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Title: Untitled
Author: kiltsandlollies
Pairing: Billy/Dominic
Rating: R
Note: No idea about the direction this might go, let's be clear. I don't even have a title. But I'm not questioning it. One of ... whatever happens over the next week, I think.

Dominic’s fallen asleep with the phone in his hand again.

Billy can empathize, but not very much. After his own last attempt to call home left him on the line for ten minutes venting to a sympathetic listener who turned out to not be Margaret after all, just a wrong but curious number, Billy’s made a vow not to pick up any phones at all after ten at night. Dominic’s never been the type to give up that easily, but even he admits that neither his brain nor his fingers work all that well when presented with technology after a full day’s filming.

When Billy takes the phone from Dominic’s grip, Dominic shifts on the bed and tsks under his breath, moving for the most part on instinct as he makes room for Billy on the mattress. Billy smiles and crawls into the open space of Dominic’s side, pleased to for once be the one more awake, more alive and aware.

“Look at you,” Billy murmurs. “Sleepy fifty year old man trapped in a 22-year-old’s body. Not aging well here, are you, Dom?”

“Tired,” Dominic mutters in return, turning over. “Least my hair’s going t’grow back after all this shite.”

“That wasn’t necessary. To think I’d come in here to shag you, Dom. Next you’ll tell me this isn’t an option.”

Dominic laughs now, a gravelly noise muffled by his pillow. “You’re fucking joking. Did I spend all day working with your stand-in? Is that how you’ve got energy to even think about shagging?”

“It doesn’t take that much energy just to think.” Billy’s hand falls to Dominic’s waist, curling there with his fingers moving deftly beneath the elastic of boxers Dominic still wears—a mark, Billy decides, of how tired Dominic really is. “’m tired, too, Dom,” he says softly. “But not enough that I forget where I left my own bed.”

Dominic blinks at that, then peers at his surroundings, or rather Billy’s, because yes, he has indeed stumbled into Billy’s bed in their temporary housing, and not his own. Billy’s books are stacked on the table, and the clothes tossed around the room show a restraint in design and colour that Dominic has happily yet to learn.

“I’m thinking,” Billy continues, his voice lulling but still cheerful, “while I still have the energy to do so, that you might have wanted company tonight, however tired you are; otherwise you would have made your way to your own room instead of sullying mine.”

“Company,” Dominic repeats around a yawn, but he’s already moving easily into Billy’s arms. “Okay, maybe.”

“And you’ll of course be expecting me to do the work here.”

“I might.”

Billy’s hand moves to Dominic’s shoulder, pressing him onto his back again. “So what, then? Were you looking for me to suck you off or fuck you, hmm? Maybe both?”

“Both would be ... good. Both would earn you my—” Another yawn, almost Wookie–like, and Billy’s gurgling laughter is nearly as loud. “I was going to say my undying gratitude.”

Billy snorts. “I earned that after you peed on my shoes at the fountain and I let you live to see the next day, Dom. Maybe you should be sucking me off.”

“Only if I get to fuck you after.”

The words slur from between Dominic’s tired lips, but they hang in the air for a moment along with the breaths Billy and Dominic are both holding. Five months into filming and two into what they’ve opted very firmly not to call a relationship, they haven’t even discussed switching what have become comfortable roles in bed and out.

Billy exhales finally, rising a little on his hands above Dominic, and his voice is low and terribly calm. “Is this some new proviso, Dom? Because y’can’t pull this sort of thing in the middle of the night, and I—can’t think about that now—”

Dominic lifts his hand to Billy’s mouth, covering it gently. “I never said it. You never heard it.”

Billy grabs Dominic’s hand and pushes it back down to the pillow. “We’re not writing a fucking script, and you don’t get to make cuts.” Billy’s can hear himself, and his voice sounds cold and dry until he takes a breath, levels off and tries again. “Is that what you want? Do you need that from me, Dom?”

“Not now,” Dominic says quickly, his fingers fluttering in Billy’s grip and his eyes going steely, determined. “But yeah, I do—”

“Why not—”

“Because if I can fuck tonight up this fast just talking, think how much worse it could get.”

Billy holds his breath again, then nods. “It’ll happen,” he whispers, and Dominic nods, too.

“Yeah, it will, when I’m not so fucking tired and you’re not so fucking tense.” Dominic relaxes again and pulls Billy down closer with his free hand. “C’mere.”

“We should—just sleep, Dom—”

“Too late,” Dominic murmurs, and he spreads his thighs beneath Billy, urging him gently and guiding Billy’s free hand back down to the boxers. “You wouldn’t anyway, not like this.” Dominic offers a slow–spreading smile as his hips rise up. “And if you think I came in here just to sleep—”

“Point taken,” Billy sighs, and he tugs first at Dominic’s boxers, then his own. “You fucking exhaust me.”

Dominic just hums in response, lifting his hips to meet Billy’s. It’s not a proper shagging; it’s not even their own particular brand of messy trailer sex. What it is is comfort, enough to settle them both. The only moments of ferocity come as Dominic bears down, heels digging into the mattress, and Billy grits out a warning for him to not fight it. It’s just another instinctual movement of Dominic’s, and at the sound of Billy’s voice it ends immediately, and Dominic comes with relief running through him like blood. Billy’s release is not so quiet, but then it had become more necessary than Dominic’s, maybe. They both recognize it, but neither says another word.

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