(no subject)
Well, let's dive into fandom and post some pr0n. The world is fucked up enough at the moment.
I wrote this months ago, but never posted it. It was supposed to be a part of a longer fic, but then I lost interest in it. It's Dom/Ian, although this part of the story deals with quite a different pairing.
I know that zoniduck once read it and did some beta on it (?). Sorry, I'm not sure anymore. So, bear with my mistakes.
It's not the first time Dom has to sit here and wait for Ian and his business partners to arrive, but this time Dom actually feels the pressure.
Dom remains sitting when he finally hears voices in the hallway and the faint click-clack of expensive shoes hitting the carpet. He only sets his glass of Scotch down and rests his hands on his knees, waiting. The door swings open and Ian, followed by two other men, enters the living room. Ian casts Dom an encouraging smile.
"Gentlemen, this is Dominic. Dominic, this," Ian points to the man standing at his right side ," is Mr. Urban. And this," his hand moves again to his left "Mr. Wenham. They're hopefully going to be my new Companions."
"Oh, I'm fairly sure that we're going to figure something out, won't we?" Urban's accent is thick. New Zealand, Dom suspects. He smiles lasciviously.
"I hope so." Dom looks over to Ian and Ian nods, causing Dom to get up. His gown falls open and Dom notices Wenham's eyes sliding interested over the tanned V of Dom's chest. Both men are perfectly dressed, their suits tailored by hand, not the shit you can buy at Armani here in New York.
Dom can't tell why, but he immediately trusts Urban and Wenham. They look as honest as you can actually be when you work in a business like this. 'Oil makes everyone dirty', is Ian's favourite saying. Oil is what made Ian rich and gave him Dom at his feet. But it's also Oil that permitted Elijah access into Ian's house...
"Beautiful," Urban clicks appreciatively with his tongue. "David, want me to go first?"
"How about sharing me?" Dom watches Urban's eyes glint with pleased delight. He walks over to Dom and lifts his hand, the tips of his fingers skimming Dom's stubbly chin.
"A good idea, Dominic." Then Urban turns to Ian. "Are there any limits?" His fingers dig into Dom's cheek and Dom pushes into the rough touch.
"I think I can trust you with not hurting my little one." Ian's voice sounds calm, though Dom knows that it's nothing but a facade.
"Of course." Wenham's polite nod eases the sudden tension. "Only what you want, Mr McKellen."
During all this Dom keeps silent, listening intently to what is said, though he knows that Ian wouldn't object if Dom intervened. It's only when Ian suddenly flashes a secretive smile that Dom feels the familiar urge to protest.
"Don't make him come. That's the only rule."
Noticing Ian's firm voice, Dom grits his teeth. He hates this little rule, but it's even set in his working contract.
"Alright." Urban's fingers slide beneath the heavy fabric of Dom's gown and curl around his shoulders. Dom tips his head back, lips already parted for a kiss. Dom makes a small noise that sounds like a purr, and just like Dom's expected, Urban reacts immediately by claiming Dom's mouth. He doesn't fight Urban, relaxes into the kiss and sighs when another pair of hands (Wenham) tugs at his gown. It slips easily from Dom's shoulders and arms and Dom leans back against Wenham's solid chest.
There is no need to worry. Ian has taken seat in the armchair Dom sat minutes ago and watches carefully every move of Wenham and Urban. Ian always stays when someone else is touching Dominic.
Minutes later, Dom is bend over the large desk that occupies the space beneath the window. Dom sucks the faint scent of polish deep into his lungs when Urban cups his hands over Dom's arse and starts kneading the firm globes.
"Such a beautiful boy. It must have been difficult to find someone like him."
Ian chuckles. "Actually, he happened to stumble over my feet one night when I was leaving a restaurant."
"Oh, really?" Urban seems to have already lost interest in Ian's story, because he presses two lubed fingers inside Dom and twists them around, stretching Dom. Dom hisses and bucks of the table, so that Urban's fingers slip out of him. Urban doesn't object, though. Dom hears the rustling of clothes being removed, and seconds later there's a cock pressed against his hole.
It's always like this. Hard and fast. Those men Ian allows to fuck Dom have already other things in mind while they touch Dom, while their hands stroke his skin and murmur words of appreciation. Urban thrusts into Dom and grunts pleasure. It doesn't take long until he comes, pulling out of Dom and stepping back to give way for Wenham.
