FIC: Traveler (LOTR RPS, Billy/Dom)
Title: Traveler
Author: feelforfaith
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: R
Word count: 3,134
Summary: Some things are like driving at a hundred and fifty miles an hour on a motorway-a part of him wants to do it, just once, to taste the thrill of letting himself go, even though there's a good chance that he'll lose control and crash.
Notes: A big thank you to glam_ang for editing.
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. It did not happen and I'm not implying it did. This fiction in no way represents people mentioned within or the way they would behave.
Lyrics:
For love and sex and faith and fear
And all the things that keep us here
In the mysterious distance between a man and a woman
Billy drags the sheets off Dom, setting free the little nest of warmth clinging to him. Dom stirs in his sleep, but doesn't wake up; for now, Billy will let him sleep.
Dom sleeps on his stomach, head turned away from Billy, one hand under the pillow, the other stretched out across the bed, as though he's reaching for Billy. Billy's body is tuned in to Dom-it feels Dom's proximity like a compass needle set to detect magnetic North.
His fingers travel slowly down Dom's arm to his hand, through blue ink on the back of Dom's hand-though smudged, the words are still legible and they send a current of warmth through Billy's chest-over the barely healed skin of a knuckle, to the peeling off, red nail polish on Dom's pinky.
With his thumb Billy draws a circle in the middle of Dom's palm. Dom's fingers flex, but his breathing doesn't change. Billy leans closer and rubs his cheek against Dom's hand.
Dom's hands are New Zealand.
Wellington, New Zealand
distance: 11,424 miles
The hand Dom offered him with a grin stretching across his face and an "I'm Merry" introduction, had trust written on it in crooked blue letters which looked as if they were scribbled by a ten-year-old. The accompanying handshake, though, certainly didn't belong to a ten-year-old, and neither did the eyes watching him with a mixture of curiosity and expectation. The handshake turned into a clap on the back, which turned into a full-on hug, and it was like being sucked into a gravitation field. Billy let himself be drawn without hesitation.
Hours later, when he was tucked comfortably into the corner of the sofa in Peter's living room, he still felt the ghost of Dom's fingers on his hand. Every time his gaze drifted past Peter and towards the opposite side of the room, to Dom, Dom was watching him. Billy gripped the script in his left hand to stop it from touching his right hand all the time.
Three weeks later, on a Friday night, Dom was still watching him across a crowded table at a pub where the lot of them decided to waste their evening sampling New Zealand beer.
"Lemme try yours," Dom said, leaning over the table and swiping Billy's pint of Double Brown before Billy had a chance to object. Dom's hands, now curled around Billy's glass, had been driving Billy crazy all night long with a glint of silver rings and a question mark. No words tonight, just a blue question mark on the back of Dom's right hand.
Billy shifted in his chair.
The more pints he poured into himself and the further into the night it got, the more convinced he was that he wanted to answer Dom's question. He ached to answer the question, only he wasn't sure what the question was.
"Dom," fell out of his mouth, before he realized he had no bloody idea how he wanted to finish the sentence.
Dom cocked his head to the side, something of a grin playing in the corners of his lips. "Bill?"
"Can I have my beer back?"
Without a word, Dom pushed Billy's beer back to him across the table and left his hands sitting on both sides of Billy's glass, palms flat against the table, with the damn question mark staring at Billy, demanding an answer.
What do you say, Bill?
Do you want to see me without my shirt?
Do you want to strip my shirt off?
Do you want to feel these hands inside your trousers?
Do you want to crawl between my legs, while I'm on my back in your bed, naked, sweating and-
The glint of silver smudged across his vision when Dom pulled his hands back, snapping Billy out of his thoughts. He lifted his head, but Dom wasn't looking at him when he rose from his chair.
"Gentlemen," Dom said, "it's time for bed for this hobbit."
