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fellowshippers2004-02-16 10:03 pm
jilly-anne.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-02-16 10:03 pm
New Story...
Summery:When Dom puts his hand somewhere he shouldn't, Billy lends a hand. Literaly.
Disclaimer: I only toy with these puppets, I can't create reality.
It’s been a pretty normal night, a few drinks at a local pub with Orli and ‘Lij, a few more drinks by themselves, until the bar had closed. Now Billy and Dom are wandering the quiet, deserted streets, laughing and joking, and with more alcohol in their systems than blood. They’ve been shooting at this location for a few weeks now, and they know their way around, but they realized on the very first day that the backwater town has little nightlife to speak of. In fact, the only thing that could be vaguely described as nightlife is the hushed chirping of crickets in the park across the road, and the muted fluorescent lights of the closed shop they now find themselves in front of.
It’s a fairy average shop, just a ‘General Store’ type of place, with faded signs for ice creams and chocolate bars in the windows. Billy half steps, half stumbles towards the wall, and presses his face against the glass, giving a quiet mumble as he peers in at the gaudily-packaged food. Dom joins him, but manages to defy the laws of gravity and stay standing.
“I’m thirsty.” He slurs, the giddy smile disappearing from his face as the laughter floats away into the nights black shrouds.
Billy makes a muffled, half grunting noise that Dom decides is agreement.
He shifts his alcohol-blurred eyes around the street, as if expecting a fountain to appear in front of him, for a moment, one does, but as he clumsily reaches out to grab it, it casts of it’s illusionary raiment and is revealed to be a postbox. Dom swears, but now that a shock of pain through his hand has sharpened his fuzzy senses, he can see a nearby vending machine, glowing slightly with what seems like Divine Light. With a small sigh of relief, Dom walks on unsteady legs towards it, but then discovers a slight problem.
“You got any cash?” He drawls over his shoulder.
“Nuh.” Billy pulls his face away from the window long enough to reply. “But I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt me.” He collapses back against the glass in a fit of girlish giggles.
Dom growls in exasperation. He glares at the vending machine for a while, but when that doesn’t get any results, he is forced to try something more drastic. He tries shaking it, but no ice-cold can of coke comes rattling out to reward his efforts. He tries pushing a button ripped off his shirt into the coin slot, but just ends up with tattered and torn clothing.
“Try sticken yeh hand up there”. Dom jumps. He hadn’t known Billy was watching him, or that the intoxicated Scot even knew what was going on. Last time he looked around, Billy had been laughing hysterically at his own jokes about being robbed and gang-raped.
“Huh?” Dom hadn’t quite heard the slurred speech properly, muffled as it was against the Delicatessens window.
“Stick yeh hand up there!” Billy manages to pull himself upright, and stagger over to the vending machine. He knocks the flap where the cans come out with his foot, overbalances, and just about falls back onto the road. “Shit.”
But Dom realizes that this drunk, babbling man may just have a point. He bends over, and, ever so slowly, begins to work his hand up into the bowels of the vending machine. It isn’t the first time he’s tried to get a can of coke for free, but it the first time in quite a few years. His hands and arms must have been skinnier then, because he sure as hell can’t remember it being this hard.
He sure as hell can’t remember it taking this long. He keeps going, though. Billy is sniggering at him. Damn Billy. Dom envies his slender, strong hands.
Then, he can feel something icy cold on his own hand. Yes! He recognizes the smooth cylinder as a can of coke, and involuntarily starts to salivate with the anticipation of liquid to sooth his dry throat. Now all he has to do is pull the can out.
“I’m stuck.” Dom pulls, and the vending machine shudders a little, but his arm remains in its firm grasp. “Billy, ya wanker, my arms stuck!”
“Just let go of the can.” Billy shrugs, still sniggering in an infuriating manner.
Now Dom can feel his voice bordering on panic. “I have!” He half-yells, his voice cracking more than it has since puberty. “Fucking get me out of here!” Suddenly, he starts to struggle, thrashing around on the ground.
