Book 2, Chapter 10: Acquiescence (8/8)
Title: Acquiescence (8)
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Dominic/Billy
Word count: 5147
Summary: Continues from here.
Warnings: D/s in the chapter; implied in this section, which ends the chapter.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
For a long moment, Dominic doesn't move, doesn't do anything but focus on catching his breath and slowing his heart. He knows Billy lies next to him; he can feel Billy's hand ringed tightly around his wrist and the cuff still digging into his skin. He can feel the sweat drying on his body, and behind his closed eyes he can still see Billy's face as it was just moments ago. He shivers again at the memory, and the movement makes Billy stir as well but not speak. Dominic turns his head with some effort, and when he opens his eyes he meets Billy’s, tired and soft but focused once more as he leans closer and just touches his lips to Dominic's at first, waiting for Dominic to open to him again.
It's what Dominic wanted, the connection, and he turns toward Billy, into the kiss and the gentler touch. He's tired-exhausted-but he decides there's enough left in him for this. He lets the first kiss be soft, lets Billy take what he wants before he moves his free hand up and into Billy's hair, lifting the wet strands from Billy's neck as the kiss deepens. Dominic breaks a little harder just from this than he had from anything else they’d done tonight, and when Billy pulls away, Dominic has to turn his head, his eyes still closed, as he tries to hide the emotion on his face by swiping his hand across it. Billy ducks his head again, breathing hard at Dominic’s shoulder, and brushes his lips against Dominic’s reddened skin.
“Not hurt?” Billy asks finally, and Dominic shakes his head, his shaky hand raking now through his matted hair, making it stand on end.
"No."
“You’re a mess. Maybe a liar, too.” Billy lets out another exhale and brushes his thumb at the corner of Dominic’s eye, smudging the last of the eyeliner further and smiling until fatigue hits and it fades a little. “Fucking hell, Dominic, look at you.”
Dominic doesn't say anything, but something of the beginnings of a smile finally turns up the corners of his lips before he turns his head away again. This sort of care after isn't something he's ever experienced either, and while he thought he was finished with comparing anything tonight to what’s happened before, this one seems appropriate, even if he can’t share it with Billy.
"I don't know that I'll be able to move from this bed," Dominic says instead. His voice hitches a little in the middle and he has to stop, wiping his hand over his face again before reaching out to rest his hand on Billy's shoulder. The cuff is heavy, he hadn't noticed that earlier, and Dominic looks at the detailing, pulling his wrist closer to see better before he gives even that up. He doesn't remember ever feeling this tired afterward, and he scolds himself a bit for this-maybe final-comparison.
Billy catches Dominic’s hand before it falls to the mattress and turns Dominic’s wrist up, holding Dominic’s gaze while he pushes at the clasp of the cuff. The leather doesn’t fall open immediately; rather it hugs Dominic’s wrist as if it belongs there, and Dominic’s breath splinters a little as Billy spreads his fingers inside the cuff and up from Dominic’s wrist to his palm. Dominic flexes his fingers, and Billy lifts his wrist gently, pressing a bit when Dominic’s eyes dart away from his own.
“Stay with me, Dom,” Billy says again, his voice as rough this time around the edges as the rest of him looks. His fingers thread between Dominic’s and tighten before they slip away, and when Dominic feels the mattress again below his hand the cuff’s not within reach anymore; the cooler air around his wrist feels strange and harsh, his skin prickling with it even as Billy leans in to kiss him again. When Billy’s attention turns to Dominic’s other hand, it’s kinder, less of a surprise as Billy rids him of the second cuff, but still Dominic’s not sure that he wants to be freed so soon. The corners of his eyes sting with the effort of before and an additional layer of fear that Billy’s releasing more than just Dominic’s hands, a fear that doesn’t leave Dominic until he feels Billy press his hands back around the spindles of the bed.
"There's still-" Billy begins then pauses, moving his hand along the length of Dominic's torso, resting it on his stomach. "We're not finished here."
"Can I-" Dominic performs his own stop and start before he shuts his eyes, opening and closing his fingers. He wants to know if he's earned the right to stay but knows he shouldn't ask. Billy's already said yes, but Dominic can’t hear the echo of the words they’d spoken in the living room anymore; it seems like too long ago. Billy's paused next to him, his hands gone still on Dominic’s body, waiting, it seems, for Dominic to continue. That question isn't the one Dominic most wants to ask in any case; the right question is one he thinks he already knows the answer to but one asks now anyway. "Was it alright, Billy? Did I please you?"
Billy nods, forcing himself not to question Dominic’s fear. There’s no cause for his concern, but Billy understands it, and he draws his hands gently down and back up Dominic's arms, massaging muscles that don’t fight his touch but will ache tomorrow. "I’ve got something for this,” Billy says as his fingers brush against Dominic’s wrists, the skin raw enough that Dominic tries to hide the hard breath he has to take. “These. And everything else. Just-settle, Dom. Try not t’move too much.”
Dominic nods, but when Billy turns to open the nightstand drawer, Dominic follows, reaching for the glass of wine that Billy had left there. There's little left in the glass but dregs that Dominic swirls in the bottom before he sniffs at it then takes a sip, grimacing at its reedy taste.
"You’ve had too much of that," Billy says, closing the drawer before he takes the glass from Dominic's hand and takes a sip of it himself. The wine’s gone warm and nearly undrinkable, but Billy swallows it nonetheless, well past caring, and then leaves the emptied glass on the table. There’s water in the kitchen, but even that small journey’s more than Billy wants to think about now; instead he gathers his strength and rises from the bed slowly, his hand moving down Dominic’s body as he makes to stand. He holds back his typical smirking demand that Dominic not run off when he sees Dominic’s eyes closing again and his toes curling gently in the bedclothes. Billy hates to leave the room now, even just to step to the bathroom. It’s the one thing he hadn’t thought properly through, this, and where he would have preferred to just reach to his bedside table for something to ease the small damage he’s done tonight, Billy's found nothing in the drawer and now has to gather things from elsewhere, leaving Dominic alone when he most shouldn't.
