monaboyd_month | Billy All Night

Title: Billy All Night - Chapter 3
Author:

dylan_dufresne
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: Adult
Summary: AU. Dom's a career-obsessed producer at a local radio station. Billy's in town to do a favor for a family friend.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Thanks to

not_a_lamb for the beta.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. This is my imagination at work.
A/N: Based on a book I read years ago. To cover myself, I’m going to call this an adaptation.
Previous: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter 3

In what feels like the space of a single breath, Dom's undershirt is tugged over his head, and greedy fingers are moving deftly across his heated skin, eagerly exploring. Billy's t-shirt is discarded with one hand, flung into the shadows of the sparsely lit room, the other hand urging Dom to lay back on the mattress. When the bare skin of their upper bodies makes contact, Dom moans raggedly, Billy's furry chest rubbing his nipples into taut peaks, making him shiver at the sensation, but that's nothing in comparison to the assault Billy is waging on Dom's mouth.

Reaching out blindly, unable to shift his focus from Billy for a fraction of a second, Dom’s hand fumbles to make contact with the base of the lamp on the night stand. Sliding his fingers up the square pillar, he nearly moans in relief when he locates the switch, and a moment later, the room is bathed in shadows and moonlight.

Billy’s hands roam endlessly over Dom's lithe body, exploring his shoulders and the curves of his ribs before eagerly tugging Dom’s pajama pants down over his narrow hips and tossing them aside. Another gasp of pleasure fills the room when Dom's lean thighs are parted wide and their erections are pressed together firmly. Dom has no idea when Billy removed his boxers, and frankly, doesn't really care, as his mouth is currently being tormented by the other man’s talented, pointy tongue, thrusting and tasting until Dom's a whimpering, incoherent mess beneath him.

"Tell me what you want," Billy whispers hotly against Dom's flushed skin, nipping at Dom’s earlobe and rocking his hips forward, causing Dom to moan in reply, "You."

Moving down Dom's slender frame, Billy licks the hollow of his throat, nibbles across his collarbone, making the younger man squirm as he finds a ticklish spot there. He trails more hot, moist kisses down Dom’s shoulder until his mouth finds the tight bud of a nipple, and Dom forgets who he is. The air is filled with breathy sighs of pleasure while Billy sucks hard, until Dom can feel the pull and tingle deep inside. No longer in control of his body, Dom moves convulsively against Billy, pressing him closer, and when Billy moves to the other nipple, Dom cries out raggedly as his back arches into a deep bow.

Waves of heat wash over Dom as Billy moves against him, drowning him in the exquisite sensations of being pleasured. Then Billy’s lips finds his again and they’re kissing, hard, hot and wet, Billy’s tongue thrusting deep into Dom’s mouth. In a jumble of bare limbs, Billy rolls them over so Dom is sprawled over him and pulls his head close so that Dom can’t escape. Drunk with desire, Dom writhes frantically, desperate for more friction on his erection, until Billy can’t bear it one second longer, and rolls them over again, moving a hand between their undulating bodies, lower this time.

Billy’s husky whisper tickles Dom’s ear and makes him shiver with anticipation.

“You’ve got an incredible body, Dommie, and you fit so perfectly in my hands.”

To illustrate, Billy’s strong fingers close around Dom’s aching arousal and squeezes, eliciting a ragged gasp from Dom as he arches up to meet Billy’s touch.

“Don’t stop touching me,” Dom murmurs thickly, his skin prickling and the pounding coming stronger, in the rhythm of Billy’s hand. “Don’t stop.”

For a brief moment, Billy considers pulling away, to find the lubricant and condom he brought, but as his fingers slide over the now leaking tip of Dom’s erection, he changes his mind. There's no way he can let go of Dom now. Not even for a moment.

“Billy?”

Before Dom can say another word, Billy pulls Dom under him, and then their slick erections are trapped against Billy’s furry stomach. Dom feels his body clench at the incredible sensation and throb as Billy rocks against him swiftly, feels himself being drawn into the pounding of the blood in his veins, in Billy’s blood, the pounding everywhere.

“Wait.” The word is uttered as a faint whisper, when Dom feels his tightly held control shift from its anchor. Sex with Michael never felt like this. Never unrestrained or unpredictable. Control is slipping though Dom’s fingers like grains of sand. He can't hold on. “Wait, I can’t . . .”

“Let go, Dommie,” Billy moans, increasing the nearly punishing speed of his hand sliding up and down their erections, stroking and squeezing. “Let go.”

Clinging to Billy like a lifeline, Dom stares up at Billy with glittering eyes, Billy’s features in shadow as he thrusts into the cradle of Dom’s hips, over and over again. Who is Billy? Dom wonders to himself. I don’t even know him and we're naked in my bed. Having sex. What am I doing?

Billy’s hips jerk forward in rapid succession, hand pumping relentlessly, and after a guttural groan spills from his lips, hot fluid slicks their bellies. A moment later, his head drops to Dom’s shoulder, body sinking down, utterly spent. Gently rocking Billy, Dom holds him close, feeling warm and tingly and shaken and relieved . . . and a tad disappointed.

After a minute, Billy rolls off and pulls Dom close to him.

