Fic: Fading Evening Light
Title: Fading Evening Light
Author: ficlette
Pairing: Dignam/Billy
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: PWP
Disclaimer: I am, unfortunately, not Martin Scorsese. Nor am I anyone who even remotely owns these characters. Just having a bit of fun!
Summary: Billy needs Dignam's help, Dignam needs distraction. Neither ask for what they both receive.
A/N: If I hadn't already offered it to her, my first born would go to wook77. Thanks, this is for you! :)
The quiet sound of a Beach Boys song was the first thing he noticed, walking carefully into the motel room. The lock was, surprisingly, easy to pick. Considering who was currently residing in the room, that may or may not have been cause for concern. Billy looked around and wrinkled his nose - the place was worse than his own. The guy had only been there about a week or so, Queenan had said, and already there were more empty bottles of whiskey and discarded pizza boxes than Billy could count with one glance.
Fucking Dignam. Of course he'd listen to the Beach Boys.
"Dignam!" Billy called to the bathroom, shutting the motel door and locking it behind him. "Dignam, where the fuck are you?"
He came in while Billy was occupying his eyes on a gold wedding band on the dresser, speaking in harsh tones.
"Real smart, Costigan. I could have fucking shot you, breaking in here like that, you little shit. Or how about just carting your ass to the police station?"
Billy held up his hands in defense, but his face was no more friendly than Dignam's. "Listen," he said, "I'm not here to start with you, alright? I asked Queenan where you were staying, since he said he'd be out this week. I just want to talk to you, alright?"
"Yeah?" Dignam spat, unimpressed, "I told you. Tell me something real or I'm kicking you right the fuck out of my place, and-"
"Your place? Dignam, this is a fucking sty. What the fuck are you doing here? Problems with the old lady?"
It was then Billy noticed that Dignam still had his gun in his holster. He should have expected that, he thought. Dignam took a warning step forward and hovered his hand over the gun, but didn't pull it.
"You watch your punk fucking mouth, Costigan. My business is none of yours. Take a seat in that chair right there, your highness. I'll get us drinks and you'll tell me something useful."
"Sail on, sailor," Billy muttered, in time with the song.
The whiskey was shoved roughly into his hand and Billy looked up to see Dignam take the seat opposite him. Billy ran his free hand through his hair, suddenly uncertain about this whole thing. Queenan had assured him it was the best thing to do, going to Dignam. Obviously the Captain trusted his Staff Sergeant, but Billy was unsure.
“He’s alright, Billy,” Queenan had said. “He’ll listen to you if you don’t give him any crap. I need you to do this for me, kid, alright? I can’t be working this week, Patrick came home for the funeral and he and I have some things to get done.”
Even in the stale air of the motel room, Billy could smell the cigarette smoke that had curled around him and Queenan as they met outside the Porter Square T station. Far enough away from the city that none of Costello’s guys would bother hanging around there, Billy’d said. That it was close enough that he could get back quickly if one of them called, he’d left unspoken. Queenan had looked at him with sad eyes and patted his shoulder. “Go see him when you can, Billy.”
“So?”
Billy was thrust back into the present with Dignam’s snapped word, feeling more like he’s been slapped in the face than asked a question. Dignam was sitting expectantly in his chair, his entire body tense, with his drink already half-empty as Billy quietly nursed his own.
“It’s the rat, Dignam,” Billy started, deciding to get right to the point. “I know we can find him. We can fucking do it! It’s only going to get worse if we don’t get him now.”
Dignam knocked back the rest of his drink, and set it down on the table next to him with a loud clink. “It’s not that fucking easy, kid. You think I don’t know we got to do something?” He threw his hands up exasperatedly and stood, muttering words about Billy that Billy probably had heard quite a few times before.
“Alright, Dignam, yeah,” Billy said, rising to stand too, “I fucking get it. We’ll all just sit around here and admit there’s a fucking problem and just not do a damn thing about it. Yeah, sounds like a good plan of action, something the Staties are probably real fucking good at already-”
Before he could finish, Billy found himself pushed up against the wall by Dignam’s hand on his chest, just a foot or so away from the window. Dignam’s other hand was pointing threateningly at Billy’s face, his expression hardened and angry.
