ORIGINAL STORY: eyebrowofdoom's The Two of Us Versus, or Possibly Stacks on, You
SUMMARY: There are a thousand ways to remember just what happened. This is one of the more satisfying methods.
NOTES: This scene was left to our imaginations in the story I've remixed. So, um, I used my imagination. Because, well, I like sex. (The first line is directly from the original story.)
Disclaimer: The author makes no claims or inferences to reality or truthfulness. Moreover, this story is based upon the work of another author and recognises their creation.
Billy closes the door, letting go of Dom's hand to do it. His hand feels cool, air washing over the damp imprint of Dom's palm. Dom backs toward the bed, watching Billy. His hands tug down on the hem of his t-shirt, flattening it so Billy can see the swells of his pectorals and the flat plane of his belly, momentary nipple-shapes before Dom pulls the other way, struggling out of the shirt, pulling it over his head.
When his (messy) head pops out of the shirt, he's biting his lip and grinning at the same time. His teeth are whiter than they used to be.
Billy leans back against the door. "Give me a show?"
Dom makes a face. His hands hover over the placket of his jeans, though.
"No, never mind," Billy says.
The light by the bed is on, yellow light spilling across the bed and carpet, backlighting Dom; his face is shadowed, but clear enough. Billy keeps his eyes open as he kisses Dom; Dom's bare waist is warm under his palms, and his eyes are closed, movement under the lids, lashes laid on his cheekbones, thin and dust-coloured.
"Mm," Dom says. He pulls back to breathe and opens his eyes. "Were you watching?"
Billy nods, and shrugs one shoulder. Dom's fingers are slotted into his beltloops, tugging down gently. "Yeah," Billy says, and he leans in, resting his forehead on Dom's shoulder, looking down his chest and belly, to where his (Billy's) hands are pulling the button of Dom's jeans open. "How thin are the walls?"
"Medium," Dom says. Billy can feel Dom's nose against his hair, and the puff of his breath on Billy's neck.
"Shame," Billy says. He's got the button open, and his thumb hooks onto the zipper, pulling it down slowly as his fingers slide down before thumb and zipper, sliding over thin wiry hair into the humid environment of Dom's trousers, warm damp skin and thatch of hair.
Dom's stopped pulling Billy's trousers off; he's motionless except for his chest moving up and down. "Feeling loud?" he asks.
"Not really. Too jetlagged," Billy says, stilling his hand. "But."
"But you never know," Dom says. "Keep going."
Dom's cock is stuck down in the leg of his denims, but Billy wriggles two fingers under and tugs it upward easily, until the head is poking out of Dom's open placket, red, still mostly covered by the foreskin. "Hm," Billy says.
The drop to his knees feels heavy and ungraceful, but from there he can pull Dom's jeans further down, and lick experimentally at his cock--shaft and then head, salty and musky on his tongue, the head slipping up, or foreskin down, it doesn't matter.
"Ah," Dom sighs. His hands splay on Billy's skull as Billy kneels up and slides his mouth down the length of Dom's prick, balancing with his fists bunched in the rough fabric around Dom's calves, breathing through his nose. "Fuck," Dom says, knees wobbling, and he moves backward and away, dick coming free of Billy's lips with a wet pop. "Let me sit down," Dom murmurs, hobbling backward until he sits on the edge of the bed.
Billy licks his lips, tasting Dom's sweat, stinging the places where they cracked from dry airplane air. Dom kicks off his jeans and leans back on his elbows, and Billy shuffles forward on his knees until Dom's bare, hairy thighs are under his hands. "Fucking knees," Billy says, but he ignores the internal grating of his bones and goes down on Dom again, closing his eyes and inhaling the thick scent of him, listening to Dom's quick, soft breathing, hitching as Billy licks over the smooth lip of his cock and across the slit. Dom's fingers comb restlessly through his hair, scritch against his scalp.
