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fellowshippers2004-11-05 11:47 pm
omgsocute.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-11-05 11:47 pm
Do you love me?
Title: Do you love me?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: BB/DM
Warnings: deathfic!!! (don't say I didn't warn you), mucho angst
Summary: Dom loves Billy, but does Billy love him back?
AN: Written in a fit of anger and passion because men suck. No Beta...if my grammar sucks, blame me.
Feedback: Yes...yes I want feedback. What kind of question is that?
It started almost the minute they laid eyes on each other. Billy and Dom were a pair, a match, perfect. You could never find one without the other. During the months of filming in New Zealand, their relationship grew and turned into something else, and everyone knew. Everyone knew what they did in the dark corners of pubs when they thought no one was watching. Everyone knew what they did behind the trailers during breaks in filming. Everyone knew what they did every night and why they constantly came to work with slumped shoulders and tired eyes.
Dom began to wonder though. After all these months of passion and want and sex, was it safe to say he was in love? He often pondered in his journal, constantly holding an argument with himself over telling Billy he loved him or not. Many nights, after Billy was asleep next to him, Dom would turn on the lamp on the bedside table and write. He habitually wrote descriptions of Billy. Lately it had become an unconscious routine to write the word lover in his descriptions. Billy was his lover.
One morning as Billy sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea, Dom asked, “Billy? Do you love me?”
Billy looked startled for a moment before composing himself like he always did. “Dom, we’ve talked about this,” he said simply, and that was the end of the discussion.
That night his back pressed against a hard cement wall, his legs wrapped around Billy’s waist, Dom whispered through clenched teeth, “Do you love me, Billy?” Billy didn’t answer and instead thrust hard into him groaning loudly as his seed filled Dom. Billy pulled out of Dom and let him slump to the ground, his pants pooled around his ankles, watching as Billy turned and walked away.
For the next few days Dom didn’t go home with Billy, and Billy didn’t go home with Dom. No one saw them walk off set together and come back giggling like immature schoolgirls. No one saw the lust filled stares cast at Billy by Dom’s sea-grey eyes. Billy came to Dom once or twice, but Dom either ignored him or walked away with a pained look of desire and hurt and guilt written across his face and woven into his eyes.
On Monday, Dom came to Billy. He asked Billy to fuck him. He asked to be tied to the bed and fucked raw. He asked Billy to bruise him. He asked for what he needed. And Billy obliged.
Billy guided a silk scarf around Dom’s wrists and around a post in the headboard. Dom kneeled there, naked and vulnerable, awakening a lust in Billy. Billy took off his pants and shirt and crawled towards Dom, like a tiger about to ravage its prey. Billy moved one hand between Dom’s legs stroking the hardness he found there. Dom moaned and threw his head back. Billy stopped stroking and pressed a finger instead against Dom’s puckered hole. He slammed his finger in and pulled it out adding another until Dom was stretched wide. Billy took Dom’s legs and positioned him over his erect cock. In one stroke he was buried deep inside Dom. He shook and cried out as his body was torn apart by Billy’s savageness.
Billy grunted with each thrust. He placed his hands on Dom’s hips bringing him down harder each time. His grip was like steel and would surely leave dark purple marks on Dom’s hips. Dom’s eyes watered as his body was abused. One solitary tear streamed down his cheek and he practically screamed the five words he had constantly been repeating with hopes of a different answer each time. “DO YOU LOVE ME, BILLY!?!” Billy paid no attention. He thrust harder, his thrusts becoming erratic. His grunts mixed with loud moans. Billy came hard and collapsed onto Dom, reaching up to untie the scarf. He kissed Dom and whispered, “I will see you tomorrow.”
Dom laid there on the bed, his weeping cock still erect. He reached down and began to stroke, tears sliding down his cheeks unabashedly. He pulled hard, wanting to come as fast as possible. He wanted to rid himself of Billy - of the pain that Billy constantly caused him. He felt himself spasm as warm fluid covered his hand.
When he went to the bathroom to clean up, he looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess, and there were the faint beginnings of bruises on his neck and wrists and hips. Dom slammed his fists against the porcelain sink and yelled at the top of his lungs. It was too much for him. Every moment from the first time he met Billy up till that time flashed before his eyes. He saw the slow lazy lovemaking and the frantic drunk passion and the sleepless nights of unrequited love that he had spent alone in his bed, cock in hand to thoughts of Billy. Billy was his life, Billy was his everything, Billy was a phantom and a dream. Billy didn’t exist as Dom wanted him to.
The next morning he wasn’t wakened by his alarm or by the hundreds of frantic calls from Peter and Billy and countless other people. When he didn’t come in for work in the morning or the afternoon, Billy went to get him. He opened the front door and encountered an eerie silence about the house. He walked quietly towards Dom’s room and froze in front of the open door.
Dom was sprawled on the bed, bottles of beer strewn about the floor and the bedside table along with a number of orange prescription bottles, all empty. A note was folded up next to the empty bottles with “Billy” scrawled across it. He slowly unfolded the note and read it, tears streaming down his face,
Billy…I love you. I have always loved you. Did you ever love me?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: BB/DM
Warnings: deathfic!!! (don't say I didn't warn you), mucho angst
Summary: Dom loves Billy, but does Billy love him back?
AN: Written in a fit of anger and passion because men suck. No Beta...if my grammar sucks, blame me.
Feedback: Yes...yes I want feedback. What kind of question is that?
It started almost the minute they laid eyes on each other. Billy and Dom were a pair, a match, perfect. You could never find one without the other. During the months of filming in New Zealand, their relationship grew and turned into something else, and everyone knew. Everyone knew what they did in the dark corners of pubs when they thought no one was watching. Everyone knew what they did behind the trailers during breaks in filming. Everyone knew what they did every night and why they constantly came to work with slumped shoulders and tired eyes.
Dom began to wonder though. After all these months of passion and want and sex, was it safe to say he was in love? He often pondered in his journal, constantly holding an argument with himself over telling Billy he loved him or not. Many nights, after Billy was asleep next to him, Dom would turn on the lamp on the bedside table and write. He habitually wrote descriptions of Billy. Lately it had become an unconscious routine to write the word lover in his descriptions. Billy was his lover.
One morning as Billy sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea, Dom asked, “Billy? Do you love me?”
Billy looked startled for a moment before composing himself like he always did. “Dom, we’ve talked about this,” he said simply, and that was the end of the discussion.
That night his back pressed against a hard cement wall, his legs wrapped around Billy’s waist, Dom whispered through clenched teeth, “Do you love me, Billy?” Billy didn’t answer and instead thrust hard into him groaning loudly as his seed filled Dom. Billy pulled out of Dom and let him slump to the ground, his pants pooled around his ankles, watching as Billy turned and walked away.
For the next few days Dom didn’t go home with Billy, and Billy didn’t go home with Dom. No one saw them walk off set together and come back giggling like immature schoolgirls. No one saw the lust filled stares cast at Billy by Dom’s sea-grey eyes. Billy came to Dom once or twice, but Dom either ignored him or walked away with a pained look of desire and hurt and guilt written across his face and woven into his eyes.
On Monday, Dom came to Billy. He asked Billy to fuck him. He asked to be tied to the bed and fucked raw. He asked Billy to bruise him. He asked for what he needed. And Billy obliged.
Billy guided a silk scarf around Dom’s wrists and around a post in the headboard. Dom kneeled there, naked and vulnerable, awakening a lust in Billy. Billy took off his pants and shirt and crawled towards Dom, like a tiger about to ravage its prey. Billy moved one hand between Dom’s legs stroking the hardness he found there. Dom moaned and threw his head back. Billy stopped stroking and pressed a finger instead against Dom’s puckered hole. He slammed his finger in and pulled it out adding another until Dom was stretched wide. Billy took Dom’s legs and positioned him over his erect cock. In one stroke he was buried deep inside Dom. He shook and cried out as his body was torn apart by Billy’s savageness.
Billy grunted with each thrust. He placed his hands on Dom’s hips bringing him down harder each time. His grip was like steel and would surely leave dark purple marks on Dom’s hips. Dom’s eyes watered as his body was abused. One solitary tear streamed down his cheek and he practically screamed the five words he had constantly been repeating with hopes of a different answer each time. “DO YOU LOVE ME, BILLY!?!” Billy paid no attention. He thrust harder, his thrusts becoming erratic. His grunts mixed with loud moans. Billy came hard and collapsed onto Dom, reaching up to untie the scarf. He kissed Dom and whispered, “I will see you tomorrow.”
Dom laid there on the bed, his weeping cock still erect. He reached down and began to stroke, tears sliding down his cheeks unabashedly. He pulled hard, wanting to come as fast as possible. He wanted to rid himself of Billy - of the pain that Billy constantly caused him. He felt himself spasm as warm fluid covered his hand.
When he went to the bathroom to clean up, he looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess, and there were the faint beginnings of bruises on his neck and wrists and hips. Dom slammed his fists against the porcelain sink and yelled at the top of his lungs. It was too much for him. Every moment from the first time he met Billy up till that time flashed before his eyes. He saw the slow lazy lovemaking and the frantic drunk passion and the sleepless nights of unrequited love that he had spent alone in his bed, cock in hand to thoughts of Billy. Billy was his life, Billy was his everything, Billy was a phantom and a dream. Billy didn’t exist as Dom wanted him to.
The next morning he wasn’t wakened by his alarm or by the hundreds of frantic calls from Peter and Billy and countless other people. When he didn’t come in for work in the morning or the afternoon, Billy went to get him. He opened the front door and encountered an eerie silence about the house. He walked quietly towards Dom’s room and froze in front of the open door.
Dom was sprawled on the bed, bottles of beer strewn about the floor and the bedside table along with a number of orange prescription bottles, all empty. A note was folded up next to the empty bottles with “Billy” scrawled across it. He slowly unfolded the note and read it, tears streaming down his face,
Billy…I love you. I have always loved you. Did you ever love me?
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