Dom's hole throbs distantly, a light burn that will ease over night and will have vanished by lunchtime. But suddenly Dom feels Wenham's lips on the small of his back, a skilled tongue flickers down between his cheeks, twirling over Dom's hole. Dom groans and bites down onto his lower lip when Wenham pushes the tip of his tongue inside and starts sucking and-
"Oh God, no!" Dom tears his eyes open, seeing only the dark wooden panels covering the walls. He's never let done something like this to him before. He'd heard about it, but the feel of it makes his hands curl into fists and sweat gathering in the low dips of his spine.
"Too much?" Urban strokes Dom's neck while Dom flinches and bucks beneath Wenham's lapping tongue. "Tell me, Dominic. Do you want to come?"
"Yes!" But Dom's mind screams Fuck no! Dom's fist hits the desk with a sharp thud. He's really trying to ignore Wenhams's fingers playing with his glans. Dom even starts counting numbers in his mind, but it's of no use. Urban keeps on murmuring little dirty nothings in his ear I bet you like David's tongue in your arse, don't you?
Dom keens and is suddenly more than relieved to hear Ian raising his voice. "Gentlemen, I hope you haven't forgotten about the rule."
It's not Dom's bloody fault, that's what Ian's words are telling him. Dom hasn't done anything wrong.
"Sorry," Urban says smoothly. "We expected Dominic to have more stamina."
"He's still young."
Dom relaxes when Wenham pulls back, the tension seeps out of his body, although his cock is still throbbing, still wanting more. But Ian is already getting up, walking over to the door.
"Come now. I show you where to clean up and then we can sign the contracts."
A hand pats Dom's arse one more time, then the door falls shut and Dom is left alone. "Fuck," Dom mutters and keeps laying on the desk, not caring about being naked and fucked and, uh, however you call that other stuff.
Dom startles when something warm and soft touches his cheek. He opens his eyes and sees a small paw, prodding his nose and forehead. It's one of Ian's kittens. They bought them together some weeks ago. Three tiny Chartreux kittens, barely old enough to be given away. Dom held them while they cried for their mother at night, and he's grown found of them by now, likes watching them when they chase each other through the house, almost destroying Ian's collection of ceramics.
You and I, Dom thinks and closes his eyes again while the kitten lays down beside him, curling up against his sweaty shoulder. You and I...
I wrote this months ago, but never posted it. It was supposed to be a part of a longer fic, but then I lost interest in it. It's Dom/Ian, although this part of the story deals with quite a different pairing.
I know that zoniduck once read it and did some beta on it (?). Sorry, I'm not sure anymore. So, bear with my mistakes.
It's not the first time Dom has to sit here and wait for Ian and his business partners to arrive, but this time Dom actually feels the pressure.
Dom remains sitting when he finally hears voices in the hallway and the faint click-clack of expensive shoes hitting the carpet. He only sets his glass of Scotch down and rests his hands on his knees, waiting. The door swings open and Ian, followed by two other men, enters the living room. Ian casts Dom an encouraging smile.
"Gentlemen, this is Dominic. Dominic, this," Ian points to the man standing at his right side ," is Mr. Urban. And this," his hand moves again to his left "Mr. Wenham. They're hopefully going to be my new Companions."
"Oh, I'm fairly sure that we're going to figure something out, won't we?" Urban's accent is thick. New Zealand, Dom suspects. He smiles lasciviously.
"I hope so." Dom looks over to Ian and Ian nods, causing Dom to get up. His gown falls open and Dom notices Wenham's eyes sliding interested over the tanned V of Dom's chest. Both men are perfectly dressed, their suits tailored by hand, not the shit you can buy at Armani here in New York.
Dom can't tell why, but he immediately trusts Urban and Wenham. They look as honest as you can actually be when you work in a business like this. 'Oil makes everyone dirty', is Ian's favourite saying. Oil is what made Ian rich and gave him Dom at his feet. But it's also Oil that permitted Elijah access into Ian's house...
"Beautiful," Urban clicks appreciatively with his tongue. "David, want me to go first?"
"How about sharing me?" Dom watches Urban's eyes glint with pleased delight. He walks over to Dom and lifts his hand, the tips of his fingers skimming Dom's stubbly chin.
"A good idea, Dominic." Then Urban turns to Ian. "Are there any limits?" His fingers dig into Dom's cheek and Dom pushes into the rough touch.
"I think I can trust you with not hurting my little one." Ian's voice sounds calm, though Dom knows that it's nothing but a facade.
