Fic: Taboo
Jun. 9th, 2007 01:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silentdescanttitle: Taboo
pairing: Billy/Dominic
rating: NC-17
warning: spanking, pain, but no real sex
summary: Dom’s arse is bright red, so fucking hot, feels like it's burning... and he's squirming away from Billy’s hands but at the same time begging for Billy to continue, harder, more, everything.
dedication: for my lovely brainspouse,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bloodrayveness, because I promised her spanking. :D ♥
a/n:apologies for the German, as it’s probably not entirely correct. I blame babelfish. >.< Please do correct me if it doesn’t match with the translation. thank you, lhiam for help with the translation!
Skin met skin with a loud, resounding slap! that rang in Dom’s ears. His hips jerked forward, away from the source, away from Billy’s hand, but Billy pulled him back, held him still. Dom twisted and squirmed, but Billy’s grip on him was tight and hard and unyielding.
Billy’s hand came down again, harder than before. This time, Dom couldn’t contain a short, sharp cry of pain. He writhed on the bed, trying to get away from the delicious sting and burn, but his voice betrayed him; without his permission, his lips were begging for more.
It felt so hot, in more than one sense of the word. There’s the real, tangible heat radiating from his arse, and Dom knew his arse was bright red and nearly glowing in the low light. Then there’s the idea of it; Dom groaned, picturing Billy above him, swinging his arm, his open palm, bringing it down with such force. It was taboo, one of those dirty secrets no one talked ever about, and if he was completely honest, that was part of the reason Dom was so willing to do it.
He liked to do those kinds of things. He’d tried bondage quite early on and liked it, and had been spurred on to try other such “forbidden” activities. He’d tried spanking relatively early on as well, and had been exorbitantly pleased when Billy not only didn’t push him away in disgust, but grinned and asked, softly, Would you do that with me, Dom?
Another blow landed, and Dom thanked Billy and every deity he knew that he wasn’t being made to count them. He didn’t have the breath, at the moment, to spare on coherent words. His arse burned and he twisted to the side—a reflex, and one he wished he had better control over. He cried out again, but mingled with the sharp mumblings of pain were almost-decipherable words: Please. Fuck. Billy. More. Harder. Please. Everything. Yours. Billy. Please.
In his mind’s eye, Dom pictured Billy grinning behind him. An evil grin, a fucking sexy grin. Billy touched his fingertips to Dom’s spine and trailed them down, ever so lightly. The ghostly touches made Dom shiver, even against the considerable heat of his abraded skin. Billy then flattened his palm against Dom’s arse and dragged it slowly down to the crease of Dom’s thighs. Dom could feel every whorl of Billy’s hand. His guitar calluses chafed and caught painfully.
Dom whimpered, squirmed, moaned again. He was glad that Billy hadn’t ordered him quiet either, because he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to manage that any more than counting out loud.
Dom breathed a heavy sigh of relief when Billy withdrew his hands, ending the painful teasing. Dom arched his back and rocked his hips into the mattress, wishing for more pleasurable friction on his cock, which was achingly hard and throbbing.
Billy slammed down a paddle with a sudden, driving force that immediately pushed Dom flat against the bed, all coordination lost from his muscles. Dom screamed, throwing his head back, and felt tears prickling behind his eyes. As much as the previous slaps had hurt, they didn’t compare to the effect the wooden paddle produced.
Dom jerked his hands as the next blow fell, a reflex to cover his arse that went with his trying to twist away from the pain. If the scene kept on much longer, Dom was sure his wrists would be deeply bruised from the cuffs holding his arms in place. He tightened his hands into fists and pulled, but the leather held firm, as did the bars in the headboard.
