It's the ritual more than anything that Dom loves. For a person as disorganized and chaotic as he is, to be able to have someone he trusts restrain him and place him and instruct him is invaluable. And the way Billy falls into it...oh, the way Billy falls. Dom closes his eyes during the day and lets the evening past go through his head in a continuous loop until he's hot under his clothes and thoroughly distracted.

Billy tightens each limb restraint with painfully slow care. Dom knows not to move or speak unless instructed, and this rule is foremost in his mind, defining every reaction and emotion he'll allow to show when they're like this. And the collar...the leather tightness keeping his breathing shallow, just enough to remind him of the fact that he's at someone else's complete mercy.

Hands going over his body, touching every inch, touching places normally glanced over during sex. He reels under the thorough exploration, all the hairs on his body coming to attention. And the petting becomes light squeezing, and the squeezing becomes gentle taps, and the taps become smacks, and the smacks go from being administered by hands to being dealt with a smooth paddle. The blood blots the surface of his skin, shouting out burning, lingering pain from nerve to nerve.

A pause; and Billy's cock teases his lips. And the words: "You've been good. A wee reward, then? Slow, Dominic." Swallowing the cock to the back of his throat, letting the sharp taste take him over.

Addiction has never come like this before.