ext_377402 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
shellies.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-05-26 08:07 pm
shellies.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-05-26 08:07 pm
BB/DM Remix Fic: Offering, PG
Title: Offering
Original Story: Vespertine by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
edigo
Pairing: Bill/Dom
Rating: PG
Summary: He marches past Billy out the door, not bothering to check and see if he follows. Dom is confident enough to know he will.
Website: Little Things
Disclaimer: This is so very far from the truth. Really. So much of the fictitious.
Notes: For the Billy & Dom Remix. This is a remix of another author's work. You don't have to read it to understand mine, but you should anyway. Thanks to Brook for the beta job <3
He’s only halfway dressed when he hears Billy’s footsteps approaching from down the hall. Dom waits – one breath, two, three and he’s close enough. He moves to pull his t-shirt over his head, timing Billy’s entrance perfectly with the flash of his skin. His stomach is taut with the arch of his back, and though his eyes are hidden by cotton, he’s certain Billy’s slow tongue is a result of distraction.
“Um.” The pause in his voice, the sharp intake of breath. Cotton also hides Dom’s triumphant grin. “Sean’s here.”
Dom pulls the shirt down, straightening it out, and flashes a smile as bright as the morning. He marches past Billy out the door, not bothering to check and see if he follows. Dom is confident enough to know he will.
Dom is closer to his best mate than best mates should be. Close, that is, as in physical proximity. He’s lying on the couch, Orlando’s couch, pressed against Billy. He can feel the heat of Billy’s skin through their clothes, the rise and fall of Billy’s chest against his own.
“Dom.”
But Dom doesn’t budge. Scoots closer, in fact, until Billy’s spine stiffens against the cushions of the couch. He breathes against Billy until he feels the shiver ripple against him.
“Fuck off,” Billy tells him, voice muffled. Dom ignores him, fingers spiderwalking their way up Billy’s thigh, settling onto the curve of his hip. His fingers itch to continue their path, to curl around, forward, to slide up and inside Billy’s thin nightshirt and feel the warm skin there. But his hand stays still, resting comfortably until Billy shifts back into him.
There’s a brief hesitation and then—
Billy rolls over, domino effect, and Dom’s on the floor.
From the carpet, Dom frowns as Billy looks down at him with a frustrated glare. “Fine, I’ll go then,” he tells him, but he doesn’t move. He curls into a ball on the floor and rolls over, bare back now stinging with rug-burn.
He can feel Billy’s eyes on him as he drifts back to sleep, and the discomfort of the floor is almost worth it.
He unfolds from his position, rolling soundlessly back onto his mat. He looks up to see Billy, standing in the doorway. His fixated stare doesn’t surprise as much as please Dom, who stretches out, cracking his back once as he reclines on the mat.
“Pincha Mayurasana,” he tells him. “Peacock feather pose.” From the floor, Dom’s body is splayed on the mat. It’s a lazy offering, but an offering nonetheless. He represses the urge to stand, to approach, to take.
Khanti, he tells himself. Patience.
“A peacock presents its feathers to entice its mate, just as a yogi displays his body to its god.” Dom recites the description from memory, just as he’d done earlier to himself. It sounds even better now, as Billy nods, his mouth unconsciously forming the word ‘entice’ in silent repetition.
“An offering,” Billy says, almost to himself.
Dom smiles.
He’s been here before, behind his best mate. Body pressed against his, arm casually draped over his body. I’ve been here before, he thinks, but never quite like this.
Billy turns in his arms to face him, and their faces are mere centimeters apart. Dom knows, knows, that Billy is trying to speak. He waits, silently counting his breaths, one…two…three. Suppresses his urge to simply lean forward, just that much closer.
“I accept,” Billy whispers, his breath tickling Dom’s skin.
“What do you accept?” Four…five…six…seven.
“Your offer.”
Dom closes the space between him.
Original Story: Vespertine by
edigoPairing: Bill/Dom
Rating: PG
Summary: He marches past Billy out the door, not bothering to check and see if he follows. Dom is confident enough to know he will.
Website: Little Things
Disclaimer: This is so very far from the truth. Really. So much of the fictitious.
Notes: For the Billy & Dom Remix. This is a remix of another author's work. You don't have to read it to understand mine, but you should anyway. Thanks to Brook for the beta job <3
Offering
He’s only halfway dressed when he hears Billy’s footsteps approaching from down the hall. Dom waits – one breath, two, three and he’s close enough. He moves to pull his t-shirt over his head, timing Billy’s entrance perfectly with the flash of his skin. His stomach is taut with the arch of his back, and though his eyes are hidden by cotton, he’s certain Billy’s slow tongue is a result of distraction.
“Um.” The pause in his voice, the sharp intake of breath. Cotton also hides Dom’s triumphant grin. “Sean’s here.”
Dom pulls the shirt down, straightening it out, and flashes a smile as bright as the morning. He marches past Billy out the door, not bothering to check and see if he follows. Dom is confident enough to know he will.
Dom is closer to his best mate than best mates should be. Close, that is, as in physical proximity. He’s lying on the couch, Orlando’s couch, pressed against Billy. He can feel the heat of Billy’s skin through their clothes, the rise and fall of Billy’s chest against his own.
“Dom.”
But Dom doesn’t budge. Scoots closer, in fact, until Billy’s spine stiffens against the cushions of the couch. He breathes against Billy until he feels the shiver ripple against him.
“Fuck off,” Billy tells him, voice muffled. Dom ignores him, fingers spiderwalking their way up Billy’s thigh, settling onto the curve of his hip. His fingers itch to continue their path, to curl around, forward, to slide up and inside Billy’s thin nightshirt and feel the warm skin there. But his hand stays still, resting comfortably until Billy shifts back into him.
There’s a brief hesitation and then—
Billy rolls over, domino effect, and Dom’s on the floor.
From the carpet, Dom frowns as Billy looks down at him with a frustrated glare. “Fine, I’ll go then,” he tells him, but he doesn’t move. He curls into a ball on the floor and rolls over, bare back now stinging with rug-burn.
He can feel Billy’s eyes on him as he drifts back to sleep, and the discomfort of the floor is almost worth it.
He unfolds from his position, rolling soundlessly back onto his mat. He looks up to see Billy, standing in the doorway. His fixated stare doesn’t surprise as much as please Dom, who stretches out, cracking his back once as he reclines on the mat.
“Pincha Mayurasana,” he tells him. “Peacock feather pose.” From the floor, Dom’s body is splayed on the mat. It’s a lazy offering, but an offering nonetheless. He represses the urge to stand, to approach, to take.
Khanti, he tells himself. Patience.
“A peacock presents its feathers to entice its mate, just as a yogi displays his body to its god.” Dom recites the description from memory, just as he’d done earlier to himself. It sounds even better now, as Billy nods, his mouth unconsciously forming the word ‘entice’ in silent repetition.
“An offering,” Billy says, almost to himself.
Dom smiles.
He’s been here before, behind his best mate. Body pressed against his, arm casually draped over his body. I’ve been here before, he thinks, but never quite like this.
Billy turns in his arms to face him, and their faces are mere centimeters apart. Dom knows, knows, that Billy is trying to speak. He waits, silently counting his breaths, one…two…three. Suppresses his urge to simply lean forward, just that much closer.
“I accept,” Billy whispers, his breath tickling Dom’s skin.
“What do you accept?” Four…five…six…seven.
“Your offer.”
Dom closes the space between him.