Billy blinks through a haze of intoxication. He’s normally not one to sober up quickly, but Dom’s terrified squeals are managing to penetrate his befuddled mind. “Ah, shit.” He says, as helpfully as he possibly can.
Not helpfully enough, because Dom has broken into a cold sweat. He gnaws on his lower lip, his shoulder muscles straining as he tries to pull himself free.
The vending machine wobbles precariously.
“Hey…” Billy steps forward, and places a hand on the shuddering soda machine. “Stop that. It’ll fall on you.”
Just as Dom’s scared yells managed to break Billy’s drunken aura, Billy’s calm, soothing voice manages to break Dom’s madness. They’ve been friends for only months now, but it feels like a lifetime, and no wonder. They’ve gone for days seeing only each other outside work, gone for days seeing practically only each other while at work. Far away from home, away from everything that’s familiar and comfortable, Billy and Dom have come to rely on each other, Hobbit cousins by day, drinking buddies by night. For months they’ve been inseparable.
So Dom trusts Billy. “Ok.” He says through gritted teeth, ceasing his struggles to get free. “Then what the fuck to I do?” His voice is quivering. Perhaps is just the night, that seems to be wrapped so tight around them that it’s suffocating, or perhaps it’s just the alcohol, but Dominic Monaghan is really, truly, terrified.
“You just keep calm.” Billy sooths with his voice, trying to disguise his own fright. “I’ll go find some help.” Yeah, he sounds confident, but he really knows perfectly well that he’ll have to go all the way back to the hotel before he can even find a phone. And who knows if the emergency services in this shabby little town are even going to help. Still, Billy knows he has to be confident. Dom is scared.
More scared than he realized, because, as he looks a bit closer, the younger man is obviously trying to hold back tears. Despite that disturbing fact, Billy can’t help but notice that moonlight flatters Dom. If it had been the pitiless light of day that shone on him, his eyes and cheeks would probably show the first signs of red puffiness. As it is, he is illuminated only my the silvery, feeble moon, and the soft neon glow from the vending machine. The shadows play around the contours of his face, like one of the people in the moody photos Viggo takes, Billy thinks, and the threatening tears at the corners of his eyes look like liquid crystal.
Fuck. He’s drunker than he thought. When your friend is trapped in a vending machine, in the middle of the night, it’s not a good time to be thinking about liquid crystals.
“Stay here.” Billy makes a move to turn and go, but suddenly he feels a hand creeping around his ankle.
“Don’t leave me here.” Dom tries to put a macho warning over the pure horror in his voice. “For fucks sake, don’t leave me” He pleads, grabbing onto Billy’s leg with sheer desperation. His body heaves with a silent sob. Billy has never seen him upset like this before.
“Alright.” Dom’s battle against tears becomes slightly easier as Billy sits down beside him, but his breathing is still raspy and uneven. It can be comfortable, with his body twisted, and pressed hard against the unyielding concrete. Plus, it’s the middle of winter, and according to Billy’s watch, way past the middle of the night. It’s freezing, and Dom has his arm inside a machine designed to keep things icy cold. Someday, this’ll be related as a funny story to anyone who’ll listen.
Right now, even if they’re really in no danger, it’s just fucking scary.
Both Dom and Billy sit – or lie – in silence for a while. Their breath makes white billowing clouds of steam in the chilled night air, and Dom begins to shiver slightly. He had had a coat on when he left the hotel, but somehow it’s gotten lost, leaving him with only a thin cotton shirt to ward off the elements.
“You’re cold” Billy says, needlessly, and moves closer to his captive friend. Slowly, he lays down, and eases Dom’s head onto his legs, brushing off specks of dirt that have been pressed into the other man’s face hard enough to leave small, red dents. Then he takes off his heavy coat, and spreads it over both their bodies. “Looks like we’ll be here till morning.” Billy tries to sound positive.
