Dom stepped off the plane, exhausted and still not sure why he was there. There had been no apology letter with the ticket, no acknowledgment of the non communication of the past two weeks. And yet he still stood here because Billy had sent for him and he couldn’t bare to not go.
At the end of the exit ramp a chauffeur stood with a sign bearing the words D. Monaghan in big black lettering. He followed the man to a black limousine. He knew not to ask questions. It was Billy’s signature. The Scot had often left him unsigned notes with directions or sent nameless faces to bring him to some secret location. Normally, the anticipation would be biting at him, the lust so palpable, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself back. Now, he was nothing but numb.
The limo slowed down as they rolled through the back lot of the studio Dom was filming at. The back lot was empty and dark. He could see the sun setting behind the buildings, pink and purple bands streaking the sky.
He didn’t know what to say to Billy when he saw him. Should he pretend these past two weeks without communication didn’t bother him or tell him how much it hurt? How upset he felt at not receiving one phone call, one email, one letter? Dom sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back against the headrest. It wasn’t for very long as the limo came to a stop only seconds later.
The door opened and he stepped out into the warm California air. The driver pointed him toward the trailer a few feet in front of him and he followed. He knocked firmly on the door and it flew open just as he brought his hand back for a second rap. Billy was grinning, but the second he saw Dom’s face, the smile faltered.
“Dommie . . . what’s wrong?”
He reached out a hand and Dom found himself being pulled into the trailer. He looked around and noted the clothing and books strewn about. Billy had always been the messy one.
“You didn’t call.” There was a dazed quality to his voice.
“I wanted to surprise you.” Billy was behind him and he just kept walking further back into the trailer.
“You should have called. I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Billy’s warm hands found their way under Dom’s sweater to the flat plane of his abdomen. “Dommie . . . ” His mouth was hot on Dom’s skin and he almost gave in. Almost. Dom pulled away from Billy’s warmth and turned around to face him.
“It hurt, Bills. It really hurt. I thought– I thought you were done, that it was over. Why didn’t you call me?” The dreamy quality to his voice was now gone and there was a raw, pleading note instead. He stood eye to eye with Billy, gripping the other man’s forearms.
“I’m sorry.” Billy leaned forward to kiss him but Dom turned his face. “Dommie.” He brought his hands up and rested the palm’s on Dom’s cheeks. “Let’s go back to my place and talk.”
Dom nodded and followed Billy out of the trailer. The limo that had brought him there was still waiting and the two men climbed silently into the back. They sat at opposite ends, the gap between them much wider than the foot that lay between them. As they rode down the dark streets of the quiet L.A. suburb, Billy placed his hand over Dom’s. He sat there, unmoving, absorbing the warmth of the Scotsman’s fingers. Not receiving a response, Billy started to pull his hand away but Dom turned his own over and grabbed at the retreating warmth. He couldn’t let go, not now, not ever. He had been so cold these past couple weeks.
It wasn’t until they reached the apartment twenty minutes later that they parted hands. Billy’s apartment was just as he imagined it, a bit more spacious than the last one and a lot messier. He made his way over to the couch and sat down, waiting for Billy to join him. Bills seated himself next to Dom, a small gap between them. He was the first one to speak.
“I wanted to call you. I did. It’s just . . . ”
“You were busy?”
“No,” Billy shot back. “I didn’t think you even cared. I was afraid you were going to tell me it was over.” He straightened some mail on the coffee table in front of him as he waited for Dom to say something.
“Why would you think that?” His voice was strained.
“That night before I left, you were so distant, like you were just going through the motions when we made love. You’ve never done that before, Dom.” He looked at him sadly. Dom put a hand on his knee.
“I didn’t want you to leave. I just didn’t know how to say it.”
He slid closer to him and the two men leaned against each other. Dom began rubbing his hand in small circles on the inside of Billy’s thigh, each stroke bringing him higher and higher. He turned his face into Billy’s neck placing light kisses on the delicate skin behind his ear.
“We were so stupid,” he murmured “So, so stupid.”
In one swift move, he was straddling the older man, pushing his shoulders into the back of the couch. Eyes trained on Billy’s, he slipped his hands under the man’s shirt and sighed at the feeling of soft hair beneath his fingertips. He leaned forward and covered Billy’s lips with his own. He ran his tongue over them until they parted, then thrust in forcefully. He wanted to taste him, imprint that flavor on his tongue so that he’d never ever have to be without it again.
Billy gasped at the rough intrusion and again when Dom’s fingers found their way to his nipples, twisting them almost to the point of pain. Dom knew he was being rough, knew it was entirely unexpected, but also that Billy loved it, if his twitching cock was anything to go by. He pulled back from the kiss and smirked, then removed his hands from under the shirt, grabbed a handful of fabric on either side of Billy’s chest and pulled, buttons flying everywhere.
“Dommie?” Billy stared down at him, eyes wide.
He just shrugged and bent forward, latching his tongue onto Billy’s nipple. The moan that escaped the Scot’s lips had Dom straining painfully against his jeans and he reached down to free himself, fist pumping the swollen flesh. He freed Billy with the other hand and, with a salacious wink, covered his cock with his mouth.
It was only the third time he had ever gone down on Billy but those two before had never been quite like this. Maybe it was the anger he had been bottling up for these past couple weeks that heightened his senses, made him more aware of every vein on that perfect organ, every ripple that went through Billy’s body as he desperately tried to hold back, of how his own skin would burst into glorious flame every time a part of Billy’s own would brush against his.
He sucked greedily at the head, swirling his tongue around it in an almost manic desire to taste and know all, abandoning his own weeping cock to grab Billy’s hips and hold them still as he took him again fully into his mouth. He thrust forward, impaling his mouth on the delicious flesh, over and over again, lips bruised, cheeks flushed and cock begging to be touched. And when he felt the muscles in Billy’s thighs tighten, he slid a hand down to his own shaft and began stroking feverishly. One last quick thrust of his mouth and the two men came, Billy violently in Dom’s mouth, head thrown back, screaming and Dom lips clamped tightly around Billy’s pulsing cock trying to swallow every last bit.
Billy collapsed against the back of the couch, panting. Dom wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned back in between Billy’s legs. The two sat in silence trying to regulate their breathing, Dom wondering what the hell had come over him. Suddenly, Billy’s arms were around him, his lips close to his ear.
“Stay with me, Dom. Move to L.A. and stay with me. Here. Us. Together,” he murmured in between kisses. Dom nodded, then froze.
“You don’t think the neighbors heard that, do you?”