“I lost you along the way,” he pants, still breathless. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing.” Dom wipes his stomach with a corner of the sheet and settles into a comfortable position against Billy, trying not to be annoyed. “You were wonderful.” Just like Michael. A bloke who needs reassurance as to his sexual prowess. I need to face facts. Men aren’t my strong suit.

Under his breath, Dom sighs in resignation.

Billy holds Dom another minute until his breathing slows, and then he props himself up on one elbow to look down at Dom, letting a hand slide down the slender column of Dom’s neck to rest over his heart. “You were there with me and then you weren’t,” he whispers. “I could feel it in you.”

“I don’t know.” Although Dom tries to give Billy his supportive-lover smile, he’s distracted by a stroking thumb, now teasing a nipple. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” Billy lowers his head and presses a soft kiss to Dom’s temple. “What part threw you off?” Sliding down Dom’s body, Billy pauses when his mouth hovers over Dom’s pectoral muscle. “Was it this?” Tonguing the tight bud to tease, Billy smiles when Dom gasps.

“No,” Dom replies shakily, arching his back to press his chest against Billy’s warm, bow-shaped lips, his annoyance fading considerably. “No, it wasn’t anything you did.”

Moving further south, Billy slides his pointy tongue into the tender circle of Dom’s belly button for a brief taste as his fingers wrap deftly around Dom’s erection, informing Dom that the sexual activity for the evening is far from over. “This?”

“No,” Dom whimpers, and closes his eyes to concentrate on Billy’s incredible touch.

“Dommie?”

Billy strings hot, sucking kisses across Dom’s heaving belly, only pausing when one of Dom’s hands grips his shoulder. Now dizzy with arousal, Dom lets touch guide him, long fingers sliding through Billy’s increasingly mussed hair.

“I love it when you touch me,” Dom moans, moving convulsively under Billy’s small, strong hands as he’s petted and caressed endlessly.

“Good. I’ll do it often,” Billy vows in a low, hoarse voice, hot breath flowing across Dom’s sensitized flesh, making it difficult for Dom to concentrate on his words.

When Billy’s incendiary tongue makes contact with the damp tip of Dom’s throbbing erection, all hope of coherent thought is lost, and Dom’s knees fall open in a gesture that Billy finds stunningly erotic. At the unspoken invitation, Billy’s mouth closes over him in a hot, sensuous vice, and when Dom finally manages to force his eyes to open, he’s greeted by the vision of Billy’s ginger head bobbing between his thighs in the low light. The pressure is everywhere, growing stronger with every wet slide of Billy’s lips over his erection, and Dom rocks up against the hard barrier of Billy’s strong hands against his hips when he feels the itch start under his skin again.

“Oh God, Billy,” he moans, trying to move, drunk with pleasure and aching for release.

The whole world is Billy’s mouth connected with him so intimately, and the burning in his blood as the pressure winds tighter. Trembling fingers slide free of Billy’s hair, tracing the firms lines of his shoulders before coming to rest over Billy’s hands where they’re gripping Dom’s narrow hips. The light, yet purposeful touch serves as a silent promise from Dom that he’ll stay still, if it means that Billy will touch more of him. Anywhere he wants.

In reply, Billy’s thumbs stroke softly along the inside of Dom’s thighs, and it’s as though Billy is whispering in his ear, urging Dom to give in, to surrender to the pounding onslaught of orgasm that is threatening to take him over at any moment. The urge crests like a tidal wave, only to fall back slightly when Billy pauses, eliciting a whimper, and then two slicked fingers are nudging Dom’s puckered entrance, seeking entry.

Do anything you want. Just don’t stop, Dom begs silently. Bucking and writhing shamelessly, Dom thrusts up into Billy’s mouth as much as he’s allowed, not resisting when Billy guides his trembling legs up over his shoulders.

One moment Dom’s desperately pleading for more of Billy’s erotic touch, and then not one but two fingertips are petting the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside. Knowing that Dom’s so close to the edge, Billy sucks harder and bobs faster, until Dom’s lithe body spasms, he cries out brokenly, and salty fluid flows down Billy’s throat in hot pulses. At last, the fire in his veins is sated, and it begins to cool, leaving Dom breathless and weak as a kitten.

Sex with Michael definitely never felt like this.

Panting for breath, Dom is sprawled on the mattress, arms flung out until Billy slides up the bed to gather him close, and then they’re clutching at one another.

“Dom? Dommie?”

Burying his face in Billy’s chest, Dom tries to catch his breath, but the waves are stilling lapping gently inside him like aftershocks.

“Dom?”

Clinging to the older man, Dom struggles to find his voice and any coherent thought. “Oh God, Billy.”

Billy’s arms ever so slightly tighten around Dom’s trembling frame. “I thought you’d gone mute on me,” he teases gently.

Taking a long, shuddering breath, and then another one, Dom focuses on his breathing until his sanity returns, the heat of their shared passion and the intense release starting to settle in his bones like a narcotic. Stretching against Billy, all his muscles aching in the most pleasant of ways, Dom feels Billy’s skin sliding warm against his. “Oh wow,” he murmurs before drawing another deep breath. “I may never talk again.”

“Can you sleep now?” Billy asks softly as his fingers draw Dom’s tousled hair off his forehead.

