fantasy

by cimorene

The fantasies usually went something like this: Dom was up for some reason in the middle of the night at their cabin, in the kitchen, or standing in the little living room, looking out the window or at the last little glowing bits of fire on the hearth, or sometimes outside on the porch. Sometimes Billy woke him up. Anyway, Billy woke him up, or caught him brooding or making a midnight snack, and started some kind of random conversation. Dom didn't actually bother with the conversation, most times; that wasn't the important part. He did remember that it often ended up worked around to what the problem was, that Billy had noticed he'd been worried or bothered or something lately, and then said, when Dom nervously tried to deny it, that he didn't think anyone else had noticed, but he had just been… erm… "watching rather closely." At this point the fantasies tended to dissolve out of the specifics of conversation into a blur of Billy's big eyes in the dark, his quick smile made more nervous for some reason, and the goosebumps chasing each other up and down Dom's arms.

And then the heat of his mouth and his body, and the encouraging little noises he might make when Dom did various of the nasty things he'd spent the last several months thinking of to him. For instance, Dom was getting quite fixated on Billy's ears of late, and he was dying to put a hickey under one. Then Billy's mouth was so soft and rosy, almost as if he were wearing lipstick. And Dom had always had a thing for blowjobs--giving them, that is, although getting them usually figured somewhere in the fantasies, too.

Sometimes Billy would say, "Come here," or "Can I just try something?" or even just a plain "Fuck me," depending on Dom's mood. Those were pretty hot, and you could really almost imagine Billy doing it, but they ended faster.

Sometimes the fantasies got away from him and ended with things that were even worse than having them in the first place, like… cuddling, and kissing Billy's hair afterwards, thinking he was asleep, and having Billy turn his head with his eyes tremendous and dark and wet, and then kissing again, a long, slow kiss that was nothing like sex. Things like Billy whispering things in his ear as he pushed into him from behind, things that made Dom shudder and clutch at Billy's hand on his stomach and turn his head over his shoulder for another one of those luxuriously slow, deep kisses.

Things like "I've waited so long for this" and "You have no idea," and even "Baby" (which Dom usually hated, but the thought of Billy whispering it in his ear…). Things like "I love you" as Billy came, biting Dom's shoulder and shaking all over.

Dom hadn't had a wet dream since he was sixteen, and he sincerely hoped he wouldn't start again while they were at the cabin, but he was coming really close with some of these dreams, when the fantasies showed up in the middle of the night. They were so real when he dreamed them, much better than when he daydreamed them, even when you could add in the guilty pleasure of Billy being nearby, sometimes. He couldn't really hope to stop having the dreams, then--only for them to be not quite realistic enough to convince his body.

They'd been separated in the filming of the end of The Two Towers and the beginning of The Return of the King for far too long. You wouldn't have thought it would work that way. New Zealand wasn't that big. The Americans made fun of it by comparing it to the sizes of some of their states. They should have still seen each other regularly, Dom had thought, but what the different locations hadn't done, the scheduling had taken care of. For what seemed like more months than it actually was, Dom had only seen Billy every few weeks, and that usually briefly. His fantasies had had to live almost entirely off of memory for a long, long time.

Even when they were apart for the longest times, though, he never got tired of the fantasies. They never stopped. He worried about what would happen when filming was completely over and they went back to their respective lives, although he tried not to even think about the end of filming while it was still so far away.

He had been thinking a lot lately about the kinds of things he didn't want to think about. Worrying about all of this mess was even worse than the fantasies that ended with declarations of love. "For God's sake," he mumbled, sitting up in bed and running his hand over his face after a particularly embarrassing one that hadn't even included any sex. "When am I going to get over this?" He still thought of it as a "thing" and tried to avoid calling it a "crush" even in his head. Now he was starting to suspect it wasn't a crush at all. Dom groaned and flopped back down to cover his head with his pillow. "Shut up," he told his imagination, which was trying to blend the reality of the slightly chilly night with the fantasy where Billy came into his room in the middle of the night because he had just "known" that something was wrong.

