LOTRIPS Remix Home | 2008 Remix Listing
Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial, non-profit work of fiction under the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged or condoned by the persons whose names are used without permission.


Author: eff_reality
Original Story: Untitled, by glass_moment
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: R
Summary: A post-awards show rendezvous.
Notes: Slightly inspired by Judy's transformation scene in Hitchcock's Vertigo. Hence the title. If you haven't seen it or would like a little refresher, here's a YouTube link. (Apologies for the Spanish subtitles.)
Post-reveal Notes: Love to the betalicious sandelwood.


Dom has never been one for logic. He doesn't operate on pros and cons, scrawling lists of reasons why he should or shouldn't do something on the notebook of his brain.

He operates on the principle of pull or push -- does the seesaw in his gut tilt toward or away from the object in question? A project offer, an item on a dessert menu, a pair of trousers. A person. Whatever the object, if it pulls, Dom goes with it.

This principle has served Dom well, or at least he thinks so. The pulls have mostly been in the right direction. And when they haven't been, the resulting mistakes have been learning experiences. Dom has always managed to bounce back, whether it's been from a bad film or a bad hangover.

Dom will take what he wants when he wants it, if it's up for the taking.

The unfortunate thing about operating on this principle is that it has left him utterly susceptible to addiction.


When Dom tries to explain the power that Billy has over him, he finds that the only thing he can blame for certain is his own instinct. He tries to put logic to it, to think about their relationship rationally, but there is simply no logic to the way Billy's voice is hot-wired to his groin, or the way his own mouth opens in just the right way under Billy's.

It's not because Billy's been the only man. Because he hasn't been.

But Billy is the only one, male or female, who's always been a pull.

If someone were to take a picture of Dom right now, ascending the stairs of another forgettable hotel, the overhead fixtures lighting an inevitable path to Billy's room, it would probably serve better than any logical explanation could. The solitary figure, walking and breathing like a man condemned. Body much stiller than at any other time, preparing itself for the ripping, tearing chaos about to ensue. The singularity of the hallway stretching out between him and Billy's room, like it's the only hallway that's ever existed.

Dom's convinced that if his life were a film, it'd be the same stuttering image looped over and over again, of him approaching Billy's door.


There had been none of that frantic desperation the first time.

The first time had gone from slow and awkward to ridiculous and fun. Billy had gone from trailing his hands tentatively along Dom's belt (Do you, ehm...?) to laughing hysterically into Dom's damp neck (You're so loud!).

The sexual tension had always been an underscore to their friendship, but that quickly flipped. As they got to know each other physically, their mental connection was somehow sacrificed. If Dom had known that getting into Billy's bed would mean being barred from Billy's head, perhaps he would have thought twice before giving in to the pull.

With each time came more doubt and insecurity on Dom's part, the voice in his head chanting what is this what is this what is this every moment Billy was inside him.

He has never revealed that mantra to Billy, and he doubts he ever will.


Standing before The One Door, Dom holds his breath. The light in the hallway is too bright and it's the burn in his eyes that ultimately pushes him to lift his fist and rap rap rap on the thick wood.

Later, Dom will wonder about the words Billy chooses: "It's not locked." Not It's open. Not Come in. It's not locked.

As he opens the door, he can almost hear the violins in his head, anchoring the suspense of the scene. He peers wide-eyed through the space revealed before letting himself slip through. His arm bends behind him to catch the knob before the door can slam. The violins sound like crickets now. "...Billy?"

Dom steps carefully onto the carpet, tilting his chin forward.

"You're early, Dominic," he hears from within.

When Billy suddenly floats into his line of vision, it's not violins swelling but loud, buzzing static that blocks out all other sound in the room. He wipes the remains of shaving foam from his face with a washcloth, arms obviously a bit bulkier and flexing with effort, and it's like Dom's eardrums have both turned into tiny broken TV sets. He lets the little towel drop to the floor and just gives Dom this look, and the whole room turns green.

"And I don't fucking care."


How do you fear your own best mate? When your best mate's Billy. When you don't know what he's about anymore, really, when you get down to it. When your best mate makes you feel like your head'll pop right off and go rolling across the floor if he touches you.

Or if he doesn't.


Billy continues forward, wiping the back of his hand absently against the material of his boxers, and that seesaw won't stop slamming against the bottom of Dom's stomach.

This doesn't make sense when he finds that he's stepped away from the object in question and is pressed against the door.

"Dominic," Billy chides with a smirk, closing the distance between them. Dom's head falls back against the wood with a soft thud and Billy takes the opportunity to whisper into the underside of his chin. "That's no way to behave." Billy's breath comes hot and erratic against his skin, and Dom echoes it into the green dark.

He presses the pads of his fingers into the door and the balls of his feet further into the bottom of his shoes, seeking some kind of anchor. Billy is on him now, undoing the buttons on his shirt with warm little hands and pushing his nose into his neck. Dom instantly feels dizzy, like the room is spinning in panoramic circles, and he tries focusing on the window on the other side.

When he's confessed to people that he's never tried Ecstasy, he hasn't told them it's because he's had this.


Before they begin, Billy's eyes are incomprehensible as they travel his face. Dom lifts a hand to his cheek, his knuckles brushing against his own knee in the process, and Billy's little tongue darts out to lick his thumb. "Been waiting for this all month," he exhales, and Dom's heart buzzes inside his chest.

"Wait," he insists, pulling Billy further down and hiding his face in his neck. He sighs at the coolness that finally settles behind his eyes.

"Dom." Billy sounds impatient.

"Just. Give me a sec." He purses his lips against pale skin and waits for his pulse to slow. "Just a sec."


Billy dips his head and covers Dom's mouth with his own as he enters him.

What is this?

That question still throbs at the base of Dom's skull. He grips Billy's forearms, sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, but that only makes the wild swirls in his head flash brighter and brighter.

Billy drawls "Naughty" into his nostrils and bites back, and Dom almost sobs because that mouth... that amazing, sweet, little filthy mouth -- he could live in it. Fuck all, maybe he already does. God knows he's felt like a ghost every day he's been without it.

He still can't put logic to it, this beautiful, violent, desperate dance they do. The way he craves it, needs to relive it over and over again, so much so that it still leaves him trembling.

This doesn't go unnoticed by Billy. "Shh," he pleads, pressing three fingers to Dom's mouth as always. He moves over him with that brutal grace and smirks, his other hand gripping Dom's hip possessively. "I have you."

Not I've got you. Not I love you. I have you.

Dom breathes into Billy's fingerprints, clenches his eyes against the spinning room, and thinks Yes. You do.


Comment on this story
Read comments on this story

LOTPS Remix Home | 2008 Remix Listing