Dom didn't look at him when his long, slim fingers fumbled two notes out of his wallet and dropped them on the table. He didn't look at Billy when he shrugged into his jacket and headed for the exit. He did, however, look directly at Billy when Billy knocked on his door an hour and a half later and Dom opened the door without a trace of sleep in his eyes.
"Billy." He didn't sound surprised at all.
That first day, when Elijah had pointed to the writing on Dom's hand and asked, "What's that about?" Dom had said: "Sometimes all you can do is close your eyes and trust that everything will be all right, you know?"
Billy reached for Dom's right hand which rested on the doorframe. He took a deep breath and went for it-a leap of faith that felt like jumping out of an airplane-trusting that he had the right answer to the right question, and that come tomorrow morning, everything would still be all right.
He brought Dom's hand to his mouth and licked it, two long, wet licks spilling the taste of ink and salt over his tongue. With the heel of his hand he rubbed at the question mark until only blue smudges were left of it. "You want an answer? Then let me in."
Dom's fingers twitched and curled around Billy's and didn't let go.
The best way to wake up, Billy discovered the next morning, was with a naked Dom snoring into his hair.
***
Out of all the people Billy has ever shared a room with, Dom is the only one whose snoring doesn't bother him in the least-he can fall asleep listening to the soft, open-mouthed noises anytime. When he wants to take the piss out of Dom, he calls them "Dom's Nature Soundtrack."
Billy's hands slide down Dom's side, pull gently, encouraging Dom to turn over. Dom makes a little mhmm noise when he rolls onto his back, but he's so out of it, Billy is sure he's not waking up.
Billy wriggles closer. His hands settle on Dom's hips, fingers splayed around Dom's navel. Inch by inch, he walks his thumbs closer together, until they point at the center of Dom's belly like arrow signs.
Dom's belly is Mexico.
Rosarito, Mexico
distance: 5,306 miles
"You want me to do it on your belly?" asked Billy, straddling Dom's naked thighs.
When Dom had called him at seven this morning to say he was on his way down, and that he had "something special" in mind for tonight, and "sorry if I woke you up," Billy was thinking more along the lines of a "multi-functional Surfing Bunny" (made of waterproof pink rubber and powered by 4 AA batteries), Dom had sent him a link to a few weeks earlier, with a note, "How do you measure up to your competition, Billy boy?" Not this.
Dom grinned. "That's my super-secret fantasy."
"You realize how corny this is, yeah?"
"Said the man who once lured his boyfriend-under false pretences, I might add-into a honeymoon suite in Vegas, and proceeded to have wild, unmarried sex with him." Dom tried to lift his hips, but Billy pressed his arse down, restraining his movements. Dom let out a frustrated groan. "I don't think you have any room to talk, Bill."
With his free hand Billy reached for the plate of strawberries on the nightstand, and picked out the biggest one.
"I like having wild, unmarried sex with my boyfriend," he said. "Especially when it comes with strawberries." He bit into the strawberry, letting drops of juice escape from the corner of his mouth. "Free sex and strawberries-what more can a man want?"
"Bill."
Billy chomped the strawberry. "Hm?"
"Stop bloody talking and get to work."
Swallowing without hurry, Billy shook the can of whipped cream in his hand. He made a show of measuring the right distance and finding the best angle, before he sprayed the whipped cream around Dom's belly: an imperfect white circle against slightly sunburnt skin.
Perfect.
He licked his lips. "Not to sound cliched and all, but you look good enough to eat."
With his eyes glued to Billy's face, Dom licked his own lips. "Then eat me already!"
"Dom Monaghan, always the romantic." Billy dipped his index finger in the whipped cream and slipped it into his mouth.
"You are quite possibly the biggest teasing bastard in this hemisphere."
"Tsk, tsk. Patience is a virtue you need to practice." Billy reached for another strawberry, red and ripe between his fingers. Supporting himself on the other hand, he leaned over Dom-close enough to smear the whipped cream all over their bellies-and licked Dom's lips. "Open up."