“Only if you don’t touch me,” Dom replies, causing the other man to laugh, and Billy pulls him close until Dom curls into him and then they both fall asleep.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

When Dom’s eyes flutter open, long rays of morning sunlight are stretching across the room. He’d rolled away from Billy during the night, but now the other man’s arm is slung around his bare waist, hand curled against his belly, and Dom finds he rather likes the weight and heat of Billy’s touch. Staying very still, he savors how good his body feels, still feels after last night, and only gradually does he become aware of Orlando in the kitchen, banging pots and pans as he makes breakfast.

As far as shags go, this one has been a beauty. No guilt, no fear, no emotion at all, really, except pleasure. Bone-melting pleasure. Life has done a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn on Dom overnight. And now I’m going to make Billy a star. I can’t wait to get started.

Stirring a little, Dom smiles when he feels Billy’s hand tighten on his waist in his sleep, and Dom shifts his head on the pillow to look at the older man. Billy, with his sun-kissed, tousled ginger hair and eyelashes like faint smudges on his cheeks, looks like a fallen angel.

It’s really too bad we’re not doing television.

When he can’t stand to be so far away, Dom rolls over and eases closer, causing Billy’s arm to slide further around his waist. It’s as Billy rises to consciousness that he completes the movement Dom began, drawing their bodies together until Billy’s cheek is brushing against Dom’s mussed hair.

“Morning,” Billy murmurs without opening his eyes. “How do you feel?”

Dom can’t stop the grin from turning up the corners of his mouth, even as he presses his mouth against Billy’s chest. “Rather smug, now that I know what all the shouting was about.”

Humming in agreement, Billy brushes a kiss across Dom’s forehead. “You should know. You were the one doing all the shouting.”

Dom jerks his head back in surprise. “What?”

Smiling fondly, Billy dips his head just enough to bring their lips together for a brief kiss. “You scream when you come.”

“I do not.”

Billy chuckles. “Oh yes, you do.” Tucking Dom’s head into the curve of his shoulder, Billy slides the fingers of one hand into the silky strands of hair at the nape of Dom’s neck, the other hand splaying across his slender back as he sighs happily. “It takes a lot of the guess work out of shagging you, so I’m not complaining.”

In protest of Billy’s teasing, Dom thinks about pushing Billy away, but decides against it, entirely too comfortable with being wrapped up in Billy’s embrace. “Very funny.”

The intimate silence is shattered by another crash from the kitchen.

Dom smiles again. “Orli’s making breakfast. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Famished.” Billy kisses the top of Dom’s head. “But I need to check out this town on the daylight, so I’ll take a rain check, if that’s all right with you.”

“And miss Orli’s waffles?”

“Hell no. I’m eating the waffles.” Billy rolls up onto one arm and looks down at Dom, stretched out on the mattress. “I’m taking a rain check on you. Until tonight.” Sliding a hand under the sheet, Billy’s small fingers cup Dom’s bare hip and then slide across his flat belly, gently caressing. “Same time, same place, same screams?”

Billy’s gorgeous in the sunlight, and his golden hands that are making Dom rather dizzy at the moment. Billy is my career. Mixing sex and business is bad. Look what happened with Michael.

“I thought we were a one night shag.” Dom’s hand closes over Billy’s to stop his caress, but somehow he ends up pressing into Billy’s sensuous touch instead.

“We are.” Climbing over Dom to get out of bed, Billy pulls down the sheet to press a kiss to Dom’s bare hip on his way. “One night at a time.”

Yanking the coverlet and sheet up and squinting myopically, Dom watches the Scotsman pull on his boxer shorts, admiring the muscles in Billy’s legs and his mouthwatering arse while he tells himself he needs to stop now. Sleeping with Billy is not a good idea. He’s leaving in November. I don’t want another night together. Dom’s mouth refuses to utter any of his ridiculous thoughts, especially when Billy’s arms rise above his head as he stretches.

Something in his expression must tip Billy off to his quandary, because Billy slowly lowers his arms, warm green eyes growing serious. “You can always say no,” he tells Dom.

To you? The thought is so ludicrous, Dom laughs.

“I’ll try to remember that,” Dom replies, and his spirits rise again. Enough of this. I’ve got a career to resuscitate, and Billy is a one-man rescue squad. Pushing back the coverlet, Dom starts to climb out of bed, looking around the floor for his discarded clothing. He takes care to keep the sheet covering his lower half in an attempt at modesty, but it slips as he stretches to reach his pajama pants.

Heat flares in Billy’s appreciative eyes, and he heartily approves of the view. “To hell with the waffles,” he growls, reaching for Dom, but the younger man shifts just out of Billy’s reach, blushing and covering himself, rather ineffectually, with the corner of the sheet.

“Go eat,” Dom orders him gently, flapping his free hand at Billy. “You need fuel for that body. You must be running on empty now.”

“We get off at two o’clock.” Billy grins, watching Dom struggle to pull his pajama pants on without letting the sheet fall. “We can be home by two-thirty. You don’t want my side of the bed empty, do you?”

Finally drawing the cotton up over his narrow hips, Dom sticks out his chin, taking control. “You don’t have a side. It's my bed, and I’ll be asleep by two thirty-five.”

“Then you’ll be awake by two thirty-six,” Billy fires back, grabbing the waistband of Dom’s pajama pants as he tries to slip by. Dragging their bodies together, he kisses Dom thoroughly, with heat and tongue and roaming hands. While Dom’s still reeling, Billy lets him go and walks out of the bedroom, whistling.