Dom gives a grim half-smile, but if silent for a few more moments. Then, suddenly, he speaks. “What’ll happen? In the morning.”
Billy sighs, and flops down so that his head rests on Dom’s legs. Oddly enough, it’s quite comfortable. “I dunno. I guess someone’ll come along, and they can call the ambulance…police, I dunno. You’ll probl’y have to pay a fine or something.”
“Your fault.” Dom mutters, and then pauses again. Billy can see his face half-illuminated, and he notices that the younger man is again looking scared.
But neither of them say anything for a while.
“Hey Bill…”Dom nudges his friend slightly, well aware that he’s half asleep.
“Yeah?”
“Um…” Dom is gnawing his lower lip again. “When they get me out of…um...here...you, um, you wont, ah…”
Billy blinks, confused and tired, and with a raging headache, but still manages to speak soothingly. “What?”
“You won’t let them cut my arm off, will you?” Dom blurts out his fears, fighting back frightened tears again. “I mean, fuck, I dunno what else they’d do, if they couldn’t get me out…but don’t let the fucking cut my arm off, please Billy, don’t fucking let them…” He’s getting agitated again, struggling and writhing and pulling against the vending machine.
“Hey, hey, shhh, easy.” Billy, his comfortable bed disturbed, moves to Dom’s head, though still keeps his legs as a supporting cushion. “Shhh.” He cups Dom’s face with one hand, and begins to softly stroke his hair with the other. “Calm down.”
Dom can’t help but be soothed, obeying some instinct that causes him to respond to that gentle voice and caress. But as he looks up at Billy, his face is streaked with tears, and shines with a cold sweat. “Promise?” He asks, voice so soft, pleading, and childlike, that Billy can’t help but smile.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” The smile fades a little as Billy begins to slowly trace the lines of Dom’s cheekbones with his finger. “I promise.”
There is a silence. Dom finds he can’t keep gazing into Billy’s eyes, bright green in the soft light, for long, though he doesn’t know why, and looks back down. They stay like that for what seems like an eternity, until one of them dares break the spell of gentle affection woven around them.
It’s Billy. “How’s your arm feel?” He shifts slightly, as he can feel his legs becoming numb under the weight.
Silence reigns again, then, as if the soothing words had never been spoken, Dom tenses up again. “I can’t feel it!” His voice boarders of panic once more, though he doesn’t move.
“It’s ok.” Billy smiles. “Try wriggling your fingers. You’ve probl’y lost circulation.” He reaches down, and rubs Dom’s shoulder gently, trying to stimulate the dormant blood.
Minutes pass. Then Dom sighs in relief. “I’ve got pins and needles.”
“That’s good.”
“How do you know about that sort of medical stuff, anyway?”
“I don’t.”
“Oh.”
With that crisis pass, the two men talk for a while. Not about life, or death, or anything important, but about silly things, cast things, gossip. They poke fun of Orlando, Elijah, Viggo, Sean…anyone and everyone, in that way that only the two of them can. It’s what makes them friends; the ability to know each other’s minds so completely, and know that bitching about someone behind their back might just be an attempt to seduce a laugh.
But they don’t laugh tonight. They smile, chuckle, and crack jokes they’ve told a thousand times, but neither man laughs.
Eventually, the conversation dries up, not into an uncomfortable pause, but into a companionable silence, another silence that Billy breaks.
“Try and get some sleep, Dom-boy.”
“I can’t.” Dom sounds sulky, like a small child.
“Why not?” Billy plays along, gently chiding.
Dom sighs, looks up, and blinks pathetically. “Too distracted.”
Billy chuckles a little at that, and for some reason, the silence turns into an uncomfortable one, because his hand has managed to find it’s way under his coat, onto Dom’s chest where it draws lazy circles around the rips where buttons have been torn off.
