Decidedly Not Drabbles, Part 3

Author: apple_pi
Ratings: G to NC-17
Pairings: All Monaboyd of one flavour or another.
Disclaimer: Billy and Dom belong to themselves, their characters belong to their respective creators.
Warning: I have no idea how to confine myself to a drabble.
A/N: Requests for dioscorea, rodneyscat, ellenore, fishbaum, fluttering_by, freedomfry, green_queen, harusamemosuke, hyacinth_sky747 and ixarachnexi can be found under the cut.

~*~*~*~

For dioscorea, who requested Boyd/Dommie from "Very Good, Boyd," and the word "pulchritude," spoken in Dommie's London flat. PG, 225 words.

~*~

"Why do you love me?" I asked.

William looked at me quite peculiarly, but it was an honest enough q. I mean, one had only to look at William--and look I did, long and admiringly and so closely that he began to laugh--and one could see why I loved him. Add to his first-class beauty his wit and intelligence, and my adoration was obvious. In fact the only fact I found incredible about William Boyd was that everyone in the world was not as enthralled as I. (Thank heavens for small favours!)

"I love you because you are open-hearted," he said slowly. "You have pulchritude, yes," he touched my face and I quivered in all my limbs, "but it is quite overwhelmed by the kindness you evince towards all God's creatures. You are gentle yet valiant, cheerful to a degree that constantly amazes me, sly and yet never cruel." He leaned over and kissed me and my mind went rather blank.

"That was lovely," I managed to say some little time later. "Who said all that? Before you, I mean."

William kissed me again, and this time when he stopped, he smiled. "That was only me, Dommie," he said.

"Oh, ah," I replied, and though I thought it a woefully inadequate response, he didn't seem at all put off. In fact, he kissed me again.

~*~*~*~

For rodneyscat, who requested Bonden/Geoffrey, in a pub, and the word "amused." PG, 200 words.

~*~

"Am I too old to run away to sea?"

Geoffrey asked it late in the night, his head wobbling slightly on his neck, eyes earnest and sincere and about to cross from the amount of alcohol he'd put away, sitting at the coxswain's side and questioning him endlessly.

"Not at all," Bonden replied, amused, wishing Geoffrey wasn't quite so drunk. He'd no wish to take advantage of him in such a state, and less wish still to be blamed for said state should the lad's father come seeking him. "Too long in the tooth to make admiral, but as a foremast hand--aye, you're of an age."

"Oh good." Geoffrey toppled slowly until his head lay on the sticky tabletop, arms crooked around it, eyes closed. "I'm sick of this place."

"Be careful, child." Bonden lifted one hand and hesitantly stroked the boy's hair. "It's a different life altogether."

"Tha's what I want," Geoffrey mumbled, just before he began to snore.

"And you'll need to learn to hold your rum," Barrett Bonden said to himself, withdrawing his hand.

He sighed and moved the lad's empty glass out of harm's way, then signaled to the barkeep for another drink for himself.

~*~*~*~

For ellenore, who requested Billy/Dom, h/c, and the word "safe." This is an AU, not-quite-WWII. An alternate history, perhaps, that my brain wanted to play in. G, 300 words.

~*~

Billy was standing at his back door when the bombs came that night, and he caught the lad's arm as he darted past, one of many, homeless, shelterless, those who fled each night and died each night. "C'mon," he said, pulling the boy down the steps, into his cellar. "You can't be out here, it's too dangerous." He locked the door and checked that no light would show around the edge.

"You'll be safe here," Billy said; the lad's eyes were so very large and so very frightened. Matted-down hair, and his cheekbones cast sharp shadows in the stark overhead light.

"Haben Sie Speise?" the boy asked finally, and his hand fluttered to his mouth, a gesture so tentative and nervous that Billy only barely recognised it as indicating eating.

A bomb fell just then, the thud of explosion quite near, and they both hunched, Billy glancing upward at the dust sifting down from the ceiling. "It's alright, lad, it's alright," he said, aware the other wouldn't understand, hoping he might at least be soothed by Billy's tone. "It's held so far." The lad's eyes were closed, body curved over so tightly that Billy ran one hand unthinkingly down his back. "You'll be safe here," Billy repeated, withdrawing his hand, and when the younger man opened his eyes again and straightened, Billy smiled at him. "Food, Speise, did you say?"

The boy nodded, and Billy touched his shoulder again, then touched his own chest. "Billy," he said, and the boy nodded.

"Dominic," he said, touching his own chest. "Speise?" Not one of the enemy, Billy thought. A child, a refugee.

"Food," Billy said. He reached for a tin and sat on the dirt floor, ignoring the thump of bombs that fell further away. "I've enough to share, Dominic," he said.

~*~*~*~

For fishbaum, who requested Billy/Dom and left the rest to me. This is so very silly, and also AU. G, 325 words.

~*~

"I'm looking for a puppy," Billy said.

The pet-shop clerk looked him up and down. "A puppy," he said.

"Yes." