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fellowshippers2006-08-28 11:23 am
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-08-28 11:23 am
Entry tags:
Billy Birthday Fic!
Title: Southern Hospitality
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Pairing: BB/DW (DM/EW mentioned)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Very untrue.
Summary: Some of the gang go on holiday in Charleston, South Carolina for Billy's birthday. Kilts and spanking ensue. This is in part for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ghostinthemist and in part just for my own porny satisfaction.
A/N: If you find errors, please comment so I can fix! I just got out of surgery but really wanted to post this on Billy's birthday, so it's drugged editing. Heh.
"And let's have it once more, with feeling," Billy mutters in response to Dom's extremely drawn-out story about some on-set hijinx with Foxy and Naveen. He gets a smack upside the head in retaliation, but laughs it off.
Billy's always harboured a secret love for American pancakes. Thick, fluffy, studded with blueberries and dripping with maple syrup, they warm his heart even more effectively than a proper fry-up, especially at two am. And it's even better tonight, with friends and a cheery alcoholic buzz and Elijah sitting across the table licking pancake crumbs off his birthday candles with a suggestive grin.
It brings a smile to his face, being smushed into a Denny's booth in Charleston, South Carolina with some of his best mates—Dom and Elijah flew in from LA, of course, a handy little holiday for the both of them, and Viggo tagging along, now pressed against one of Billy's thighs in the booth and happily sipping at his milkshake. Against the other thigh is more of a surprise, as Dave Wenham was one member of this little weekend away Billy had not quite expected. But he had just finished filming "Marriage" up in Vancouver and was able to spare a couple of days before flying home, and Billy appreciated it. He had always liked Daisy, with his warm smile and rather reserved nature, complimentary to Billy's own, but also less innocent than you would expect. He never raised an eyebrow at Orli's cavorting, or Craig's occasional camp moment, and he just smiled good-naturedly when Dom planted one full on his lips one day on set. He fit in well with them, whether or not he was really part of the "gang," and Billy was happy he could join them.
After the meal, everyone piled into a rental, Viggo driving and Daisy in the passenger seat with Dom and Elijah making out like school girls in the back like always. Billy tried not to look uncomfortable (he wasn’t, really, it'd just been a while since he himself got such attentions and though the open aspect of his relationship with Ali had dried up somewhat since Jack was born, he had his needs after all) and slumped down a bit further. Dave caught his eye in the rearview and winked, and Billy blushed for no reason at all. He turned his head against the cool glass and watched the traffic race by on 26, hoping the slight bulge under his kilt would subside by the time they got to the inn.
Everyone had arrived the night before, and the day had been spent darting between air-conditioned spaces to escape the humidity while at the same time pretending to actually enjoy the city. It wasn't small enough that they weren't recognised at all—they signed a few autographs at Millenium Music and one to a rather shy student when they stopped in for a lemonade at Clara's Coffee Shop—but it was a friendly enough town so that they didn't feel like intruders. Everyone made raucous jokes at Jestine's when Elijah tried to deep throat a humongous hot dog, and Viggo was reduced to begging a pretty waitress for more cucumber salad, unable to avoid a cacophony of guffaws from the hobbits.
After more sight seeing, they went to a place called Meritage for dinner, and ate copious amounts of tapas with fondue for dessert. There was a locally-written and directed play done by a company called Pure Theatre, and Billy's ticket was a present from Dom. It was quite good, as plays go, and after a few drinks at a randomly selected bar, someone got the brilliant idea to try to search out a Denny's. Questioning the locals revealed the location, at an exit about fifteen miles north of town, and so they showed up with bells on.
And now, here they were, back at the parking lot across from the Harris Teeter, next to the posh Adamson Inn, and Billy didn't want the evening to end. He gave his fellow hobbits a look, and determining that they were never going to make it past this groping stage without a nice, long shag in the next seven minutes or so, gave Viggo a little shrug and turned to Dave.
"I think I'm going to go for a walk for a bit. Will you be up to let me in?" The Adamson Inn featured impressive suites with actual lofts within the room, one bed downstairs and one bed up. Viggo had drawn the short straw, and so he was sleeping above the hobbits, while Dave and Billy had the other room.
Dave smiled at Billy, his glance flicking to the other three, and then stepped forward, taking the shorter man by the elbow. "I could use a walk. Have a good evening, guys."
Viggo raised a knowing eyebrow but didn't comment, and just waved and said his goodbyes before following the other two, joined at the hip and moving quickly to the entrance.
"So where to?" Dave asked, looking towards East Bay Street as Billy got his bearings.
"How about that park? What was it, Waterfront? I think it's down here somewhere." Dave nodded in agreement and they walked, hips pressed together, Dave's arm coming at some point under Billy's own to wrap around his waist. At some point, Billy noticed deft fingers untucking the side of his shirt and coming to trace lightly up underneath, along the waist of his kilt. He turned to give Dave a questioning look, and the Aussie just smiled.
Billy shivered, as he had never engaged in what felt like foreplay while walking along a near-deserted street before, and pressed closer, walking a bit faster towards the park. The pineapple fountain looked slightly eerie shut off and unlit, just a dark, looming shape in the grass. They passed it and headed out on the pier, which was thankfully empty. Dave resolutely picked a bench swing and parked Billy in it before sitting down and giving a good push, his arm draping across Billy's shoulders.
"I like the get-up," he commented, squeezing Billy's far shoulder and nodding down at the red and green tartan. "Though I'd think wool would be bloody hot in Charleston in August."
Billy smiled and shrugged. "It is. I hadn't packed anything more comfortable."
Dave laughed and tilted his head a bit, his eyes sparkling as if he was about to let Billy in on an inside joke. "I guess we'll have to see about getting you more comfortable, then," he murmured in what sounded like a promise, his lips sliding forward to caress and convince Billy's own.
It didn't take much convincing, and soon Billy was turned sideways on the swing, his weight on one hand, one knee bent against the wooden back, as Dave insinuated himself in the space and slid a firm palm up the inside of Billy's thigh, under the fabric. Billy sighed in what sounded embarrassingly like a moan, his hips pressing forward as Dave's hand crept further up to meet them.
"So it's true," Dave whispered teasingly against Billy's parted lips as he squeezed lightly at the warm weight in his palm. "About the kilts."
"Aye," Billy agreed, purring when Dave dropped his head to bite lightly at Billy's throat.
"You like it this way?" Dave asked, his hand momentarily letting go of Billy's erection and dropping again to his thigh to dig nails in slightly, scrape lightly.
Billy hissed and nodded, maybe a little too enthusiastically. "Ali always says I'm a bit of a wanton slut, with the blokes," he admitted with a blush as Dave laughed and rubbed the back of his neck with the other hand.
"Does she like to watch?"
Billy let out a shuddering sigh when Dave's nails pressed again, this time just at the place where thigh met pelvis. "She has before. Usually not, though. I tell her afterwards if she wants to know."
"Yeah?" Dave cocked his head, as if this was a normal conversation, interested. "You'll tell her about me?"
"Highly likely," Billy agreed, leaning forward and almost whimpering before Dave finally pressed their lips together again.
"Inside," Dave ordered, and Billy's eyes went wide. No way he was walking back to the hotel with this bloody thing between his legs. Dave raised an eyebrow when Billy made no move to stand.
"I thought you might go in for a bit of a tumble out-of-doors, like…"
Dave just kept his eyebrow raised and Billy got hurriedly to his feet. Dave's hand came out to deliver a sharp smack as he gracefully leapt down from the swing, and Billy jumped and yelped.
"That's one," he informed Billy, calmly.
"One?" Billy's cock throbbed and his veins sung with adrenaline as Dave none-too-gently steered him back up the pier.
"Thirty eight and one to grow on," Dave promised, and this time Billy shivered full-body, despite the cloying heat.
"You're serious, aren't you lad?"
Dave just looked at him, kept walking. "Dead serious, and I'm not your 'lad,' boy." Dave's voice was husky, and Billy couldn't get to that room fast enough. "The moment we're inside, I want you bent over the downstairs bed, elbows in front of you, legs slightly spread," he continued in the same low tone. Billy nodded quickly, and the rest of the walk was silent, Billy nearly jogging to keep up with Dave's longer strides.
When they made it to the inn, Dave took his time, giving Billy the key and going to get a cup of water from the cooler in the lounge. Billy went straight upstairs to the first floor and found their room number, turning the key in the lock with shaking fingers. He closed the door, but left it unlocked, tossing the keys on the table. Dave hadn't specified clothed or not, so Billy left his clothing as it was, toeing off his shoes and socks and standing as Dave had specified over the side of the bed. He tried to count the minutes in his head, and was up to three when the snick of the door opening echoed in the silent room. Dave's footfalls were nearly silent on the carpet, and Billy could hear him toeing off his own shoes, and then some rustling that sounded like a shirt being unbuttoned. He didn't look, kept his head hanging, and he could hear the smile in Dave's voice when he brushed his flat palm over Billy's wool-covered arse. "Nice."