Hardly knowing what he is saying, in a voice soft with sudden emotion, Billy speaks. “I could help take your mind off your arm. If you like.” He looks down into Dom’s blue eyes.
Dom looks up into Billy’s green eyes, and, slowly, he nods.
There’s another pause, then. One completely unlike any other on that cold New Zealand night. Not a pause of good-natured friendship, nor an uncomfortable silence, but an anticipative suspense, of boarders crossed, and new revelations discovered.
Gently, slowly, Billy eases the coat away, and places it instead of his legs under Dom’s head. The, slowly, gently, he moves himself, and his hands, down Dom’s body.
There are so many discoveries to be made. Until that moment, Billy would never have known what Dom’s belly button looked like, would have never been able to describe the gentle curve of Dom’s hips. Now, even though Dom is slightly shivering from the cold, Billy takes the time to educate himself about the trapped man’s body, as his hands sooth, and distract.
“Fuuuhk.” Dom might be cold, without the warmth of a blanket/coat, but he’s beginning to feel a warmth growing inside him, flaring where Billy’s delicate hands touch, and kneed, and caress. He can feel the heat growing stronger between his legs, growing as his cock does, larger and stronger, straining against his constricting jeans. Dom’s arm, though still trapped and mangled inside a lonely vending machine, is forgotten, all he can think about is Billy, and Billy’s hands.
Gradually, those hands make their way down, until, softly and gently as ever, they brush over the taut fabric around Dom’s groin, earning a wanton moan. There is another pause, then Billy laughs.
“What the hell are we doing?”
Dom is, for a moment, scared that the touching will stop, scared that he will have to face the humiliation of being scared that the touching would stop.
But Billy’s not that cruel. He still has an odd smile on his face – maybe he’s still drunk – but he resumes the stroking, this time with more intensity, with more purpose.
He slowly draws down the zipper on Dom’s jeans, and slides his hand inside, then under the elastic of Dom’s boxers, to clasp the warm bulge that lurks there. Billy moves his hand slowly, wrapping his fingers one by one around the shaft of Dom’s cock, with his thumb over the top to seek the little nodule of moistness that is already there. With his hand positioned like that, he begins to move it up and down, always with a light and soothing touch.
Dom gulps, and finds his back arching involuntarily towards Billy’s hand. As he does so, his shoulder joint is twisted viciously in its confines, but somehow the pain in his arm makes the pleasure all the more intense. Dom gives a little cry, a mew of enjoyment and soreness, then closes his eyes.
“Shhh.” Billy reaches his unoccupied hand up and places it on Dom’s belly, holding him gently to the ground. He then continues to stroke and squeeze, with a talent born of practice, and an innate ability to guess exactly where and how Dom wishes to be touched. He strokes with the pads of his fingers as he pumps his hand slowly up and down the rigid cock, still gently, but firmly, when Dom’s hips buck or move.
And then, it’s all over. With a shuddering gasp that leaves him breathless, Dom reaches a pinnacle of pleasure, leaving Billy to watch as his body trembles briefly, then relaxes.
“Fuck.” That just about sums it up. It’s the last word Dom speaks before he drifts off into a peaceful sleep, oblivious to Billy redressing him, recovering him with the warm coat, and then settling down beside him.
They both wake in the morning to the sight of a very disturbed looking shopkeeper. Disturbed, but helpful, he makes the essential phone calls, and soon enough, Billy and Dom find themselves in a hospital, Dom in a clean, comfortable bed, and Billy in a chair beside him. His injuries aren’t severe; no amputations necessary, just a twisted shoulder and wrist, two broken fingers, and some bruises, but Dom has had many sympathetic visitors, and has even managed to charm himself out of a police visit.
But when he’s aloud to go home, at the end of the day, Dom finds himself alone with Billy for the first time since the night before, and for a moment he’s not sure of what to say.
Billy says it for him, with a smile that lights up his whole face.
“No need to thank me.” He clasps Dom’s shoulder with an added caress to sensuous to be friendly. “You owe me one.”
