"We're gonna die." Dom squirmed, fell forward on his knees in front of the panel of unresponsive buttons, and tapped his forehead against them repeatedly. "Gonna." Bang. "Die." Bang. "In a fucking." Bang. "Lift."

"We're not gonna die. Shut up." Billy grumbled and draped his arms over bent knees, wishing the damned stalled elevator had better ventilation. His jeans were sticking to him, his shirt was sticking to him, and Dom's whining was bloody sticking to him.

Dom fell over onto his side and kicked around the dangling cord from the emergency telephone. Twenty minutes earlier they'd called in the stalled elevator, and they hadn't heard a word since. Billy couldn't believe in a hotel as ritzy as this one that it was taking so long.

"I don't want Lighe to get my stereo, Bill. You just make sure of that. And Billy—"

"Shut up, Dominic."

They sat at opposite corners of the elevator; Dom tapping the phone cord back and forth with his pointer finger, Billy with his legs straight out in front of him, head bumping a rhythm back against the wood paneling.

"Let's play a game!" Dom burst out suddenly, abruptly stopping the cord. "If you had to be stranded on a deserted island, what three things would you—"

"Now's not the time for The Book of If, lad, alrigh'?" Billy eyed Dom, squinting around the annoying heat that circled his eyes. "Too hot for thinking."

"You're not much fun, you know." Dom fussed and stood, stretching his legs one and then the other. He cracked his neck—the popping noise grated down Billy's spine—and then kept staring in the direction of the ceiling. "Hm."

Billy looked up. "What?" He looked at Dom. "Uh, Dom. No."

Dom muttered and fell down to the floor of the elevator, giving up his attempt to pry the top of the roof open. "Isn't this the city of some sort of love...thing?"

"The Parisian Board of Tourism salutes you. Now sit still."

Dom paced the elevator for a minute or two, back and forth, back and forth, making Billy dizzy. Eventually they both sat back down and resumed staring at each other. Billy felt the urge to ask Dom about the chicken pock scar on his forehead, but didn't. He wondered when Dom had started wearing wrist cuffs, but kept that to himself, too.

Dom watched him and then closed the distance between them, poking a fingertip forward onto Billy's shirt. "Your button's open." He wriggled a fingertip between the flaps of cloth and brushed skin, making Billy double up and giggle. "Oh-ho! Ticklish, are we?"

"You know I'm very sensitive," Billy replied, batting his eyelashes. Dom grinned and flicked the fingertip up, undoing the button just above that one. Billy raised an eyebrow. The elevator shrunk and got warmer, if that was even possible, he thought. "Oh, no no..."

"Don't know what you're on about," Dom said cheekily into the silence, inching forward and slaying another button. He pressed Billy back into the wood with a satisfying tiny thump and touched their chest and bellies together.

"Dom, it's hot. And stuffy." As Billy complained Dom bent his head and kissed just under Billy's collarbone, chest hair teasing his chin. "And public." Dom undid each button playfully, drawing the pad of his finger along skin right to the last one, which he jerked free with flare and a grin.

"You're all hot, sir, what's that? What's that? Are we, perhaps," he sunk down a bit, spreading the cloth and revealing Billy's torso just enough to kiss the space to the left of his heart, "aroused? For shame."

"Or suffering from heat exhaustion," Billy intoned, trying to look casual when Dom licked a kiss down between his ribs. He still wasn't over the fact that Dom was serious and that the doors could come sliding open at any second.

Dom rubbed his nose into Billy's navel and grinned, kissing just below it, which sent Billy's hips into motion and drew a sharp breath. "Are not, you big sissy," he said, bringing up his hands to undo the button on Billy's jeans. He curled his lips around the top of the zipper and caught it between his teeth, drawing it down.

"Ooh, you learned that from the TV, didn'tcha." Billy grinned. Dom spluttered a laugh into Billy's boxers and slumped forward, squishing a kiss on the semi-attentive bulge. With one last snicker, Billy laid his head back on the wall and closed his eyes.

Dom's hands stripped the sweat-dampened denim just off Billy's pelvis and then dragged the cling of Billy's boxers downward. The open air was marginally cooler than the temperature under his clothes. Billy sighed, chest going concave. Dom kissed the flat of his pelvis and then again, closer, and Billy's chest filled again, protruding.