As he takes the last step before the door Billy’s foot brushes against one of the matches he’d let fall after it had burnt itself bright and sharp and down. Bending carefully to gather it and the others, Billy finds he can smell the match’s fire now as strong as he had what feels like hours ago, and he swallows hard as he rises again and coaxes the spent matches into the narrow, rounded opening of the heavy, grey matchstrike on his dresser. They stick up like quills, little warnings against themselves and all their possible uses, and Billy smiles tiredly as he pushes the matchstrike back from the edge of the dresser and finally leaves the room.
Dominic can hear Billy's bare feet as he moves up the hall. He opens his eyes enough to see that the glass is gone, and he hopes that Billy will bring back water; he wishes now that he’d asked for some. He feels thirsty and tired, remembering now that he hadn’t had dinner before he came over-he hadn’t forgotten; he’d been too keyed up to eat-and his lunch was too long ago. Dominic wonders again about the time and tries to guess at the hour-past midnight, he supposes, maybe even later or just a bit earlier.
Without Billy, the room is silent, and Dominic thinks he can hear the little clock ticking from the drawer but he doesn't bother to move. The time doesn't really matter, but thinking about Billy having stopped it makes him consider again the effort that Billy's put into the night, about the little changes to the house and to this room. Dominic curls onto his side a bit, drawing his knees up, and blinks his eyes open. From where he lays, he can see where Billy had secured his hands to the wall, and the mirror that reflects back only his feet right now. Dominic thinks that while he’d been held against the wall, Billy might have been able to see his face in the mirror and his fight to keep quiet, his excitement at being caught in the position. Billy might have been able to see everything, and that thought makes Dominic draw his knees up even tighter so that no part of him remains visible in the mirror.
The night had given them both more than they expected, Dominic knows. Dominic could have said the words at any point-I love you, a phrase he's never really said and meant before, words that he's thought were overused, that couldn't have any meaning left to them-he would have said them and meant them and given anything to hear them back, but there's enough fear left in him to think that having done so would have ended the scene more efficiently than the safeword Billy had given him.
Equilibrium. Dominic would have given a lot to have had a little of it during the night, and that was another thing he hadn't expected-to be thrown so far off balance, when he’d hardly felt new at this. He can see now that every other time he's done anything like this, he'd been in more control than he’d thought. He's been tied up and blindfolded, hit but never hard enough to leave real marks, fucked hard and sometimes well, but he'd never given as much of himself to it as he had tonight; he'd never fallen so far or so willingly.
Dominic lets the fingers of one hand travel to find the bruises on his hips, and he presses his fingertips into them before he stretches out onto his back again, reaching for the headboard spindles and closing his eyes. He aches in a hundred different places, in a hundred different ways, and he presses his back and shoulders into the mattress to memorize that ache even more. He'll feel this for days afterward, like he had the first time he and Billy had fucked. Behind his closed eyes, Dominic can see how Billy looked at the end, as he shoved into Dominic's body, and Dominic tries to hold on to the memory of it in case he doesn't have the chance to see Billy that way again anytime soon, or ever.
Billy hushes Dominic’s surprised breath at the feel of the mattress dipping again and edges up closer to Dominic, his hands full of things Dominic doesn't recognize until one's pressed into his hand. Dominic sits up quickly to open the water bottle, but Billy eases him back down again long enough to swipe first a damp towel down his chest and stomach and between his legs, then a warmer, dry one, drawn more carefully over Dominic’s skin. It’s only when Billy’s ready that Dominic feels himself being raised back up a bit, and he hisses as his body reacts to the movement, making Billy reach out to hold him steady.
"Settle," Billy says again, calmer now than before. "And not too fast with that." Dominic nods and takes a drink, closing his eyes but still feeling Billy's stare on him. Billy's hand moves down Dominic's arm and turns his wrist again, and Dominic swallows and lowers the bottle from his mouth, wanting to see what Billy's doing-what Billy's done and is attempting to do now to fix it. Dominic almost wants to pull his hands away, willing to keep every bruise and scrape for as long as he can, like mementos from the best kind of trip. Instead, he stays still, holding his bottle of water and leaning in to Billy a bit as Billy opens his hand and spreads his fingers.
The chill of the salve is tempered by the warmth of Billy's touch. Dominic's hands relax in Billy's as Billy works, and though the candles don't provide enough light over where he and Billy sit to allow Dominic to see the marks the cuffs have left on his wrists, he can feel them at every stroke of Billy's fingers. Dominic's eyes drift over the bed, and beside Billy's pillow he can see the abandoned cuffs still beyond his immediate reach. Billy follows Dominic's gaze, but he remains quiet as he gathers two long, pale turns of fabric and begins to wrap one around Dominic's right wrist. Dominic's surprised-they're not bandages, and he hadn't thought that kind of thing necessary to begin with-and his attention moves back to Billy's hands moving carefully around his own.
"'s better, yeah?" Billy looks up and nods when Dominic does too.
"I liked the cuffs." Dominic looks back to where they lay, drawing Billy's eyes to them again. There's a watershed line from where the thick leather had absorbed his sweat and Dominic twists to pick one up, rubbing his thumb over the rough interior before turning it over in his hand. "I liked wearing them."
"Not all night you wouldn't have. Turn over, Dom. Let me see your back." Billy nudges at Dominic's shoulder and leads him back down to the mattress. Dominic stretches and reaches for Billy's pillow as he settles, pushing it under his chest before he fingers the cuff again. Up close Dominic can see the notches Billy's cut inside and wonders again what his wrists look like under the material Billy's wrapped around them. He's not sure how long he'll be able to hold the cuffs before Billy takes them away or points his attention somewhere else, and while he remembers little now of what Billy’d told him about the cuffs, Billy's words they're yours when you need them or I want them on you stay with him, and they give Dominic the courage to speak again.
"They're beautiful, like they're handmade." Dominic turns the cuff again in his hand, lifts it to his nose to smell the leather and rub it against his lips. He can't imagine anywhere around Baskerville that Billy would have bought them, and his mind rebels a little at the thought that Billy had owned them previously, had perhaps used them on someone else. Billy wouldn't have done that, not after going through so much trouble with everything else. They're his, something that Billy bought for him, and he likes the thought so much that his curiosity overwhelms him; he has to know more, and he has to know for sure. "Did you get them here?"