The kilt was pushed up, folded to expose his arse but not removed. Billy shivered a bit when the same palm caressed his bare cheeks, and then smacked him again, just a tap at close range but unexpected enough to make Billy jump a bit.
"Count them," Dave ordered, and Billy groaned.
"Two," he replied, and he could picture the other man's smile as he stepped back. "Three… four…" Dave's hand came down in even strokes, enough to feel it but certainly not qualifying as hurt. Billy briefly wondered if Dave had only intended to scare him, wasn't really into this, wasn't really going to spank Billy with any force. He felt an intense wave of disappointment, and just then, after a series of calmly counted smacks, Dave's hand came down hard.
"Ten!" Billy cried out, fisting the duvet in his small fists.
Dave chuckled darkly. "You like that, do you boy?"
"Eleven… yes!... twelve… oh God, yes!"
Dave smirked and hit him again, three more hard ones, full strength, his hand coming back in a wide arc until it was a bit red. He paused then, on fifteen, and Billy let out a breath he hadn't intended to hold. He heard the rustle of fabric as Dave stepped closer, and then lowered himself to one knee, his lips pressing almost chastely to the reddened left cheek. Billy sighed, contented, though his arousal was still pressing firmly against the mattress and God how he wanted.
"You're pretty when you hurt, you know."
Billy shuddered and exhaled. "Thank you."
Dave smiled and stroked his skin lightly, pressing a kiss to the other cheek before standing again.
This time, when he stepped back, it wasn't quite so far, and the slaps were lighter, teasing.
"Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, please," Billy gasped, needing more.
"Come on, Billy. I know you can beg more convincingly than that," Dave said with a little laugh, continuing to smack him frustratingly lightly, alternating cheeks.
"Twenty one, please Christ! Twenty two, twenty three, Dave, I need it, need you, please, fuck, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six, anything Davey, anything at all, twenty seven, take me, fuck!"
"Oh, I will," Dave agreed in a bit of a growl as Billy counted out number twenty eight. And then, his precious control slipping just slightly, Dave stepped back and really hit Billy, with the full force of his arm, the smack of skin on skin obscenely loud in the room. Billy was almost certain that Viggo could hear them in the next room, even Dom and Elijah despite their own activities, and a hot flush came to his face, pleased. He wanted them to know, wanted to be like this. He was good at this, and he was proud of it.
"Thirty one, thirty two, oh God please!" he gasped, loud now, pushing back into the slaps. At thirty-three, Dave stopped, and Billy wanted to cry. But then he was being tugged back roughly, no regard for his sore arse, and flung into Dave's lap as soon as he sat on the edge of the bed. He cock was wedged between Dave's thighs, rubbing against the wool, and he keened and moaned as Dave smacked him hard down into the wedge of beautiful friction.
"Thirty four! Yes! Oh God… thirty five! Thirty six, please, more, thirty seven…"
"Come for me," Dave barked, and then Billy was screaming "thirty eight!" and his cock pulsed heatedly into the fabric, his face hot with embarrassment and lust, as he came through the last smack, uncounted, one to grow on.
Dave gave Billy no chance to recover, his cock still pulsing with the aftershocks as he was splayed out on the bed, thighs wide, wet erection and stomach pressing into the duvet, nightmare for housekeeping in the making. Dave quickly shoved his trousers down, reached between them and coated two fingers with Billy's semen before shoving them roughly inside. Billy's hole was loose from orgasm and his shout was more from the sensitivity than the tightness as he lay there, letting Dave take what he wanted. He deserved it, God he bloody deserved it, and this was the best birthday Billy had ever had in his life, he thought as Dave's cock pressed hard into his body, opening him with force, one flat hand pinning his upper body to the mattress. He lay flat while Dave fucked him, took him, holding his hips, coming with a loud groan after a dozen or so strokes, and he fell asleep that way, a blissful smile on his face, kilt rucked up around his hips and shirt wrinkled.
The next morning, Viggo only rolled his eyes when the group had to make an emergency stopover at the drycleaner's on the way to the airport.
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Pairing: BB/DW (DM/EW mentioned)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Very untrue.