Dom opened his mouth and Billy shoved the whole strawberry into it. He followed it with his tongue, ignoring Dom's unconvincing noises of protest. Dom liked having things shoved into his mouth, yes, he did, and Billy liked shoving things into Dom's mouth. Simple as that. His tongue licked the back of Dom's teeth, pushed against Dom's tongue, crushing the fruit into pulp until their mouths were soaked with its sweet tang.
The strawberry tasted sweeter in Dom's mouth, but everything was sweeter, more intense, more meaningful, when it involved Dom.
Billy cradled Dom's face in his hand, struggled to keep his eyes open, gave up.
Kissing Dom with his eyes closed was like listening to light and shadows skating across Dom's skin, like breathing in the texture of Dom's taut muscles and sharp angles, like caressing the moans falling off Dom's lips when he tried to get Billy deeper into his mouth.
"Admit it," Dom said, catching his breath and wiping the juice and bits of strawberry from his mouth when they broke apart, "you're with me just for the sex."
"Aye, the sex, the whole sex, and nothing but the sex." Dom snorted and swatted him on the arse, and Billy was sure he'd just discovered a new color on the infinite spectrum between gray and blue. It made him feel as though he'd discovered a new continent. He fumbled around the bed until his fingers found the whipped cream and waved the can in front of Dom's face. "Do you want more sex?"
"You bet," Dom said, and later, "Oh, that's kinky," when Billy dipped his tongue into Dom's navel.
Licking Dom's belly clean, Billy thought that it was a really good belly. A bloody great belly to lick whipped cream off-nothing corny about it. Flat and hard, and arrogant enough to keep him craving more.
***
Billy always craves more, they both do. Almost always, they crave more of each other.
It would have been easy to blame Dom, to point fingers: "You wanted this," but Billy knows this is not the truth. Not the whole truth, in any case.
That Dom was the one who put the idea into words-"It would be so fucking hot."-is only half of the truth, Dom's half of the truth. The other half of the truth belongs to Billy: "Come on, Bill, don't tell me you never looked at him and wanted something?"
Billy runs his hands down Dom's tanned shoulders, more defined than they've ever been since Rings; the kind of shoulders Billy had always wanted to have. His fingers gently knead the muscles. Squeeze hard. Move on, soothing again.
Dom's shoulders are New York.
New York, New York
distance: 3,218 miles
He wished he'd been drunk, more drunk than he could have gotten on four whiskeys and a beer. Maybe then the room would've started spinning or something, anything to take the edge of the reality that was closing in on him, squeezing the air out of his lungs.
He leaned his head against the headboard and pulled his knees up, not because he was self-conscious-they'd all gone so far past feeling self-conscious that they'd probably gone off the known maps-but to give himself something solid to wrap his arms around.
On the other side of the sound-proof hotel windows, thirty one floors down, the streets were bursting with city noise; inside the room the only sounds were grunts and skin slapping against skin.
"No," he'd said when Elijah had offered his place. "We'll get a room at a hotel." He hadn't wanted to do it in Elijah's bed.
But no matter how hard he tried now, he couldn't shake off the feeling that they were in Elijah's bed anyway.
He anchored his eyes on Dom's shoulders-muscles bulging and flexing-so he wouldn't have to look at Elijah thrashing under Dom, moving with Dom in one, frenzied rhythm, Dom's rhythm. He wanted to grab Dom and shake him hard enough to snap him out of it. Snap them all out of it and undo it all. Make it all fucking go away.
When it was over, when he was dragging his fingers through his own come on his belly, he feared he would never be able to look at Dom and not hate him.
***
Billy kisses the skin on Dom's shoulders and thinks how some things are like driving at a hundred and fifty miles an hour on a motorway-a part of him wants to do it, just once, to taste the thrill of letting himself go, even though there's a good chance that he'll lose control and crash. And the more time has passed since the crash, the more profoundly grateful he is that they all got out of it not only alive, but with nothing more than bruises of guilt and scratches of awkwardness, which lingered, but eventually healed and faded away.
