the boat that rocked | dominic twatt/"midnight" mark
Title: How about... what?
Fandom: The Boat that Rocked
Pairing: Dominic Twatt/"Midnight" Mark
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 683
Summary: So what if it was Mark who found Twatt first on the boat before Quentin did?
originally posted here
Getting onto the boat was surprisingly easy and Dominic Twatt congratulated himself on yet another brilliant plan. Much harder, actually, was to endure all that screaming and fainting of young, impressionable girls seduced off the right path by these pirates. He was more than sure, however, that his acting was quite remarkable indeed; one didn’t get on in his circles without a perfect poker face, after all. No one noticed his awkwardness among such loose morals and he had no difficulties sneaking off to inspect the boat, which, to his great relief, turned out to be in a rather catastrophic shape.
But suddenly he heard the sound of boots from behind. He whipped around, eyes wide, and he had the slight suspicion that maybe his poker face wasn’t quite as impeccable as he had thought, which just made the other man’s infinite calmness and self-confidence even more discomforting. He casually leaned against a pipe and didn’t take his eyes off Dominic for a second, he didn’t even blink, and Dominic was fairly sure that whoever this man was with his tight black leather trousers, his dark shirt, open just enough to reveal taunting pale smooth skin, he was the embodiment of all the vices the habitants of this boat were guilty of.
“I… I’m sorry, I… seem to have got… lost,” Dominic stuttered to break the silence that grew like weed between them. It sounded more like a question than an explanation but the strange man didn’t react in any way, he just kept his piercing gaze on Dominic through the curtain of his fringe. Dominic gulped.
“I… am a huge… fan?”
There was the tiniest hint of a smile on the other man’s face as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a kind of sinful sensuality that Dominic has only seen in dark alleys after nightfall before and never in men. He suppressed the desire to gulp again, fearing the man might hear. His mind was racing, searching for things to say, or maybe a not too suspicious way of getting out of this awkward situation. But just when he was about to simply run for it, the other man took a long drag from his cigarette and covered Dominic in a lungful of bitter smoke as he spoke.
“So,” he waited for Dominic to stop coughing. “How about it then?”
“I beg your pardon?” Dominic narrowed his eyes in confusion as the man stepped ever so slightly closer.
“How about it?” The man repeated in a low, seductive voice that must have worked wonders on fainting, impressionable young girls, no doubt.
“H-how about what?”
The question seemed to be a rather effective way of smashing the half-God’s calm demeanour. He furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head slightly, taken aback by the unexpected turn of events.
“Well… you know.”
But Dominic just kept looking at him with big green eyes so ominously empty of realization and quite obviously no wish to talk, rather happy with his first class imitation of a fish. But then, another minute of awkward silence and a casual shrug later, Dominic was being pulled against a lithe, firm body and his mouth was suddenly invaded by a hot, moist tongue that tasted of cigarettes and too much coffee. All Dominic could do was trying to keep breathing steadily as long fingers pushed under his cap and tangled in his dark hair, ruining the hard work of fixing the unwilling strands that morning.
As suddenly as the attack had come came the retreat and Dominic’s knees almost gave out under him as he was unexpectedly released. Dark eyes were watching him for a moment, then soft lips curved in a barely-there smile.
“Pity,” the man said, taking another drag from his cigarette and with only a hint of hesitation in his steps walked up the stairs. And that was that. No hand reached out to make him stay. There was no call to make him turn around.
But later that night, back home in his small apartment Dominic Twatt turned on the radio.
Fandom: The Boat that Rocked
Pairing: Dominic Twatt/"Midnight" Mark
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 683
Summary: So what if it was Mark who found Twatt first on the boat before Quentin did?
originally posted here
Getting onto the boat was surprisingly easy and Dominic Twatt congratulated himself on yet another brilliant plan. Much harder, actually, was to endure all that screaming and fainting of young, impressionable girls seduced off the right path by these pirates. He was more than sure, however, that his acting was quite remarkable indeed; one didn’t get on in his circles without a perfect poker face, after all. No one noticed his awkwardness among such loose morals and he had no difficulties sneaking off to inspect the boat, which, to his great relief, turned out to be in a rather catastrophic shape.
But suddenly he heard the sound of boots from behind. He whipped around, eyes wide, and he had the slight suspicion that maybe his poker face wasn’t quite as impeccable as he had thought, which just made the other man’s infinite calmness and self-confidence even more discomforting. He casually leaned against a pipe and didn’t take his eyes off Dominic for a second, he didn’t even blink, and Dominic was fairly sure that whoever this man was with his tight black leather trousers, his dark shirt, open just enough to reveal taunting pale smooth skin, he was the embodiment of all the vices the habitants of this boat were guilty of.
“I… I’m sorry, I… seem to have got… lost,” Dominic stuttered to break the silence that grew like weed between them. It sounded more like a question than an explanation but the strange man didn’t react in any way, he just kept his piercing gaze on Dominic through the curtain of his fringe. Dominic gulped.
“I… am a huge… fan?”
There was the tiniest hint of a smile on the other man’s face as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a kind of sinful sensuality that Dominic has only seen in dark alleys after nightfall before and never in men. He suppressed the desire to gulp again, fearing the man might hear. His mind was racing, searching for things to say, or maybe a not too suspicious way of getting out of this awkward situation. But just when he was about to simply run for it, the other man took a long drag from his cigarette and covered Dominic in a lungful of bitter smoke as he spoke.
“So,” he waited for Dominic to stop coughing. “How about it then?”
“I beg your pardon?” Dominic narrowed his eyes in confusion as the man stepped ever so slightly closer.
“How about it?” The man repeated in a low, seductive voice that must have worked wonders on fainting, impressionable young girls, no doubt.
“H-how about what?”
The question seemed to be a rather effective way of smashing the half-God’s calm demeanour. He furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head slightly, taken aback by the unexpected turn of events.
“Well… you know.”
But Dominic just kept looking at him with big green eyes so ominously empty of realization and quite obviously no wish to talk, rather happy with his first class imitation of a fish. But then, another minute of awkward silence and a casual shrug later, Dominic was being pulled against a lithe, firm body and his mouth was suddenly invaded by a hot, moist tongue that tasted of cigarettes and too much coffee. All Dominic could do was trying to keep breathing steadily as long fingers pushed under his cap and tangled in his dark hair, ruining the hard work of fixing the unwilling strands that morning.
As suddenly as the attack had come came the retreat and Dominic’s knees almost gave out under him as he was unexpectedly released. Dark eyes were watching him for a moment, then soft lips curved in a barely-there smile.
“Pity,” the man said, taking another drag from his cigarette and with only a hint of hesitation in his steps walked up the stairs. And that was that. No hand reached out to make him stay. There was no call to make him turn around.
But later that night, back home in his small apartment Dominic Twatt turned on the radio.