“You need to check that fucking mouth on you, punk. You don’t have a fucking clue what cops do, you didn’t even graduate from the fucking academy!”
Billy snarled in annoyance and moved to push Dignam away, but Dignam was admittedly fast and pinned him back against the wall again with a forearm to Billy’s chest. Their bodies were lined up exactly, Billy being slightly taller than Dignam but Dignam winning out in width. It was that fact that screwed Billy over - he found it hard to struggle against someone who was more muscled than he, and in all likelihood probably a fair bit stronger.
“You’re an annoying little shit, you know that? Keep talking about all these rats, what the fuck do you think you are?”
Bristling, Billy put his hands on Dignam’s chest to try pushing him away. His heart rate was jacked, his frustration at Dignam making him dizzy.
“Fuck you, Dignam,” he said, “Everything I’m doing, every fucking thing, I’m doing for the police. Don’t you fucking look at me like I’m one of them.”
Dignam spat back, “You are, all you fucking rats are all the same,” and pulled Billy’s hands away from his chest. He pressed Billy fully against the wall, pinning his own chest against Billy’s. They were both worked up now, and in the silence following Dignam’s words Billy could only faintly hear a new song playing and, much louder, the both of them panting hard enough that each could feel the other’s breath on his face.
The uncertainty Billy had felt before skyrocketed. He was positive now that this had been a very fucking bad idea. He hadn’t been this close to another person in… longer than he could remember. Before the months he’d been spending in Costello’s crew, that was certain. Before even the time he’d spent in prison, and though he couldn’t exactly recall, he thought probably before he’d first enrolled in the Police Academy.
And now almost every part of his body was touching the corresponding part on another body, and ‘bad idea’ didn’t seem to cover what exactly Billy was going through.
Of course Dignam noticed Billy’s embarrassing reaction to their close proximity, looking down to where their bodies met and back up to Billy’s eyes with an unreadable expression on his face. Billy cursed himself in his head, silently wishing he could have been anywhere else at that moment. He’d have watched French kill a dozen more guys before he’d have wished to be in this position.
“Fucking pervert,” Dignam said with disdain, and without further warning he crashed his mouth to Billy’s.
Billy hardly had time to get over the shock of being kissed by Dignam - kissed by Dignam! his mind screamed - before Dignam had his hands up under Billy’s shirt, his touch rough and unforgiving.
A moan tore through Billy’s throat as his head fell back and hit the wall, and the action was practically an invitation to Dignam. He took it. Dignam’s mouth closed around the soft skin of Billy’s neck with a sound alarmingly close to a growl, and when Billy felt the half-pain, half-pleasure feeling of teeth he knew there would be a mark there come morning.
Billy used his hands as encouragement, harshly removing Dignam’s shirt from where it was tucked into his pants. Dignam’s hips thrust forward, urging Billy on, and Billy took the signal as a green light as he hurriedly removed Dignam’s belt.
“Christ,” Dignam panted into his ear, sounding pained. Billy felt the same himself, but at the moment he was more turned on than he could ever remember and couldn’t bring himself to care that the person he was doing this with was a man, let alone Dignam.
The burr of Dignam’s zipper sliding down in Billy’s hand was loud to the point of obscene between them, but Dignam’s breath was quick and shallow against Billy’s collarbone, and when Billy palmed Dignam through his boxers he felt a sharp bite on his skin in response.
“Fucking- ungh, Costigan, fucking take it out,” Dignam said harshly, jerking his hips to create friction against Billy’s hand. Billy complied with his demand, watching his fingers take another man’s cock into hand and somehow managing not to run in the other direction as fast as his feet could carry him.
Words of encouragement poured out against Billy’s heated skin, and briefly Billy paused as Dignam silently insisted he remove his shirt. As his arms were trapped together in the fabric of his shirt, raised high above his head, Dignam leaned forward and kissed him roughly, penetrating Billy’s mouth with his tongue until it was difficult to tell where they split into two different men.
Dignam pulled Billy’s shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it on the floor. He placed his hands on Billy’s shoulders and put pressure on them, urging Billy downward.
Billy took the hint.