When they'd all gathered in the living room this evening, the first time in several weeks, the filming of Merry and Pippin's separation finally, thank God, completely over with, Lige had said something completely off-handedly about them having reunions in the cabin in forty years or something, and Dom and Billy complaining about the lack of a fire until Sean went outside in the rain to get the wood and strained his back bending over, and Dom wanting to go for more beer, but he wouldn't be able to because Billy would have Alzheimer's and wouldn't remember where he'd hidden Dom's keys.

"Just like now?" Sean had laughed, ruffling Lige's hair.

"I don't have Alzheimer's yet," Billy had protested.

"Then," Lige had said, "Where are Dom's keys?"

Even Dom had laughed, rattling them in his pocket, but the vision of all four of them gray-haired old geezers had disturbed him far more than Lige had intended. The problem was that he really could see it all being the same, in forty years: Dom, in his sixties, still lusting after Billy, no matter how goofy he'd look with his laugh-wrinkles spread out all over his face and his unruly hair white. And then he wouldn't even be able to pretend that it was about sex.

What if it took him forty years to decide it was worth it, or for everything else to stop mattering so much, so that if he and wrinkled, white-haired Billy ended up alone together, say, outside on the lawn, on a cool spring afternoon (but not too cold), he would say something? What if Billy said something, like something about their friendship, that was so perfect Dom couldn't help but kiss him--and Billy kissed him back?

I'd probably have a heart attack.

Dom sighed, and turned over, and still couldn't sleep. He stared stubbornly at the insides of his eyelids, and then at the ceiling (when had he opened his eyes)? It was cold if he kicked the blankets off and too hot if he pulled them up to his chin, and his eyes were watering. Because of the air being so dry--yes, that must be it. He buried his face in the pillow again and thought about going to get a drink of water.

He would be very quiet in the hallway, and he wouldn't trip--they'd stayed in their cabin so many times, he could walk through in the dark with his eyes closed, and step around the funny edge of the counter where it stuck out without bumping his hip (you only have to do that once before you'll never do it again). He could go to the refrigerator and lean his forehead against the freezer door for a minute before he gathered his wits and got out the milk, and then he could drink it straight from the carton, and if he accidentally forgot to put it back away, the others would just laugh at him, not get mad.

The milk would be cold. Dom never bothered to put on a shirt when he got up in the middle of the night, unless it was a lot colder than this. So if he did get up and go to the kitchen, the wood would be cold on his bare feet, and he'd be covered with goosebumps when he finished drinking it, and by the time he put it down he'd want something warmer. Warm milk? No, that was for babies, even if he did sort of like it.

He'd stand in the kitchen, rubbing his arms to warm them up, and looking around. When you live in a cabin of just guys like this, you don't have to put the milk away, but then you have to put up with having nothing but Remy, beer, and milk to drink, and nothing but meat and crisps and frozen pizza to eat. He'd probably eventually decide on the warm milk, if he didn't just give up and go back to bed; so he'd get the mug with the broken handle out of the cupboard and pour milk in it and put it in the microwave.

And while the microwave hummed and Dom stood with his feet braced apart on the cold floor, hugging himself against the cold and watching the mug spin around, the soft slap of another foot on the floor would send knowing shivers crawling up his spine. He wouldn't turn around, yet, until the steps approached closer and closer, and he felt the sharp press of Billy's chin on his shoulder from behind. "Milk?" He would ask sleepily. Dom found Billy's sleepy voice unbearably sexy, usually. At this point in the fantasy, it would usually make him shudder with want, but this time, he felt a sort of melting softness.

Oh, yeah. He was in deep shit.