The way muscles flex in Dom's shoulders has never stopped turning him on, and he still goes out drinking with Elijah whenever they happen to be in the same city together, but he's not fond of New York anymore.
The things he is fond of these days are not as thrilling, but they seduce him with their familiarity. He puts his hands on Dom's chest and watches it rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall.
Dom's chest is Hawaii.
Oahu, Hawaii
distance: 6,892 miles
Curled up against Dom, Billy listened to Dom's heartbeat under his cheek, its steady thump-thump thump-thump vibrating through his skin, and wished he could have its strength and calmness.
They hadn't slept at all.
Dom tightened his arm around Billy. His fingers stroked Billy's hair in slow, soothing movements, but the good feeling inside Billy had already started to give way to weariness.
He tried to get air inside him, past something that had been growing in his throat. It'd been growing there for months, and each time they said their goodbyes at airports, it grew a little bigger, making his throat a little tighter, until he felt like it was going to choke him now.
He pushed Dom's arm away and rolled onto his back. "I can't fucking do this anymore," he said quietly.
"Bill?" Dom lifted himself on his elbow, a frown cutting into his forehead. "What's going on?"
"We're never together for more than a few days, two weeks if we're damn lucky, and then it's back to living on different continents and figuring out what time it is over there and whether I'm going to wake you up, or interrupt your work, when all I bloody want is to hear your voice." He didn't care if he sounded like whiny girl-his flight was in six hours.
He pressed his arm to his eyes-not because he wanted to hide from Dom. Not because he was afraid to look at Dom. "I don't want this, not like this. I'm so fucking tired of it."
Dom scooted closer to him, gently peeled Billy's arm off his face and pressed his forehead against Billy's. His breath fluttered warm against Billy's cheek.
"Do you still want us?" Dom asked.
Did he? He'd never stopped wanting them. He nodded.
Dom reached for Billy's hand and pressed it to his own chest, his fingers tight over Billy's, keeping them trapped and safe. "This is us, right here. This, and-" He shifted, rolled awkwardly on top of Billy and pressed two fingers of his other hand to Billy's chest, over his heart. "-and this."
"What if it's not enough?" Billy said.
"Do you trust me?"
"I love you."
"Then it is enough and everything else is just details."
Dom's heart thudded under his fingers with unfailing confidence.
Billy closed his eyes and let himself trust again that everything would be all right.
Glasgow, Scotland
Billy is an experienced traveler and his passport with dog-eared edges has a collection of stamps to prove it. He knows not to trust that all his luggage will get to his destination at the same time as he does. He knows to bring his own bottle of water on the plane, and he knows that a Pippin smile is currency that goes a long way no matter which part of the world he travels to.
But most of all, he knows that the best thing about traveling is coming home.
It's only been four hours since Dom crashed into Billy's bed, his bags lying unpacked where they dropped them by the front door, but even though a part of Billy wants to let Dom have his rest, he can't hold back any longer.
Not when Dom's eyes are open and hungry.
He kisses his way down Dom's chest, following the path of hairs down the stomach and lower, lower, until Dom's back arches, and his head presses deeper into the pillow, and his arms stretch out-a silent Here I am, and I'm yours.
Billy settles himself between Dom's legs, slides his hands along Dom's thighs, up and down, before he spreads them further apart and pulls Dom's knees up. He knows his way by heart. With a quiet groan he pushes inside Dom, and that moment, when he gets past Dom's involuntary resistance, when Dom urges him on with little noises which are meant for Billy and for Billy only, that moment turns his insides into a bundle of heat every time without fail. He can't even comprehend that it could ever change, that some day he could stop feeling the frantic need to be inside Dom.
Dom's fingers clamp around Billy's arms. "Billy... Billy...." He pushes against Billy, pulls him closer, deeper, gasps for air. "Billy...."
"Shh... I've got you," Billy says, and slides all the way in, until his mind blanks out, until Dom squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lips, until there's nowhere further to go, because they have both come home.
(end)