Dropping to one knee, then the other, Billy took his time and ran his hands down Dignam’s sides. It was a strange position to him, being on his knees, but in the back of his mind he figured he might as well have been doing this all along. Costello, Queenan, Dignam… he was only something to any of them as long as he gave out what each wanted.
Billy gripped the base of Dignam’s cock, bracing himself as he leaned forward to experimentally wrap his mouth around the length. He discovered he couldn’t fit much in, but when he looked up to see Dignam’s reaction he figured he was doing an alright job. Dignam’s eyes were shut tightly, with one of his hands fisted in Billy’s hair and the other leaning on the wall for support.
Emboldened by the reaction, Billy used his left hand to hold Dignam’s thigh as his right hand fisted the length of Dignam’s cock that his mouth couldn’t reach. Billy tested, seeing how far back he could take it, feeling his eyes momentarily tear up as he briefly had the urge to gag. He realized that it was a result of the subtle thrusting that Dignam was doing, rolling his hips back and lightly snapping them forward into Billy’s mouth.
The hand in Billy’s hair tightened and pulled, and Dignam spoke in low, growling tones. He demanded Billy take more, go faster, and between his words were deep moans and half-finished curses.
“Costigan, shit, shit, don’t stop, I’m almost there,” said Dignam, his eyes closed in torturous pleasure.
Between his own legs, Billy was achingly hard without having been touched at all. Removing his hand from Dignam’s thigh, he palmed himself through his pants and moaned around Dignam’s cock. At this rate, Billy thought, he wouldn’t need a single touch to be finished.
The vibrations caused by Billy’s moan seemed to have done the trick, and with a ragged swear Dignam came hard into Billy’s mouth. It was mildly unpleasant for Billy, and although he tried to swallow it all he was unsuccessful. The gagging sensation forced some of it back out of his mouth where it dribbled on his chin. He closed his eyes as he felt himself coming too, bucking up into his own hand as he spilled into his boxers.
For a moment it was silent. Billy figured the CD had reached the end, and the room was filled only with the sound of the two men catching their breath. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Billy looked up at Dignam, who was tucking himself back into his pants. There was no other way to describe Dignam other than just-fucked, and Billy tried not to flash a smug grin. He’d done that.
“Get up, princess,” Dignam barked, walking away. “And don’t touch anything. I’m showering first.”
Billy sat, and paced, and stared off at nothing while Dignam was showering. He found his eyes repeatedly drawn to the abandoned gold ring on the dresser, and wondered what had happened to whoever Mrs. Dignam had been. The thought crossed his mind that maybe Billy wasn’t Dignam’s first partner outside of that marriage, but before he could dwell on it Dignam came out of the bathroom, steam following behind in a billowing cloud.
Ridiculously, the only thought Billy had was that it was the first time he’d seen the man without his holster.
“Well? You don’t need a fucking invitation. You smell like ass, Costigan, go clean yourself up.”
Somehow, Dignam had managed to make Billy feel two feet tall even when dressed in nothing but a fluffy white towel, using another to dry his wet hair. Billy brushed past him angrily, taking a shower in the hottest water the motel offered. He cringed putting his dirty clothes back on, already looking forward to getting back home and into something clean, but he wasn’t about to ask Dignam for a fresh pair of boxers in the meantime.
Dignam was sitting on the bed when Billy came out of the bathroom. He didn’t say anything to Billy, only looked at him with raised eyebrows as he buttoned up a fresh shirt. Billy shoved his hands into his pockets, and felt he could have hated Dignam then.
“So, uh…” Billy started and trailed off. He was at a loss, wondering just how the fuck they had gotten to this point. This probably hadn’t been Queenan’s intention when he told Billy to see Dignam, and it was certainly not something Billy had planned himself. Now he didn’t know what the fuck was going on, or where they went from there.
But Dignam said nothing. He made no move to start the conversation, just keeping his eyes on Billy with a frown on his face.
“Fine,” Billy said angrily, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m fucking outta here, then.”
The cool Boston air greeted him as he stepped outside, slamming the door shut behind him. Suddenly exhausted, he leaned his body against the closed door and welcomed the wind cooling his flushed skin and wet hair. Billy sighed, and pushed off. He stepped off into the fading evening light and didn’t turn back.