Summary: Some of the gang go on holiday in Charleston, South Carolina for Billy's birthday. Kilts and spanking ensue. This is in part for
ghostinthemist and in part just for my own porny satisfaction. A/N: If you find errors, please comment so I can fix! I just got out of surgery but really wanted to post this on Billy's birthday, so it's drugged editing. Heh.
"And let's have it once more, with feeling," Billy mutters in response to Dom's extremely drawn-out story about some on-set hijinx with Foxy and Naveen. He gets a smack upside the head in retaliation, but laughs it off.
Billy's always harboured a secret love for American pancakes. Thick, fluffy, studded with blueberries and dripping with maple syrup, they warm his heart even more effectively than a proper fry-up, especially at two am. And it's even better tonight, with friends and a cheery alcoholic buzz and Elijah sitting across the table licking pancake crumbs off his birthday candles with a suggestive grin.
It brings a smile to his face, being smushed into a Denny's booth in Charleston, South Carolina with some of his best mates—Dom and Elijah flew in from LA, of course, a handy little holiday for the both of them, and Viggo tagging along, now pressed against one of Billy's thighs in the booth and happily sipping at his milkshake. Against the other thigh is more of a surprise, as Dave Wenham was one member of this little weekend away Billy had not quite expected. But he had just finished filming "Marriage" up in Vancouver and was able to spare a couple of days before flying home, and Billy appreciated it. He had always liked Daisy, with his warm smile and rather reserved nature, complimentary to Billy's own, but also less innocent than you would expect. He never raised an eyebrow at Orli's cavorting, or Craig's occasional camp moment, and he just smiled good-naturedly when Dom planted one full on his lips one day on set. He fit in well with them, whether or not he was really part of the "gang," and Billy was happy he could join them.
After the meal, everyone piled into a rental, Viggo driving and Daisy in the passenger seat with Dom and Elijah making out like school girls in the back like always. Billy tried not to look uncomfortable (he wasn’t, really, it'd just been a while since he himself got such attentions and though the open aspect of his relationship with Ali had dried up somewhat since Jack was born, he had his needs after all) and slumped down a bit further. Dave caught his eye in the rearview and winked, and Billy blushed for no reason at all. He turned his head against the cool glass and watched the traffic race by on 26, hoping the slight bulge under his kilt would subside by the time they got to the inn.
Everyone had arrived the night before, and the day had been spent darting between air-conditioned spaces to escape the humidity while at the same time pretending to actually enjoy the city. It wasn't small enough that they weren't recognised at all—they signed a few autographs at Millenium Music and one to a rather shy student when they stopped in for a lemonade at Clara's Coffee Shop—but it was a friendly enough town so that they didn't feel like intruders. Everyone made raucous jokes at Jestine's when Elijah tried to deep throat a humongous hot dog, and Viggo was reduced to begging a pretty waitress for more cucumber salad, unable to avoid a cacophony of guffaws from the hobbits.
After more sight seeing, they went to a place called Meritage for dinner, and ate copious amounts of tapas with fondue for dessert. There was a locally-written and directed play done by a company called Pure Theatre, and Billy's ticket was a present from Dom. It was quite good, as plays go, and after a few drinks at a randomly selected bar, someone got the brilliant idea to try to search out a Denny's. Questioning the locals revealed the location, at an exit about fifteen miles north of town, and so they showed up with bells on.
And now, here they were, back at the parking lot across from the Harris Teeter, next to the posh Adamson Inn, and Billy didn't want the evening to end. He gave his fellow hobbits a look, and determining that they were never going to make it past this groping stage without a nice, long shag in the next seven minutes or so, gave Viggo a little shrug and turned to Dave.
"I think I'm going to go for a walk for a bit. Will you be up to let me in?" The Adamson Inn featured impressive suites with actual lofts within the room, one bed downstairs and one bed up. Viggo had drawn the short straw, and so he was sleeping above the hobbits, while Dave and Billy had the other room.
Dave smiled at Billy, his glance flicking to the other three, and then stepped forward, taking the shorter man by the elbow. "I could use a walk. Have a good evening, guys."
Viggo raised a knowing eyebrow but didn't comment, and just waved and said his goodbyes before following the other two, joined at the hip and moving quickly to the entrance.
"So where to?" Dave asked, looking towards East Bay Street as Billy got his bearings.