Disclaimer: I only toy with these puppets, I can't create reality.
It’s been a pretty normal night, a few drinks at a local pub with Orli and ‘Lij, a few more drinks by themselves, until the bar had closed. Now Billy and Dom are wandering the quiet, deserted streets, laughing and joking, and with more alcohol in their systems than blood. They’ve been shooting at this location for a few weeks now, and they know their way around, but they realized on the very first day that the backwater town has little nightlife to speak of. In fact, the only thing that could be vaguely described as nightlife is the hushed chirping of crickets in the park across the road, and the muted fluorescent lights of the closed shop they now find themselves in front of.
It’s a fairy average shop, just a ‘General Store’ type of place, with faded signs for ice creams and chocolate bars in the windows. Billy half steps, half stumbles towards the wall, and presses his face against the glass, giving a quiet mumble as he peers in at the gaudily-packaged food. Dom joins him, but manages to defy the laws of gravity and stay standing.
“I’m thirsty.” He slurs, the giddy smile disappearing from his face as the laughter floats away into the nights black shrouds.
Billy makes a muffled, half grunting noise that Dom decides is agreement.
He shifts his alcohol-blurred eyes around the street, as if expecting a fountain to appear in front of him, for a moment, one does, but as he clumsily reaches out to grab it, it casts of it’s illusionary raiment and is revealed to be a postbox. Dom swears, but now that a shock of pain through his hand has sharpened his fuzzy senses, he can see a nearby vending machine, glowing slightly with what seems like Divine Light. With a small sigh of relief, Dom walks on unsteady legs towards it, but then discovers a slight problem.
“You got any cash?” He drawls over his shoulder.
“Nuh.” Billy pulls his face away from the window long enough to reply. “But I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt me.” He collapses back against the glass in a fit of girlish giggles.
Dom growls in exasperation. He glares at the vending machine for a while, but when that doesn’t get any results, he is forced to try something more drastic. He tries shaking it, but no ice-cold can of coke comes rattling out to reward his efforts. He tries pushing a button ripped off his shirt into the coin slot, but just ends up with tattered and torn clothing.
“Try sticken yeh hand up there”. Dom jumps. He hadn’t known Billy was watching him, or that the intoxicated Scot even knew what was going on. Last time he looked around, Billy had been laughing hysterically at his own jokes about being robbed and gang-raped.
“Huh?” Dom hadn’t quite heard the slurred speech properly, muffled as it was against the Delicatessens window.
“Stick yeh hand up there!” Billy manages to pull himself upright, and stagger over to the vending machine. He knocks the flap where the cans come out with his foot, overbalances, and just about falls back onto the road. “Shit.”
But Dom realizes that this drunk, babbling man may just have a point. He bends over, and, ever so slowly, begins to work his hand up into the bowels of the vending machine. It isn’t the first time he’s tried to get a can of coke for free, but it the first time in quite a few years. His hands and arms must have been skinnier then, because he sure as hell can’t remember it being this hard.
He sure as hell can’t remember it taking this long. He keeps going, though. Billy is sniggering at him. Damn Billy. Dom envies his slender, strong hands.
Then, he can feel something icy cold on his own hand. Yes! He recognizes the smooth cylinder as a can of coke, and involuntarily starts to salivate with the anticipation of liquid to sooth his dry throat. Now all he has to do is pull the can out.
“I’m stuck.” Dom pulls, and the vending machine shudders a little, but his arm remains in its firm grasp. “Billy, ya wanker, my arms stuck!”
“Just let go of the can.” Billy shrugs, still sniggering in an infuriating manner.
Now Dom can feel his voice bordering on panic. “I have!” He half-yells, his voice cracking more than it has since puberty. “Fucking get me out of here!” Suddenly, he starts to struggle, thrashing around on the ground.