“In the city, I told you,” Billy says, and Dominic opens his mouth to say more, but instead just inhales deeply when Billy’s fingers press against one of the small burns. Billy feels Dominic's long, slow exhale and is again grateful Dominic can’t see the smile that turns the corners of Billy’s lips up before he shakes it off and leans lower. The next touch of Billy’s fingers is softer, slightly damp with the salve, making Dominic release another breath as it cools on his skin. “I could find reason to take you there,” Billy tells him, and it’s Dominic’s turn to hide his smile while Billy continues. “Not just for this, Dominic; don’t think anything we’ve done here falls into some-single category, some box never meant t’be opened again.” Billy’s voice goes quiet. “Unless it shouldn’t."
Dominic been lulled near sleep by Billy's hands but his last words rouse him again. That Billy is already thinking of a next time is enough to allay any of Dominic's lingering doubts and fears and Dominic rises up, bracing himself with his arms to turn before Billy stops him. "Billy-"
"Don’t tell me now,” Billy says, splaying his fingers between Dominic’s shoulder blades. “We aren’t finished, and I can't hear what you haven’t had time to think through.”
"I want to. I mean, I want to do this again." Dominic eases back down, readjusting the pillow and folding himself around it. From the moment Billy’s hands had curled tightly in Dominic’s shirt hours ago, Dominic had known Billy’d done this before with others, just as Dominic had, but he hadn't really stopped to consider what that experience had been-who Billy’s partners had been. It never occurred to Dominic until now that while he had been making his comparisons, Billy might have been making his own as well. "I was better for you than anyone else was, wasn't I." It's a statement, not a question. "I wanted to be. I tried to be."
“And you were.” Billy can feel the little flush of heat and pride in Dominic’s skin, and while Dominic’s admission that he wants more of this makes Billy’s heart race a little, his thoughts can’t keep up anymore; he barely has enough of a mind to take care of Dominic now. “Doesn’t matter about anyone else, Dom. You walk into this room with me and no one else exists.”
“Were you-” Dominic stops when Billy’s hands pause on his back, but he can’t keep down the questions. “How did you learn-”
“In theory or practice?” Billy says, and this time Dominic can hear the half-smile in his voice. “I’ll tell you another time. Y’should rest, Dom.”
“Both,” Dominic murmurs, turning his head. He wants to see Billy now, and Billy lets him, tilting his head and meeting Dominic’s eyes. “I want to know everything,” Dominic says, and Billy can detect no guile in the words, only an honesty that makes him take another deep breath.
“Don’t be too sure,” he says carefully. “And if I tell you all my secrets now, Dom, what reason do you have t’come back to me?” Billy presses his fingers into the marks again as a way to end the conversation, but Dominic hugs the pillow tighter to his chest and buries his face for a moment, too overcome with the answer he would give. The pain is not overwhelming, but it's enough that Dominic is quickly learning how Billy means to use it. Billy’s touch doesn't stop his run of questions, though; it only seems to lead him to more. Dominic raises his head, trying to see over his shoulder.
"Can I see them? I want to see what they look like.”
“I can’t imagine you’ve never seen something like them before,” Billy murmurs, but Dominic’s cheeks flush harder and Billy draws in a breath between his teeth. “I could have said that better.”
“They weren’t yours,” Dominic says quietly. Billy bends to press a kiss to Dominic’s shoulder, but Dominic can feel he’s not ready to give on this, not yet.
“What is it you think you’ll be able to tell from them?” Billy’s fingers have drifted down Dominic’s back and to the rise of his ass, working the salve into harder, deeper marks. “’s one thing to just look at yourself-”
“I felt everything,” Dominic interrupts him. “I do. Still.”
“And it isn’t enough?”
Billy says it lightly, but Dominic thinks he can hear worlds of conflict in what Billy’s keeping silent. He tries to remain still as Billy finishes, his hands now moving on the backs of Dominic’s thighs, but when Billy shifts on the mattress, Dominic makes to speak again.
“They’re beautiful,” Billy murmurs, stopping all thought Dominic had of talking now. Dominic clenches his fingers in the pillow in concentration as Billy continues, his voice going softer as he lowers his lips to Dominic’s shoulder again. “And very real. You’ll feel it more tomorrow, Dom; you’ll love and hate every step you take.” Billy traces the line of one welt just under the curve of Dominic’s ass and hums with pleasure when Dominic does, too. “They’re beautiful. They’re what you wanted, Dom; they’re what you’d earned, and that’s what I want you to feel. It’s not something so easily seen.”
Dominic doesn’t move once Billy’s stopped speaking, and after a moment Billy moves to one side of the bed and urges Dominic up to sit and then stand, carefully, turning Dominic so his back’s to the mirror mounted above Billy’s dresser. Billy stands facing him, his hands curving at Dominic’s face, encouraging him to look Billy in the eyes before anything else.
“They’re beautiful,” Billy says for the last time, and when Dominic’s eyes almost flutter closed he moves closer, more heat in his voice and strength in his hands. “They’re not pretty, and they’re not anything anyone else can be expected to understand. You should prepare yourself for that, for when-” Billy stops rather than continue to think of someone else’s reaction to the sight of Dominic’s body over the next several days. “So look, then,” he says instead, and lets Dominic turn his glance over his shoulder once more.
Dominic has to work to not blink at the sight of himself. He’s afraid that if he looks away from his reflection Billy will end it there, moving them back to the bed immediately, and Dominic’s not ready for that yet. He stares at the welts on his lower back and ass, at the deep reds and violets blooming already on his hips, at the darker, smaller marks from Billy’s matches that set boundaries Dominic can’t begin to imagine how Billy forced upon himself. Billy’s right, Dominic thinks when he remembers to breathe; the marks aren't pretty, and if Dominic were to see them on anyone else he might find them frightening, a concern at best. But they’re his, and Billy’s too, and Dominic lifts his eyes to find Billy’s in the mirror, suddenly aware that Billy’s held his breath, too.
“I want you to take a picture,” Dominic says, and Billy inhales sharply.
“I can’t-” Billy stops and tempers his words, his hand flattening gently on Dominic’s back. “I can’t do that; it wouldn’t-did you hear what I told you, Dominic? No picture’s going to-"
“Do me justice,” Dominic murmurs, and Billy nods, swallowing hard again.
