptly, his knees hitting the hardwood floor with a loud thwack. Billy’s eyes showed no reaction, merely watched him. And for the first time in his life, Dominic Monaghan had absolutely nothing to say. Billy’s face remained unreadable. "But that didn’t happen, of course." Dom’s breath escaped him in an explosive rush that he forced into a laugh. "Of course not." "I kissed you." Dom’s eyes went perfectly round. A hand on his left shoulder made him flinch, and he gasped as Billy’s fingers tugged at his t-shirt, drawing him closer. "C’mere," Billy said, completely lucid, and snapped Dom’s fear in a single quiet syllable. Dom fell forward, bracing an arm over Billy’s right thigh as he leaned in between parted knees and slid the fingers of his right hand into sleep-spiked ginger hair. Billy’s mouth tasted like apple juice, sharp and sweet, and Dom shivered and was sucking at the clinging drops before he could stop himself. Billy’s hand flexed on his back, and this time his response was decidedly closer to Dom’s imagination. A small sound escaped Billy’s throat as his tongue found the roof of Dom’s mouth, and Dom curled his fingers behind Billy’s head and kissed him until they both ran out of breath. He pulled back then, trembling, mouth swollen and eyes huge and staring. Billy’s chest was heaving, face flushed and lips wet, but his eyes were shining softly. "Why didn’t you tell me, Dom?" Anxiety dissolving as quickly as his sleepiness, Dom grinned and replied, "Why didn’t you tell me?" Billy’s face went still. "I did," he said. "When I could." "Billy..." Dom moved forward, knees bumping the wooden floor, straining denim pressing into the mattress and both hands twining themselves in Billy’s hair. Billy spread his thighs wider to accommodate him, and this time it was Dom’s turn to sigh into Billy’s open mouth. He pulled back again, to catch his breath before Round Three, and saw plainly the flushed and twitching evidence of Billy’s arousal poorly concealed by pale blue cotton. It sparked a nerve, and the sudden memory made him giggle out loud. Billy lifted one graceful eyebrow. "Something funny?" Dom covered his mouth, trying to stifle his mirth. "Huh-uh. No." His shaking shoulders spoke otherwise. "Look, Dom, I don’t know what sort of encounters you’re used to, but I generally take it as a bad sign when someone looks at my erection and bursts into laughter. Now I--" Dom choked on a giggle and smiled at Billy’s scowl as he bent forward once more. His hand ran down the slope of Billy’s chest as he leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Aww, Billiieee..." flipping the L with a flick of his tongue across the lobe. "I don’t know, Dom. I just don’t think I can get my mood back if you--aahhh--ah God..." His voice skittered off into gasped vowels as Dom’s slender fingers closed around him. Dom smiled against the skin of his neck, flushed and hot, and squeezed slightly to be rewarded with a yelp and a jerking buck of the hips. "If I what?" "If you keep doing that I may be able to forgive you. In time." "Mmmm." Dom’s teeth closed lightly just behind Billy’s ear at the same moment his hand drew up and down once, long and smooth, all the way to the base where he stopped and held tight. He felt the flesh beneath him shake, felt Billy tense and clutch a handful of Dom’s t-shirt, heard the breath hissing between his bared teeth. Dom spoke around his mouthful. "How about now?" "Not--unhh--not sure. Take off your shirt before I change my mind." Dom grinned, leaning back to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall unheeded to the floor behind him. His smile widened when he saw Billy’s eyes run up and down once. "Still want me to distract you?" Billy’s eyes lit up. "You gonna tap-dance after all?" Dom scowled. "Bastard." Billy shifted where he sat, and Dom saw sudden pain flicker across his face as his leg twitched on its pillow. His brow furrowed. "Bill? You alright? You want to stop?" "I want," said Billy, "for you to put your fucking hand on me again." Dom’s thighs squirmed. "Jesus..." He braced his left arm on the headboard, curving his wrist down around Billy’s head, and wrapped the long fingers of his right hand into a tight grip once more. The sound Billy gave made Dom’s hips press into the mattress and he buried his face in Billy’s neck, biting and sucking, tasting salt, tasting Billy, and shivering with every moan that vibrated in Billy’s throat. He could feel the broad muscle of Billy’s thigh clenching in rhythm with his hips, hips that were now moving and rolling and thrusting into Dom’s hand, and he flicked one thumb smoothly up and over now-slick skin while his free hand clutched a handful of blond-streaked spikes. Billy jerked violently, and his groans became vague repeated words. "God, Dom, oh God, shite, ahhh shite--" Dom became aware that Billy’s breathing had become erratic, shuddering beneath the weight of Dom’s body, and a pang of alarm sparked in his chest. Billy was not in top form by any means, and had not eaten in over 24 hours -- not to mention having lost a good deal of blood, the rest of which was now concentrated in one major area. He pulled back a bit, looking into Billy’s face in concern. His rhythm faltered, and Billy’s brow creased in pleading, and his back arched up into Dom’s grasp as he shook his head and breathed, "No, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop now..." His eyes closed and his breath rolled noisily from his parted lips, stretching into the sounds of Dom’s name. Dom’s left arm changed, no longer grasping but cradling, and he bowed his head forward until his forehead touched Billy’s, sweating and damp and red. He stopped his own writhing and watched Billy’s face, inches away, jaw clenched and breath snorting and green eyes staring into Dom’s blue-gray. Dom heard himself whispering, an unending loop of Billy’s name, unvoiced, mumbled over the curves of Billy’s lips. His body held Billy gently but his right hand increased its intensity, relentless and ever-building, harder and faster, and he could feel it before he could see it, but he opened his eyes wide to watch Billy arch and dig nails into Dom’s sweat-slick back, going rigid and shuddering in long racking waves of warmth over Dom’s fingers, until he collapsed flushed and panting against the headboard and the echo of his voice rang in Dom’s ears. After a moment, when he felt Billy’s heartbeat begin to slow, Dom lifted his head and smiled into two heavy-lidded, gleaming green eyes. "Alright? Not gonna die on me, are you?" Billy’s mouth quirked in a one-sided grin. "You’re not that good, mate." "And with remarks like that, you will never find out," snapped Dom, scowling. Billy chuckled, catching his breath. Dom drew back, absently scrubbing his hand on the bedsheet. "Hey, I have to sleep here, you know," said Billy. "That’s why there’re two beds," replied Dom. "One for sleeping, and one for distracting." He moved to stand, abused knees protesting loudly, but Billy grasped his wrist with one hand. And just how many times has he done that now? His face was slightly pink. "What about you?" Dom shrugged. "It’s--whatever. If you want--I mean--" And the astounding Monaghan wit returns. Billy smiled softly. "What I want..." his face went vague, as if he were remembering something known only to him. Dom watched him, his throat constricting with something he didn’t know he’d been holding back. But before he could feel it well up fully, Billy’s dry smirk returned and he stretched languidly. "What I want, Dommie, is for you to make me breakfast." Dom’s eyebrow shot up. "Oh hell no! You didn’t want a ‘fucking nursemaid’, remember? Why don’t you call your sister? Because I’m not cooking shit." Billy pouted his lips. "Not even for the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?" Dom turned twelve shades of crimson before he found the voice to hiss, "Oh you bastard." He turned and stomped from the room to the sound of Billy’s throaty laughter, into the kitchen where he began rattling pots and pans as loudly as possible. He was smiling through his blush, his blood humming with the rush of doors that were opening in his mind faster than he could process them, and he barely contained his laughter as he checked the little bungalow kitchen for supplies. From the bedroom he heard a call of, "Dom?" "Yes, bastard?" "Wash your hands first." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ home