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fellowshippers2003-08-10 10:48 am
kiltsandlollies.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-08-10 10:48 am
Officer and Gentleman; AU Drabble series Parts Five and Six; BB/DM, R/NC–17
Title: Officer and Gentleman Parts 5–6/6
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kiltsandlollies
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: R/NC-17
Summary: Sequel to this. Some things are unacceptable, and some arts are darker than others.
Disclaimer: Nope, still mine. Rrrr.
Author's Note: This began as two drabbles for the lotrips100 AU mystery challenge and is now The Drabble That Would Not Sleep. Series still in progress. Has previously appeared at monaboyd; my apologies for the crosspost spamwich. Several wonderful people have encouraged me through this. Ladies, offerings were made at your altars. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine, my own.
Feedback: Would be cherished.
V.
Dominic takes pains not to frighten his neighbours. He’s polite and charming and discreet, because he knows he’s not alone in his ... circumstances.
But the banging on the door is persistent, the voices firm. Dominic’s never liked the sound of shouting, and he likes it even less when it’s directed at him.
When it might frighten the neighbours.
Dominic turns to the inspector, livid. Billy shakes his head violently, willing Dominic to understand this is not his doing, not his wish. He holds Dominic’s face in his hands, and meets his stormy gaze.
“I would never hurt you,” Billy whispers.
---------------------
Billy has pulled Dominic to the kitchen and almost to the fire escape when the banging ceases. Billy murmurs a prayer for impending incompetence to whatever saint watches over police and shoves a hissing, shaking Dominic out onto the narrow ledge.
“Fucking bastards, let them come—”
“Shut up and move.” Billy peers back inside and is pleased that his department is demonstrating its typical lack of planning—the detectives outside have yet to open the door with their standard issue lockpick.
Billy allows himself a smile as his fingers slide over Dominic’s lockpick, safe in the pocket of his trenchcoat.
---------------------
They are more than halfway down when Dominic stills.
“Dominic, please—”
“No,” Dominic growls, tearing back upstairs before Billy can stop him. The coat he borrowed from Billy is in his bedroom—evidence that the inspector himself could have been there. Evidence that cannot exist.
Dominic would damn his conscience if he had the time.
He has the coat now, but the door is nearly open. Dominic hurls the coat out the window and prepares to follow it down.
The sudden, punishing grip on his shoulder reminds Dominic that conscience is not an issue for average thieves.
Or former thieves.
---------------------
It takes everything Billy has not to intervene, to stop them.
Dominic is careful not to look down as he’s pulled from the window, and Billy knows he has not been seen, but it is small comfort.
Billy leans against the wall, exhausted and somewhat broken. He can accept being a former criminal, a mediocre detective, a possessive and occasionally cruel lover, a tired excuse for a man.
He cannot accept Dominic being caught by anyone else. Being taken, questioned—possibly harmed—by anyone else.
There is a long second’s breath, and then Billy is running again, faster than before.
---------------------
Dominic is reconsidering his vow to not hurt people. At this point he would do murder for a drink, and mouthwash for the new detective wouldn’t hurt either.
“Monaghan, we’re giving you the choice—”
“Well, red if we’re having meat, white if—”
There is movement, then pain. Dominic cannot imagine that battering, bruising someone who’s not really a suspect is standard procedure. He’s nearly prepared to confess to things he hasn’t even done when the door opens, revealing the inspector.
Billy’s nods to the detectives as he produces Dominic’s file, his eyes brooking no argument.
“This is my case, gentlemen.”
---------------------
Dominic registers what is happening when the detectives leave. He is safe—from everything but Billy’s glassy stare.
“I’m sorry,” Dominic whispers.
“Shut up.” Billy snaps. “You stupid cunt. Dominic, what—?”
“Left the kettle on,” Dominic sighs. Billy inhales sharply, and Dominic flinches. But there is no pain, and then Billy is on his knees, trying to remove the shackles.
“I want to touch you ...” Billy murmurs, low as death. “Those cuts ... you’re bleeding again ... Christ, Dominic—”
“Let me go ...” Dominic’s lips are inches from Billy’s. “I’ll be no trouble ... home’s just around the corner, it’s quiet ...”
Billy’s hands falter.
---------------------
Billy cannot avoid processing the thief, but Dominic endures the pictures, the fingerprinting, the questions and stares with a grace Billy would never have credited him.
The report is promising. Dominic has little new information, but combined with the earlier details, he has contributed much to the investigation.
Billy releases Dominic, and then it is his turn to endure—with less grace—hours of wanting, waiting.
He cannot hold back anything once he’s home, and Dominic revels in the sudden, slow tenderness, the shelter of Billy’s hands and body.
When Dominic reaches instinctively for the handcuffs, Billy pushes them away.
---------------------
Dominic waits until the inspector has fallen into sated, dreamless sleep before he leaves. His body aches as much as the cuts burn, but he has work to do.
The streets around the pub are quiet tonight, and Dominic cannot accept that his impeccable instincts have taken a holiday.
But an hour later, he’s rewarded by the presence of the other thief, shadowed but unmistakable. Dominic sidles along the alley, keeping clear of the streetlamp’s glow, and smiles before he reaches out.
There is a scuffle, strong words, the glint of a double–bladed knife.
And then there is silence.
VI.
Dominic can recall better evenings.
He’s caught in darkness, unable to see the thief with whom he’s just grappled, and he’s in pain.
Dominic cannot take another beating tonight.
His only consolation hides in his pocket, its twin blades concealed by denim.
“It’s a reasonable request, Monaghan. Take him down.”
Dominic is shoved to his knees.
“Never. Never, I won’t—” Another knife, another nearly silent movement, and Dominic gasps, clutching his chest. Wetness slowly begins to seep through his shirt.
The thief kneels to face him, again touching his cheek.
“Then we’ll just have to keep doing this, won’t we?”
---------
Billy senses Dominic’s return before he hears him.
He staggers to the bathroom, where Dominic is leaning over the sink, his body shaking with convulsions. Billy gasps at the blood on Dominic’s chest and face.
Surprised, Dominic cries out, flipping Billy so the inspector’s back is caught against his chest, the knife he’s stolen from the other thief pressing against Billy’s throat.
“Dominic, no ...” Billy whispers, trembling. “Don’t do this ...”
He murmurs, soothes, caresses, calms—until Dominic’s knees buckle, and they fall to the floor.
Billy waits for Dominic’s ragged breathing to slow before he turns in the thief’s arms.
---------
Billy works quickly while Dominic sleeps. He bandages the wounds, ignoring the knife on the floor. Dominic stirs when Billy touches his face, and he catches Billy’s wrists.
Billy knows better than to fight a frightened thief.
But when Dominic tips him backwards, Billy struggles. He wants to help Dominic, not fuck him, not now.
Not like this.
His resistance is irrelevant. Dominic’s terrified desire blows across Billy like an electrical storm, and Billy cannot look away.
When it’s over, he rises, shaken, and helps Dominic to bed.
In the morning, Billy knows better than to stay and face him.
---------
There’s no television in Billy’s apartment.
Dominic imagines Billy makes up for this with whiskey, well–loved books, and well–worn shirts, one of which hangs unbuttoned on Dominic’s body.
Billy also has a desk, and its contents tempt Dominic like no wallet could. Still, he’s unimpressed until he comes across the yellowed newspaper clippings and official documents.
These, clearly, are things Billy wants hidden, and Dominic’s uncertain whether his discovery should taste bitter or sweet.
Hours pass while he reads, his chest tightening under the bandages.
Dominic never hears the footsteps, and is unprepared for Billy’s choked, angry gasp.
---------
“Stand up, Dominic.”
Billy’s voice is like broken thunder, and Dominic obeys, suddenly afraid of the inspector for only the second time.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”
“No, you shouldn’t know, and you’re going to forget—” Billy advances, and Dominic stumbles, knocking the papers to the floor.
“Why, Dominic? Why now?”
“I was just ... curious ... I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up—”
“No.” Billy closes his eyes. “You won’t touch them ever again. You will stay out of my things. Out of my—” He throws a hand in the air, frustrated. “My clothes. Out of—”
“Everything but your bed,” Dominic whispers.
---------
Billy has no answer for this, and he sinks to the chair.
“I’m sorry ...” Dominic cradles Billy’s face in his hands. “Sorry for everything ... I tasted blood in your mouth last night ... I said I’d never—”
“Dominic, for the love of God, stop talking.” Billy falls forward, and Dominic catches him.
