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Title: Words
Author: kiltsandlollies
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: R
Summary: what happens when the words are taken away?
Author's Note: written for the Iconography challenge. My thanks to foreversmitten and lifeinwords for the challenge and for my lovely icon. I hope I've done it some justice. This goes out to autumnlecroix, who is just shockingly good fun. Thank you to Morwen for the quick beta and outstanding suggestions.



This is the last time Billy will do this.

Dominic stands before him, his arms outstretched, his palms up and flat. Billy holds the leather cuffs, the bracelets, in his own hands, and he hates the feel of them: hates the softness of the leather and how it molds around Dominic’s wrists, hates the contented little noise Dominic makes when they are back on those wrists after the last several hours without them.

Dominic doesn’t know this is the end.

He can’t know, really; Billy’s dropped no hints about stopping this, and he certainly gave no signs of discomfort earlier as they brought each other incredible, nearly silent pleasure. As ever, Dominic’s body went liquid and pliant under Billy’s, and Billy loved every quiet moment of it. But there’s a limit to what one person can endure, and the knowledge that every time they do this, Billy will have to replace the cuffs, well—that’s Billy’s limit.

The beginning was easy enough.

Dominic began coming to him once, twice a month almost as soon as the initial filming was over. As much as Dominic loved Elijah—and of this there was no doubt and no discussion—he needed sometimes to be somewhere else, with someone else. As Dominic’s best friend, Billy knew he was supposed to be there for him, to hear him out, but Dominic wasn’t interested in speaking, so there was nothing to listen to. To listen for.

Dominic wanted silence, and that was easy enough to give.

After the first time, while Billy was still stunned and exhausted, Dominic had told him how Elijah never shut up, even in bed, and there was always noise in the house: video games, music, the television. Elijah simply couldn’t exist without his personal soundtrack, and even when Dominic walked around the house unplugging everything he could find, there was still the chatter, the running commentary of Elijah’s day and the planning of Elijah’s night. Elijah used up all the words between them, leaving nothing unsaid, nothing left to breathe in the air.

It gets to be tiresome for Dominic, and he can’t afford to be tired.

Dominic is determined to be happy, after so many years of anger, and he’s found happiness in this: the constant noise of Elijah and the occasional silence of Billy. Billy knows that when Dominic leaves him, he leaves refreshed, renewed, ready to bounce back into the blurry sounds and sights of Elijah’s life. It is exactly what he needs, and in exchange for the silence, he’s willing to give up the cuffs, the very symbols of his attachment to the boy.

But when it’s time to go, he always makes Billy put them back on.

Billy can’t imagine that Dominic does this with any sort of malice. It is just part of the agreement: the silence, the releasing of Dominic’s cuffs, and now the newer ritual, begun two months ago: the shaving of Billy’s beard, which he’s letting grow out in between work. Dominic explains gently that there can be no marks, no burn, no scratches on his body that would betray them, and Billy merely nods.

This gentle explanation makes up the only words they’ve spoken for the last two months.

Billy can accept this, but he doesn’t have to like it, any more than he has to like putting the damned cuffs back on. They’re still in his hands, getting heavier, and Dominic is shifting slightly from one foot to the other, getting impatient but only just. His eyes have gone from their pleasure–rich blue back to the stormy, murky grey Billy so hates, and Billy knows he’ll start fussing—silently—in another minute or so.

Billy’s certainly accustomed to this sea change in Dominic’s eyes.

Dominic’s eyes always turn blue just before Billy leans over him in bed and cradles his face in his hands. Billy has intimate knowledge of what Dominic and Elijah do in bed, and therefore makes a point to do everything differently. He has never taken Dominic from behind—partly because Elijah does, almost always, and partly because Billy wants Dominic to see who’s fucking him, who he’s begged to fuck him, thank you, even when Billy’s not so certain it’s the best idea—and he has never, ever, restrained Dominic in any way, even when it’s apparent that Dominic wouldn’t mind.

He’s also never hurt Dominic. Never hit him, never left any real marks.

After the third time, Billy told himself that he never would do such things. Not out of any particular desire to be gentle to Dominic, mind you, but again, to make sure Dominic remembered where he was and who he was with. Dominic worries scratches, scars and bruises, Billy knows, and he can tell you exactly when and where he received them. He will even press your fingers into them and squirm under the touch, enjoying the pain again.

Billy refuses to be remembered by bruises, scars. He can accept being remembered for silence.

Silence as he allows Dominic to straddle him, razor in one hand, a warm, creamy brush in the other, while Billy holds him firm on his hips, keeping Dominic from actually sitting in his lap, making Dominic’s terribly strong thighs clench and tighten in his grasp. Silence as he runs his fingers under the leather cuffs, loosening them before he takes them off with precise care. Silence as his mouth works over Dominic’s again and again.

Both Billy and Dominic are grateful that they don’t count little breaths and gasps as words.

Because indeed, Elijah has taken most of the words between them as well. If Billy tries to speak now, the wrong words will come out—harsh words about Elijah, about Dominic, about himself—and there won’t be any words left at all. This revelation comes after the seventh time, when Billy lies awake watching Dominic twitch in his sleep, his hands rubbing his wrists incessantly, searching for the feel of the leather.

Dominic obviously doesn’t sleep well unrestrained, either physically or emotionally.

But the lack of words doesn’t matter so much now when they’re in bed, and Dominic is sighing and cooing and moving himself against Billy, asking, pleading—pleasing—all without words. It obviously comforts Dominic, and that’s all Billy really wanted to do. Really planned to do. There’s no point in trying for more, not when Dominic is bound to Elijah by more than the leather cuffs.

It’s easy for Billy to tell himself this as Dominic sleeps, however fitfully.

It’s considerably harder when he looks up and Dominic is still waiting for Billy to finish his work. Dominic’s face is flushing, and his eyes are now the color of river water. He is getting frustrated, and there’s also a slight twinge of fear there that Billy can sense. Dominic really has no idea what’s taking so long. Why this has become too hard for Billy to accomplish. Dominic knows that Billy’s finds comfort in ritual, so why this, why now?

Still, they do not break the silence.

Silence that filled them when Dominic took Billy into his furnace of a mouth, silence when Billy’s hips rose off the bed and Dominic slammed them back down in a show of force he never used on Elijah, silence as Billy shook and shivered and sucked in air through his teeth as he came and Dominic drank him dry. Silence as Billy ran his hands through Dominic’s sweaty, matted hair while he kissed him.

Silence through it all.

Dominic does not know that Billy broke the silence himself as soon as Dominic fell asleep after this time and crept into the next room to call his agent. Billy would not be at Collectormania, would not have to watch Dominic and Elijah play with their fans and smile and laugh and embrace each other and Astin and act like everything was alright. As Billy’s told himself, there is a limit.

Dominic lets out a hot, angered breath, and Billy meets his eyes. It’s time to release Dominic, back to captivity.

Billy reminds himself that this is Dominic’s chosen captivity, though, as he rolls the leather in between his fingers. It is not his own. He won’t do this anymore. He lays his own palms open, and the cuffs fall to the floor, accompanied only by the percussive gasp of Dominic’s surprise. Still, to his credit, Dominic doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to, because his eyes speak for him—more fear, more frustration.

Billy feels the weight of two years’ pain leave him to disappear into Dominic’s breath.

“Goodbye,” he says softly, and rises.

Because Elijah cannot take all the words. Not from him.

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