His jaw is starting to ache when Dom tugs at his hair, pulling him off. "C'mere," Dom says, "can I?" Dom's hand flutters at his neck, latches onto his shoulder to help as Billy heaves himself up, trying not to wince as his knees creak, licking his lips again. "Can I?" Dom repeats.
Billy stumbles back and unzips; he wriggles his hips until he can kick them off, then unbuttons his shirt and drops it. "Yeah," he says. "Just go slow, yeah?"
Dom's mouth is warm and wet on his nape and Billy holds himself still, trying not to groan as Dom's fingers twist and press. The headboard is battered, scratched blond wood, and Billy stares at it and concentrates more on his breathing than on the ache in his arse, the slight sting as three fingers slot in and out smoothly, every knuckle tangible despite the steady slow bellows of his lungs, relaxing him as much as he can relax.
"Okay?" Dom asks, and doesn't wait for a reply; he pulls his fingers back--wet thip thip thip of knuckles slipping out--and Billy's head falls, forehead pressed to his wrists. He listens as Dom tears open the packet, to the wet sounds of the condom rolling down. Then Billy's inhaling as the blunt, slick head of Dom's cock rubs over his arsehole and then presses in. It's too fast--Dom always goes too fast--but Billy concentrates on not clenching, he bears down instead, and Dom starts moving immediately: slow but impatient, hands spread like starfish on Billy's back and hip. "Ah," Dom says.
Billy's cock is mostly soft, small and tender between his thighs. "Little help," he rasps. He clears his throat--it feels like sandpaper and repeats it. "Little help, eh?"
Do's breathing more quickly, and he stops thrusting for a moment, changing positions to lean down and reach past Billy's hip. "Sorry. Feels good."
"S'okay," Billy replied. Dom's hand is warm and slippery; he cups and squeezes, begins stroking and Billy feels himself harden. It's dizzying, the weight of it, of Dom's hand, and Billy presses back onto Dom's cock. He hears Dom's little huff--laughter, hunger--and then Dom's moving and the angle is better and Dom's hand is still squeezing and stroking and it's all centering somewhere behind Billy's breastbone, spiraling lower, into his balls.
"I'm," Dom says. He's making noise with each breath, with each thrust, and Billy almost doesn't hear him. "Christ."
"Nearly," Billy gasps. "Harder--"
Dom grips his cock and Billy shivers and comes with his face pressed into the mattress; he can hear his cry in his own ears, everything else deadened, muffled. He feels Dom's groan in his body, though, and he knows just what Dom's face looks like right this instant, knows how his hands flex and flatten on Billy's skin.
Dom finishes and holds himself over Billy, inside him, for a minute, before he pulls back and out, dropping to his side on the bed. Billy leaves his arse in the air and turns his head. Dom's face is red, he's still breathing quickly. "Missed that." He's smiling, chin crooked, nose redder than his cheeks, eyes half-lidded.
"I knew you only loved me for my body," Billy says. He sighs and pushes himself onto his elbows, looking under the bridge his body makes at the small puddle of come on the sheet. "Wet spot," he says.
Dom wipes a corner of the sheet over it. "There you go."
"Sir Walter had nothing on you," Billy says, but he flops down anyway, and it's just a damp spot under the side of his bum, since he's lying on his side facing Dom, watching his lips stretch like rubber as his smile widens. Billy blinks, and yawns.
Billy snorts, barely. "What do you think?" He closes his eyes. "Tuck me in."
Dom's turn to snort, but he shifts around. There's a click, and the red glow behind Billy's closed eyes changes to black. Dom is all elbows and knees for a moment or three, pulling the sheets about, but then he's Dom again, warm and solid against Billy, duvet pulled over their bodies and warm breath tickling Billy's ear. "G'night," Dom says, and Billy sighs and pinches Dom's nipple, shoving his nose against the rubbery skin over Dom's shoulder.
"Night." Dom's legs are tangled in his; he smells like sex and, faintly, cologne. Billy inhales, exhales, inhales... falls asleep.