“It won’t be what you want. I’m not your friend Barchi, Dominic; I’m no artist-”
"You're a photographer-”
“I take pictures.” Billy’s hiss silences them both for a moment, and then he curves both hands over the rise of Dominic’s shoulders and closes his eyes.
“I’m only asking you for one,” Dominic says quietly, the absolute certainty and trust in his voice making Billy’s argument taste like ashes in his mouth. “I want to have this, Billy. Please. I want to be able to see."
Billy says nothing for several seconds, just slides his hands down Dominic's back and thinks. If he does this it'll be days at least before Dominic will actually see the results; nowhere in Billy's small collection is there a digital camera, and the shots won't be the sort Billy feels he can see developed by anyone but himself. He'll have to book time alone in one of Miranda's darkrooms, and more, he'll have to concentrate harder on the developing than he has for any series of photographs before.
Most of all Billy will need to push away any other thought of Barchi's sketches and what they’d done to him.
“Alright,” he says finally, careful to keep the sound of resignation away from his voice. He touches his lips to Dominic’s neck and slides his hand down to the small of Dominic’s back as he moves away. “Alright. Try not to move, hmm?”
Billy’s gone before Dominic can respond, and Dominic can feel himself shiver at the loss of Billy’s warmth beside him. He concentrates on everything around him instead of focusing inward now, and his eyes rest on the matchstrike on Billy’s dresser, on the matches Billy had used to mark him. Before Dominic can stop himself he’s reaching for two of them, turning them in his fingers and remembering their burn on his skin. They’re longer than conventional smoker’s matches, the cheap things you can still get sometimes in restaurants and pubs, but nowhere near as long as the ones that lie in a box on Billy’s fireplace mantel. Their scent is different as well, spicy but soft, and Dominic closes his eyes and remembers that, too. In the moments before Billy returns Dominic determines that when he has to leave this house-when he has to return to his own room and life-he’ll take at least one of the matches with him, and he’ll learn where Billy found them, if nothing else than to replenish Billy’s stock.
He replaces the matches as soon as he hears Billy’s footfall again, and Dominic stands straighter and centers himself, prepared for capture of another, more detached kind. Billy doesn’t speak as he lifts his camera and checks a multitude of settings before he even properly focuses on Dominic, and as he waits Dominic silently urges Billy not to make the room any brighter; he wants the pictures to remain as close to the present truth as possible, even if it means they aren’t as clear as they could be. Nothing is right now, and Dominic’s accepted it so many times over already.
The first picture Billy takes frames only Dominic’s back, his shoulders, and his lowered chin. Billy ignores the possibilities inherent in the zoom lens and instead moves closer and focuses tighter on what he knows Dominic will want to see. The next few shots are more specific, and Billy thinks Dominic might regret what they show him, but there’s little to be done for it now, and as if to atone for having done so much damage even with Dominic’s more than willing consent, Billy caresses the marks gently as he focuses again, surprised when the camera slips and the following shot catches his hand on Dominic’s skin as well. Dominic looks over his shoulder at the sound of Billy’s quiet laugh, and Billy works quickly to frame Dominic’s smile and his lowered eyes. It’s not meant to be part of these photos, and they both know it, but it provides a welcomed pause in everything else.
The challenge would have been just keeping to one picture, Billy thinks now as he retreats several steps behind Dominic and raises the camera to his eyes. There are blessedly few frames left on this roll, but Billy’s certain he could take those hundreds of photos he’d warned Dominic against earlier if he had them to spare. Dominic holds himself quiet and still, unafraid of the camera; if anything he relaxes even more under its gaze, and Billy aches to know his mind, where his thoughts travel when he’s under this attention.
Billy wouldn’t have placed odds on ever having this opportunity, and even as he relishes it as he has everything else tonight he’s still unnerved enough by it that he knows half the photographs will be nothing but blurred dreams once developed. His hands are unsteady and tired, his concentration’s shot, but Billy lets go of any thought of framed perfection and lets the camera and candles do most of the work for him, capturing Dominic the only way he can now. He’s circled Dominic completely, and so it comes easily for him to nod and guide Dominic to sit on the edge of the bed.
“How many do you have left?” Dominic asks him, and though Billy thinks he knows the answer he checks the count nonetheless. While Billy’s distracted Dominic strokes his fingers over Billy’s hips and down his thighs, confirming the strength he’d felt earlier and wanting to hold on to the heat he feels now in Billy’s skin. He’s never been photographed like this; it’s nothing like holding still for a roomful of students or for Gian and Karina. Billy’s faster for one thing, and his attention is scattered, but it’s so much better, too; Dominic’s never felt so comfortable in front of a lens, and the ability to draw Billy into the picture physically and emotionally is a power he never thought he’d have, much less love and not want to lose. He leans in closer, closing his eyes and brushing his lips to Billy’s stomach. “How many, Billy?”
“Four,” Billy says a little breathlessly. He takes the available step closer to Dominic and aims the camera again to frame Dominic's flushed face and the smudge of liner still left beneath his eyes. "Three," Billy corrects himself, and nudges Dominic back down to the mattress. “On your stomach again, go on.”
Dominic moves slowly, turning on the bed so Billy can watch the arch of his back and the flex of his arms as he reaches again for pillows to bend beneath his chest. He can feel Billy’s exhaustion in the way the mattress dips awkwardly this time when Billy follows him down, and in the sound of Billy’s huff as he settles to his knees behind Dominic. The next two photos are hurried things, no doubt out of focus again, Billy thinks, but they’ll be perfect, too, appropriate somehow for how they’re both feeling now. Billy sinks to Dominic’s side for the last, letting Dominic reach for him and pull him closer before Billy presses the button and the film begins to whir itself back to its beginning.
It takes almost too much out of Billy to push the camera on to his nightstand, and when he turns back to face Dominic Billy finds him half asleep already, his breathing heavier and slower than it’s been all night. Dominic won’t wake for hours, he knows it, and while his instinct is to simply close his eyes and join Dominic in his dreams, he can see across the room the one candle still burning, its strength fading with every minute but its light still bright enough to make one side of the room glow a faint orange and red. Billy watches the flame for long minutes, waiting for it to gutter and die, but it’s stronger than he by some measure; Billy gives in and closes his eyes finally when he can’t carry the weight of the night anymore.