"Of course." Wenham's polite nod eases the sudden tension. "Only what you want, Mr McKellen."
During all this Dom keeps silent, listening intently to what is said, though he knows that Ian wouldn't object if Dom intervened. It's only when Ian suddenly flashes a secretive smile that Dom feels the familiar urge to protest.
"Don't make him come. That's the only rule."
Noticing Ian's firm voice, Dom grits his teeth. He hates this little rule, but it's even set in his working contract.
"Alright." Urban's fingers slide beneath the heavy fabric of Dom's gown and curl around his shoulders. Dom tips his head back, lips already parted for a kiss. Dom makes a small noise that sounds like a purr, and just like Dom's expected, Urban reacts immediately by claiming Dom's mouth. He doesn't fight Urban, relaxes into the kiss and sighs when another pair of hands (Wenham) tugs at his gown. It slips easily from Dom's shoulders and arms and Dom leans back against Wenham's solid chest.
There is no need to worry. Ian has taken seat in the armchair Dom sat minutes ago and watches carefully every move of Wenham and Urban. Ian always stays when someone else is touching Dominic.
Minutes later, Dom is bend over the large desk that occupies the space beneath the window. Dom sucks the faint scent of polish deep into his lungs when Urban cups his hands over Dom's arse and starts kneading the firm globes.
"Such a beautiful boy. It must have been difficult to find someone like him."
Ian chuckles. "Actually, he happened to stumble over my feet one night when I was leaving a restaurant."
"Oh, really?" Urban seems to have already lost interest in Ian's story, because he presses two lubed fingers inside Dom and twists them around, stretching Dom. Dom hisses and bucks of the table, so that Urban's fingers slip out of him. Urban doesn't object, though. Dom hears the rustling of clothes being removed, and seconds later there's a cock pressed against his hole.
It's always like this. Hard and fast. Those men Ian allows to fuck Dom have already other things in mind while they touch Dom, while their hands stroke his skin and murmur words of appreciation. Urban thrusts into Dom and grunts pleasure. It doesn't take long until he comes, pulling out of Dom and stepping back to give way for Wenham.
Dom's hole throbs distantly, a light burn that will ease over night and will have vanished by lunchtime. But suddenly Dom feels Wenham's lips on the small of his back, a skilled tongue flickers down between his cheeks, twirling over Dom's hole. Dom groans and bites down onto his lower lip when Wenham pushes the tip of his tongue inside and starts sucking and-
"Oh God, no!" Dom tears his eyes open, seeing only the dark wooden panels covering the walls. He's never let done something like this to him before. He'd heard about it, but the feel of it makes his hands curl into fists and sweat gathering in the low dips of his spine.
"Too much?" Urban strokes Dom's neck while Dom flinches and bucks beneath Wenham's lapping tongue. "Tell me, Dominic. Do you want to come?"
"Yes!" But Dom's mind screams Fuck no! Dom's fist hits the desk with a sharp thud. He's really trying to ignore Wenhams's fingers playing with his glans. Dom even starts counting numbers in his mind, but it's of no use. Urban keeps on murmuring little dirty nothings in his ear I bet you like David's tongue in your arse, don't you?
Dom keens and is suddenly more than relieved to hear Ian raising his voice. "Gentlemen, I hope you haven't forgotten about the rule."
It's not Dom's bloody fault, that's what Ian's words are telling him. Dom hasn't done anything wrong.
"Sorry," Urban says smoothly. "We expected Dominic to have more stamina."
"He's still young."
Dom relaxes when Wenham pulls back, the tension seeps out of his body, although his cock is still throbbing, still wanting more. But Ian is already getting up, walking over to the door.
"Come now. I show you where to clean up and then we can sign the contracts."
A hand pats Dom's arse one more time, then the door falls shut and Dom is left alone. "Fuck," Dom mutters and keeps laying on the desk, not caring about being naked and fucked and, uh, however you call that other stuff.
Dom startles when something warm and soft touches his cheek. He opens his eyes and sees a small paw, prodding his nose and forehead. It's one of Ian's kittens. They bought them together some weeks ago. Three tiny Chartreux kittens, barely old enough to be given away. Dom held them while they cried for their mother at night, and he's grown found of them by now, likes watching them when they chase each other through the house, almost destroying Ian's collection of ceramics.
You and I, Dom thinks and closes his eyes again while the kitten lays down beside him, curling up against his sweaty shoulder. You and I...