"How about that park? What was it, Waterfront? I think it's down here somewhere." Dave nodded in agreement and they walked, hips pressed together, Dave's arm coming at some point under Billy's own to wrap around his waist. At some point, Billy noticed deft fingers untucking the side of his shirt and coming to trace lightly up underneath, along the waist of his kilt. He turned to give Dave a questioning look, and the Aussie just smiled.
Billy shivered, as he had never engaged in what felt like foreplay while walking along a near-deserted street before, and pressed closer, walking a bit faster towards the park. The pineapple fountain looked slightly eerie shut off and unlit, just a dark, looming shape in the grass. They passed it and headed out on the pier, which was thankfully empty. Dave resolutely picked a bench swing and parked Billy in it before sitting down and giving a good push, his arm draping across Billy's shoulders.
"I like the get-up," he commented, squeezing Billy's far shoulder and nodding down at the red and green tartan. "Though I'd think wool would be bloody hot in Charleston in August."
Billy smiled and shrugged. "It is. I hadn't packed anything more comfortable."
Dave laughed and tilted his head a bit, his eyes sparkling as if he was about to let Billy in on an inside joke. "I guess we'll have to see about getting you more comfortable, then," he murmured in what sounded like a promise, his lips sliding forward to caress and convince Billy's own.
It didn't take much convincing, and soon Billy was turned sideways on the swing, his weight on one hand, one knee bent against the wooden back, as Dave insinuated himself in the space and slid a firm palm up the inside of Billy's thigh, under the fabric. Billy sighed in what sounded embarrassingly like a moan, his hips pressing forward as Dave's hand crept further up to meet them.
"So it's true," Dave whispered teasingly against Billy's parted lips as he squeezed lightly at the warm weight in his palm. "About the kilts."
"Aye," Billy agreed, purring when Dave dropped his head to bite lightly at Billy's throat.
"You like it this way?" Dave asked, his hand momentarily letting go of Billy's erection and dropping again to his thigh to dig nails in slightly, scrape lightly.
Billy hissed and nodded, maybe a little too enthusiastically. "Ali always says I'm a bit of a wanton slut, with the blokes," he admitted with a blush as Dave laughed and rubbed the back of his neck with the other hand.
"Does she like to watch?"
Billy let out a shuddering sigh when Dave's nails pressed again, this time just at the place where thigh met pelvis. "She has before. Usually not, though. I tell her afterwards if she wants to know."
"Yeah?" Dave cocked his head, as if this was a normal conversation, interested. "You'll tell her about me?"
"Highly likely," Billy agreed, leaning forward and almost whimpering before Dave finally pressed their lips together again.
"Inside," Dave ordered, and Billy's eyes went wide. No way he was walking back to the hotel with this bloody thing between his legs. Dave raised an eyebrow when Billy made no move to stand.
"I thought you might go in for a bit of a tumble out-of-doors, like…"
Dave just kept his eyebrow raised and Billy got hurriedly to his feet. Dave's hand came out to deliver a sharp smack as he gracefully leapt down from the swing, and Billy jumped and yelped.
"That's one," he informed Billy, calmly.
"One?" Billy's cock throbbed and his veins sung with adrenaline as Dave none-too-gently steered him back up the pier.
"Thirty eight and one to grow on," Dave promised, and this time Billy shivered full-body, despite the cloying heat.
"You're serious, aren't you lad?"
Dave just looked at him, kept walking. "Dead serious, and I'm not your 'lad,' boy." Dave's voice was husky, and Billy couldn't get to that room fast enough. "The moment we're inside, I want you bent over the downstairs bed, elbows in front of you, legs slightly spread," he continued in the same low tone. Billy nodded quickly, and the rest of the walk was silent, Billy nearly jogging to keep up with Dave's longer strides.
When they made it to the inn, Dave took his time, giving Billy the key and going to get a cup of water from the cooler in the lounge. Billy went straight upstairs to the first floor and found their room number, turning the key in the lock with shaking fingers. He closed the door, but left it unlocked, tossing the keys on the table. Dave hadn't specified clothed or not, so Billy left his clothing as it was, toeing off his shoes and socks and standing as Dave had specified over the side of the bed. He tried to count the minutes in his head, and was up to three when the snick of the door opening echoed in the silent room. Dave's footfalls were nearly silent on the carpet, and Billy could hear him toeing off his own shoes, and then some rustling that sounded like a shirt being unbuttoned. He didn't look, kept his head hanging, and he could hear the smile in Dave's voice when he brushed his flat palm over Billy's wool-covered arse. "Nice."