By the third smack with the paddle, the tears were sliding rapidly down Dom’s cheeks onto the bed. Oh. Billy. Oh. Fuck. Please. More. Billy. Please. Now. Take me, please. Oh. Yours. Billy. Dom cried, the words punctuated by short gasps and sobs. Dom lapsed into German occasionally, mumbling variations of mehr, bitte Billy, Gott, Billy bitte, fick mich jetzt.*
Billy continued steadily, leaving enough time in between the hits to let Dom regain his breath, but not enough time for him to recover. The pattern pushed Dom quickly into a quietly incoherent state. Dom couldn’t force words out of his mouth, only cries that were becoming progressively softer and more exhausted. Dom’s hands, once curled into tight fists, hung lax in the cuffs. He couldn’t summon the energy required to pull at the bonds, or even to jerk his hips away from Billy and Billy’s hands and Billy’s rough paddle.
Finally, there was stillness. Not silence; Dom was sobbing weakly into his pillow and both he and Billy were breathing hard. There was a clatter that vaguely translated in Dom’s mind to Billy putting down the paddle.
Dom was exhausted. He didn’t think he could move even if he had wanted to. Even if the house had been burning or a hurricane had been blowing in. His right index finger twitched; it was the only part of his body Dom felt he had any control over. He wasn’t even sobbing in the normal sense. It was more like the tears were just overflowing and dripping down his cheeks. Dom sensed Billy lean down, low over him. A cool hand brushed a lock of hair from Dom’s sweaty forehead.
“This, Dominic, this right here,” Billy whispered, kissing the shell of Dom’s ear.
It was as if Billy were continuing a conversation, or answering a question, but Dom sure as hell couldn’t remember anything of the sort. Dom’s eyes drifted shut, though tears still fell through his lashes.
“This is how I love you.”
If he’d (miraculously) still been standing, Dom was sure that statement would have sent him to his knees. As it was, he whimpered feebly, hoping Billy would touch him again, because he didn’t have the energy to initiate contact himself.
“Too worn out to move, to talk, even to beg. Too beaten to fight. You’re not even still when you sleep, Dominic, but… like this…” Billy trailed his fingers over Dom’s arse, causing Dom’s forehead to wrinkle in momentary discomfort. “You’re beautiful.”
“Fuckmeplease,” Dom breathed, nearly incomprehensible, not opening his eyes.
“Yes, Dom, now I’ll fuck you.”
fin.
* more, please, Billy, god, Billy please, fuck me now.
pairing: Billy/Dominic
rating: NC-17
warning: spanking, pain, but no real sex
summary: Dom’s arse is bright red, so fucking hot, feels like it's burning... and he's squirming away from Billy’s hands but at the same time begging for Billy to continue, harder, more, everything.
dedication: for my lovely brainspouse,
bloodrayveness, because I promised her spanking. :D ♥a/n:
lhiam for help with the translation!Skin met skin with a loud, resounding slap! that rang in Dom’s ears. His hips jerked forward, away from the source, away from Billy’s hand, but Billy pulled him back, held him still. Dom twisted and squirmed, but Billy’s grip on him was tight and hard and unyielding.
Billy’s hand came down again, harder than before. This time, Dom couldn’t contain a short, sharp cry of pain. He writhed on the bed, trying to get away from the delicious sting and burn, but his voice betrayed him; without his permission, his lips were begging for more.
It felt so hot, in more than one sense of the word. There’s the real, tangible heat radiating from his arse, and Dom knew his arse was bright red and nearly glowing in the low light. Then there’s the idea of it; Dom groaned, picturing Billy above him, swinging his arm, his open palm, bringing it down with such force. It was taboo, one of those dirty secrets no one talked ever about, and if he was completely honest, that was part of the reason Dom was so willing to do it.
He liked to do those kinds of things. He’d tried bondage quite early on and liked it, and had been spurred on to try other such “forbidden” activities. He’d tried spanking relatively early on as well, and had been exorbitantly pleased when Billy not only didn’t push him away in disgust, but grinned and asked, softly, Would you do that with me, Dom?
Another blow landed, and Dom thanked Billy and every deity he knew that he wasn’t being made to count them. He didn’t have the breath, at the moment, to spare on coherent words. His arse burned and he twisted to the side—a reflex, and one he wished he had better control over. He cried out again, but mingled with the sharp mumblings of pain were almost-decipherable words: Please. Fuck. Billy. More. Harder. Please. Everything. Yours. Billy. Please.