Hurry up, two thirty-six, Dom says to himself, and then sinks down on the edge of the bed again, eager to get his thoughts back on his career, where they belong.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Pecans, right?” Billy asks as he walks out of the loo, freshly showered and shaved. He tugs a t-shirt over his head to cover his upper half, now wearing faded blue jeans, worn a bit thin at the knees, his feet bare.

“Pecans,” Orlando confirms, not looking up from his task of ladling creamy batter on the griddle, sleep-tousled curls hiding his eyes. Once all the small squares have been filled, he closes the iron and turns to Billy, long arms folding across his chest. “So, how did you sleep?”

Taking a seat on a chair at the kitchen table, Billy glances away and tries to look innocent. “Am I going to get a lecture? Because Dom made the first move, I swear.”

Orlando rolls his eyes in an exaggerated motion before nodding. “I know. He had a plan.”

“Getting over Michael,” Billy adds, reaching over to pour himself a glass of orange juice from a pitcher on the counter. “What a fuckwit.”

Pursing his lips in thought, Orlando leans against the cooker. “Dom’s got a tendency to pick fuckwits. He has what one might be described as a real genius for it.”

Billy winces and shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Don’t beat around the bush. Say what you mean.”

“The only thing that’s saved Dom is that his exes were lousy lovers. When they went, he wasn’t missing much.”

“I kind of got that impression last night,” Billy admits.

“That’s not all you got,” Orlando comments mildly as he opens the iron, pries the waffle out with a fork and slides it onto a plate. “You don’t exactly shag quietly.” He sets the plate down in front of Billy, inviting him to eat.

“That’s Dom.” Stomach rumbling in anticipation, Billy is lavish with the butter and maple syrup. “He’s a screamer. Surprised the hell out of me.”

“Oh, Dom’s not the only one. You’ve got a nice deep moan yourself.”

“Me?” Billy stops in surprise, a forkful of waffle halfway to his mouth.

“The walls are thin there,” Orlando says charitably, valiantly trying to hold back a smirk.

“I’m sorry we kept you up,” Billy says sincerely before taking a bite. “You make a mean waffle,” he adds after chewing and swallowing. “Do I get seconds?”

“Of the waffles, yes. Of Dom...” Orlando shrugs. “That’s my question. Was last night just an extremely vocal one night shag, or will you be back?”

Billy finishes chewing and swallows. “Well, I was planning on coming back. We can go to a motel if we bother you. I think that’s only fair.”

“The noise isn’t what bothers me,” Orlando clarifies, sitting down to his own plate of waffles. “What I’m worried about is Dom. Are you going to hurt him? Because if you are, I’m against it.”

Pausing in mid-bite for the second time, Billy’s shocked eyes lock with Orlando’s. “I don’t hurt people.”

“What if Dom falls for you?”

“He won't.”

“He will, if you hang around,” Orlando states bluntly. “You’re smart, you’re funny, and you obviously know how to make him happy in bed.”

Taking a moment to think about the job he’s come to do, and how fast he’ll be out of town after it’s done gives Billy pause, and he sighs. “You’re right. I have no serious intentions about Dom. I just like sleeping with him, so I’ll do a fade.” The thought is extremely unattractive, so he changes the subject. “You know, it’s a shame you’re straight. You’re probably the perfect bloke for him.”

Not arguing with Billy, Orlando grins at him. “It’s a shame you’re a bloke. You could’ve been the perfect girl for me.”

Billy shakes his head. “Probably not. I’m not perfect for anybody.”

“Good morning, all.” Dom drifts into the kitchen, now wearing a robe, his hair damp from the shower. Wordlessly, he pours himself a glass of orange juice, all the while smiling serenely at both of them.

The tightness is gone; Dom looks confident and sexy, and they can only stare at the transformation.

Silence fills the room, and Dom’s smile fades as he notices the staring. “Can I have waffles, too?” he asks Orlando finally, and the other man blinks before rising to make a batch for him.

“I need to get dressed, and then we can make plans,” Dom tells Billy, smiling at him, igniting the heat in the Scotsman’s belly, only to drift away, back to the bedroom.

Billy’s more than halfway out of his chair to follow Dom before he realizes it. “Oh bloody buggering fuck,” he curses, then turns to look at Orlando. “You’re right. I should’ve stayed on the damn couch.”

“Maybe you’d should forget about doing the fade,” Orlando muses aloud before turning back to the waffle iron. “This could be a good thing. He looks fucking invincible.”

“He looks like-” Billy stops.

“He looks like he had great sex,” Orlando tells him matter-of-factly. “It’s a new look for him. I’d pay good money to see Michael’s face when he sees Dom at the station.”

“Yeah? Well, what happens to that look when I stop sleeping with him?”

“Hey, I also saw the look on your face,” Orlando points out, one eyebrow raised. “What makes you think that you can stop?”

Billy puts his fork down. Dom is absolutely not part of his plan. His plan is to do the job and get out.

And now there’s Dom.

The look he gives Orlando is pathetic.

Orlando throws back his head and laughs.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

When Dom returns to the kitchen, he’s dressed for the station: pressed charcoal trousers, a blue, long-sleeved shirt that makes his hair appear a lighter blonde and a crisp white t-shirt peeking out from beneath. The glasses he’s wearing somehow appear less obvious today, and it only serves to give Billy a perfect view of blue-grey eyes and long, dark eyelashes. Add that to the tousled hair, and in a word, Dom looks perfectly edible.