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Dominic/Billy
Word count: 5147
Summary: Continues from here.
Warnings: D/s in the chapter; implied in this section, which ends the chapter.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
For a long moment, Dominic doesn't move, doesn't do anything but focus on catching his breath and slowing his heart. He knows Billy lies next to him; he can feel Billy's hand ringed tightly around his wrist and the cuff still digging into his skin. He can feel the sweat drying on his body, and behind his closed eyes he can still see Billy's face as it was just moments ago. He shivers again at the memory, and the movement makes Billy stir as well but not speak. Dominic turns his head with some effort, and when he opens his eyes he meets Billy’s, tired and soft but focused once more as he leans closer and just touches his lips to Dominic's at first, waiting for Dominic to open to him again.
It's what Dominic wanted, the connection, and he turns toward Billy, into the kiss and the gentler touch. He's tired-exhausted-but he decides there's enough left in him for this. He lets the first kiss be soft, lets Billy take what he wants before he moves his free hand up and into Billy's hair, lifting the wet strands from Billy's neck as the kiss deepens. Dominic breaks a little harder just from this than he had from anything else they’d done tonight, and when Billy pulls away, Dominic has to turn his head, his eyes still closed, as he tries to hide the emotion on his face by swiping his hand across it. Billy ducks his head again, breathing hard at Dominic’s shoulder, and brushes his lips against Dominic’s reddened skin.
“Not hurt?” Billy asks finally, and Dominic shakes his head, his shaky hand raking now through his matted hair, making it stand on end.
"No."
“You’re a mess. Maybe a liar, too.” Billy lets out another exhale and brushes his thumb at the corner of Dominic’s eye, smudging the last of the eyeliner further and smiling until fatigue hits and it fades a little. “Fucking hell, Dominic, look at you.”
Dominic doesn't say anything, but something of the beginnings of a smile finally turns up the corners of his lips before he turns his head away again. This sort of care after isn't something he's ever experienced either, and while he thought he was finished with comparing anything tonight to what’s happened before, this one seems appropriate, even if he can’t share it with Billy.
"I don't know that I'll be able to move from this bed," Dominic says instead. His voice hitches a little in the middle and he has to stop, wiping his hand over his face again before reaching out to rest his hand on Billy's shoulder. The cuff is heavy, he hadn't noticed that earlier, and Dominic looks at the detailing, pulling his wrist closer to see better before he gives even that up. He doesn't remember ever feeling this tired afterward, and he scolds himself a bit for this-maybe final-comparison.
Billy catches Dominic’s hand before it falls to the mattress and turns Dominic’s wrist up, holding Dominic’s gaze while he pushes at the clasp of the cuff. The leather doesn’t fall open immediately; rather it hugs Dominic’s wrist as if it belongs there, and Dominic’s breath splinters a little as Billy spreads his fingers inside the cuff and up from Dominic’s wrist to his palm. Dominic flexes his fingers, and Billy lifts his wrist gently, pressing a bit when Dominic’s eyes dart away from his own.
“Stay with me, Dom,” Billy says again, his voice as rough this time around the edges as the rest of him looks. His fingers thread between Dominic’s and tighten before they slip away, and when Dominic feels the mattress again below his hand the cuff’s not within reach anymore; the cooler air around his wrist feels strange and harsh, his skin prickling with it even as Billy leans in to kiss him again. When Billy’s attention turns to Dominic’s other hand, it’s kinder, less of a surprise as Billy rids him of the second cuff, but still Dominic’s not sure that he wants to be freed so soon. The corners of his eyes sting with the effort of before and an additional layer of fear that Billy’s releasing more than just Dominic’s hands, a fear that doesn’t leave Dominic until he feels Billy press his hands back around the spindles of the bed.
"There's still-" Billy begins then pauses, moving his hand along the length of Dominic's torso, resting it on his stomach. "We're not finished here."
"Can I-" Dominic performs his own stop and start before he shuts his eyes, opening and closing his fingers. He wants to know if he's earned the right to stay but knows he shouldn't ask. Billy's already said yes, but Dominic can’t hear the echo of the words they’d spoken in the living room anymore; it seems like too long ago. Billy's paused next to him, his hands gone still on Dominic’s body, waiting, it seems, for Dominic to continue. That question isn't the one Dominic most wants to ask in any case; the right question is one he thinks he already knows the answer to but one asks now anyway. "Was it alright, Billy? Did I please you?"
Billy nods, forcing himself not to question Dominic’s fear. There’s no cause for his concern, but Billy understands it, and he draws his hands gently down and back up Dominic's arms, massaging muscles that don’t fight his touch but will ache tomorrow. "I’ve got something for this,” Billy says as his fingers brush against Dominic’s wrists, the skin raw enough that Dominic tries to hide the hard breath he has to take. “These. And everything else. Just-settle, Dom. Try not t’move too much.”
Dominic nods, but when Billy turns to open the nightstand drawer, Dominic follows, reaching for the glass of wine that Billy had left there. There's little left in the glass but dregs that Dominic swirls in the bottom before he sniffs at it then takes a sip, grimacing at its reedy taste.
"You’ve had too much of that," Billy says, closing the drawer before he takes the glass from Dominic's hand and takes a sip of it himself. The wine’s gone warm and nearly undrinkable, but Billy swallows it nonetheless, well past caring, and then leaves the emptied glass on the table. There’s water in the kitchen, but even that small journey’s more than Billy wants to think about now; instead he gathers his strength and rises from the bed slowly, his hand moving down Dominic’s body as he makes to stand. He holds back his typical smirking demand that Dominic not run off when he sees Dominic’s eyes closing again and his toes curling gently in the bedclothes. Billy hates to leave the room now, even just to step to the bathroom. It’s the one thing he hadn’t thought properly through, this, and where he would have preferred to just reach to his bedside table for something to ease the small damage he’s done tonight, Billy's found nothing in the drawer and now has to gather things from elsewhere, leaving Dominic alone when he most shouldn't.