Dom would turn his head to answer and Billy's nose would brush his face. What if they were already lovers when this happened? Then when Billy put his chin on Dom's shoulders, his arms would come around Dom's waist possessively at the same time, and his bare chest would press against Dom's back, and when Dom turned to answer him, he would whisper "yes" against Billy's open mouth, and then they'd have one of those unevenly-clinging kisses, a long series of soft mouthy sipping motions, taste after taste after taste of Billy's warm lips. Dom would turn around in his arms and Billy would back him up on the counter next to the microwave, milk and cold feet forgotten when he was trapped between Billy's arms against the cabinets. He'd wrap his own arms low around Billy's waist, or maybe grab Billy's hips to pull him close and grind their cocks together. He would--bite his bottom lip, maybe, and Dom would push one of his legs between Billy's thighs, and maybe they'd fuck right there on the counter, before they shared the cup of warm milk… .

Well, one thing was sure. If he got up to get milk now, it had better not be warm milk. And he had really better get up, because he wasn't feeling any more likely to go to sleep now, and usually he got lost in those fantasies and fell asleep. Dom pushed the blanket back and swung his legs out of bed. The cold air wrapped around him at once, and withered whatever beginning of an erection he'd had. He walked as quickly as he could without making too much noise or bumping into anything, futilely trying to minimize the contact of his feet with the floor.

The short hall was pitch black except for a puddle of moonlight at the very end of it, where it fed into the kitchen and the living room. The kitchen would be just barely visible in the light from the window, and the living room would be a pale gray sea with chairs and a couch and bags of their junk looming out of it like small black icebergs. Dom walked into the kitchen, neatly sidestepping the end of the counter, and walked towards the refrigerator, and stopped.

Billy was standing in front of the sink, looking out the window, in sweatpants and a tank, with his hands clutching the edge of the counter and his arms taut, the slim corded muscles painted in deep shadow and light gold. Dom's eyes, running up and down his form, took in knotted shoulder muscles, the neck straight and stiff, the pants, like many of Billy's too long, bunched up over feet slightly spread, riding low on his hips. The knit fabric outlined his firm ass. Dom knew he was going to have to stop staring very soon.

The fantasies had rarely gone this way. It was always Billy finding him.

"Hallo," Billy said quietly, turning his head just until it was in profile, not far enough to meet Dom's eyes.

Dom moved slowly the rest of the way to the refrigerator and opened it, stealing a glance sideways. "'Lo." Billy had turned a little and watched him get the milk. Now he couldn't simply drink it. He opened the cabinet and fumbled around in it for a moment before finally getting a mug out. It looked like warm milk after all. He poured a mug, then looked at Billy. "Want some?"

Billy's eyes were considering. "Sure," he finally shrugged, "Maybe it will help me sleep."

Dom got out another mug and filled it, too. "I couldn't sleep either," he said, thinking of his kitchen fantasy. He hadn't taken into account the utter weirdness of kitchens in the middle of the night. Even without this odd tension (which was probably all him), no one would want to fuck on the counter. They'd have gone in the living room or back to one of their rooms. The refrigerator almost glowed, it was so white. The window over the sink filled it to the brim with moonlight, reflecting in the aluminum.

He put both mugs in the microwave, next to each other in the center, and turned it on. Billy was still watching him. "'S been a while since we've been here, hasn't it," he observed. Something was wrong with him being so somber, even in the middle of the night.

"Too long," Dom said. "But just think if we were Merry and Pippin, really."

Billy laughed a little. "Much longer, then," he agreed. Longer apart, Dom thought, but longer together, too. It wasn't the first time he'd thought it. If he and Billy had been their characters, and they'd gone back to the Shire at the end of everything, they'd not have gone seven whole years living together without Dom getting Billy into bed, and (he hoped) neither of them would have married.

The whole length of the movie shoot, perhaps, Dom thought, but not seven whole years. "Do you ever think about it?" He asked suddenly, turning to lean sideways on the counter and face Billy. "Being Pippin, I mean?"

"I wouldn't have looked in the Palantir," Billy said at once.

"Don't lie," Dom said, smiling. "You would, too."

Billy smiled back. "Well, maybe."

"But you think about it."

Billy nodded. "Of course, I have. In the end I'm sort of glad, though, I suppose. I'd be much more of a wimp with a sword than Pippin was."