The kilt was pushed up, folded to expose his arse but not removed. Billy shivered a bit when the same palm caressed his bare cheeks, and then smacked him again, just a tap at close range but unexpected enough to make Billy jump a bit.
"Count them," Dave ordered, and Billy groaned.
"Two," he replied, and he could picture the other man's smile as he stepped back. "Three… four…" Dave's hand came down in even strokes, enough to feel it but certainly not qualifying as hurt. Billy briefly wondered if Dave had only intended to scare him, wasn't really into this, wasn't really going to spank Billy with any force. He felt an intense wave of disappointment, and just then, after a series of calmly counted smacks, Dave's hand came down hard.
"Ten!" Billy cried out, fisting the duvet in his small fists.
Dave chuckled darkly. "You like that, do you boy?"
"Eleven… yes!... twelve… oh God, yes!"
Dave smirked and hit him again, three more hard ones, full strength, his hand coming back in a wide arc until it was a bit red. He paused then, on fifteen, and Billy let out a breath he hadn't intended to hold. He heard the rustle of fabric as Dave stepped closer, and then lowered himself to one knee, his lips pressing almost chastely to the reddened left cheek. Billy sighed, contented, though his arousal was still pressing firmly against the mattress and God how he wanted.
"You're pretty when you hurt, you know."
Billy shuddered and exhaled. "Thank you."
Dave smiled and stroked his skin lightly, pressing a kiss to the other cheek before standing again.
This time, when he stepped back, it wasn't quite so far, and the slaps were lighter, teasing.
"Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, please," Billy gasped, needing more.
"Come on, Billy. I know you can beg more convincingly than that," Dave said with a little laugh, continuing to smack him frustratingly lightly, alternating cheeks.
"Twenty one, please Christ! Twenty two, twenty three, Dave, I need it, need you, please, fuck, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six, anything Davey, anything at all, twenty seven, take me, fuck!"
"Oh, I will," Dave agreed in a bit of a growl as Billy counted out number twenty eight. And then, his precious control slipping just slightly, Dave stepped back and really hit Billy, with the full force of his arm, the smack of skin on skin obscenely loud in the room. Billy was almost certain that Viggo could hear them in the next room, even Dom and Elijah despite their own activities, and a hot flush came to his face, pleased. He wanted them to know, wanted to be like this. He was good at this, and he was proud of it.
"Thirty one, thirty two, oh God please!" he gasped, loud now, pushing back into the slaps. At thirty-three, Dave stopped, and Billy wanted to cry. But then he was being tugged back roughly, no regard for his sore arse, and flung into Dave's lap as soon as he sat on the edge of the bed. He cock was wedged between Dave's thighs, rubbing against the wool, and he keened and moaned as Dave smacked him hard down into the wedge of beautiful friction.
"Thirty four! Yes! Oh God… thirty five! Thirty six, please, more, thirty seven…"
"Come for me," Dave barked, and then Billy was screaming "thirty eight!" and his cock pulsed heatedly into the fabric, his face hot with embarrassment and lust, as he came through the last smack, uncounted, one to grow on.
Dave gave Billy no chance to recover, his cock still pulsing with the aftershocks as he was splayed out on the bed, thighs wide, wet erection and stomach pressing into the duvet, nightmare for housekeeping in the making. Dave quickly shoved his trousers down, reached between them and coated two fingers with Billy's semen before shoving them roughly inside. Billy's hole was loose from orgasm and his shout was more from the sensitivity than the tightness as he lay there, letting Dave take what he wanted. He deserved it, God he bloody deserved it, and this was the best birthday Billy had ever had in his life, he thought as Dave's cock pressed hard into his body, opening him with force, one flat hand pinning his upper body to the mattress. He lay flat while Dave fucked him, took him, holding his hips, coming with a loud groan after a dozen or so strokes, and he fell asleep that way, a blissful smile on his face, kilt rucked up around his hips and shirt wrinkled.
The next morning, Viggo only rolled his eyes when the group had to make an emergency stopover at the drycleaner's on the way to the airport.
no subject
Best summary ever.
And holy shit, David Wenham spanking Billy in a kilt? That's an amazing picture to have in one's head. And you wrote it beautifully.
Boring editorial stuff:
Do you mean Billy? That's the only error that I spotted.
no subject
And I'm glad you liked the fic :-D I don't know *where* the image came from, but I enjoyed writing it. Mmm, kiltspank. Hehe.