Billy blinks through a haze of intoxication. He’s normally not one to sober up quickly, but Dom’s terrified squeals are managing to penetrate his befuddled mind. “Ah, shit.” He says, as helpfully as he possibly can.
Not helpfully enough, because Dom has broken into a cold sweat. He gnaws on his lower lip, his shoulder muscles straining as he tries to pull himself free.
The vending machine wobbles precariously.
“Hey…” Billy steps forward, and places a hand on the shuddering soda machine. “Stop that. It’ll fall on you.”
Just as Dom’s scared yells managed to break Billy’s drunken aura, Billy’s calm, soothing voice manages to break Dom’s madness. They’ve been friends for only months now, but it feels like a lifetime, and no wonder. They’ve gone for days seeing only each other outside work, gone for days seeing practically only each other while at work. Far away from home, away from everything that’s familiar and comfortable, Billy and Dom have come to rely on each other, Hobbit cousins by day, drinking buddies by night. For months they’ve been inseparable.
So Dom trusts Billy. “Ok.” He says through gritted teeth, ceasing his struggles to get free. “Then what the fuck to I do?” His voice is quivering. Perhaps is just the night, that seems to be wrapped so tight around them that it’s suffocating, or perhaps it’s just the alcohol, but Dominic Monaghan is really, truly, terrified.
“You just keep calm.” Billy sooths with his voice, trying to disguise his own fright. “I’ll go find some help.” Yeah, he sounds confident, but he really knows perfectly well that he’ll have to go all the way back to the hotel before he can even find a phone. And who knows if the emergency services in this shabby little town are even going to help. Still, Billy knows he has to be confident. Dom is scared.
More scared than he realized, because, as he looks a bit closer, the younger man is obviously trying to hold back tears. Despite that disturbing fact, Billy can’t help but notice that moonlight flatters Dom. If it had been the pitiless light of day that shone on him, his eyes and cheeks would probably show the first signs of red puffiness. As it is, he is illuminated only my the silvery, feeble moon, and the soft neon glow from the vending machine. The shadows play around the contours of his face, like one of the people in the moody photos Viggo takes, Billy thinks, and the threatening tears at the corners of his eyes look like liquid crystal.
Fuck. He’s drunker than he thought. When your friend is trapped in a vending machine, in the middle of the night, it’s not a good time to be thinking about liquid crystals.
“Stay here.” Billy makes a move to turn and go, but suddenly he feels a hand creeping around his ankle.
“Don’t leave me here.” Dom tries to put a macho warning over the pure horror in his voice. “For fucks sake, don’t leave me” He pleads, grabbing onto Billy’s leg with sheer desperation. His body heaves with a silent sob. Billy has never seen him upset like this before.
“Alright.” Dom’s battle against tears becomes slightly easier as Billy sits down beside him, but his breathing is still raspy and uneven. It can be comfortable, with his body twisted, and pressed hard against the unyielding concrete. Plus, it’s the middle of winter, and according to Billy’s watch, way past the middle of the night. It’s freezing, and Dom has his arm inside a machine designed to keep things icy cold. Someday, this’ll be related as a funny story to anyone who’ll listen.
Right now, even if they’re really in no danger, it’s just fucking scary.
Both Dom and Billy sit – or lie – in silence for a while. Their breath makes white billowing clouds of steam in the chilled night air, and Dom begins to shiver slightly. He had had a coat on when he left the hotel, but somehow it’s gotten lost, leaving him with only a thin cotton shirt to ward off the elements.
“You’re cold” Billy says, needlessly, and moves closer to his captive friend. Slowly, he lays down, and eases Dom’s head onto his legs, brushing off specks of dirt that have been pressed into the other man’s face hard enough to leave small, red dents. Then he takes off his heavy coat, and spreads it over both their bodies. “Looks like we’ll be here till morning.” Billy tries to sound positive.
Dom gives a grim half-smile, but if silent for a few more moments. Then, suddenly, he speaks. “What’ll happen? In the morning.”