Dom grinned. "That's what Pippin would have said if you asked him in the beginning, too. Extraordinary circumstances, you know." Speaking of which, he seemed to have moved a few steps closer to Billy.

"Easy for you to say," Billy retorted, "you probably like the idea of being Theoden's squire. You'd love to stab the Nazgul."

Dom made a face. "I'd do it, but I'd be terrified." He paused. "Or maybe I wouldn't do it. I'm not a hero. Fighting and sky-diving aren't the same at all, you know."

"Oh really," Billy muttered dryly. He had turned to face Dom, too. His hip was against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, and just then his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Dom tried not to stare. "Isn't that the milk?" Billy said.

"Oh. Right," Dom said, and handed one of the mugs over: "Careful--ouch. It's a little hotter than I meant."

Billy bent his head to take a sip. "Mm," he said. "Wondered why it was in so long. I think I burned my tongue."

Dom set his down, still steaming, biting his own tongue not to say Let me make it better. "I think I'll wait a bit, then."

"Sure," Billy said, "It's your fault, and you get out of it without your tongue burned." But he was smiling a little over the rim of the cup. It wasn't a conversation that would have gone very well in any of Dom's fantasies, and it felt odd for that reason, and because their places seemed switched, with most of the burden of talk falling on him, for once, not on Billy. All the same, he was clinging to it, reluctant to release this new, alien, moonlit Billy, or what felt like the closest to the fantasy he might come. He wondered how long he could delay drinking his milk.

He watched Billy take another slow sip, and found himself saying, "So why couldn't you sleep?" Billy coughed into the milk, set the mug down, still choking, his eyes watering. Dom stepped closer, but Billy waved him away.

"'M alright."

Dom watched him doubtfully. "Are you certain?"

Billy nodded, looking back up. "I missed you," he said, still hoarsely, and cleared his throat again.

There was something hot in Dom's chest, or a little lower, maybe, just at the bottom of his ribcage. Something hot that was twisting itself slowly into a knot. He sipped his milk. "I missed you too," he said as normally as he could. This could be food for fantasy for months.

"It's good to be back here," Billy sighed, "I don't know why I can't sleep."

"It is nice to be back," Dom agreed, not tearing his eyes from Billy's. Maybe they'd been looking too long. He was starting to get vertigo, and for an instant he thought of Merry and Pippin's reunion. That was a nice scene. Then he thought of Merry. If he were Merry, he wouldn't stand here filled with emotion and let Pippin say that, he would…

He put the milk down without looking and some of it splashed onto his hand, but he barely noticed. Another (longer) step forward, and he was hugging Billy tightly. It was one of the stupidest, and most Merry-ish, things he'd done for months, probably. Very brave, and not very careful at all. But, he reminded himself, it was supposed to be a brotherly hug, no matter what his imagination had been doing with the kitchen counter fifteen minutes before.

"It's just I didn't expect to that much," Billy said over his shoulder, "And then I was so happy to be back, and now it's a little strange. And here I am, in the kitchen, awake." So he hadn't been changing the subject when he said "I missed you."

"So am I," Dom pointed out, and thought idly that he should let go. He could feel Billy's ribs through the shirt under his hand.

"You young tykes--you'll be fine. I need my sleep," Billy joked.

"You'll survive one night," Dom replied without thinking, and then cursed his words and his imagination.

"Hm," Billy snorted, lying quiescent in Dom's arms.

"I know what you mean," Dom murmured. "It is strange." After so long of only imagining Billy, most of the time, not really seeing him, his presence tended to be a jolt. Being back here in the cabin was indefinably strange too.

Billy said thoughtfully, turning his head sideways so Dom felt it damp and warm on the side of his neck, "And won't it be much weirder after we're done? I suppose life will just go on… back to the real world… and then if we ever come back here… I'm afraid to think of it."

Dom nodded.

"Leaving," he added quietly. "I'm afraid it will never be the same again, back in England. I'll miss you--again."