Remember Boyd, from now on, you have a working relationship.

On that note, Billy shoves all thoughts of Dom and sex from his mind. Then he watches Dom lick syrup off his fork and for the first time in his life, Billy envies silverware.

“We don’t have to be at the station until four o’clock,” Dom tells him around bites of pecan waffle.

“That’s fine,” Billy replies. He needs some time alone to get his act together. “I want to wander around town on my own for a while. Get a feel of the place.”

“Okay.” Dom nods at him. “I’ll meet you in front of the station.”

Orlando excuses himself as he needs to get to the station to work on payroll, and Billy and Dom talk about local news and waffles. Then they wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen as a thank you to Orlando for making them breakfast. The entire time, Billy fights the feeling that he’s slipping into, that he’s always known Dom, that he always will. The Englishman is having a strange effect on Billy: he feels comfortable. Every internal alarm Billy has is screaming, but Dom when smiles at him, he just doesn’t care.

Out on the sidewalk in front of the house, the two men part ways, Dom walking away with a smile, utterly content. Watching Dom leave, Billy admires the slender line of his body, not missing how happy Dom looks. He abandons all his qualms for the moment, just enjoys the sunshine and Dom. If you wants something to worry about, you doesn’t need to start with Dom, Billy reminds himself. He has the anonymous letter and his first-ever radio show that night.

“Don’t forget to meet me at four o’clock so I can introduce you to everybody before they leave at five,” Dom calls, and after Billy promises, he escapes in the opposite direction.

Stay away from that bloke as much as possible, Billy warns himself.

Then he thinks about meeting Dom at four o'clock and grins.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"WCRB is on the fourth floor of a bank. Ian’s Bank,” Dom tells Billy, who watches Dom smack open one of the double glass doors of the station as if he’s attacking the place.

Instead of running for cover, the people inside converge on Dom like a last hope.

The tall, dark-haired receptionist is the first to call out to Dom as he blows past her with a, “Hey Livvie.”

“Wait, Dom, I need to talk to you,” Liv says, but then a flood of people begins to spill out from the narrow hall in front of them, one by one, like clowns out of a toy car at the circus.

Jenny darts out first. “Dom, can I have a minute? I need-”

“Monaghan!” A tall man with strawberry-blonde hair interrupts as he moves toward them and slings an arm around Dom’s shoulders. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”

A much smaller man with oddly large, striking blue eyes squints through a pair of dark-rimmed glasses and tugs at his rumpled tie, revealing fingernails that have been bitten down almost to the nub. “Not now, David. Dom, the ratings-”

Looking around and trying to take it all in, Billy watches a steely-eyed, statuesque woman appear behind the short man, and shoulder him aside. “Forget it, Elijah. I just heard about this mess. Dom, I don’t give a damn if Michael is dumb enough to dump you as his producer, I’m not.”

Billy watches Jenny wince at the comment and lower her eyes, and then sees Dom pat her arm in a gesture of comfort. “One at a time,” Dom begins, and David says “Wait a minute,” and Liv moans aloud, “Please, Dom,” and Jenny interrupts with, “Oh, Dom, I need your help,” and Elijah groans, “The ratings, Dominic.”

From the hall, someone announces, “That’s quite enough,” and the whole room freezes. It's the one voice to overrule them all.

Billy looks beyond the cluster of people, his gaze settling on a petite, slender, older woman standing in the hallway, arms folded across her chest.

“Nothing is changing,” she informs them. “Dominic is not leaving his position as Michael’s producer.”

“Actually, Patty, I am.” Dom reaches out through the throng that surrounds him and grabs Billy by the bicep to drag the Scotsman to his side. “This is Billy Boyd, our new DJ. I’ve got some very exciting ideas for his program.”

Billy opens his mouth to object, but then Patty speaks, and it seems like a very bad idea to interrupt her.

“Ian did not discuss this with me first.” The look in Patty’s eye convinces Billy that Ian had paid quite dearly for this infraction. “I was most disappointed in him.”

“Well, I was, too,” Dom tells her, and Billy raises an eyebrow at him, surprised at Dom’s candor. Then his eyes return to Patty. Neat, golden hair with a touch of gray at the temples that makes her appear distinguished, and a tailored navy suit that brings out her sharp, blue eyes. Not the kind of woman you lie to, Patty. “But now I’ve spent some time with Billy,” Dom continues. “I think this is going to be interesting.”

Patty turns her sharp eyes on Billy, and he tries not to swallow. Silently, she surveys him, starting at the top of his head and moving slowly to his feet before she starts back up again. She makes the return trip with a gleam in her eye.

Then she turns to Dom. “I see. Very well.” Holding out her hand to Billy, she says, “It’s very nice to see you again, William. The last time we met you were about seven years old, so I doubt you remember. How is your family?”

She’ll know if he’s lying, and there’s no way to know for sure what Ian told her. If Ian told Patty about the anonymous letter at all or why he’s really here. Better to keep it simple.

“Just fine, Mrs. Duke. Thank you for asking, ” Billy replies, somewhat awkwardly. “But I prefer to be called Billy.”