Billy sighs, and flops down so that his head rests on Dom’s legs. Oddly enough, it’s quite comfortable. “I dunno. I guess someone’ll come along, and they can call the ambulance…police, I dunno. You’ll probl’y have to pay a fine or something.”
“Your fault.” Dom mutters, and then pauses again. Billy can see his face half-illuminated, and he notices that the younger man is again looking scared.
But neither of them say anything for a while.
“Hey Bill…”Dom nudges his friend slightly, well aware that he’s half asleep.
“Yeah?”
“Um…” Dom is gnawing his lower lip again. “When they get me out of…um...here...you, um, you wont, ah…”
Billy blinks, confused and tired, and with a raging headache, but still manages to speak soothingly. “What?”
“You won’t let them cut my arm off, will you?” Dom blurts out his fears, fighting back frightened tears again. “I mean, fuck, I dunno what else they’d do, if they couldn’t get me out…but don’t let the fucking cut my arm off, please Billy, don’t fucking let them…” He’s getting agitated again, struggling and writhing and pulling against the vending machine.
“Hey, hey, shhh, easy.” Billy, his comfortable bed disturbed, moves to Dom’s head, though still keeps his legs as a supporting cushion. “Shhh.” He cups Dom’s face with one hand, and begins to softly stroke his hair with the other. “Calm down.”
Dom can’t help but be soothed, obeying some instinct that causes him to respond to that gentle voice and caress. But as he looks up at Billy, his face is streaked with tears, and shines with a cold sweat. “Promise?” He asks, voice so soft, pleading, and childlike, that Billy can’t help but smile.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” The smile fades a little as Billy begins to slowly trace the lines of Dom’s cheekbones with his finger. “I promise.”
There is a silence. Dom finds he can’t keep gazing into Billy’s eyes, bright green in the soft light, for long, though he doesn’t know why, and looks back down. They stay like that for what seems like an eternity, until one of them dares break the spell of gentle affection woven around them.
It’s Billy. “How’s your arm feel?” He shifts slightly, as he can feel his legs becoming numb under the weight.
Silence reigns again, then, as if the soothing words had never been spoken, Dom tenses up again. “I can’t feel it!” His voice boarders of panic once more, though he doesn’t move.
“It’s ok.” Billy smiles. “Try wriggling your fingers. You’ve probl’y lost circulation.” He reaches down, and rubs Dom’s shoulder gently, trying to stimulate the dormant blood.
Minutes pass. Then Dom sighs in relief. “I’ve got pins and needles.”
“That’s good.”
“How do you know about that sort of medical stuff, anyway?”
“I don’t.”
“Oh.”
With that crisis pass, the two men talk for a while. Not about life, or death, or anything important, but about silly things, cast things, gossip. They poke fun of Orlando, Elijah, Viggo, Sean…anyone and everyone, in that way that only the two of them can. It’s what makes them friends; the ability to know each other’s minds so completely, and know that bitching about someone behind their back might just be an attempt to seduce a laugh.
But they don’t laugh tonight. They smile, chuckle, and crack jokes they’ve told a thousand times, but neither man laughs.
Eventually, the conversation dries up, not into an uncomfortable pause, but into a companionable silence, another silence that Billy breaks.
“Try and get some sleep, Dom-boy.”
“I can’t.” Dom sounds sulky, like a small child.
“Why not?” Billy plays along, gently chiding.
Dom sighs, looks up, and blinks pathetically. “Too distracted.”
Billy chuckles a little at that, and for some reason, the silence turns into an uncomfortable one, because his hand has managed to find it’s way under his coat, onto Dom’s chest where it draws lazy circles around the rips where buttons have been torn off.
Hardly knowing what he is saying, in a voice soft with sudden emotion, Billy speaks. “I could help take your mind off your arm. If you like.” He looks down into Dom’s blue eyes.
Dom looks up into Billy’s green eyes, and, slowly, he nods.
