fic: Pulling at the Loose Threads
May. 6th, 2009 11:35 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kiltsandlollies.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
monaboyd_monthAnd just in under the wire of the night, EST.
Title: Pulling at the Loose Threads
Rating: NC-17ish.
Summary: Berlin, 10 December 2003.
It's not the hero's welcome Dominic might once have dreamed of, Billy thinks as they walk the red carpet in Berlin, but clearly it'll do. Dominic flirts with the fans and press in German and English, forgetting his grammar but not his manners, it seems, from the response, and poses smartly, absorbing the energy and attention like the lightning rod he is. Billy follows at a distance and doesn't try to parse out or emulate what Dominic's saying or doing; his own energy's spent on the straightforward gladhanding toward those with the big cameras and more genuine smiles for those with the small. It's not difficult, at least not until he finds himself nodding along with the ridiculous jokes and propositions the tracksuited red carpet comedian's got for him, but Billy's still going to be happy later tonight, when he can sleep and dream of waking up at the end of February, there at the end of many things, if not all.
He catches Dominic's eye as they crisscross the carpet, and tries not to look back once they've passed. Just that brief glance prompts Billy to feel like some things have barely begun, like maybe he's been dreaming since Wellington days ago, and that when he wakes nothing will convince him to sleep again. It can't get any better than this, or so he's been told by each of the others at one time or another, and Billy's shocked by the sudden, surging desire to prove them all wrong.
::
They're into the middle of the promotion and premieres, and Dominic can tell it's beginning to wear on Billy, more so than on any of the rest of them. Billy's answered too many of the same questions, some he's been answering for four years now, and it's becoming obvious that he's reached the point where he wants to hold up a card with stock responses and hand it over with a smile before the questions come again. And Dominic can also see that Billy doesn't want to talk anymore this evening, to anyone, be they reporters, New Line's minders, friends, or whoever it is ringing him up right now on his mobile, even though he's warned everyone who might to not do so.
Anyone who knew Billy well and could see him now would recognize the curtain of patience that falls over Billy's face as he retrieves the phone; it covers and momentarily calms the flush of irritation that threatens to rise from his throat and neck and behind his ears. Anyone who knew him well might raise his or her eyebrows and back away from the polite thunder in Billy's voice as he takes the call. And anyone who knew him well would stay clear until Billy's rung off, respecting his privacy and his need to step back into the actual work of what they're doing here. Anyone, of course, but Dominic, who knows him best and has never let simple distractions keep him from Billy's blandly cantankerous side.
::
When Billy sets his shoulders and turns, his eyes and lips are inches from Dominic's, closer than they've been in public for years it seems, and Billy narrows his eyes and lets a chillier, more impassive wave wash over himself to keep from giving Dominic what he wants or thinks their little red carpet audience needs. Dominic's smile turns up at its corners and his own eyes crinkle with unashamed joy; he's never in all these years cared what anyone else thought of his displays of blatant affection, and he's not going to start now. Besides, Billy notices, Dominic's hands are still in his pockets or at least close to; no one's in any real danger here, and Billy knows from the current of thought and tension between them that what Dominic's provoked here is going to make a brilliant picture, one they will be able to look back on and appreciate for several reasons a year from now if they can just survive this one.
We'll get you out of here soon enough, Dominic's certain little stare tells him, and Billy holds his breath and his ground, wanting to believe it and laugh it off at the same time. The cameras around them keep clicking, one in particular too bright and too near. Neither Billy nor Dominic flinches, but when there's a louder pop of flash and flare, it's to Billy's mild, tired disgust that it's he who blinks first, and Dominic who as ever laughs last.
::
Dominic leaves Billy to it, then, now that the real ceremonies are about to begin. He storms up the walkway and across the balcony to take up a microphone, the German coming more nervously from his lips but punctuated perfectly by the heady rush of adrenaline flooding his face at the sound of the crowd's cheer. He can feel the cast's approval warm on his back, too, making the jacket he's wearing now seem uncomfortable and confining, if also somewhat safe.