"I'll miss you more," he said without thinking. Shit. Dom hoped it would sound like teasing. Speaking without thinking could be a real problem for him, given what went on in his mind most of the time, but he seemed nearly unable to think with Billy breathing on his neck.

"I doubt it," Billy said on a little gust of laughter, that didn't really sound very amused.

And Dom went insane.

Maybe it was the sudden proximity to fantasy, the way the conversation was going, the feel of Billy in his arms, the maddening nearness of Billy's lips and his neck that he could sense. Maybe it was the weirdness, or the moonlight from the window. Maybe it was the warm milk--he'd only had a few sips, but it had burned all the way down and was busily warming his stomach. He felt on fire.

It was really much more awkward than he would have expected. One of his hands went up to catch Billy's head from behind--to prevent him from getting away? And he pulled his head back a little to see Billy's face. He was still close enough that he was nearly cross-eyed when he met Billy's confused gaze in the moment before he dove in. His aim was pretty poor.

There was Billy's upper lip, their mouths not matching up till he slid down and to the side, too eagerly, and not very carefully. Dom's chin bumped Billy's, and meanwhile, Billy seemed frozen, still standing very very close to him, wrapped in one of Dom's arms. His lips responded automatically, parting a little when Dom nuzzled at them, then falling open when Dom licked.

Billy moaned softly and pressed closer. Dom's hands skidded back down his back, moving over the wrinkles of the shirt to settle on his narrow hips. Billy's hands were still on his back, his arms stiff--then he moved them, but there didn't seem to be anywhere very good for them. They hovered, and then touched Dom's shoulders, the back of his neck, the curve of his ass--Dom shuddered and pulled their hips together, bracing his feet a little apart. Hard cocks scraped together, bumped and rubbed, and their kiss was disintegrating because they kept gasping. There seemed to be real danger of falling over.

Making out in the kitchen wasn't so bad after all, when your eyes were mostly closed. As for weird, Dom wasn't prepared to think about it. He was still trying to learn the taste of Billy's mouth, in case he couldn't get another chance at it later. It was hot and sweet and forget about falling over, maybe he would just melt. No feeling of cold penetrated the sensual fog.

But, "Couch," Billy panted, tearing their mouths apart. His lips were wet and red, shiny. Dom darted out his tongue to taste them again, and Billy, without letting go, started pushing him backwards past the refrigerator to the living room. "Come on," he might have said, but their mouths were locked again by then.

They could have made the couch a lot faster, and without walking into the door frame, if they'd stopped kissing on the way, or if Billy had kissed with his eyes open. Dom wasn't complaining, though. Their bare feet bumped, even though they sort of shuffled, not really walking. Somehow, he hadn't realized that Billy would walk with his hands on Dom's waist, his thumbs making slow arcs on his ribs, making his stomach clench and tremble with anticipation.

Dom backed into the arm of the couch by accident, and with a confusing, tangling stumble and slide, they ended up together on it with Billy's face buried on his chest and one of his legs wrapped around Billy's hips. Billy's hands had crept under the waist of his pajama pants, and his thumbs were now doing disastrous things to the sensitive skin where his hips joined his body. Billy lifted his head, as if for another kiss, but stopped just short with his eyes bright, his mouth open, his brow dewed with sweat, the essence of sex. "Wanna fuck?" He breathed.

Dom had a fantasy like that--not the "wanna fuck" part, because in that one Billy came looking for him to unburden himself about some problem, and it was a comfort kind of thing. It was also really hot, the couch, the slick slide and smell of the leather cushions, the cramped space, Billy sitting with his legs spread apart over Dom's and slowly lowering himself onto Dom's cock. In the fantasy, Billy covered his mouth with a hand to keep him from making noise, and Dom bit it.

Tingles rushed through him at the suggestion, and it was so much more real, awkwardness and all, with Billy lying on top of him. "On the couch?" Dom whispered back.

Billy misinterpreted. "You're right," he groaned against Dom's mouth, which opened eagerly for him, "Bed--if we can get there."