One more kiss, squishing the thatch of hair there, and Billy was in Dom's fist, being expertly stroked and getting wet, pressure filled kissed laid one after the other along his hips and stomach. The heat rushed up his body, baking his cheeks and spraying blood up under his forehead. He brushed his hands against Dom's ears, momentarily using them as handles, and then down the back of his neck, pulling.

A moisture-laden noise and Dom's lips came, parted and hot, sucking a line down the length of Billy's erection. Dom spread these, once twice three times, and then thumbed the head carefully, guiding and swallowing it in a single motion. Billy sighed, shifted, and curled his hand hard around the back of Dom's neck.

Billy's thoughts strayed often to the glaring metallic doors. Between dying under the delicious wetness of Dom's mouth, carrying on his love-hate relationship with the heat, and tingling at the thought of being caught, Billy watched their reflection. Watched how beautiful Dom was when he was on his knees and focused, his bottom lip jutting slightly before his top in each careful forward lunge of his mouth.

The building need to let go clamped down hard, and he found it harder to think coherently. He stroked the fine hair at the back of Dom's neck, lightly pulling each suckle inward and lifting his hips just a bit. And then Dom started to go faster; a heartbeat paced pump of his hand and the quick, slick suction of his mouth tying Billy's restraint up in complex knots.

Dom sat back on his knees, squeezed the grip of his palm and fingers with audible result around the very tip of Billy's pulsing flesh. He was rewarded with further squirming and a whimper and fell back to milking with his hand until Billy was breathing unevenly and pulling at his hair.

"Dom." Billy found himself spreading his legs just a little, wished he could sit down, realized he couldn't, and faintly processed that he was working himself between Dom's lips along with allowing himself to be worked back just as thoroughly.

Dom pulled back and balanced Billy's tip just on his outstretched tongue, giving it a flick now and then. But his hand did the work now, a stroke with a definitive little swivel at the end to excite the more sensitive flesh closer to the head with a left-to-right motion.

He opened his eyes and stared up at Billy until Billy stared back; and Billy forced himself to look though the sight nearly crippled him, never lost its potency no matter how many times he'd seen it. Dom with a tongue-full, just sitting there, his hand working a speedy rhythm opposite to the stillness of his gaze and his mouth. His eyes were dark and locked with Billy's, daring him—commanding him—to finish.

"Dom!" His breath stall-stumbled and he shook, pushing off the wall and then hitting back against it with a thump as he came not a minute later, pearly and sudden and smeared across Dom's tongue, which he could see, and the sight drove him crazy just before those gorgeous stubble-rimmed lips closed and swallowed.

Billy shuddered, his breath coming in low heaves, as Dom's mouth pulled and cushioned him, dragging it all out of him until he was ready to push away. Dom always seemed to know that exact moment when Billy was just too sensitive to keep on.

Thirty seconds later and they were sprawled on the bottom of the elevator. Billy buttoned his pants as an afterthought and nuzzled up to the back of Dom's neck, winding his arms around Dom's waist. "How much longer d'you think we'll be stuck here?"

Dom shrugged, laid his arms over Billy's, and tangled their fingers. "No idea at this point, Bills."

Billy smiled and reclaimed one hand, splaying it across Dom's belly. "Roll over."

Dom brushed them all off, inserting a lot of "it's cool, really" and "no, no, 's'groovy, all peachy and that" into his speech. When that wasn't enough Dom put his hands up and smirked. "Look," he said. "I've checked the boy out." He looked at Billy. "He's in tip-top shape."

The small crowd was silenced. Billy hid a giggle into his shirt and feigned hesitant agreement. "Yeah, he's. He's got a point. He's in perfect working order himself." He leaned in towards a very green looking ambulance driver. "I looked, y'know." He waggled his fingers, gesturing.

Once they were alone and on their way back upstairs, they had a good laugh and even shrugged off the whole thing in typical fashion. The cool air-conditioning put them in better spirits and the offer of whatever room service they might want on the hotel's tab had certainly made up for the hours in the lift.

Billy was making up a list of Parisian wines he wanted to try when Dom's voice interrupted.

"Besides, I'm sure they all enjoyed it just as much as we did."

"Why's that?" Billy laughed preemptively, opening the door of his room.

Dom stepped in before him and smirked. "All hotels this caliber have cameras in their lifts, dummy."

Billy stood there clinging to the doorknob like a lifeline, all the color drained from his face. He closed the door and counted off exactly one beat before tackling Dom to the floor.