The rest of the premiere passes in a blur. The film itself becomes an afterthought, time spent between stretches at the lobby bar, and Dominic knows the pace of it well enough now to step back inside and watch only what he can without much emotion. There's much they left behind, Dominic knows, too much on the cutting room floor that doesn’t deserve to be there, and he's beginning to accept that even if he doesn't think he'll ever understand. What he does understand is that he's as distracted by the multiple endings as the general public seems to be, and long before the credits run he's back at the bar, clinging bleary-eyed to the crystalline, sweet-voiced Liv, who tells him to go back to the hotel before he does himself some hometown damage.
We'll get him out here soon enough, Billy murmurs from behind them, and Dominic laughs low and filthy again and leans into Billy, another perfect picture that this time no one will see.
::
Their hotel rooms are joined by a door they trip through to Billy's bedroom after a glance at the mess Dominic's made of his. Billy totters to the dresser, helping himself to water instead of what he really wants to drink and to a stare down Dominic's body instead of what he really wants to do.
Dominic stands quiet under Billy's appraisal, taking the water when it's offered. Neither wants to talk, not when there's so much they've already said and especially not now that there's more they need to say. Dominic shucks his jacket and rolls his shoulders back, shrugging off the last of the evening and welcoming the night and whatever it and Billy are about to bring him. Billy takes another drink before he loses the tie and his own jacket, and then they're both in shirtsleeves, coming to a halt like they always do, waiting to see who wants what and whom more.
It's Dominic who moves first this time—out of kindness or greed, Billy doesn't know or care—and Billy sinks a little in Dominic's grip before he remembers himself, remembers that he's supposed to at least pretend to fight, because that's the way they've always gone about this. But then Dominic does something remarkable with his teeth in one second and with his hands in the next, and Billy breaks in places he's never even bent before, pathetically grateful now when his back hits the mattress and Dominic laughs once more.
::
It happens this way more than they'd ever admit: slowly, both of them still finding their way with each other like things are still as new as that night in the Powderhorn years ago. Dominic's hands are still curious, and Billy's are still colder than either of them expects. There are still occasional mutters of sorry, sorry and more often the sort of breathless declarations that neither wants to remember the next morning,
It's almost always brilliant, though; sometimes set to music or laughter, and sometimes just like this, quietly, weighted with a tired eagerness. Neither of them has brought that much experience to the table, and neither of them would have it another way. Billy in particular doesn't want to think there are many others on the planet with Dominic’s talent; there can't be, he believes, or who would have reason to get out of bed. Dominic's fallen off mattresses laughing at this reasoning, but returned the compliment with some of his own, leaving Billy blushing, sure of his own strengths if not all that willing to dwell on them.
Certainly not when there are other things on which to dwell. Billy turns his head from Dominic's attack and swallows, the words on his lips before Dominic steals them.
Stop overthinking this, Dominic says, and Billy frowns before he gives in, shoulders dropping as he silently urges Dominic to give him something else to think about, then. And to his credit, Dominic does just that.
::
Clothes are obstacles when they want things over with quickly, but less of a problem when they have all the time in an entire night's world. Dominic works off the rest of Billy's slowly, taking more care than usual and dragging his short fingernails over suddenly exposed skin and smiling when Billy lets out one shattered exhale after another and loses patience and maybe a bit of his mind as well, pushing roughly at his own trousers and Dominic's too. Dominic takes the hint and Billy's wrists in one motion, pushing Billy’s hands back up to the pillow and slowing them down again, the reckless, easy cheer on his face making Billy frown petulantly in return until Dominic pushes down with his hips, moving over Billy and humming with pleasure when Billy parts knees and thighs and rises up parrying, teeth bared and the rest of his body tensed and as strong as Dominic remembers.
Dominic releases a rough exhale of his own and inches backward off the bed, pushing a hand through his hair and then over his face, and licking his lips with relief when Billy nods toward the bathroom. Dominic's not even out of Billy's view before Billy's hand is wrapped around his own cock, fingers stroking lightly, cautiously but with unmistakable practice. When Dominic returns he unfolds Billy's hand gently, tching under his breath but not unkindly; he of all people can understand Billy's impatience, and he of all people knows how best to enjoy it.