“Of course. Billy, it is.”

Patty’s eyes narrow for an instant, and Billy makes a mental note. Do not to take this woman for granted. She might be old enough to be his mum, but Patty’s probably sharper than anyone else in the room, Billy included. Sharper than anyone, with the possible exception of Dom.

When Billy turns back to the crowd, Dom is busy dispatching people with a warm efficiency that gets them off his back without leaving them exasperated. He promises Cate all the help she needs, Jenny, a meeting as soon as he’s finished showing Billy around the station, David a conference before his show this evening, Elijah, an analysis of the ratings by morning, and Liv the first minute he can spare. By the time Dom is finished, they’re alone in the lobby, except for Liv looking woebegone behind her desk. Clearly, Dom knows how to get what he wants, and Billy has a whole new appreciation of how he’d ended up in Dom’s bed the night before.

He also has new apprehension for his immediate future. “Listen,” he informs Dom sternly. “I don’t want to be famous.”

“Of course not,” Dom replies mildly, smiling at him. “Let me show you the station.”

Billy follows Dom, unable to shake the sense of foreboding, but the station itself is rather innocuous. Aside from the offices, the space is small, clean and uncluttered, with a hint of fresh paint, if Billy's nose is not mistaken. There's a broadcast booth with a production booth next to it, linked by a large window that’s used for the radio DJs that change shifts every four hours. It’s here that Dom points out the brand new console, thanks to Karl. Next is the combination broadcast and production booth where the news and other sound clips are prerecorded, one tape library, and a tiny room for the equipment necessary for the satellite feed for when the station broadcasts off-site. Farther down the hall is a conference room, a break room with an ancient coffee maker, and then Dom's office.

Pausing at the very end of the hall, Dom smiles, and then gestures Billy to enter the room as he opens the final door. "Welcome to my world."

"It's nice," Billy says neutrally, gazing around the room that's roughly the size of a cubicle.

Every square inch of three walls is covered with photos, handwritten notes, magazine articles, old scripts and anything else that Dom considers valuable and can be tacked up with a pushpin. It's how Billy imagines it would be like to live inside a very messy desk drawer. The fourth wall is lined with bookcases from floor to ceiling, filled with reference books, loose-leaf binders and various treasures that Dom must have put there for some reason or another.

The center of the little room is crowded with an old teacher’s desk, two battered wooden chairs and a black filing cabinet with a stuffed animal in the shape of a gecko on top of it. Billy stares in fascination at the glass eyes of the reptile that seem to follow him around the room while Dom closes the door behind them, takes a seat at his desk and begins searching through piles of papers.

If we ever shag in this office, we’re going to have to throw a shirt over the reptile so it doesn’t watch us. Not that there’s enough room to lie down in here. We’ll have to use the desk. Or do it against the wall... Billy gives his head a firm shake to dislodge the thought of pressing Dom against the nearest surface.

“Your first appointment is with me to talk about how you’re going to structure your four hours on the air. Ah ha!” Dom exclaims, raising his coffee cup triumphantly. “Also, you might want to to start thinking about explaining your program ideas for when we meet with Ian at five o’clock.”

Billy frowns at him, but is grateful to have something to bring his mind back to the problem at hand. His first night on the air. “What’s to explain?”

“Ian likes to pre-approve ideas,” Dom replies as he looks dubiously into the mug before turning it upside down and giving it a shake. Nothing comes out.

“He approves everything that goes out from this place?”

“Well, not Michael’s stuff, but that’s because Ian is rather fond of Michael.” Rising from his chair, Dom pulls down a loose-leaf binder from his bookshelf. “Here’s the WCRB handbook; Ian’s personal philosophy of broadcasting. You’re going to hate it.”

Billy reluctantly accepts the binder and sits down before opening it. In silence, he reads a page, and then sighs heavily. One thing is clear. Ian would not be considered liberal, at least, not by anyone with a pulse.

“So Ian really does run the station?” Billy asks. “I thought maybe he’d be one of those distant owners, who just drops by to read the profit sheet.”

“He used to be.”

Hearing a more somber tone in Dom’s voice, Billy looks up. “But?”

Sitting down in his chair again, Dom leans back. “But about six months ago, Patty decided that she wanted a job, so Ian gave her the run of the place. That upset the station manager, Stuart, and he quit. So Patty took Stuart’s job and now she really runs the station.”

Curious, Billy raises an eyebrow. “But you said last night that she’s not bad at it.”

Dom nods in agreement. “Patty’s a fast learner, and she’s not stupid in the slightest. Sharp as a tack.”

“And Ian just gave her the station.” Closing the binder, Billy leans back in his chair. “What are you leaving out?”

Biting his lower lip for a moment, Dom pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and leans forward, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. “Patty doesn’t particularly like to talk about this, so don’t mention it, okay?”

Wordlessly, Billy nods.

“Last year, Patty was diagnosed with breast cancer. She had surgery and her doctors recommended some intensive chemotherapy. She was in pretty bad shape for while. Then she started to get better, and in April, when she told Ian that she wanted to learn about radio...” Trailing off, Dom shrugs. “If Ian hadn’t already owned a station, he would’ve bought one for her. He’ll do anything for Patty.”

“Well, radio must be better than chemo.”

“She was done in July,” Dom continues, a soft smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “She’s doing really well now, and good things have come of it.”

