Jun. 6th, 2005 01:29 pm
Fic: Mehndi
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fox_confessorTitle: Mehndi
Author: Dani
Rating: strong R
Disclaimer: It never happened.
The air is heavy in the room, almost cloying. Dominic had chosen sandalwood candles and bergamot incense though had he been alone, Billy knows, Dominic would have chosen something sweeter, like vanilla or buttercream. Dominic must have spent a long time preparing, and Billy smiles to himself imagining Dominic in a store searching for scents that he thought would please. And they do, very much so.
Billy refreshes his drink before he turns to watch the scene that is playing out in the middle of the room. Dominic is now on his hands and knees in a pile of pillows, his back straight in what Billy vaguely remembers Dominic calls The Table pose. The mehndi artist, Salima, is bent over him, concentrated on her work as she applies the heavy paste of henna in a delicate and elaborate design of vines and curlicue, a design she had suggested, emphasizing Dominic's sharp shoulder blades, thin waist and the perfect line of his spine.
"You're doing very well. Very still," Salima says as she stretches her fingers by spider-walking them down Dominic's arms in a gentle massage. She's worked quickly, rarely pausing except to offer such praise, but now looks up to address Billy directly. "For a bit more time and money this design would be lovely over his hip and down his thigh."
Billy moves to face Dominic, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted to the side, considering. Kneeling, he takes Dominic's chin between his fingers before he nods once. "Down to his ankle and over his foot."
"Excellent decision," Salima says, nudging Dominic to stand. Billy stands as well, holding Dominic's gaze as Salima unfastens the tie on Dominic's gray cotton trousers and tugs them down. That Dominic isn't wearing any pants does not surprise, neither does his half erect cock.
A low murmur of approval from Salima is the only sound in the room. She runs one long, red tipped fingernail along the thick vein on the underside of Dominic's cock, deepening Dominic's blush. "You are a very lucky man, Mr. Boyd."
"I am." Billy agrees, making the corners of Dominic’s lips twist up, though he keeps his eyes lowered.
Billy doesn't watch Salima's hand as it continues to stroke Dominic's cock, but rather focuses on Dominic's reaction. It pleases him that Dominic stays still as he's not been told to move, and that he seems ashamed--no, uncomfortable--that Salima's attentions have resulted in his swelling erection.
"May I speak?" Dominic asks. His cheeks are tinged pink, though he's never been embarrassed to display himself before anyone; it's on the tip of Billy's tongue to remind Dominic of that. Instead, he reaches up to brush a bit of the dried henna from Dominic's collarbone before he answers. "Only if it's to say your safe word. Do you wish to use it now?"
Dominic shakes his head no and lowers his eyes in acquiescence. Salima smiles, pleased by what she thinks is an invitation. Her lips form a natural pout and for a moment Billy indulges in the mental picture of Dominic pushing his cock against those lips (of how Billy would stand behind Dominic and guide the movement of Dominic's hips and then thread his fingers through Salima's thick and heavy hair--how he could push into Dominic's body from behind--fuck him as Dominic fucks her mouth.) That she, at least, would be willing is more than apparent, but Billy doesn't like to share--won't actually--and especially not Dominic.
Salima moves to stroke Dominic again but Billy stops her, gently pushing her hand away. "No, lass. Not tonight. Let's finish up here, yeah?"
Salima sighs, sitting back onto her feet. She blows out a heavy breath that makes her fringe flutter before she picks up her tube of henna. Dominic's relief is almost palpable; his shoulder sagging slightly before he catches Billy's eyes and straightens back up. Satisfied, Billy rewards Dominic with a small brush of a kiss against Dominic's lips before he turns away to sit in the low chair across the room to wait.
***
The paste is cool against Dominic’s slightly overly warm skin. He focuses on the feeling of the paste drying, drawing into his skin and staining it deep reddish brown. The woman, Salima, kneels next to him now and uses a steady pressure as she applies the henna. It smells like fresh grass—a field near his house where he used to play footie with his friends when he was a kid, specifically—and is soothing, twisting with the sandalwood and bergamot. When Dominic closes his eyes, he can see the small, sweet face and blue eyes of his first crush. It was a dusting of freckles across the other boy’s nose that Dominic had particularly liked.
It’s a happy memory and Dominic is still smiling when he opens his eyes and finds Billy watching him intently. Other times, when they are alone, Billy would have demanded Dominic detail the memory aloud; greedy for every moment he wasn’t a part of. Being gentle and unobtrusive otherwise, people are surprised to learn of this characteristic. Dominic doesn’t mind, though, because he understands how much was taken from Billy’s childhood, and how little time there is to give all Billy needs and wants.
Closing his eyes again, Dominic again calls up the image of wee Norman and replaces the face with that of the one picture he’s seen of Billy when he was a lad. He lets Norman fade and Billy in red shorts, a blue tee shirt and white socks takes his place in memory after memory. They play in the field and build the tree fort. There are sleepovers where they lay in sleeping bags in Dominic’s backyard with Dominic’s brother and father, the smell of the dying campfire still heavy as their small, sweaty hands twine beneath the covers.