As he takes the last step before the door Billy’s foot brushes against one of the matches he’d let fall after it had burnt itself bright and sharp and down. Bending carefully to gather it and the others, Billy finds he can smell the match’s fire now as strong as he had what feels like hours ago, and he swallows hard as he rises again and coaxes the spent matches into the narrow, rounded opening of the heavy, grey matchstrike on his dresser. They stick up like quills, little warnings against themselves and all their possible uses, and Billy smiles tiredly as he pushes the matchstrike back from the edge of the dresser and finally leaves the room.
Dominic can hear Billy's bare feet as he moves up the hall. He opens his eyes enough to see that the glass is gone, and he hopes that Billy will bring back water; he wishes now that he’d asked for some. He feels thirsty and tired, remembering now that he hadn’t had dinner before he came over-he hadn’t forgotten; he’d been too keyed up to eat-and his lunch was too long ago. Dominic wonders again about the time and tries to guess at the hour-past midnight, he supposes, maybe even later or just a bit earlier.
Without Billy, the room is silent, and Dominic thinks he can hear the little clock ticking from the drawer but he doesn't bother to move. The time doesn't really matter, but thinking about Billy having stopped it makes him consider again the effort that Billy's put into the night, about the little changes to the house and to this room. Dominic curls onto his side a bit, drawing his knees up, and blinks his eyes open. From where he lays, he can see where Billy had secured his hands to the wall, and the mirror that reflects back only his feet right now. Dominic thinks that while he’d been held against the wall, Billy might have been able to see his face in the mirror and his fight to keep quiet, his excitement at being caught in the position. Billy might have been able to see everything, and that thought makes Dominic draw his knees up even tighter so that no part of him remains visible in the mirror.
The night had given them both more than they expected, Dominic knows. Dominic could have said the words at any point-I love you, a phrase he's never really said and meant before, words that he's thought were overused, that couldn't have any meaning left to them-he would have said them and meant them and given anything to hear them back, but there's enough fear left in him to think that having done so would have ended the scene more efficiently than the safeword Billy had given him.
Equilibrium. Dominic would have given a lot to have had a little of it during the night, and that was another thing he hadn't expected-to be thrown so far off balance, when he’d hardly felt new at this. He can see now that every other time he's done anything like this, he'd been in more control than he’d thought. He's been tied up and blindfolded, hit but never hard enough to leave real marks, fucked hard and sometimes well, but he'd never given as much of himself to it as he had tonight; he'd never fallen so far or so willingly.
Dominic lets the fingers of one hand travel to find the bruises on his hips, and he presses his fingertips into them before he stretches out onto his back again, reaching for the headboard spindles and closing his eyes. He aches in a hundred different places, in a hundred different ways, and he presses his back and shoulders into the mattress to memorize that ache even more. He'll feel this for days afterward, like he had the first time he and Billy had fucked. Behind his closed eyes, Dominic can see how Billy looked at the end, as he shoved into Dominic's body, and Dominic tries to hold on to the memory of it in case he doesn't have the chance to see Billy that way again anytime soon, or ever.
Billy hushes Dominic’s surprised breath at the feel of the mattress dipping again and edges up closer to Dominic, his hands full of things Dominic doesn't recognize until one's pressed into his hand. Dominic sits up quickly to open the water bottle, but Billy eases him back down again long enough to swipe first a damp towel down his chest and stomach and between his legs, then a warmer, dry one, drawn more carefully over Dominic’s skin. It’s only when Billy’s ready that Dominic feels himself being raised back up a bit, and he hisses as his body reacts to the movement, making Billy reach out to hold him steady.
"Settle," Billy says again, calmer now than before. "And not too fast with that." Dominic nods and takes a drink, closing his eyes but still feeling Billy's stare on him. Billy's hand moves down Dominic's arm and turns his wrist again, and Dominic swallows and lowers the bottle from his mouth, wanting to see what Billy's doing-what Billy's done and is attempting to do now to fix it. Dominic almost wants to pull his hands away, willing to keep every bruise and scrape for as long as he can, like mementos from the best kind of trip. Instead, he stays still, holding his bottle of water and leaning in to Billy a bit as Billy opens his hand and spreads his fingers.
The chill of the salve is tempered by the warmth of Billy's touch. Dominic's hands relax in Billy's as Billy works, and though the candles don't provide enough light over where he and Billy sit to allow Dominic to see the marks the cuffs have left on his wrists, he can feel them at every stroke of Billy's fingers. Dominic's eyes drift over the bed, and beside Billy's pillow he can see the abandoned cuffs still beyond his immediate reach. Billy follows Dominic's gaze, but he remains quiet as he gathers two long, pale turns of fabric and begins to wrap one around Dominic's right wrist. Dominic's surprised-they're not bandages, and he hadn't thought that kind of thing necessary to begin with-and his attention moves back to Billy's hands moving carefully around his own.
"'s better, yeah?" Billy looks up and nods when Dominic does too.
"I liked the cuffs." Dominic looks back to where they lay, drawing Billy's eyes to them again. There's a watershed line from where the thick leather had absorbed his sweat and Dominic twists to pick one up, rubbing his thumb over the rough interior before turning it over in his hand. "I liked wearing them."
"Not all night you wouldn't have. Turn over, Dom. Let me see your back." Billy nudges at Dominic's shoulder and leads him back down to the mattress. Dominic stretches and reaches for Billy's pillow as he settles, pushing it under his chest before he fingers the cuff again. Up close Dominic can see the notches Billy's cut inside and wonders again what his wrists look like under the material Billy's wrapped around them. He's not sure how long he'll be able to hold the cuffs before Billy takes them away or points his attention somewhere else, and while he remembers little now of what Billy’d told him about the cuffs, Billy's words they're yours when you need them or I want them on you stay with him, and they give Dominic the courage to speak again.
"They're beautiful, like they're handmade." Dominic turns the cuff again in his hand, lifts it to his nose to smell the leather and rub it against his lips. He can't imagine anywhere around Baskerville that Billy would have bought them, and his mind rebels a little at the thought that Billy had owned them previously, had perhaps used them on someone else. Billy wouldn't have done that, not after going through so much trouble with everything else. They're his, something that Billy bought for him, and he likes the thought so much that his curiosity overwhelms him; he has to know more, and he has to know for sure. "Did you get them here?"