Author: ficlette
Pairing: Dignam/Billy
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: PWP
Disclaimer: I am, unfortunately, not Martin Scorsese. Nor am I anyone who even remotely owns these characters. Just having a bit of fun!
Summary: Billy needs Dignam's help, Dignam needs distraction. Neither ask for what they both receive.
A/N: If I hadn't already offered it to her, my first born would go to wook77. Thanks, this is for you! :)
The quiet sound of a Beach Boys song was the first thing he noticed, walking carefully into the motel room. The lock was, surprisingly, easy to pick. Considering who was currently residing in the room, that may or may not have been cause for concern. Billy looked around and wrinkled his nose - the place was worse than his own. The guy had only been there about a week or so, Queenan had said, and already there were more empty bottles of whiskey and discarded pizza boxes than Billy could count with one glance.
Fucking Dignam. Of course he'd listen to the Beach Boys.
"Dignam!" Billy called to the bathroom, shutting the motel door and locking it behind him. "Dignam, where the fuck are you?"
He came in while Billy was occupying his eyes on a gold wedding band on the dresser, speaking in harsh tones.
"Real smart, Costigan. I could have fucking shot you, breaking in here like that, you little shit. Or how about just carting your ass to the police station?"
Billy held up his hands in defense, but his face was no more friendly than Dignam's. "Listen," he said, "I'm not here to start with you, alright? I asked Queenan where you were staying, since he said he'd be out this week. I just want to talk to you, alright?"
"Yeah?" Dignam spat, unimpressed, "I told you. Tell me something real or I'm kicking you right the fuck out of my place, and-"
"Your place? Dignam, this is a fucking sty. What the fuck are you doing here? Problems with the old lady?"
It was then Billy noticed that Dignam still had his gun in his holster. He should have expected that, he thought. Dignam took a warning step forward and hovered his hand over the gun, but didn't pull it.
"You watch your punk fucking mouth, Costigan. My business is none of yours. Take a seat in that chair right there, your highness. I'll get us drinks and you'll tell me something useful."
"Sail on, sailor," Billy muttered, in time with the song.
The whiskey was shoved roughly into his hand and Billy looked up to see Dignam take the seat opposite him. Billy ran his free hand through his hair, suddenly uncertain about this whole thing. Queenan had assured him it was the best thing to do, going to Dignam. Obviously the Captain trusted his Staff Sergeant, but Billy was unsure.
“He’s alright, Billy,” Queenan had said. “He’ll listen to you if you don’t give him any crap. I need you to do this for me, kid, alright? I can’t be working this week, Patrick came home for the funeral and he and I have some things to get done.”
Even in the stale air of the motel room, Billy could smell the cigarette smoke that had curled around him and Queenan as they met outside the Porter Square T station. Far enough away from the city that none of Costello’s guys would bother hanging around there, Billy’d said. That it was close enough that he could get back quickly if one of them called, he’d left unspoken. Queenan had looked at him with sad eyes and patted his shoulder. “Go see him when you can, Billy.”
“So?”
Billy was thrust back into the present with Dignam’s snapped word, feeling more like he’s been slapped in the face than asked a question. Dignam was sitting expectantly in his chair, his entire body tense, with his drink already half-empty as Billy quietly nursed his own.
“It’s the rat, Dignam,” Billy started, deciding to get right to the point. “I know we can find him. We can fucking do it! It’s only going to get worse if we don’t get him now.”
Dignam knocked back the rest of his drink, and set it down on the table next to him with a loud clink. “It’s not that fucking easy, kid. You think I don’t know we got to do something?” He threw his hands up exasperatedly and stood, muttering words about Billy that Billy probably had heard quite a few times before.
“Alright, Dignam, yeah,” Billy said, rising to stand too, “I fucking get it. We’ll all just sit around here and admit there’s a fucking problem and just not do a damn thing about it. Yeah, sounds like a good plan of action, something the Staties are probably real fucking good at already-”
Before he could finish, Billy found himself pushed up against the wall by Dignam’s hand on his chest, just a foot or so away from the window. Dignam’s other hand was pointing threateningly at Billy’s face, his expression hardened and angry.