There’s another pause, then. One completely unlike any other on that cold New Zealand night. Not a pause of good-natured friendship, nor an uncomfortable silence, but an anticipative suspense, of boarders crossed, and new revelations discovered.
Gently, slowly, Billy eases the coat away, and places it instead of his legs under Dom’s head. The, slowly, gently, he moves himself, and his hands, down Dom’s body.
There are so many discoveries to be made. Until that moment, Billy would never have known what Dom’s belly button looked like, would have never been able to describe the gentle curve of Dom’s hips. Now, even though Dom is slightly shivering from the cold, Billy takes the time to educate himself about the trapped man’s body, as his hands sooth, and distract.
“Fuuuhk.” Dom might be cold, without the warmth of a blanket/coat, but he’s beginning to feel a warmth growing inside him, flaring where Billy’s delicate hands touch, and kneed, and caress. He can feel the heat growing stronger between his legs, growing as his cock does, larger and stronger, straining against his constricting jeans. Dom’s arm, though still trapped and mangled inside a lonely vending machine, is forgotten, all he can think about is Billy, and Billy’s hands.
Gradually, those hands make their way down, until, softly and gently as ever, they brush over the taut fabric around Dom’s groin, earning a wanton moan. There is another pause, then Billy laughs.
“What the hell are we doing?”
Dom is, for a moment, scared that the touching will stop, scared that he will have to face the humiliation of being scared that the touching would stop.
But Billy’s not that cruel. He still has an odd smile on his face – maybe he’s still drunk – but he resumes the stroking, this time with more intensity, with more purpose.
He slowly draws down the zipper on Dom’s jeans, and slides his hand inside, then under the elastic of Dom’s boxers, to clasp the warm bulge that lurks there. Billy moves his hand slowly, wrapping his fingers one by one around the shaft of Dom’s cock, with his thumb over the top to seek the little nodule of moistness that is already there. With his hand positioned like that, he begins to move it up and down, always with a light and soothing touch.
Dom gulps, and finds his back arching involuntarily towards Billy’s hand. As he does so, his shoulder joint is twisted viciously in its confines, but somehow the pain in his arm makes the pleasure all the more intense. Dom gives a little cry, a mew of enjoyment and soreness, then closes his eyes.
“Shhh.” Billy reaches his unoccupied hand up and places it on Dom’s belly, holding him gently to the ground. He then continues to stroke and squeeze, with a talent born of practice, and an innate ability to guess exactly where and how Dom wishes to be touched. He strokes with the pads of his fingers as he pumps his hand slowly up and down the rigid cock, still gently, but firmly, when Dom’s hips buck or move.
And then, it’s all over. With a shuddering gasp that leaves him breathless, Dom reaches a pinnacle of pleasure, leaving Billy to watch as his body trembles briefly, then relaxes.
“Fuck.” That just about sums it up. It’s the last word Dom speaks before he drifts off into a peaceful sleep, oblivious to Billy redressing him, recovering him with the warm coat, and then settling down beside him.
They both wake in the morning to the sight of a very disturbed looking shopkeeper. Disturbed, but helpful, he makes the essential phone calls, and soon enough, Billy and Dom find themselves in a hospital, Dom in a clean, comfortable bed, and Billy in a chair beside him. His injuries aren’t severe; no amputations necessary, just a twisted shoulder and wrist, two broken fingers, and some bruises, but Dom has had many sympathetic visitors, and has even managed to charm himself out of a police visit.
But when he’s aloud to go home, at the end of the day, Dom finds himself alone with Billy for the first time since the night before, and for a moment he’s not sure of what to say.
Billy says it for him, with a smile that lights up his whole face.
“No need to thank me.” He clasps Dom’s shoulder with an added caress to sensuous to be friendly. “You owe me one.”
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ohhhhhhhhhhhhh sooooooooo sweet love it lots. perhaps maybe u shud write the dom owing him one *nudges*
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