::
They don't always fuck; in fact, more often than not due to lack of preparedness or energy, they do everything else. But tonight it's the option that feels right, and more important, it's what they both want. While Dominic's hands are indeed weapons of mass destruction, Billy's aren't half bad either, and he makes an art form of teasing Dominic before he works the condom down Dominic's shaft. Dominic gets his own back, though, as Billy expects and rather likes, thanks; slicked up and warm, Dominic's fingers work Billy to a near epiphany on their own before Billy has to make him stop, smacking at Dominic's chest and gritting out something unintelligible but properly threatening until he feels Dominic's cock pushing inside him, a feeling Billy's never gotten used to but fucking loves, thanks.
Dominic rocks back and forth with an earned confidence, watching when he can to see when Billy gives entirely. Billy shifts and clenches, shifts again and shivers, no trace of impassivity left on his face or in his eyes. When Dominic pauses, Billy holds his breath; when Dominic moves again, Billy exhales and smacks at him again. He knows why Dominic's drawing this out and on any other night, he’d allow it, but for now Billy needs this, needs more and faster and better and harder, needs to remember this and feel everything he can in case it really won't get any better than this, in case he can't prove any of them wrong.
::
Billy's too wrapped up in the need to let go to notice he's already begun to do so; a harder shiver and a curse from what sounds like someone else's voice are the only warnings he's able to give himself and Dominic. Long seconds go by before he can open his eyes again, and though his body's still moving, still taking Dominic's now short, hurried strokes, Billy feels hit by several trucks, all with blue eyes and wiry arms and legs, all sweating above him and chanting those declarations again, declarations Billy works this time to hear better possibly than ever before.
Dominic comes beautifully, there's no other word for it, Billy thinks in blurry exhaustion, and then stifles a laugh at the sound of it in his own mind. There's not supposed to be anything beautiful to either of them or to this, and yet there they are, there he is, thinking and believing it. Only the weight of Dominic falling half on him, half on his side, stops Billy's barreling train of thought, and in the next slow minutes Billy finds strength to just idly stroke his hand along Dominic's arm and back, to listen for the race in their pulses and to picture suddenly that look on Dominic's face earlier on the red carpet, to picture the challenge in it and wonder if they've both met it, one more time. And of course they have, Billy tells himself; Dominic’s never knowingly set one they couldn’t.
::
Billy's still searching for breath when he hears Dominic's slow, and for a moment he's jealous, wondering when he and Dominic traded roles in this, too, when Dominic became the peaceful creature beside him and when he himself became the rattled insomniac chasing thoughts across countries and time.
He leans on one elbow, watching Dominic sleep, and hears again the happy sounds of the others saying it won't get any better than this. It might not, but then maybe it doesn't have to; maybe they can live off these next weeks for the rest of their lives. Billy has plans, at home and in other countries, and though he'd like Dominic to be a part of them, he can't control that; Dominic, too, has desires for himself and his career, and Billy's recoiled from some of those desires spoken aloud, so he can't demand any surrender of Dominic's to his own.
Billy isn’t surprised anymore by the idea of Dominic reading his thoughts, so he doesn't blink when Dominic does, waking just long enough to push Billy down to his back again and curl around Billy's side. Dominic says nothing, but the repeated charge to stop overthinking this is as clear in his touch as if he's hissed it loud in Billy's ear. Billy closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and makes that choice, to just take tonight for what it was, what it is, here at the end of many things, if not all.
Title: Pulling at the Loose Threads
Rating: NC-17ish.
Summary: Berlin, 10 December 2003.
It's not the hero's welcome Dominic might once have dreamed of, Billy thinks as they walk the red carpet in Berlin, but clearly it'll do. Dominic flirts with the fans and press in German and English, forgetting his grammar but not his manners, it seems, from the response, and poses smartly, absorbing the energy and attention like the lightning rod he is. Billy follows at a distance and doesn't try to parse out or emulate what Dominic's saying or doing; his own energy's spent on the straightforward gladhanding toward those with the big cameras and more genuine smiles for those with the small. It's not difficult, at least not until he finds himself nodding along with the ridiculous jokes and propositions the tracksuited red carpet comedian's got for him, but Billy's still going to be happy later tonight, when he can sleep and dream of waking up at the end of February, there at the end of many things, if not all.
