"That's false advertising," Billy pointed out as Dom scrawled his name across the fabric.

"S'not." Dom finished and stopped poking his tongue out the side of his mouth, releasing his death grip on the t-shirt so it sagged into relaxed folds on Billy's torso. "This shirt has most definitely been in a large variety of compromising positions." He straightened and tossed the Sharpie away.

"But on me, not you," Billy said. "False advertising, Dominic. Punishable by..." He stopped.

"By what?" Dom stepped closer. "Spanking?" He grinned.

"Did that already." Billy pretended to ignore the fact that Dom was unmistakably intruding upon his personal space, gazing thoughtfully into the air just over Dom's bare right shoulder. "No, we'll have to be more creative than that."

"To hell with creative," Dom said. He lowered his head to suck at Billy's neck, just over the collar of the tee. "Let's have some good old-fashioned sweaty sex."

"That's not supposed to be considered a punishment," Billy protested, but his hand was sliding into Dom's hair, and he was smiling.

"Well, how about this." Dom lifted his head (Billy frowned) and tugged at the hem of the shirt. "I'll wear the t-shirt while we fuck, and then it won't be false advertising, and then there won't need to be any punishing done."

"What'll I wear?" Billy asked as Dom pulled the shirt over his head.

Dom slipped the t-shirt on and shrugged. "Guess you'll just have to be naked, mate."

"Ah, bugger," Billy murmured, fitting his hips against Dom's and pressing him against the back of the sofa. "That's a shame."

"No help for it," Dom said, and then he stopped talking.