Billy's knackered by the time the guys play "Drunk". It's about halfway through the set and his mind's already conjuring up visions of fluffy pillows and plush mattresses. The slow, pointed rhythm of the song tastes soft at the back of his throat, slowing down his already sluggish mental processes. Fucking awesome, in his humble opinion, bringing all the frantic alcohol-induced tingling on his skin to a centralized vibration in his belly. Tastes like sleep, tastes like sex.

And it's like he fucking knows, man, like it's all about the progression to this rhythm, because Dom passes by just as the chorus plays, and Billy reaches out and snags him by his jacket.

"The hell you going," Billy shouts above the noise.

Dom twists and drapes one arm around Billy's neck. "No where special. Dance with me, Bill."

A dismissive scoff is the only reply, though Billy allows one arm to find Dom's hip and for their hips to find a gentle, swaying rhythm. What he doesn't expect is Dom's mouth against his jaw and ear, a confusion of motion and intent, just before his nostrils pick up the thick scent of beer.

"I'm not your type, though," Dom says, a loving mockery of the lyrics, and Billy can't help but laugh. "It's a shame, because you do have the most gorgeous smile, Pip."

Billy switches the rhythm of their swaying, wrapping his other arm around Dom's waist. "What's that? You called me Pip. You're fucking sloshed."

Dom's laugh is more a giggle, and he lewdly thrusts his hips into Billy's. "You love it."

"The decline of your liver is constantly at the front of my mind."

"Bugger that," Dom whines, sounding very much half-drunk. He's also very much wrapped around Billy, one hand at the back of Billy's neck and one resting snugly on Billy's lower back. "I'm drunk. As I should be. All's right with the world."

They spin, and Billy quickly shakes off a rush of vertigo. He's not drunk but he feels too good physically to be sober, and Dom's stubble burning the curve of his throat is not to be ignored. It's been so fucking long and when he's like this, he can't help but notice it.

"Love you," he says, sighing and resting his cheek against Dom's shoulder. The smell of leather is strong between them, almost but not quite overcome by the lingering scent of sweat and faded cologne. He can almost ignore the stubbly kisses that Dom presses to his neck and ear, but when teeth close around his earlobe in a sharp nip, he can't help but flinch. "Oi, quit it."

"Why?" Dom asks, and he draws out the last letter to the rhythm of the song, lightly rocking their pelvises together. "Bill, you're so cute. Cute like a fish." His voice breaks a bit, and he drops a hand to the curve of Billy's hip. "Hello, hello."

"You've gone round the bend," Billy hums, now feeling even more dizzy and, fuck, it's warm in here.

"You," Dom sings, twirling them about and around a cord that they nearly trip and kill themselves over, "you, you, you are, ehm." He giggles and shuffles said cord off his toe, which allows for the immediate return of his face to Billy's neck. "You're warm. Soft. Smell nice."

You've got a fucking hard-on, but you don't see me bringing that up, do you? Billy lifts his head and their cheeks bump. "A bit warm back here."

"I have that effect on people." His breath puffs across the corner of Billy's mouth and, curiously enough, panic doesn't set in. The temperature difference is like the proverbial carrot on a string, and once Billy's seen it he can't reign in the curiosity it lets loose. His mind goes blank, even when that warm puff filters between his lips, even when Dom's lips, animated with speech, brush his. "I wouldn't mind."

Fuck.

"Hello," Dom sighs, and they kiss, fucking kiss, what the hell, just a brief and wet slip of tongue between Billy's surprised, parted lips, and Dom's hand tightens and pulls and yeah, it's not just Dom with the hard-on, is it, Bill? "Fucking hell."

"You are, too," Billy exhales, distracted by the pinpoints of warmth from Dom's nose, lips, and forehead.

The night is young, the song is still tripping, and would he really mind?