“In the city, I told you,” Billy says, and Dominic opens his mouth to say more, but instead just inhales deeply when Billy’s fingers press against one of the small burns. Billy feels Dominic's long, slow exhale and is again grateful Dominic can’t see the smile that turns the corners of Billy’s lips up before he shakes it off and leans lower. The next touch of Billy’s fingers is softer, slightly damp with the salve, making Dominic release another breath as it cools on his skin. “I could find reason to take you there,” Billy tells him, and it’s Dominic’s turn to hide his smile while Billy continues. “Not just for this, Dominic; don’t think anything we’ve done here falls into some-single category, some box never meant t’be opened again.” Billy’s voice goes quiet. “Unless it shouldn’t."
Dominic been lulled near sleep by Billy's hands but his last words rouse him again. That Billy is already thinking of a next time is enough to allay any of Dominic's lingering doubts and fears and Dominic rises up, bracing himself with his arms to turn before Billy stops him. "Billy-"
"Don’t tell me now,” Billy says, splaying his fingers between Dominic’s shoulder blades. “We aren’t finished, and I can't hear what you haven’t had time to think through.”
"I want to. I mean, I want to do this again." Dominic eases back down, readjusting the pillow and folding himself around it. From the moment Billy’s hands had curled tightly in Dominic’s shirt hours ago, Dominic had known Billy’d done this before with others, just as Dominic had, but he hadn't really stopped to consider what that experience had been-who Billy’s partners had been. It never occurred to Dominic until now that while he had been making his comparisons, Billy might have been making his own as well. "I was better for you than anyone else was, wasn't I." It's a statement, not a question. "I wanted to be. I tried to be."
“And you were.” Billy can feel the little flush of heat and pride in Dominic’s skin, and while Dominic’s admission that he wants more of this makes Billy’s heart race a little, his thoughts can’t keep up anymore; he barely has enough of a mind to take care of Dominic now. “Doesn’t matter about anyone else, Dom. You walk into this room with me and no one else exists.”
“Were you-” Dominic stops when Billy’s hands pause on his back, but he can’t keep down the questions. “How did you learn-”
“In theory or practice?” Billy says, and this time Dominic can hear the half-smile in his voice. “I’ll tell you another time. Y’should rest, Dom.”
“Both,” Dominic murmurs, turning his head. He wants to see Billy now, and Billy lets him, tilting his head and meeting Dominic’s eyes. “I want to know everything,” Dominic says, and Billy can detect no guile in the words, only an honesty that makes him take another deep breath.
“Don’t be too sure,” he says carefully. “And if I tell you all my secrets now, Dom, what reason do you have t’come back to me?” Billy presses his fingers into the marks again as a way to end the conversation, but Dominic hugs the pillow tighter to his chest and buries his face for a moment, too overcome with the answer he would give. The pain is not overwhelming, but it's enough that Dominic is quickly learning how Billy means to use it. Billy’s touch doesn't stop his run of questions, though; it only seems to lead him to more. Dominic raises his head, trying to see over his shoulder.
"Can I see them? I want to see what they look like.”
“I can’t imagine you’ve never seen something like them before,” Billy murmurs, but Dominic’s cheeks flush harder and Billy draws in a breath between his teeth. “I could have said that better.”
“They weren’t yours,” Dominic says quietly. Billy bends to press a kiss to Dominic’s shoulder, but Dominic can feel he’s not ready to give on this, not yet.
“What is it you think you’ll be able to tell from them?” Billy’s fingers have drifted down Dominic’s back and to the rise of his ass, working the salve into harder, deeper marks. “’s one thing to just look at yourself-”
“I felt everything,” Dominic interrupts him. “I do. Still.”
“And it isn’t enough?”
Billy says it lightly, but Dominic thinks he can hear worlds of conflict in what Billy’s keeping silent. He tries to remain still as Billy finishes, his hands now moving on the backs of Dominic’s thighs, but when Billy shifts on the mattress, Dominic makes to speak again.
“They’re beautiful,” Billy murmurs, stopping all thought Dominic had of talking now. Dominic clenches his fingers in the pillow in concentration as Billy continues, his voice going softer as he lowers his lips to Dominic’s shoulder again. “And very real. You’ll feel it more tomorrow, Dom; you’ll love and hate every step you take.” Billy traces the line of one welt just under the curve of Dominic’s ass and hums with pleasure when Dominic does, too. “They’re beautiful. They’re what you wanted, Dom; they’re what you’d earned, and that’s what I want you to feel. It’s not something so easily seen.”
Dominic doesn’t move once Billy’s stopped speaking, and after a moment Billy moves to one side of the bed and urges Dominic up to sit and then stand, carefully, turning Dominic so his back’s to the mirror mounted above Billy’s dresser. Billy stands facing him, his hands curving at Dominic’s face, encouraging him to look Billy in the eyes before anything else.
“They’re beautiful,” Billy says for the last time, and when Dominic’s eyes almost flutter closed he moves closer, more heat in his voice and strength in his hands. “They’re not pretty, and they’re not anything anyone else can be expected to understand. You should prepare yourself for that, for when-” Billy stops rather than continue to think of someone else’s reaction to the sight of Dominic’s body over the next several days. “So look, then,” he says instead, and lets Dominic turn his glance over his shoulder once more.
Dominic has to work to not blink at the sight of himself. He’s afraid that if he looks away from his reflection Billy will end it there, moving them back to the bed immediately, and Dominic’s not ready for that yet. He stares at the welts on his lower back and ass, at the deep reds and violets blooming already on his hips, at the darker, smaller marks from Billy’s matches that set boundaries Dominic can’t begin to imagine how Billy forced upon himself. Billy’s right, Dominic thinks when he remembers to breathe; the marks aren't pretty, and if Dominic were to see them on anyone else he might find them frightening, a concern at best. But they’re his, and Billy’s too, and Dominic lifts his eyes to find Billy’s in the mirror, suddenly aware that Billy’s held his breath, too.
“I want you to take a picture,” Dominic says, and Billy inhales sharply.
“I can’t-” Billy stops and tempers his words, his hand flattening gently on Dominic’s back. “I can’t do that; it wouldn’t-did you hear what I told you, Dominic? No picture’s going to-"
“Do me justice,” Dominic murmurs, and Billy nods, swallowing hard again.
