by Giuliana

Billy (fully and smartly clothed) has Dom (freshly showered with a towel still wrapped around his waist) splayed across the expanse of the otherwise bare dining room table as he attacks Dom's just-shaved throat with lips and teeth. Against Billy's tongue, Dom is an acrid blend of aftershave, soap, sweat, and the coppery consequence from a small razor nick below his left ear. Dimly, Billy hears the clock in the hall chime a quarter past six.

"Billy," Dom gasps, one hand fisting the opened collar of Billy's dress shirt and the other seeking and finding purchase on Billy's arse. "They'll be here soon. You have to set the table," he says and tries to roll his hips against Billy. Billy arches with him, refusing firm contact.

Billy looks up, the corners of his mouth peaked. "I am."

"What are--"

Billy cuts short the question with fingers to Dom's mouth and a terse, "Quiet." His hand slides down, across, and under to the small of Dom's back, coaxing his hips to lift. When they do, Billy yanks away white terrycloth, letting it fall to the floor. He tugs roughly on Dom's cock once, twice, scraping his thumb across the head before letting go as abruptly as he'd grabbed hold. Dom curses, the right edge of his mouth curling upwards.

Billy tenderly cups Dom's jaw, and Dom's sneer fades. Billy paints Dom's mouth with pre-come -- a transient stroke to each side of the upper lip; a leisurely smear across the bottom; a finishing, perpendicular thumbprint dab to the center. He pauses, thumb pressed against the indent of Dom's chin, and looks at his work, at his Dom. Twisting Dom's hair in his fingers, he dips his head and captures the point of Dom's chin with his mouth, licking away the bitter residue left there by his thumb. Dom clutches the back of Billy's shirt, and Billy kisses him, fiercely and thoroughly.

A low sound from deep inside Billy's throat is answered by one from Dom's, and Billy breaks contact, licking his lips and absorbing Dom's flushed skin, scrunched closed eyes, and shiny, parted mouth. With the appearance of little effort, Billy pulls away and gets off the table. He pushes Dom flat when he tries to follow.

"Stay," he says and keeps his hand on Dom's chest just long enough to feel Dom's heart rate increase. Straightening his clothing, Billy carefully watches the emotions that flicker across Dom's face and grins outright when the final expression reflects an aspect of each. Billy swoops to pick up the discarded towel and deposits it in the laundry bin on his way to the kitchen. Throwing open a cupboard, he hums to himself and decides that tonight merits use of the good china.


Later, Elijah will fumble a bottle of wine, Sean will avert his eyes, Orlando will openly stare, and Viggo will just smile.


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