"I know what it was," Billy murmurs, face turned into the hot crook of Dom's neck for the space of a heartbeat before he shifts his eyes to the opposite side of the hall. He feels smug all over, smug and thick like paint or blood, being smeared and manipulated by Dom's talented hands.

"What's that?" Dom replies, wet between two kisses as their cocks grind through thin fabric. The silk of Billy's tie is bound twice around his fist. The wooden door behind them gently squeaks a rhythm. Billy's hands obediently give way, shifting around to his lower back.

"The statuette," Billy whispers, truly distracted now, and the hall is very empty and very long, and the silk is being knotted around his wrists. "Sort of...phallic, don't you think?"

Dom snickers, able to balance amused and going to suck you so hard you're going to forget your name without a moment's hesitation. When Dom grips Billy through his fancy dress trousers and begins harshly rubbing, Billy hisses through his teeth and arches back into the door.

"Perhaps not?" he pushes out, lungs working against him.

"Don't move," Dom says, kissing Billy's eager little mouth, tonguing the space between two lips. "Don't fucking move, okay?"

"Yeah."

Dom falls to his knees with an ease that Billy has never found in another human being. Bless his sexually immediate wee self, Billy thinks, and twists his wrists just to feel the fabric resist as Dom puffs hot breath across the bulge in Billy's trousers.

And fuck all, Billy thinks, because it's not even started and he has already forgotten his name. Just call me Bobby, just call me Christopher, he sing-songs to some local tune in his head, torn between laughing and choking when Dom swallows Billy's cock to the back of his throat.

His ass hitting the door as he gently fucks Dom's mouth is the only noise along the hall. The whisper of layers of cloth floats up, tickling his ears like a ghostly kiss. He thinks he's going to come a dozen times but doesn't and, during half those, feels Dom consciously slow down. He briefly considers begging but bites the sentiment down. After seven more false alarms, he wants to die. It nearly hurts. It's fucking amazing.

"Dom," Billy says, dangerously low, and it isn't a movie-screen moan, but a sort of threatening, stuttering call for attention, and he can feel Dom grin in response. "Fuck, please...?"

Dom's tongue licks a stripe up his balls, along the underside, and tongues-kisses the head back into hot, wet mouth. "Mmm."

And then a hand comes up, a beautiful hand, a wonderful hand, Billy thinks, oh god, thank you lovely hand, bless you and all your future hand babies and grandbabies, and Dom is smoothly jerking the length of his cock. When he comes it's like emptying the inside of his skull, like liquefying all those squishy red organs into his cock. He is halfway to the floor with Dom's hands holding him up. He loses track of how many times Dom has to swallow.

"FuckingChristalmighty."

Nimble fingers pick the tie from around Billy's wrists. He brings his hands up, rubbing the overly pink skin there. Dom's face brushes his, the corners of their mouths nuzzling affectionately.

"Wasn't the award," Dom says, eyelashes brushing cheek as his lids sink low. "It's always you."

The hallway seems to be listening.

"Come inside," Billy asks, says, wonders. Isn't sure exactly what that means, but is sure that he means it.

They go to bed.