“You need to check that fucking mouth on you, punk. You don’t have a fucking clue what cops do, you didn’t even graduate from the fucking academy!”
Billy snarled in annoyance and moved to push Dignam away, but Dignam was admittedly fast and pinned him back against the wall again with a forearm to Billy’s chest. Their bodies were lined up exactly, Billy being slightly taller than Dignam but Dignam winning out in width. It was that fact that screwed Billy over - he found it hard to struggle against someone who was more muscled than he, and in all likelihood probably a fair bit stronger.
“You’re an annoying little shit, you know that? Keep talking about all these rats, what the fuck do you think you are?”
Bristling, Billy put his hands on Dignam’s chest to try pushing him away. His heart rate was jacked, his frustration at Dignam making him dizzy.
“Fuck you, Dignam,” he said, “Everything I’m doing, every fucking thing, I’m doing for the police. Don’t you fucking look at me like I’m one of them.”
Dignam spat back, “You are, all you fucking rats are all the same,” and pulled Billy’s hands away from his chest. He pressed Billy fully against the wall, pinning his own chest against Billy’s. They were both worked up now, and in the silence following Dignam’s words Billy could only faintly hear a new song playing and, much louder, the both of them panting hard enough that each could feel the other’s breath on his face.
The uncertainty Billy had felt before skyrocketed. He was positive now that this had been a very fucking bad idea. He hadn’t been this close to another person in… longer than he could remember. Before the months he’d been spending in Costello’s crew, that was certain. Before even the time he’d spent in prison, and though he couldn’t exactly recall, he thought probably before he’d first enrolled in the Police Academy.
And now almost every part of his body was touching the corresponding part on another body, and ‘bad idea’ didn’t seem to cover what exactly Billy was going through.
Of course Dignam noticed Billy’s embarrassing reaction to their close proximity, looking down to where their bodies met and back up to Billy’s eyes with an unreadable expression on his face. Billy cursed himself in his head, silently wishing he could have been anywhere else at that moment. He’d have watched French kill a dozen more guys before he’d have wished to be in this position.
“Fucking pervert,” Dignam said with disdain, and without further warning he crashed his mouth to Billy’s.
Billy hardly had time to get over the shock of being kissed by Dignam - kissed by Dignam! his mind screamed - before Dignam had his hands up under Billy’s shirt, his touch rough and unforgiving.
A moan tore through Billy’s throat as his head fell back and hit the wall, and the action was practically an invitation to Dignam. He took it. Dignam’s mouth closed around the soft skin of Billy’s neck with a sound alarmingly close to a growl, and when Billy felt the half-pain, half-pleasure feeling of teeth he knew there would be a mark there come morning.
Billy used his hands as encouragement, harshly removing Dignam’s shirt from where it was tucked into his pants. Dignam’s hips thrust forward, urging Billy on, and Billy took the signal as a green light as he hurriedly removed Dignam’s belt.
“Christ,” Dignam panted into his ear, sounding pained. Billy felt the same himself, but at the moment he was more turned on than he could ever remember and couldn’t bring himself to care that the person he was doing this with was a man, let alone Dignam.
The burr of Dignam’s zipper sliding down in Billy’s hand was loud to the point of obscene between them, but Dignam’s breath was quick and shallow against Billy’s collarbone, and when Billy palmed Dignam through his boxers he felt a sharp bite on his skin in response.
“Fucking- ungh, Costigan, fucking take it out,” Dignam said harshly, jerking his hips to create friction against Billy’s hand. Billy complied with his demand, watching his fingers take another man’s cock into hand and somehow managing not to run in the other direction as fast as his feet could carry him.
Words of encouragement poured out against Billy’s heated skin, and briefly Billy paused as Dignam silently insisted he remove his shirt. As his arms were trapped together in the fabric of his shirt, raised high above his head, Dignam leaned forward and kissed him roughly, penetrating Billy’s mouth with his tongue until it was difficult to tell where they split into two different men.
Dignam pulled Billy’s shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it on the floor. He placed his hands on Billy’s shoulders and put pressure on them, urging Billy downward.
Billy took the hint.