He catches Dominic's eye as they crisscross the carpet, and tries not to look back once they've passed. Just that brief glance prompts Billy to feel like some things have barely begun, like maybe he's been dreaming since Wellington days ago, and that when he wakes nothing will convince him to sleep again. It can't get any better than this, or so he's been told by each of the others at one time or another, and Billy's shocked by the sudden, surging desire to prove them all wrong.
::
They're into the middle of the promotion and premieres, and Dominic can tell it's beginning to wear on Billy, more so than on any of the rest of them. Billy's answered too many of the same questions, some he's been answering for four years now, and it's becoming obvious that he's reached the point where he wants to hold up a card with stock responses and hand it over with a smile before the questions come again. And Dominic can also see that Billy doesn't want to talk anymore this evening, to anyone, be they reporters, New Line's minders, friends, or whoever it is ringing him up right now on his mobile, even though he's warned everyone who might to not do so.
Anyone who knew Billy well and could see him now would recognize the curtain of patience that falls over Billy's face as he retrieves the phone; it covers and momentarily calms the flush of irritation that threatens to rise from his throat and neck and behind his ears. Anyone who knew him well might raise his or her eyebrows and back away from the polite thunder in Billy's voice as he takes the call. And anyone who knew him well would stay clear until Billy's rung off, respecting his privacy and his need to step back into the actual work of what they're doing here. Anyone, of course, but Dominic, who knows him best and has never let simple distractions keep him from Billy's blandly cantankerous side.
::
When Billy sets his shoulders and turns, his eyes and lips are inches from Dominic's, closer than they've been in public for years it seems, and Billy narrows his eyes and lets a chillier, more impassive wave wash over himself to keep from giving Dominic what he wants or thinks their little red carpet audience needs. Dominic's smile turns up at its corners and his own eyes crinkle with unashamed joy; he's never in all these years cared what anyone else thought of his displays of blatant affection, and he's not going to start now. Besides, Billy notices, Dominic's hands are still in his pockets or at least close to; no one's in any real danger here, and Billy knows from the current of thought and tension between them that what Dominic's provoked here is going to make a brilliant picture, one they will be able to look back on and appreciate for several reasons a year from now if they can just survive this one.
We'll get you out of here soon enough, Dominic's certain little stare tells him, and Billy holds his breath and his ground, wanting to believe it and laugh it off at the same time. The cameras around them keep clicking, one in particular too bright and too near. Neither Billy nor Dominic flinches, but when there's a louder pop of flash and flare, it's to Billy's mild, tired disgust that it's he who blinks first, and Dominic who as ever laughs last.
::
Dominic leaves Billy to it, then, now that the real ceremonies are about to begin. He storms up the walkway and across the balcony to take up a microphone, the German coming more nervously from his lips but punctuated perfectly by the heady rush of adrenaline flooding his face at the sound of the crowd's cheer. He can feel the cast's approval warm on his back, too, making the jacket he's wearing now seem uncomfortable and confining, if also somewhat safe.
The rest of the premiere passes in a blur. The film itself becomes an afterthought, time spent between stretches at the lobby bar, and Dominic knows the pace of it well enough now to step back inside and watch only what he can without much emotion. There's much they left behind, Dominic knows, too much on the cutting room floor that doesn’t deserve to be there, and he's beginning to accept that even if he doesn't think he'll ever understand. What he does understand is that he's as distracted by the multiple endings as the general public seems to be, and long before the credits run he's back at the bar, clinging bleary-eyed to the crystalline, sweet-voiced Liv, who tells him to go back to the hotel before he does himself some hometown damage.
We'll get him out here soon enough, Billy murmurs from behind them, and Dominic laughs low and filthy again and leans into Billy, another perfect picture that this time no one will see.
::
Their hotel rooms are joined by a door they trip through to Billy's bedroom after a glance at the mess Dominic's made of his. Billy totters to the dresser, helping himself to water instead of what he really wants to drink and to a stare down Dominic's body instead of what he really wants to do.