When Dominic opens his eyes for the second time, Billy is biting his nail and fighting to keep his control. Salima has moved slightly, crouching on the floor to bring the design over Dominic’s ankle and across the top of his foot. Dominic is sweating a little bit, feels a drop run between his shoulder blades, down his back and over the rise of his ass. He fights not to swipe at it, focusing on the way Billy bites on the tip of his finger.
“What do you think, Mr Boyd?” Salima doesn’t stand as she addresses Billy, but remains kneeling at Dominic’s feet. They both admire Dominic’s body—his tawny skin from long days over several weeks of filming in Hawaii and the rich color of the henna.
“He’s stunning,” Billy whispers, standing up and moving across the room. He trails a fingertip over Dominic’s collarbone, just below one of the drawn vines, and then lower over his chest and flat stomach until he reaches one of Dominic’s permanent tattoos low on his hip. He recovers himself then, swallowing hard. “Thank you, Salima. It’s beautiful work.”
“In a few minutes, I’ll spray him with lemon and sugar water. It’ll make the color brighter and last longer.”
Billy wrinkles his nose at the thought of the stickiness and shakes his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“It’s no troub…” The word dissolved as Salima meets Billy’s eyes and then looks down again. “I can stay if you wish.”
“No,” Billy whispers, forgetting for just a moment that there is a role to be played. He’s moved his hand to Dominic’s cheek, and watches as Dominic turns to nuzzle against his palm. Salima is forgotten as well, neither witness to the way she averts her eyes from them both—-pained by the sudden intimacy of something that had seemed so different moments ago. She gathers her things and silently leaves the room, neither Dominic nor Billy remembering she was there, it seems.
The small smile had returned to Dominic’s lips at the praise and he’s grateful that Billy lets him hold onto it.
Author: Dani
Rating: strong R
Disclaimer: It never happened.
The air is heavy in the room, almost cloying. Dominic had chosen sandalwood candles and bergamot incense though had he been alone, Billy knows, Dominic would have chosen something sweeter, like vanilla or buttercream. Dominic must have spent a long time preparing, and Billy smiles to himself imagining Dominic in a store searching for scents that he thought would please. And they do, very much so.
Billy refreshes his drink before he turns to watch the scene that is playing out in the middle of the room. Dominic is now on his hands and knees in a pile of pillows, his back straight in what Billy vaguely remembers Dominic calls The Table pose. The mehndi artist, Salima, is bent over him, concentrated on her work as she applies the heavy paste of henna in a delicate and elaborate design of vines and curlicue, a design she had suggested, emphasizing Dominic's sharp shoulder blades, thin waist and the perfect line of his spine.
"You're doing very well. Very still," Salima says as she stretches her fingers by spider-walking them down Dominic's arms in a gentle massage. She's worked quickly, rarely pausing except to offer such praise, but now looks up to address Billy directly. "For a bit more time and money this design would be lovely over his hip and down his thigh."
Billy moves to face Dominic, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted to the side, considering. Kneeling, he takes Dominic's chin between his fingers before he nods once. "Down to his ankle and over his foot."
"Excellent decision," Salima says, nudging Dominic to stand. Billy stands as well, holding Dominic's gaze as Salima unfastens the tie on Dominic's gray cotton trousers and tugs them down. That Dominic isn't wearing any pants does not surprise, neither does his half erect cock.
A low murmur of approval from Salima is the only sound in the room. She runs one long, red tipped fingernail along the thick vein on the underside of Dominic's cock, deepening Dominic's blush. "You are a very lucky man, Mr. Boyd."
"I am." Billy agrees, making the corners of Dominic’s lips twist up, though he keeps his eyes lowered.
Billy doesn't watch Salima's hand as it continues to stroke Dominic's cock, but rather focuses on Dominic's reaction. It pleases him that Dominic stays still as he's not been told to move, and that he seems ashamed--no, uncomfortable--that Salima's attentions have resulted in his swelling erection.
"May I speak?" Dominic asks. His cheeks are tinged pink, though he's never been embarrassed to display himself before anyone; it's on the tip of Billy's tongue to remind Dominic of that. Instead, he reaches up to brush a bit of the dried henna from Dominic's collarbone before he answers. "Only if it's to say your safe word. Do you wish to use it now?"
Dominic shakes his head no and lowers his eyes in acquiescence. Salima smiles, pleased by what she thinks is an invitation. Her lips form a natural pout and for a moment Billy indulges in the mental picture of Dominic pushing his cock against those lips (of how Billy would stand behind Dominic and guide the movement of Dominic's hips and then thread his fingers through Salima's thick and heavy hair--how he could push into Dominic's body from behind--fuck him as Dominic fucks her mouth.) That she, at least, would be willing is more than apparent, but Billy doesn't like to share--won't actually--and especially not Dominic.
