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Title: Moonbright
Author: kiltsandlollies
Pairing: BB/DM (of course)
Rating: NC–17
Note: Something soft and slow and smutty for shirasade and her many kindnesses to me. *hearts*


There's no real light in the room when Dominic wakes in the middle of the night. He's only just begun to get accustomed to this; though Billy enjoys any and all kinds of bedsport in any and all kinds of light, he wants complete darkness in which to sleep. The blinds and curtains are drawn, and only the thinnest slice of moonlight fights its way into the bedroom. Dominic raises his hand in the air, cutting a shadow through that sliver of pale, weak light, and as if he's read Dominic's mind, Billy turns in half–sleep to face him.

"Sleep," Billy whispers, his words falling into the pillow and his eyes already closing again. "Hours yet ..."

Dominic nods, and curls around Billy's body, tucking them into each other. And though they've already made love tonight, hours ago, in the last of the evening light, Dominic feels himself stirring against Billy. Billy sighs and moves impossibly closer, his smaller body so warm, so yielding that Dominic can hardly keep his hand still. It roams all over Billy's back, slowly and with a certainty he's earned over the past year, and slides down along the curve of Billy's hip. Dominic strokes seven soft, ever–widening circles there, listening for the hitch in Billy's breath and waiting for the rising heat between the two of them.

When it comes, Dominic is ready. Billy whispers something that sounds like the sweetest curse before Dominic's lips overtake his. Dominic turns them, rolls them so Billy is on his back and his deceptively strong arms are wrapping around Dominic now.

"Don't wake," Dominic murmurs into the corner of Billy's mouth. "Don't open your eyes. 'S for you, Billy." Billy's head turns once, twice on the pillow, and then he settles, his arms slipping down and his body going pliant beneath Dominic. Dominic smiles in the darkness and descends, his lips and tongue moving gently over and around Billy's face and throat, his chest and shoulders. Dominic drops his hips to Billy's at the exact moment his mouth covers Billy's again, and Billy releases a gasp.

Dominic moves lower, a little faster now. Billy's fingers clutch at the sheet, and Dominic takes that wandering hand in his own and allows Billy to squeeze and stroke in silent, sleepy need. Dominic breathes a warm trail down Billy's stomach and reaches with his free hand for Billy's cock, flushed darker and full. Dominic turns his wrist—still, still so slowly that if Billy were not lost to his state of exhaustion, they would both be crying out to hurry, come on, now.

Dominic's raspy tongue flicks over the head of Billy's cock, and Billy does indeed cry out, but much softer than Dominic's used to. Billy's thighs tremble, and Dominic watches the line of taut muscle flex and relax over and over again in something like awed joy. He's only managed a few moments of this happy work, this touch–and–tease of tongue–and–teeth, before Billy's hand falls to his hair, not pushing him to go further and faster as usual, but tugging gently instead to bring him back up.

"Please," Billy whispers, but can say no more. Dominic understands, because he's said the same, felt the same all too recently. He stares down into Billy's half–closed eyes to be sure before he moves again. It's not often that Billy chooses to remain on his back and receive Dominic this way, and that arrangement suits them both. But Dominic breathes in deep and lets his hand travel back down between Billy's legs while his mouth whisper–breathes against Billy's cheek.

"You taste like the rain last weekend," Dominic sighs. "Like wind and the fire you built on the beach. You taste like me and you and sweat and saltwater, Billy—" Billy arches and shivers at the third finger, the last gentle turn of Dominic's hand, and Dominic tucks his head into Billy's shoulder to press a kiss there before he rises up enough to see and feel everything now.

Billy’s hands and arms, freed by Dominic’s movements, rise up as well to stretch above Billy’s head. Dominic’s breath catches at the sight of Billy’s body tightening, lengthening then relaxing beneath him. On Billy’s deep inhale, his hips shift against Dominic’s, and they both make low, needy sounds deep in their throats. Dominic braces himself, hands flat on the mattress, and moves forward slowly—still, still slowly—inside Billy. Billy makes no sound, but his eyelashes flutter and fall, denying Dominic the vision he needs just now, that of Billy’s eyes caught in moonlight and peace. He tries to speak, to beg Billy to look at him, but his voice disappears into the warmth of Billy’s body. It’s only when Billy relaxes against and Dominic feels his hips slide tight and smooth against Billy’s, into the space that belongs only to him, that Billy finally does open his eyes again, just enough, and exhales, taking Dominic’s breath along with his voice.

“Please,” Billy whispers again, and Dominic rolls his hips gently, carefully, wanting to carry this out until something stronger than moonlight plays over Billy’s features. Billy’s hand moves erratically up Dominic’s arm, stroking and kneading the muscle there as if to hurry Dominic’s pace, and Dominic laughs, low and dark. He’s not having any of that, not now. Not now when he can lower himself just that small bit more and change the angle of his hips and leave Billy gasping again. But Dominic understands this motion and need of Billy’s, too, as well as he understands the sound of his own name trapped in Billy’s faint sigh.

Dominic’s hand moves to Billy’s cheek, a brief moment of softer, more intimate caress, before his movements finally quicken. His fingers curl around Billy’s cock, turning, twisting as they did long moments ago. Billy speaks once more, another variation of Dominic’s name to add to an already overlong list, and then he tenses, his body hard and taut again. Billy is coming, over Dominic’s hand and in between their stomachs, and Dominic bears down to feel every bit of it before he’s overcome, too. The shivers that run though Billy make their way up and down Dominic’s sides as well, until he pushes one last time and calls up deities Billy’s certain do not even exist.

Dominic falls, heavy and warm, on Billy, eclipsing the widening streak of moonlight in the room. He can hear Billy’s breath changing already, can feel him drifting back into the arms of sleep—arms that never really let him go, even through all of this. Dominic takes his time sliding away from Billy, and he’s careful to keep the bathroom dark as he cleans up, not wanting to disturb Billy’s rest in any less pleasant way than he’s just done. He throws an extra towel on the bed before he walks to the window and stares through the small opening of the curtains out into the street—at the moon still begging for entrance into Billy’s nocturnal calm.

Dominic’s hands close around the edges of the curtains, drawing them tighter until the evidence of the moon can be neither seen nor felt. Billy will rest easier this way, and by extension so will Dominic. He crawls back into the bed and takes up the towel to rub seven more small circles, this time over Billy’s stomach, tending to him in darkness as Billy does so often to him in light.

Dominic’s still only just begun to get accustomed to this, but he loves it already, so deeply. And he is content to be the only source of light Billy will have in his room—in his sleep, in his darkness, in his night.


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