“Please, Billy.” Dominic freezes, waiting for correction that doesn’t come. “Let me get us something to eat, then I’ll come back and make it right. Yes?”
Billy nods, beaten, and Dominic disappears.
When he returns, bearing Thai food and wine, the papers are still scattered.
And Billy is gone.
---------
Billy has neither the energy nor the authority to call in backup tonight. He’s nearly off the case, and had to fight to keep Dominic’s file.
What Billy does still have is the desire to catch this thief, and the information to do so.
And of course, Billy has the knife.
It’s a work of devilish art, Billy thinks. He fights the memory of his own, uglier instruments, and forces himself to remember the pain this knife has caused, to remember Dominic’s face.
Billy stands in the alley, waiting.
When the thief appears, Billy’s ready for whatever end they’ll make.
---------
Dominic runs hard, his body screaming in agony and his head rushing with fear. He knows where Billy is, what he’s taken and certainly knows how to use.
He can see Billy’s grace with the long knife, can see the thief parrying, laughing at Billy’s determination to finish a job no longer his.
Dominic moves into the light. As he’s hoped, Billy sees him, and the thief takes advantage, knocking Billy’s feet out from under him and grabbing Dominic’s unsteady form.
When Billy looks up, the thief’s knife is pressed against Dominic’s chest once more, and Dominic’s eyes are closed.
Author:
kiltsandlolliesPairing: BB/DM
Rating: R/NC-17
Summary: Sequel to this. Some things are unacceptable, and some arts are darker than others.
Disclaimer: Nope, still mine. Rrrr.
Author's Note: This began as two drabbles for the lotrips100 AU mystery challenge and is now The Drabble That Would Not Sleep. Series still in progress. Has previously appeared at monaboyd; my apologies for the crosspost spamwich. Several wonderful people have encouraged me through this. Ladies, offerings were made at your altars. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine, my own.
Feedback: Would be cherished.
V.
Dominic takes pains not to frighten his neighbours. He’s polite and charming and discreet, because he knows he’s not alone in his ... circumstances.
But the banging on the door is persistent, the voices firm. Dominic’s never liked the sound of shouting, and he likes it even less when it’s directed at him.
When it might frighten the neighbours.
Dominic turns to the inspector, livid. Billy shakes his head violently, willing Dominic to understand this is not his doing, not his wish. He holds Dominic’s face in his hands, and meets his stormy gaze.
“I would never hurt you,” Billy whispers.
---------------------
Billy has pulled Dominic to the kitchen and almost to the fire escape when the banging ceases. Billy murmurs a prayer for impending incompetence to whatever saint watches over police and shoves a hissing, shaking Dominic out onto the narrow ledge.
“Fucking bastards, let them come—”
“Shut up and move.” Billy peers back inside and is pleased that his department is demonstrating its typical lack of planning—the detectives outside have yet to open the door with their standard issue lockpick.
Billy allows himself a smile as his fingers slide over Dominic’s lockpick, safe in the pocket of his trenchcoat.
---------------------
They are more than halfway down when Dominic stills.
“Dominic, please—”
“No,” Dominic growls, tearing back upstairs before Billy can stop him. The coat he borrowed from Billy is in his bedroom—evidence that the inspector himself could have been there. Evidence that cannot exist.
Dominic would damn his conscience if he had the time.
He has the coat now, but the door is nearly open. Dominic hurls the coat out the window and prepares to follow it down.
The sudden, punishing grip on his shoulder reminds Dominic that conscience is not an issue for average thieves.
Or former thieves.
---------------------
It takes everything Billy has not to intervene, to stop them.
Dominic is careful not to look down as he’s pulled from the window, and Billy knows he has not been seen, but it is small comfort.
Billy leans against the wall, exhausted and somewhat broken. He can accept being a former criminal, a mediocre detective, a possessive and occasionally cruel lover, a tired excuse for a man.
He cannot accept Dominic being caught by anyone else. Being taken, questioned—possibly harmed—by anyone else.
There is a long second’s breath, and then Billy is running again, faster than before.
---------------------
Dominic is reconsidering his vow to not hurt people. At this point he would do murder for a drink, and mouthwash for the new detective wouldn’t hurt either.