“It won’t be what you want. I’m not your friend Barchi, Dominic; I’m no artist-”
"You're a photographer-”
“I take pictures.” Billy’s hiss silences them both for a moment, and then he curves both hands over the rise of Dominic’s shoulders and closes his eyes.
“I’m only asking you for one,” Dominic says quietly, the absolute certainty and trust in his voice making Billy’s argument taste like ashes in his mouth. “I want to have this, Billy. Please. I want to be able to see."
Billy says nothing for several seconds, just slides his hands down Dominic's back and thinks. If he does this it'll be days at least before Dominic will actually see the results; nowhere in Billy's small collection is there a digital camera, and the shots won't be the sort Billy feels he can see developed by anyone but himself. He'll have to book time alone in one of Miranda's darkrooms, and more, he'll have to concentrate harder on the developing than he has for any series of photographs before.
Most of all Billy will need to push away any other thought of Barchi's sketches and what they’d done to him.
“Alright,” he says finally, careful to keep the sound of resignation away from his voice. He touches his lips to Dominic’s neck and slides his hand down to the small of Dominic’s back as he moves away. “Alright. Try not to move, hmm?”
Billy’s gone before Dominic can respond, and Dominic can feel himself shiver at the loss of Billy’s warmth beside him. He concentrates on everything around him instead of focusing inward now, and his eyes rest on the matchstrike on Billy’s dresser, on the matches Billy had used to mark him. Before Dominic can stop himself he’s reaching for two of them, turning them in his fingers and remembering their burn on his skin. They’re longer than conventional smoker’s matches, the cheap things you can still get sometimes in restaurants and pubs, but nowhere near as long as the ones that lie in a box on Billy’s fireplace mantel. Their scent is different as well, spicy but soft, and Dominic closes his eyes and remembers that, too. In the moments before Billy returns Dominic determines that when he has to leave this house-when he has to return to his own room and life-he’ll take at least one of the matches with him, and he’ll learn where Billy found them, if nothing else than to replenish Billy’s stock.
He replaces the matches as soon as he hears Billy’s footfall again, and Dominic stands straighter and centers himself, prepared for capture of another, more detached kind. Billy doesn’t speak as he lifts his camera and checks a multitude of settings before he even properly focuses on Dominic, and as he waits Dominic silently urges Billy not to make the room any brighter; he wants the pictures to remain as close to the present truth as possible, even if it means they aren’t as clear as they could be. Nothing is right now, and Dominic’s accepted it so many times over already.
The first picture Billy takes frames only Dominic’s back, his shoulders, and his lowered chin. Billy ignores the possibilities inherent in the zoom lens and instead moves closer and focuses tighter on what he knows Dominic will want to see. The next few shots are more specific, and Billy thinks Dominic might regret what they show him, but there’s little to be done for it now, and as if to atone for having done so much damage even with Dominic’s more than willing consent, Billy caresses the marks gently as he focuses again, surprised when the camera slips and the following shot catches his hand on Dominic’s skin as well. Dominic looks over his shoulder at the sound of Billy’s quiet laugh, and Billy works quickly to frame Dominic’s smile and his lowered eyes. It’s not meant to be part of these photos, and they both know it, but it provides a welcomed pause in everything else.
The challenge would have been just keeping to one picture, Billy thinks now as he retreats several steps behind Dominic and raises the camera to his eyes. There are blessedly few frames left on this roll, but Billy’s certain he could take those hundreds of photos he’d warned Dominic against earlier if he had them to spare. Dominic holds himself quiet and still, unafraid of the camera; if anything he relaxes even more under its gaze, and Billy aches to know his mind, where his thoughts travel when he’s under this attention.
Billy wouldn’t have placed odds on ever having this opportunity, and even as he relishes it as he has everything else tonight he’s still unnerved enough by it that he knows half the photographs will be nothing but blurred dreams once developed. His hands are unsteady and tired, his concentration’s shot, but Billy lets go of any thought of framed perfection and lets the camera and candles do most of the work for him, capturing Dominic the only way he can now. He’s circled Dominic completely, and so it comes easily for him to nod and guide Dominic to sit on the edge of the bed.
“How many do you have left?” Dominic asks him, and though Billy thinks he knows the answer he checks the count nonetheless. While Billy’s distracted Dominic strokes his fingers over Billy’s hips and down his thighs, confirming the strength he’d felt earlier and wanting to hold on to the heat he feels now in Billy’s skin. He’s never been photographed like this; it’s nothing like holding still for a roomful of students or for Gian and Karina. Billy’s faster for one thing, and his attention is scattered, but it’s so much better, too; Dominic’s never felt so comfortable in front of a lens, and the ability to draw Billy into the picture physically and emotionally is a power he never thought he’d have, much less love and not want to lose. He leans in closer, closing his eyes and brushing his lips to Billy’s stomach. “How many, Billy?”
“Four,” Billy says a little breathlessly. He takes the available step closer to Dominic and aims the camera again to frame Dominic's flushed face and the smudge of liner still left beneath his eyes. "Three," Billy corrects himself, and nudges Dominic back down to the mattress. “On your stomach again, go on.”
Dominic moves slowly, turning on the bed so Billy can watch the arch of his back and the flex of his arms as he reaches again for pillows to bend beneath his chest. He can feel Billy’s exhaustion in the way the mattress dips awkwardly this time when Billy follows him down, and in the sound of Billy’s huff as he settles to his knees behind Dominic. The next two photos are hurried things, no doubt out of focus again, Billy thinks, but they’ll be perfect, too, appropriate somehow for how they’re both feeling now. Billy sinks to Dominic’s side for the last, letting Dominic reach for him and pull him closer before Billy presses the button and the film begins to whir itself back to its beginning.
It takes almost too much out of Billy to push the camera on to his nightstand, and when he turns back to face Dominic Billy finds him half asleep already, his breathing heavier and slower than it’s been all night. Dominic won’t wake for hours, he knows it, and while his instinct is to simply close his eyes and join Dominic in his dreams, he can see across the room the one candle still burning, its strength fading with every minute but its light still bright enough to make one side of the room glow a faint orange and red. Billy watches the flame for long minutes, waiting for it to gutter and die, but it’s stronger than he by some measure; Billy gives in and closes his eyes finally when he can’t carry the weight of the night anymore.