Dropping to one knee, then the other, Billy took his time and ran his hands down Dignam’s sides. It was a strange position to him, being on his knees, but in the back of his mind he figured he might as well have been doing this all along. Costello, Queenan, Dignam… he was only something to any of them as long as he gave out what each wanted.
Billy gripped the base of Dignam’s cock, bracing himself as he leaned forward to experimentally wrap his mouth around the length. He discovered he couldn’t fit much in, but when he looked up to see Dignam’s reaction he figured he was doing an alright job. Dignam’s eyes were shut tightly, with one of his hands fisted in Billy’s hair and the other leaning on the wall for support.
Emboldened by the reaction, Billy used his left hand to hold Dignam’s thigh as his right hand fisted the length of Dignam’s cock that his mouth couldn’t reach. Billy tested, seeing how far back he could take it, feeling his eyes momentarily tear up as he briefly had the urge to gag. He realized that it was a result of the subtle thrusting that Dignam was doing, rolling his hips back and lightly snapping them forward into Billy’s mouth.
The hand in Billy’s hair tightened and pulled, and Dignam spoke in low, growling tones. He demanded Billy take more, go faster, and between his words were deep moans and half-finished curses.
“Costigan, shit, shit, don’t stop, I’m almost there,” said Dignam, his eyes closed in torturous pleasure.
Between his own legs, Billy was achingly hard without having been touched at all. Removing his hand from Dignam’s thigh, he palmed himself through his pants and moaned around Dignam’s cock. At this rate, Billy thought, he wouldn’t need a single touch to be finished.
The vibrations caused by Billy’s moan seemed to have done the trick, and with a ragged swear Dignam came hard into Billy’s mouth. It was mildly unpleasant for Billy, and although he tried to swallow it all he was unsuccessful. The gagging sensation forced some of it back out of his mouth where it dribbled on his chin. He closed his eyes as he felt himself coming too, bucking up into his own hand as he spilled into his boxers.
For a moment it was silent. Billy figured the CD had reached the end, and the room was filled only with the sound of the two men catching their breath. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Billy looked up at Dignam, who was tucking himself back into his pants. There was no other way to describe Dignam other than just-fucked, and Billy tried not to flash a smug grin. He’d done that.
“Get up, princess,” Dignam barked, walking away. “And don’t touch anything. I’m showering first.”
Billy sat, and paced, and stared off at nothing while Dignam was showering. He found his eyes repeatedly drawn to the abandoned gold ring on the dresser, and wondered what had happened to whoever Mrs. Dignam had been. The thought crossed his mind that maybe Billy wasn’t Dignam’s first partner outside of that marriage, but before he could dwell on it Dignam came out of the bathroom, steam following behind in a billowing cloud.
Ridiculously, the only thought Billy had was that it was the first time he’d seen the man without his holster.
“Well? You don’t need a fucking invitation. You smell like ass, Costigan, go clean yourself up.”
Somehow, Dignam had managed to make Billy feel two feet tall even when dressed in nothing but a fluffy white towel, using another to dry his wet hair. Billy brushed past him angrily, taking a shower in the hottest water the motel offered. He cringed putting his dirty clothes back on, already looking forward to getting back home and into something clean, but he wasn’t about to ask Dignam for a fresh pair of boxers in the meantime.
Dignam was sitting on the bed when Billy came out of the bathroom. He didn’t say anything to Billy, only looked at him with raised eyebrows as he buttoned up a fresh shirt. Billy shoved his hands into his pockets, and felt he could have hated Dignam then.
“So, uh…” Billy started and trailed off. He was at a loss, wondering just how the fuck they had gotten to this point. This probably hadn’t been Queenan’s intention when he told Billy to see Dignam, and it was certainly not something Billy had planned himself. Now he didn’t know what the fuck was going on, or where they went from there.
But Dignam said nothing. He made no move to start the conversation, just keeping his eyes on Billy with a frown on his face.
“Fine,” Billy said angrily, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m fucking outta here, then.”
The cool Boston air greeted him as he stepped outside, slamming the door shut behind him. Suddenly exhausted, he leaned his body against the closed door and welcomed the wind cooling his flushed skin and wet hair. Billy sighed, and pushed off. He stepped off into the fading evening light and didn’t turn back.