“Monaghan, we’re giving you the choice—”
“Well, red if we’re having meat, white if—”
There is movement, then pain. Dominic cannot imagine that battering, bruising someone who’s not really a suspect is standard procedure. He’s nearly prepared to confess to things he hasn’t even done when the door opens, revealing the inspector.
Billy’s nods to the detectives as he produces Dominic’s file, his eyes brooking no argument.
“This is my case, gentlemen.”
---------------------
Dominic registers what is happening when the detectives leave. He is safe—from everything but Billy’s glassy stare.
“I’m sorry,” Dominic whispers.
“Shut up.” Billy snaps. “You stupid cunt. Dominic, what—?”
“Left the kettle on,” Dominic sighs. Billy inhales sharply, and Dominic flinches. But there is no pain, and then Billy is on his knees, trying to remove the shackles.
“I want to touch you ...” Billy murmurs, low as death. “Those cuts ... you’re bleeding again ... Christ, Dominic—”
“Let me go ...” Dominic’s lips are inches from Billy’s. “I’ll be no trouble ... home’s just around the corner, it’s quiet ...”
Billy’s hands falter.
---------------------
Billy cannot avoid processing the thief, but Dominic endures the pictures, the fingerprinting, the questions and stares with a grace Billy would never have credited him.
The report is promising. Dominic has little new information, but combined with the earlier details, he has contributed much to the investigation.
Billy releases Dominic, and then it is his turn to endure—with less grace—hours of wanting, waiting.
He cannot hold back anything once he’s home, and Dominic revels in the sudden, slow tenderness, the shelter of Billy’s hands and body.
When Dominic reaches instinctively for the handcuffs, Billy pushes them away.
---------------------
Dominic waits until the inspector has fallen into sated, dreamless sleep before he leaves. His body aches as much as the cuts burn, but he has work to do.
The streets around the pub are quiet tonight, and Dominic cannot accept that his impeccable instincts have taken a holiday.
But an hour later, he’s rewarded by the presence of the other thief, shadowed but unmistakable. Dominic sidles along the alley, keeping clear of the streetlamp’s glow, and smiles before he reaches out.
There is a scuffle, strong words, the glint of a double–bladed knife.
And then there is silence.
VI.
Dominic can recall better evenings.
He’s caught in darkness, unable to see the thief with whom he’s just grappled, and he’s in pain.
Dominic cannot take another beating tonight.
His only consolation hides in his pocket, its twin blades concealed by denim.
“It’s a reasonable request, Monaghan. Take him down.”
Dominic is shoved to his knees.
“Never. Never, I won’t—” Another knife, another nearly silent movement, and Dominic gasps, clutching his chest. Wetness slowly begins to seep through his shirt.
The thief kneels to face him, again touching his cheek.
“Then we’ll just have to keep doing this, won’t we?”
---------
Billy senses Dominic’s return before he hears him.
He staggers to the bathroom, where Dominic is leaning over the sink, his body shaking with convulsions. Billy gasps at the blood on Dominic’s chest and face.
Surprised, Dominic cries out, flipping Billy so the inspector’s back is caught against his chest, the knife he’s stolen from the other thief pressing against Billy’s throat.
“Dominic, no ...” Billy whispers, trembling. “Don’t do this ...”
He murmurs, soothes, caresses, calms—until Dominic’s knees buckle, and they fall to the floor.
Billy waits for Dominic’s ragged breathing to slow before he turns in the thief’s arms.
---------
Billy works quickly while Dominic sleeps. He bandages the wounds, ignoring the knife on the floor. Dominic stirs when Billy touches his face, and he catches Billy’s wrists.
Billy knows better than to fight a frightened thief.
But when Dominic tips him backwards, Billy struggles. He wants to help Dominic, not fuck him, not now.
Not like this.
His resistance is irrelevant. Dominic’s terrified desire blows across Billy like an electrical storm, and Billy cannot look away.
When it’s over, he rises, shaken, and helps Dominic to bed.
In the morning, Billy knows better than to stay and face him.
---------
There’s no television in Billy’s apartment.
Dominic imagines Billy makes up for this with whiskey, well–loved books, and well–worn shirts, one of which hangs unbuttoned on Dominic’s body.
Billy also has a desk, and its contents tempt Dominic like no wallet could. Still, he’s unimpressed until he comes across the yellowed newspaper clippings and official documents.