“Such as?” Billy prompts.

“Well, Sean has never been one of Ian’s favorite people, but Sean stuck with his mom through the whole thing, taking her to chemo, reading to her, cooking for her when she didn’t have the energy to eat, that kind of stuff. Ian hasn’t called Sean a moron for months.”

“I can see where that would be a step up,” Billy agrees with a grin.

“And Patty’s running the station just fine.”

As the pieces fall into place, Billy nods. Patty came in cold off the street and the station is doing well. She had help from someone on the inside.

“Because you showed her the ropes.”

Dom shrugs noncommittally. “I helped a little.”

“Right.” Pausing, Billy thinks back to the scene in the hall. “Why didn’t you ask for Stuart’s job?”

Eyes widening, Dom looks horrified at the suggestion. “Business? Please. I’d rather die.”

Well, Billy can sympathize with that. “Patty would give you Michael’s show back in a heartbeat if you asked.”

“I don’t want Michael’s show.” Dom meets Billy’s eyes. “I want Michael’s time slot. The drive-time slot. That’s where we’re going to end up, Billy.”

“At six o’clock?” The outrage in Billy’s tone is unmistakable. “In the morning? Are fucking barmy?”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“No, I won’t.” Leaning forward, Billy speaks with great care. “Try to remember this, Dom. I am leaving in November. Don’t make long term plans for me.”

Dom smiles at him. “All right.”

Bloody hell. Billy sighs and shakes his head at Dom. “Do you listen to a word I say?”

“Only the good stuff,” Dom replies mildly.

With a roll of his eyes, Billy gives up and resumes reading the handbook.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Quietly, Dom watches Billy open the binder and begin to read.

Now that they’re not naked, it’s much easier to make decisions about the future. For one thing, I’m definitely not going to be sharing my bed with Billy again. He’s almost sure of that. The last thing he needs in his life is more tension.

After all, I barely know Billy. Sleeping with Billy would be bad, for professional reasons.

It’s wise to break this off now, before he starts to care about Billy. Because he doesn’t care about him. He just wants Billy. I want Billy right now on the floor of this office, except there isn’t enough room. Maybe the desk-

No.

Head tipping to one side, Dom watches Billy read the handbook, an eyebrow arching when he reads something ridiculous. The best thing Dom can do is to stay away from Billy as much as possible. While Billy is on the air, there will be a glass wall between them, so that’s safe enough. And maybe they can discuss the show through memos instead of face-to-face.

Face-to-face makes Dom think of Billy’s mouth, where it was last night and the incredible sensation of being pleasured by those bow-shaped lips.

Definitely memos.

A groan fills the air when Billy reads something particularly inane.

“I told you it would be bad,” Dom reminds him unsympathetically. I have to get away from Billy. I need to do things that do not include fantasizing about being pressed against a wall while Billy’s hands-

Grabbing his coffee cup, Dom stands up. “Listen, if you’re happy here for a while, I promised to talk to some people. If you want coffee, the break room is down the hall, turn to the left, first door on the left. You can’t miss it.”

“Coffee is not going to make this garbage better,” Billy grumbles. “I’ll need scotch.”

“Be sure to mention that to Ian during our meeting at five o’clock,” Dom fires back, and makes his escape.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Dom grabs a cup of coffee in the break room, smiling absently at Michael and David who are talking about engine blocks and carburetors. He’s not even mad at Michael anymore. It’s amazing what good, make that great, sex and a new shot at a career can do for someone’s outlook. While Dom is in the break room, Michael looks at him strangely, and Dom ignores the questioning look in his eyes. Dom has enough to do with the launch of a new show without worrying about Michael, especially since worrying about Michael is no longer his job. That is an incredibly cheery thought in a day that has been pretty fantastic thus far.

Energized beyond reason, Dom leaves the break room and goes back to doing what he does best: keeping the station ticking. He picks up the ratings from Elijah, promises Cate a late lunch tomorrow to discuss her show, and then heads for the receptionist’s desk.

“Hey, Livvie,” he says as he breezes into the lobby, pausing to select a cookie from a plate sitting on the counter and taking a big bite. “Are these double chocolate chip? Where did they come from?”

“Mrs. Rosenberg brought them in for Sean again, and he said to leave them here for everybody.” Taking a moment to glance around, Liv crooks a finger a Dom to beckon him closer. “C’mere for a minute.”

Mystified, Dom pops the rest of the cookie into his mouth before walking behind the counter.

Liv picks up a wicker basket covered with a baby quilt. “I’m in big trouble, Dom, and I don’t know what to do.”

Eyes widening, Dom prays that there isn’t a baby in the basket, as some things are beyond even his ability to fix. Then he notices the dark circles under Liv’s eyes that she’s attempted to cover with makeup, and feels ashamed for making light of her obvious distress.

“No offense, love, but you look awful,” Dom says sympathetically. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to feed him every hour and I can’t get to sleep in between. I’ve been doing it for two days, and I’m afraid he’s going to die.” Liv breaks off when her eyes brim with tears, and Dom takes the basket from her, expecting the worst.

It’s almost as bad as he feared. Under the blanket, nestled in soft folds of flannel, is a tiny black puppy, no bigger than two of Dom’s fingers. “Oh, no,” Dom gasps, shooting an anguished look at Liv. “What happened?”