Salima moves to stroke Dominic again but Billy stops her, gently pushing her hand away. "No, lass. Not tonight. Let's finish up here, yeah?"
Salima sighs, sitting back onto her feet. She blows out a heavy breath that makes her fringe flutter before she picks up her tube of henna. Dominic's relief is almost palpable; his shoulder sagging slightly before he catches Billy's eyes and straightens back up. Satisfied, Billy rewards Dominic with a small brush of a kiss against Dominic's lips before he turns away to sit in the low chair across the room to wait.
***
The paste is cool against Dominic’s slightly overly warm skin. He focuses on the feeling of the paste drying, drawing into his skin and staining it deep reddish brown. The woman, Salima, kneels next to him now and uses a steady pressure as she applies the henna. It smells like fresh grass—a field near his house where he used to play footie with his friends when he was a kid, specifically—and is soothing, twisting with the sandalwood and bergamot. When Dominic closes his eyes, he can see the small, sweet face and blue eyes of his first crush. It was a dusting of freckles across the other boy’s nose that Dominic had particularly liked.
It’s a happy memory and Dominic is still smiling when he opens his eyes and finds Billy watching him intently. Other times, when they are alone, Billy would have demanded Dominic detail the memory aloud; greedy for every moment he wasn’t a part of. Being gentle and unobtrusive otherwise, people are surprised to learn of this characteristic. Dominic doesn’t mind, though, because he understands how much was taken from Billy’s childhood, and how little time there is to give all Billy needs and wants.
Closing his eyes again, Dominic again calls up the image of wee Norman and replaces the face with that of the one picture he’s seen of Billy when he was a lad. He lets Norman fade and Billy in red shorts, a blue tee shirt and white socks takes his place in memory after memory. They play in the field and build the tree fort. There are sleepovers where they lay in sleeping bags in Dominic’s backyard with Dominic’s brother and father, the smell of the dying campfire still heavy as their small, sweaty hands twine beneath the covers.
When Dominic opens his eyes for the second time, Billy is biting his nail and fighting to keep his control. Salima has moved slightly, crouching on the floor to bring the design over Dominic’s ankle and across the top of his foot. Dominic is sweating a little bit, feels a drop run between his shoulder blades, down his back and over the rise of his ass. He fights not to swipe at it, focusing on the way Billy bites on the tip of his finger.
“What do you think, Mr Boyd?” Salima doesn’t stand as she addresses Billy, but remains kneeling at Dominic’s feet. They both admire Dominic’s body—his tawny skin from long days over several weeks of filming in Hawaii and the rich color of the henna.
“He’s stunning,” Billy whispers, standing up and moving across the room. He trails a fingertip over Dominic’s collarbone, just below one of the drawn vines, and then lower over his chest and flat stomach until he reaches one of Dominic’s permanent tattoos low on his hip. He recovers himself then, swallowing hard. “Thank you, Salima. It’s beautiful work.”
“In a few minutes, I’ll spray him with lemon and sugar water. It’ll make the color brighter and last longer.”
Billy wrinkles his nose at the thought of the stickiness and shakes his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“It’s no troub…” The word dissolved as Salima meets Billy’s eyes and then looks down again. “I can stay if you wish.”
“No,” Billy whispers, forgetting for just a moment that there is a role to be played. He’s moved his hand to Dominic’s cheek, and watches as Dominic turns to nuzzle against his palm. Salima is forgotten as well, neither witness to the way she averts her eyes from them both—-pained by the sudden intimacy of something that had seemed so different moments ago. She gathers her things and silently leaves the room, neither Dominic nor Billy remembering she was there, it seems.
The small smile had returned to Dominic’s lips at the praise and he’s grateful that Billy lets him hold onto it.
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I love how you let us step right into the scene. We don't know what lead up to this ('No, lass. Not tonight.' for example implies all kinds of things), or where it will go. I've got a lot of questions, but frankly, I love a fic that leaves room to let my mind wander. I don't always need my questions answered.
I love the self-control both display and oh how I love Dom for understanding Billy's greedyness for details from Dom's past.
This is a very erotic and sensual fic, full of trust, loving and warm.
I couldn't help but check if you had this entry locked, and since you haven't, would it be ok for me to rec it?
Whatever the answer is, thanks for sharing this :D
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It would make my day if you thought it good enough to rec.
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There is an exotic feel to it, a feeling and smell and taste to these words.
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*memories*
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Ooh, this is lovely and very sensual. I particularly like the image of Dom looking for scents that would please Billy, of Dom blushing when Salima touches him, and as others have mentioned the part where Dom imagines him and Billy as kids, together, and this:
Dominic doesn’t mind, though, because he understands how much was taken from Billy’s childhood, and how little time there is to give all Billy needs and wants.
It's so sad and bright with love all at once.
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Would you mind if I added it to my own rec!list? I'd be honored to put it there.♥♥♥