His fingertips brushed the head of Dom's cock as he said that, and Dom's head fell back against the arm of the couch as he arched and squirmed up into the touch. "Oh my God--!"

Billy laughed quietly and took the hands away, stood up and bent over for another kiss. Dom seized his hands and surged to his feet, capturing Billy's mouth again more fiercely than Billy had intended, surprising a little start and a gasp out of him, claiming it with the sweep of his tongue. Then he led him back towards the hall, not letting go of his hands, walking as quickly as he could without looking. They didn't bump anything until Billy's door frame this time. Somehow they got inside, where just enough light fell through the curtains when they'd gotten the door shut, Billy laughing when he fell against it, Dom stopping his mouth and swallowing the laugh.

There was a blur of Billy's limbs in the moonlight, clothes falling heaped on the floor, and the sudden shocking, scorching feel of their bodies touching all up and down their lengths before they fell into the rumpled covers. Sheets whispered over their skin as they moved, almost shockingly loud, and the little sighs and wordless whimpers they made, and the word "yes"--Dom was afraid they would wake the others, not yet beyond caring. So they kissed again, and all the abortive sounds they made fell from one mouth to the other, and they lapped them up, tongues dancing together, breath puffing on parted lips.

Billy's body, naked, curving over him, his hands almost bruising on Dom's biceps. Addictive. He couldn't never feel it again, not now, not if he finished, but he couldn't stop either. All the dreams made it too complicated, everything preceded and followed by ghost-echoes of his imaginings, and at every turn, every gasp, every whimper, every satisfied curl of Billy's mouth against his neck, his nipple, his inner thigh, there was part of Dom's mind standing back and marveling, again and again, that it so far surpassed fantasy, despite the slow awkward pauses and the fumbling and the confusion and doubt that were never there when he thought about this.

Moonlight bathed them and made Billy more achingly beautiful, even in those nervous moments searching the night table and the pockets of his jeans for practical necessities. Dom shivered. He tried to shut out thought and speculation, and absorb every detail for memory.

"You'd think I'd know how to do this with my teeth by now," Billy said, looking up with a flash of a smile as he ripped open a condom. Dom said nothing, his throat closed with desire verging on fear, and anticipation with a bitter edge of grief that he couldn't dull.

He put the condom on Dom, who gasped at the pressure as he unrolled it and closed his eyes, so he didn't see Billy move in to catch his mouth in a deep, messy kiss. Lubricant--another awkward, far-too-slow moment, his fingers trembling, pressing into tight heat that contracted impatiently around them. Billy lay on his stomach on the bed, and his hips jerked back when he brushed a certain spot. He muffled his face in the pillow and pushed back insistently. "Now," he whispered.

Dom did, not as slowly as he'd meant to, his slow rocking motions speeding too fast as Billy's body clutched teasingly around him and he pushed his ass up. Dom put his hands on it, caressing the firm curves as he sank the last few centimeters in with a groan he couldn't stop and lay down, boneless with pleasure, on Billy's back.

"Is this okay?" He whispered in the ear, which was as sexy as ever even minus the little costume points.

"Mmmmmmm," Billy said, as Dom flexed his hips slowly. "God, yes. Just…" gasp "…don't stop." Dom withdrew a little, and pressed slowly back home. "Motherfucker," he whimpered into the pillow, and Dom nibbled the edge of his ear.

He rocked slowly, a lot like one of his favorite fantasies, except that now he could smell and taste the sweat. The room was heavy with sex and thick with moonlight, and the blankets pulled over them kept them decadently warm even as they slowly cooled, moving only in slow, leisurely little thrusts and swirls. The cool air still nibbled at Dom's fingertips and his nose, which he pressed into Billy's hair. Billy turned his head, his mouth open in a liquid circle and his eyelids lowered over flushed cheeks. Dom stole a wicked slippery kiss and another as he rocked a bit deeper and accepted a little moan of approval.