In his mind’s eye, Dom pictured Billy grinning behind him. An evil grin, a fucking sexy grin. Billy touched his fingertips to Dom’s spine and trailed them down, ever so lightly. The ghostly touches made Dom shiver, even against the considerable heat of his abraded skin. Billy then flattened his palm against Dom’s arse and dragged it slowly down to the crease of Dom’s thighs. Dom could feel every whorl of Billy’s hand. His guitar calluses chafed and caught painfully.
Dom whimpered, squirmed, moaned again. He was glad that Billy hadn’t ordered him quiet either, because he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to manage that any more than counting out loud.
Dom breathed a heavy sigh of relief when Billy withdrew his hands, ending the painful teasing. Dom arched his back and rocked his hips into the mattress, wishing for more pleasurable friction on his cock, which was achingly hard and throbbing.
Billy slammed down a paddle with a sudden, driving force that immediately pushed Dom flat against the bed, all coordination lost from his muscles. Dom screamed, throwing his head back, and felt tears prickling behind his eyes. As much as the previous slaps had hurt, they didn’t compare to the effect the wooden paddle produced.
Dom jerked his hands as the next blow fell, a reflex to cover his arse that went with his trying to twist away from the pain. If the scene kept on much longer, Dom was sure his wrists would be deeply bruised from the cuffs holding his arms in place. He tightened his hands into fists and pulled, but the leather held firm, as did the bars in the headboard.
By the third smack with the paddle, the tears were sliding rapidly down Dom’s cheeks onto the bed. Oh. Billy. Oh. Fuck. Please. More. Billy. Please. Now. Take me, please. Oh. Yours. Billy. Dom cried, the words punctuated by short gasps and sobs. Dom lapsed into German occasionally, mumbling variations of mehr, bitte Billy, Gott, Billy bitte, fick mich jetzt.*
Billy continued steadily, leaving enough time in between the hits to let Dom regain his breath, but not enough time for him to recover. The pattern pushed Dom quickly into a quietly incoherent state. Dom couldn’t force words out of his mouth, only cries that were becoming progressively softer and more exhausted. Dom’s hands, once curled into tight fists, hung lax in the cuffs. He couldn’t summon the energy required to pull at the bonds, or even to jerk his hips away from Billy and Billy’s hands and Billy’s rough paddle.
Finally, there was stillness. Not silence; Dom was sobbing weakly into his pillow and both he and Billy were breathing hard. There was a clatter that vaguely translated in Dom’s mind to Billy putting down the paddle.
Dom was exhausted. He didn’t think he could move even if he had wanted to. Even if the house had been burning or a hurricane had been blowing in. His right index finger twitched; it was the only part of his body Dom felt he had any control over. He wasn’t even sobbing in the normal sense. It was more like the tears were just overflowing and dripping down his cheeks. Dom sensed Billy lean down, low over him. A cool hand brushed a lock of hair from Dom’s sweaty forehead.
“This, Dominic, this right here,” Billy whispered, kissing the shell of Dom’s ear.
It was as if Billy were continuing a conversation, or answering a question, but Dom sure as hell couldn’t remember anything of the sort. Dom’s eyes drifted shut, though tears still fell through his lashes.
“This is how I love you.”
If he’d (miraculously) still been standing, Dom was sure that statement would have sent him to his knees. As it was, he whimpered feebly, hoping Billy would touch him again, because he didn’t have the energy to initiate contact himself.
“Too worn out to move, to talk, even to beg. Too beaten to fight. You’re not even still when you sleep, Dominic, but… like this…” Billy trailed his fingers over Dom’s arse, causing Dom’s forehead to wrinkle in momentary discomfort. “You’re beautiful.”
“Fuckmeplease,” Dom breathed, nearly incomprehensible, not opening his eyes.
“Yes, Dom, now I’ll fuck you.”
fin.
* more, please, Billy, god, Billy please, fuck me now.