These, clearly, are things Billy wants hidden, and Dominic’s uncertain whether his discovery should taste bitter or sweet.
Hours pass while he reads, his chest tightening under the bandages.
Dominic never hears the footsteps, and is unprepared for Billy’s choked, angry gasp.
---------
“Stand up, Dominic.”
Billy’s voice is like broken thunder, and Dominic obeys, suddenly afraid of the inspector for only the second time.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”
“No, you shouldn’t know, and you’re going to forget—” Billy advances, and Dominic stumbles, knocking the papers to the floor.
“Why, Dominic? Why now?”
“I was just ... curious ... I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up—”
“No.” Billy closes his eyes. “You won’t touch them ever again. You will stay out of my things. Out of my—” He throws a hand in the air, frustrated. “My clothes. Out of—”
“Everything but your bed,” Dominic whispers.
---------
Billy has no answer for this, and he sinks to the chair.
“I’m sorry ...” Dominic cradles Billy’s face in his hands. “Sorry for everything ... I tasted blood in your mouth last night ... I said I’d never—”
“Dominic, for the love of God, stop talking.” Billy falls forward, and Dominic catches him.
“Please, Billy.” Dominic freezes, waiting for correction that doesn’t come. “Let me get us something to eat, then I’ll come back and make it right. Yes?”
Billy nods, beaten, and Dominic disappears.
When he returns, bearing Thai food and wine, the papers are still scattered.
And Billy is gone.
---------
Billy has neither the energy nor the authority to call in backup tonight. He’s nearly off the case, and had to fight to keep Dominic’s file.
What Billy does still have is the desire to catch this thief, and the information to do so.
And of course, Billy has the knife.
It’s a work of devilish art, Billy thinks. He fights the memory of his own, uglier instruments, and forces himself to remember the pain this knife has caused, to remember Dominic’s face.
Billy stands in the alley, waiting.
When the thief appears, Billy’s ready for whatever end they’ll make.
---------
Dominic runs hard, his body screaming in agony and his head rushing with fear. He knows where Billy is, what he’s taken and certainly knows how to use.
He can see Billy’s grace with the long knife, can see the thief parrying, laughing at Billy’s determination to finish a job no longer his.
Dominic moves into the light. As he’s hoped, Billy sees him, and the thief takes advantage, knocking Billy’s feet out from under him and grabbing Dominic’s unsteady form.
When Billy looks up, the thief’s knife is pressed against Dominic’s chest once more, and Dominic’s eyes are closed.
no subject
SWEET GOD, WHY!?!??!
WHY DO YOU END IT LIKE THIS?! *thrashes* Jesus. Good god. *dies* *revives self* *dies again*
My GOD.
>.< Angry!Billy. >.< Passioned!Billy. >.< !!!!!!!!! Secretive!Billy.
Nosey!Dom >.< Whathappenedto!Dom?! (:> @ subtle slipping in of !). >.< Good god. More??? Please???? I'll give you my first unborn hobbit baby!!
God ... I love the questions that keep arising and the charactrs twists you do. Seriously, you could do an entire story on Billy's past and have me captured.
*coughs*more*cough*
>.< the Part 5-6/6 means ... that this is the sixth installment, right??? Not that you have ended it. :|
<-- would die ... literally.
no subject
Seriously, you could do an entire story on Billy's past and have me captured.
Hmmm. Hadn't thought of that, but hmmm. :-)
More is indeed coming. I can't resist these two. VulnerableThug!Dom and AngrySecretive!Billy are just running amok in my head, much to the dismay of everything else I'm working on. Thank you for sticking with the story. *loves*
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Just call me your Official Thrasher. :D :| But only call me this if you plan on continuing and giving me something to thrash about. :|!!!!!!
Seriously ... I'm not a drabble fan, usually I find that there is something lacking in them due to the limited words, but sweeting thrashing mother of God. You are the Drabble Series Queen. :| I hope you are aware of that. :|
*skips off to thrash over Vulnerable!Dom and Secretive!Billy*
no subject
but its a great story! *2 thumbs up* ")
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Thank you for reading! I very much appreciate it. *hugs*
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Wellll.. Ok. Just so long as you don't leave us hanging too long. *nod*
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<33
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oh yes
Re: oh yes