That was one of the fantasies that was most prone to ending with cuddles and forbidden whispers. Billy came before Dom did, after he'd changed his angle to hit Billy's prostate with every thrust, and the smooth contractions around his cock made him come at last, long and almost hard enough to scream. In that moment of greatest danger, he pressed his face against the curve between Billy's neck and shoulder, and it was both a relief and a heavy weight that he didn't say "I love you" or any of the rest.

He pulled out after a minute, and Billy made a soft little murmur of protest, one hand, open next to his face on the pillow, flexing. Dom settled next to him instead of on top of him again. The sheets there were cool, the blankets still toasty warm. One of his legs was still tangled in Billy's--at least, until Billy turned on his side, pulled Dom up against him, and wrapped himself around Dom like another blanket.

After Billy was asleep, a few silent tears leaked from Dom's closed eyes and trickled down his temple and his cheek to the pillow. He didn't move his arms, one of which was pinned down, the other wrapped around Billy, to wipe them away.

He woke up hardly aware that he wasn't dreaming, with one of Billy's hands low on his stomach, tracing between the muscles there, the other cupped over his mouth. He could feel the whole lengths of their bodies spooned together, lying on his side--and he'd woken because Billy had just parted his legs from behind with a knee and his cock was nudging between the cheeks of Dom's ass. "Shhhh," Billy whispered, hot air gusting in his ear, as he found the right angle and slid in in one long, even motion, until their bodies were snugged perfectly together, waking Dom the rest of the way as his nerves caught fire. Dom gasped into the hand covering his mouth and felt a smile against the back of his neck.

A withdrawal, just a tiny bit slower than Dom wanted, and another forceful thrust, faster and deeper than before. Dom bit Billy's hand on the next withdrawal, and Billy chuckled in his ear on the next entry, teasingly slow, with an extra little rocking of his hips at the end. "Oh," Dom said, moving backwards. Billy's hand, lying flat on his stomach, rubbed a soothing circle. Then he pulled out again, almost all the way, and came back in, finally a little harder and faster. Dom thought he could cry, it felt so fucking unbelievable.

Dom vaguely registered a movement, maybe Billy's face moving against his hair or on the nape of his neck, in the agonizing still pause before the next time Billy slid slowly out. Dom's hips rocked back to meet the next thrust--and evidently he hadn't been all the way awake, after all, and he wasn't dreaming, because only then did he realize what he was feeling: the exquisite burning of flesh on flesh. Not latex. Not lubricant.

Billy was panting against the back of his neck, and the next thrust was a little sooner, a little harder, and angled a little better, so Dom saw spots. They lay still like that for a while; Dom couldn't remember how to breathe at first. He gradually became aware, then, of a tiny, almost imperceptible flexing of Billy's hips. The sensation took him over one inch at a time until he was all but lost in it, couldn't get enough, rocking back as Billy's hips slowly rotated and his cock moved inside of Dom without withdrawing or thrusting at all. Finally, when he was so frustrated he was almost ready to change positions, Billy leaned forward and whispered in his ear, in a ragged, torn voice: "Ready?"

Dom turned his head for answer and finally caught Billy's mouth in a deep, sweet kiss, while they were motionless for a while. Billy returned it, then pulled back at length. "Okay," he said, settling back, and withdrew in one long, smooth movement, then pushed back in, just a hair faster. Out, then in, and out, and in, each time gaining a little speed until there were no pauses remaining between, just one long, blind ride, with Dom melting into the mattress, and not even realizing Billy's hand had wrapped around his cock until he'd been jerked in time to the thrusts several times in a row.

They came together, and just before, Dom turned his head, panting, for another kiss. Their tongues twined together as Billy pushed in as deeply as he could, at last, and the spasms rolled over both of them, shaking them like rag dolls, making them shiver and sweat at once.

Just on the edge of sleep, Dom woke up again when Billy, fully limp, slowly pulled out, then curled up against Dom's back. He drifted away to a deep sleep that needed no dreams to sweeten it on the feeling of Billy's arms wrapping around him.