Blinking rapidly, Liv’s words spill out in a rush. “Cinnamon had her puppies, but there were too many, and he came last, and he can’t suck or something, and she doesn’t even seem to notice him.” Pausing, Liv gulps in some much needed air. “I’ve been trying to feed him every hour, but I’m not getting much down him, and I think he’s going to die.”

The last word causes Liv’s voice to crack, and she sniffs hard, looking utterly miserable. “I’m so tired, Dom. I just don’t know what else to do.”

Sighing under his breath, Dom tucks the blanket back over the basket, to keep the sleeping puppy warm. “You’ve got formula for him?”

Dabbing at her eyes, Liv nods. “It’s in there, with a bottle and anything else I thought he might need.”

Decision made, Dom pats her gently on the shoulder. “Go home at five o’clock, and get some sleep. We’ll take it from here.”

“I don’t have permission to have him here at the station,” Liv cautions. “Ian doesn’t know.”

“Ian doesn’t have to know. Billy and I can handle it until two o’clock, and then Sean’s in,” Dom replies with a gentle smile. “You know what Sean’s like. He’ll probably have this wee one sitting up and begging by morning.”

Liv’s tears move from a trickle to a gush. “Are you sure? Will Billy be mad? Dom, I-”

“Go home at five o’clock,” Dom instructs gently. “Sean will pass the basket to you when he’s finished at eight, and I’ll pick it up again tomorrow night at five. Billy and David will be glad to help. They’re good blokes. We’ve got you covered.”

“Dom-”

“Get some coffee to keep you going until it’s time to go home, and leave everything else to me.”

Dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, Liv nods, the relief clear in her expression. “His name is Samson. That’s what I call him when I feed him. I wanted to give him a strong name, you know?”

“I know.” Dom pats her arm again, back in control of the world. “We’ll save him.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

After fifteen minutes of trying to make sense of Ian’s highly original take on broadcasting, Billy gives up and goes in search of the break room and coffee. Maybe something stronger. Michael and David, the Australian from the lobby, are deep in conversation about Michael’s carburetor when Billy enters the break room, and as far as Billy is concerned, they can stay that way.

“Just came for coffee,” Billy tells them as he selects a battered mug from a shelf labeled with Dom’s name on a piece of masking tape and fills it at the coffee maker. Once milk and sugar have been stirred in, he turns toward the door.

“So, Billy...” Michael leans back in his chair, an irritating, condescending smile stretching from ear to ear.

“So, Michael.” Billy keeps going.

“So you’ve moved in with Dom and Orlando.”

“Aye.” Billy is nearly to the door, and he can almost taste freedom.

“So how was it in the sack with our Dom last night?”

Billy stops. Keep your mouth shut, and get out of here. Against his better judgment, Billy turns around. “What?”

Michael smiles widely again, nauseatingly confident, just like in the restaurant yesterday. “You and Dom. How was he in the sack? Not what you’re used to, I bet.”

Don’t make waves. Billy bristles internally. He looks at Michael’s smug face, thinks about Dom, and feels his temper flare. Striding across the room, Billy leans over the table until he’s almost nose to nose with with Michael.

“If I ever hear you make a derogatory comment about Dominic again,” Billy warns, his tone deadly serious, “I will wipe the floor of this station with you.”

When Michael loses his smile, Billy straightens up, and turns back to the door.

“Tough guy.”

Billy keeps walking.

“Was Dom as lousy in bed for you as he was for me?”

Billy stops. Don’t do it. Then he turns around, jaw set in a hard line. “I don’t kiss and tell, but I’d wager that Dom would've been better off with his right hand, rather than waste his time with you. At least then he'd be guaranteed some satisfaction.”

Angered at Billy’s blatant insinuation and the snort of amusement that David can't quite muffle, Michael stands quickly, his fists clenched, preparing to defend his manhood. He snarls, "Now look you little son of a bitch-"

Michael starts to advance on the smaller man, but catches his foot on a table leg, tipping the table dangerously and causing the cups of coffee on it to slide off and fall to the floor, one mug breaking into several pieces. In his lunging attempt to save the cups, Michael loses his balance and tumbles awkwardly to the floor with an undignified yelp.

“It would seem that your moves in a few areas need some work,” Billy tells him mildly. He looks at David, who is wiping at some coffee splatters on the leg of his trousers with a napkin and biting his lower lip to hide a smile. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” David agrees, nodding judiciously. “I’d have to say so.” The Australian doesn’t look particularly put out that Michael is sprawled awkwardly in a puddle of coffee on the floor.

Michael on the other hand, glares at Billy from his position on the floor, a dark stain spreading across his previously pristine shirt. “Relax. It was just a joke.”

“Don’t joke about Dominic,” Billy replies, frowning down at Michael. “It annoys me.” He turns to leave and comes face-to-face with Liv.

“Just came in for some coffee,” she says brightly, waving her cup at him.

“Fine,” Billy says with a nod, mentally kicking himself for resorting to cheap shots, but unable to hold back one final comment in Dom's defense. “Step on Michael while you’re getting it.”

This will not do, Billy tells himself on his way back to Dom’s office. He needs to find a way to keep away from Dom, as it's very clear that the Englishman is screwing up his head.

That shouldn’t be too hard.

Right.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Chapter 4