FIC: Distance (1/1)
title: Distance
pairing: Billy/Dom (but not really)
rating: PG-13
words: 450+
summary: During a group night out in NZ, Billy watches Dominic dance.
author's note: Wrote this lil thing in about an hour. I took my loneliness out on poor Billy. *pets him*
It was another Hobbits'n'Orli Saturday night on the town, and they had all crowded into their current favorite nightclub. Hours went by in a blur, and Sean had long buggered off to the sanity of Christine's arms, leaving the rest of them determined to drink and party themselves into oblivion. Or, in Billy's case, just the drinking part.
Billy sat in their designated booth, momentarily alone, nursing his scotch. The other three had tried to guilt him into dancing with them, but he had steadfastly refused, having spent all day on the pony rig and quite happy to finally sit on something that was completely motionless. At least, that was the part of the truth that he chose to tell them.
His eyes flicked across the dance floor, attention bouncing from Dom to Elijah to Dom to Orlando and back to Dom. It was always Dom, in the end. As energetic and wild as Lij was, and as gracefully as Orlando moved, neither ever came close to the incandescent sensuality of Dominic in motion, not in Billy's mind. The seat in their booth gave him a perfect vantage point, and Billy had a fleeting moment of wondering if Dom was aware of that. It wouldn't surprise him either way.
The tempo in the music changed to something savage, animalistic, and Billy leaned forward slightly. He knocked back the last of his drink, not even wincing at the bright burn in his throat. Fitting it should burn, it was a barely an echo of the real fire he felt watching Dominic writhe to the rhythm, his eyes seeming to track every rivulet of sweat that snaked down Dom's skin. Somewhere he heard laughter, talking, clinking of glasses, but it all fell away to background static beneath the thumping of tribal drums and the inescapable sight of Dom completely taken over by the music. A vision sprang to the forefront of Billy's mind unbidden, a vision of Dominic twisting and bending like that beneath him, Dominic overpowered by nothing more than simple passion and need, a vision torn from Billy's own haunted dreams... dreams that left him shaking and breathless, feeling his age for a few of the rare times in his life.
Billy's hand rose of its own accord and signaled a passing waitress for a refill of his drink, his eyes never moving from their target. The man in his dreams was not his, would never be his no matter how close their friendship or how intimate they were, and he did not delude himself into hoping otherwise. Watching the man on the dance floor was as close as Billy would ever come to seeing his visions come to vivid reality.
So he watched, and burned.
End.
pairing: Billy/Dom (but not really)
rating: PG-13
words: 450+
summary: During a group night out in NZ, Billy watches Dominic dance.
author's note: Wrote this lil thing in about an hour. I took my loneliness out on poor Billy. *pets him*
It was another Hobbits'n'Orli Saturday night on the town, and they had all crowded into their current favorite nightclub. Hours went by in a blur, and Sean had long buggered off to the sanity of Christine's arms, leaving the rest of them determined to drink and party themselves into oblivion. Or, in Billy's case, just the drinking part.
Billy sat in their designated booth, momentarily alone, nursing his scotch. The other three had tried to guilt him into dancing with them, but he had steadfastly refused, having spent all day on the pony rig and quite happy to finally sit on something that was completely motionless. At least, that was the part of the truth that he chose to tell them.
His eyes flicked across the dance floor, attention bouncing from Dom to Elijah to Dom to Orlando and back to Dom. It was always Dom, in the end. As energetic and wild as Lij was, and as gracefully as Orlando moved, neither ever came close to the incandescent sensuality of Dominic in motion, not in Billy's mind. The seat in their booth gave him a perfect vantage point, and Billy had a fleeting moment of wondering if Dom was aware of that. It wouldn't surprise him either way.
The tempo in the music changed to something savage, animalistic, and Billy leaned forward slightly. He knocked back the last of his drink, not even wincing at the bright burn in his throat. Fitting it should burn, it was a barely an echo of the real fire he felt watching Dominic writhe to the rhythm, his eyes seeming to track every rivulet of sweat that snaked down Dom's skin. Somewhere he heard laughter, talking, clinking of glasses, but it all fell away to background static beneath the thumping of tribal drums and the inescapable sight of Dom completely taken over by the music. A vision sprang to the forefront of Billy's mind unbidden, a vision of Dominic twisting and bending like that beneath him, Dominic overpowered by nothing more than simple passion and need, a vision torn from Billy's own haunted dreams... dreams that left him shaking and breathless, feeling his age for a few of the rare times in his life.
Billy's hand rose of its own accord and signaled a passing waitress for a refill of his drink, his eyes never moving from their target. The man in his dreams was not his, would never be his no matter how close their friendship or how intimate they were, and he did not delude himself into hoping otherwise. Watching the man on the dance floor was as close as Billy would ever come to seeing his visions come to vivid reality.
So he watched, and burned.
End.