Dominic stands quiet under Billy's appraisal, taking the water when it's offered. Neither wants to talk, not when there's so much they've already said and especially not now that there's more they need to say. Dominic shucks his jacket and rolls his shoulders back, shrugging off the last of the evening and welcoming the night and whatever it and Billy are about to bring him. Billy takes another drink before he loses the tie and his own jacket, and then they're both in shirtsleeves, coming to a halt like they always do, waiting to see who wants what and whom more.
It's Dominic who moves first this time—out of kindness or greed, Billy doesn't know or care—and Billy sinks a little in Dominic's grip before he remembers himself, remembers that he's supposed to at least pretend to fight, because that's the way they've always gone about this. But then Dominic does something remarkable with his teeth in one second and with his hands in the next, and Billy breaks in places he's never even bent before, pathetically grateful now when his back hits the mattress and Dominic laughs once more.
::
It happens this way more than they'd ever admit: slowly, both of them still finding their way with each other like things are still as new as that night in the Powderhorn years ago. Dominic's hands are still curious, and Billy's are still colder than either of them expects. There are still occasional mutters of sorry, sorry and more often the sort of breathless declarations that neither wants to remember the next morning,
It's almost always brilliant, though; sometimes set to music or laughter, and sometimes just like this, quietly, weighted with a tired eagerness. Neither of them has brought that much experience to the table, and neither of them would have it another way. Billy in particular doesn't want to think there are many others on the planet with Dominic’s talent; there can't be, he believes, or who would have reason to get out of bed. Dominic's fallen off mattresses laughing at this reasoning, but returned the compliment with some of his own, leaving Billy blushing, sure of his own strengths if not all that willing to dwell on them.
Certainly not when there are other things on which to dwell. Billy turns his head from Dominic's attack and swallows, the words on his lips before Dominic steals them.
Stop overthinking this, Dominic says, and Billy frowns before he gives in, shoulders dropping as he silently urges Dominic to give him something else to think about, then. And to his credit, Dominic does just that.
::
Clothes are obstacles when they want things over with quickly, but less of a problem when they have all the time in an entire night's world. Dominic works off the rest of Billy's slowly, taking more care than usual and dragging his short fingernails over suddenly exposed skin and smiling when Billy lets out one shattered exhale after another and loses patience and maybe a bit of his mind as well, pushing roughly at his own trousers and Dominic's too. Dominic takes the hint and Billy's wrists in one motion, pushing Billy’s hands back up to the pillow and slowing them down again, the reckless, easy cheer on his face making Billy frown petulantly in return until Dominic pushes down with his hips, moving over Billy and humming with pleasure when Billy parts knees and thighs and rises up parrying, teeth bared and the rest of his body tensed and as strong as Dominic remembers.
Dominic releases a rough exhale of his own and inches backward off the bed, pushing a hand through his hair and then over his face, and licking his lips with relief when Billy nods toward the bathroom. Dominic's not even out of Billy's view before Billy's hand is wrapped around his own cock, fingers stroking lightly, cautiously but with unmistakable practice. When Dominic returns he unfolds Billy's hand gently, tching under his breath but not unkindly; he of all people can understand Billy's impatience, and he of all people knows how best to enjoy it.
::
They don't always fuck; in fact, more often than not due to lack of preparedness or energy, they do everything else. But tonight it's the option that feels right, and more important, it's what they both want. While Dominic's hands are indeed weapons of mass destruction, Billy's aren't half bad either, and he makes an art form of teasing Dominic before he works the condom down Dominic's shaft. Dominic gets his own back, though, as Billy expects and rather likes, thanks; slicked up and warm, Dominic's fingers work Billy to a near epiphany on their own before Billy has to make him stop, smacking at Dominic's chest and gritting out something unintelligible but properly threatening until he feels Dominic's cock pushing inside him, a feeling Billy's never gotten used to but fucking loves, thanks.