He was aware of being alone before he was even fully awake, and regret came crashing over him, deep enough to drown in. No regret for what he had done, but regret that he hadn't stayed awake longer, and saved every minute of the night that he could. It might never--would probably never--happen again. He remembered fucking long and slowly twice, carefully and more tenderly than he ever had before, so sweet he hardly felt all the little aches in his body for it.

Oh, God.

No wonder he couldn't remember it as perfectly as he would have liked to--it was like a drug, and you could get high just from the memory of it, Billy's open mouth on his shoulder, licking his stomach, their soft, slow kisses, the delicious rough friction of his cock slowly entering. Dom felt his whole body starting to melt back into a state of deep arousal, his cock (and other parts) throbbing, and tried to will it all away. He should get up and go into his own room to relive it, if he could get out without seeing Billy. He could jerk off there--as soon as he got rid of this stickiness all over his belly and thighs.

And his cheeks, of course. He was crying again, something he'd done more times last night and this morning than he had in at least a year or two before that. How strange that he felt numb at the same time his body was coming awake, screaming with want again.

Then the mattress dipped next to him and he tensed at once, hard and cold all over even under the blanket and sheet, smelling pungently and saltily of semen and heated by their bodies. The next thing he felt was a feather-light touch brushing hair back from his ear, then smoothing his forehead. A creak of springs, and a shift, and a draft of cold air as the blankets were lifted. Then a shock of goosebumps as cold feet touched his and a cool arm wrapped over him again.

What a hopeless idiot he was, first for getting so ridiculously upset about Billy's absence as if it must mean something, then for not getting away when he could have, now for thinking his return meant something and relaxing under the curl of his arm. Why should it be more important now than it was just before he woke up? Billy slept again, but Dom was determined not to lose a moment, and he wanted to savor this embrace before they made love again.

It didn't take long for his plans to make what felt like all the blood in his body rush between his legs, and all his nerves rush to the surface of his skin. It was going to have to be soon--he couldn't wait much longer without touching himself, and then it might all be over. However, when Dom shifted experimentally, he discovered a rather pressing need to piss. That was probably where Billy had gone.

He rolled gingerly away from Billy and sat up, but when he sat up and moved to slide off the edge of the bed, he was surprised by the feel of Billy's warm hand catching his.

Dom turned and looked, while their fingers seemed to lace together automatically. Billy's eyes were open and seemed fully alert. Dom wondered if he'd really been asleep. His eyes had always been wide and soft, amazing eyes, like a cartoon character's, or like a girl would wish for. Now they seemed even wider, his mouth in a straight line but not quite still. "Don't leave," he whispered.

"But--" Dom began.

Billy interrupted, and sat up, the blanket falling away from him, "Stay," his voice as rough as when he'd said "Ready?" Dom shivered.

"How--" He had to clear his throat. "How long?" He still wanted time for more sex, but it might have to be quick, because he didn't know what time it was and he wasn't sure how excited he was about the idea of Sean and Lige knowing what was going on.

Billy leaned forward and said fiercely, "As long as you will." Then his voice dropped. "Until you don't want to anymore. As long as I can make you want to." He didn't bother to clear his throat, and he'd leaned forward, his eyes wide and wet, just like in the fantasy.

Dom's mouth was open, but unlike in the fantasy, he couldn't make an answer come to his lips. "Billy--" he breathed, framing the delicate face in his hands and falling headlong into another one of those long, stirring kisses. In the fantasies, that was always all that had been necessary to communicate all either of them could ever want, which explained why he hadn't realized Billy would need any more explanation than that.

The kiss broke, and Billy said tremblingly against his lips, "You'll stay?"

"Yes," he said, breathing the surprisingly palatable tickle of Billy's breath in the morning, "I love you. God, yes--" And the "sss" trailed off in a hiss as they kissed again, a hungry, joyful kiss. He discovered he liked the taste of those words, and repeated them, murmuring into the kiss "I love you" again. He liked even better the unreal texture of Billy's lips forming them back against his.

End