Dominic rocks back and forth with an earned confidence, watching when he can to see when Billy gives entirely. Billy shifts and clenches, shifts again and shivers, no trace of impassivity left on his face or in his eyes. When Dominic pauses, Billy holds his breath; when Dominic moves again, Billy exhales and smacks at him again. He knows why Dominic's drawing this out and on any other night, he’d allow it, but for now Billy needs this, needs more and faster and better and harder, needs to remember this and feel everything he can in case it really won't get any better than this, in case he can't prove any of them wrong.
::
Billy's too wrapped up in the need to let go to notice he's already begun to do so; a harder shiver and a curse from what sounds like someone else's voice are the only warnings he's able to give himself and Dominic. Long seconds go by before he can open his eyes again, and though his body's still moving, still taking Dominic's now short, hurried strokes, Billy feels hit by several trucks, all with blue eyes and wiry arms and legs, all sweating above him and chanting those declarations again, declarations Billy works this time to hear better possibly than ever before.
Dominic comes beautifully, there's no other word for it, Billy thinks in blurry exhaustion, and then stifles a laugh at the sound of it in his own mind. There's not supposed to be anything beautiful to either of them or to this, and yet there they are, there he is, thinking and believing it. Only the weight of Dominic falling half on him, half on his side, stops Billy's barreling train of thought, and in the next slow minutes Billy finds strength to just idly stroke his hand along Dominic's arm and back, to listen for the race in their pulses and to picture suddenly that look on Dominic's face earlier on the red carpet, to picture the challenge in it and wonder if they've both met it, one more time. And of course they have, Billy tells himself; Dominic’s never knowingly set one they couldn’t.
::
Billy's still searching for breath when he hears Dominic's slow, and for a moment he's jealous, wondering when he and Dominic traded roles in this, too, when Dominic became the peaceful creature beside him and when he himself became the rattled insomniac chasing thoughts across countries and time.
He leans on one elbow, watching Dominic sleep, and hears again the happy sounds of the others saying it won't get any better than this. It might not, but then maybe it doesn't have to; maybe they can live off these next weeks for the rest of their lives. Billy has plans, at home and in other countries, and though he'd like Dominic to be a part of them, he can't control that; Dominic, too, has desires for himself and his career, and Billy's recoiled from some of those desires spoken aloud, so he can't demand any surrender of Dominic's to his own.
Billy isn’t surprised anymore by the idea of Dominic reading his thoughts, so he doesn't blink when Dominic does, waking just long enough to push Billy down to his back again and curl around Billy's side. Dominic says nothing, but the repeated charge to stop overthinking this is as clear in his touch as if he's hissed it loud in Billy's ear. Billy closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and makes that choice, to just take tonight for what it was, what it is, here at the end of many things, if not all.
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Date: 2009-05-07 07:36 am (UTC)But then Dominic does something remarkable with his teeth in one second and with his hands in the next, and Billy breaks in places he's never even bent before
that line. breathtaking.
I hope it does get better, or as good in different ways. I am so inside this story, rare these days. Somewhat incoherent, sorry.
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Date: 2009-05-08 02:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-12 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-12 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-25 06:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 10:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-12 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 05:40 pm (UTC)I got enveloped into this story...I love how Billy and Dom have such a close connection that the majority of the time both of them know what the other needs and wants from the world and especially from each other...without having to say a word. To always want to protect and care for that other special person in your life that just makes it so much better...that is what Billy and Dom have and that is LOVE!
Ta!
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Date: 2009-05-12 01:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-08 01:31 am (UTC)That was fantastic, all the way to the end. ♥ ♥ ♥
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Date: 2009-05-12 01:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-08 01:37 am (UTC)<3
(and well worth being my reward for this day ;D)
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Date: 2009-05-12 01:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-22 01:05 pm (UTC)♥!
I can see all the images (the ones we've pored over and the ones you've created) so easily. Well done.
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Date: 2009-06-05 04:38 am (UTC)There are so many lovely turns of phrase in this piece, starting with the very end ("here at the end of many things, if not all"), which lingers like a delicious wine. This is not my first pairing -- except when you do it, which is why I come back again and again. Wonderful, thank you.
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Date: 2009-06-11 10:03 pm (UTC)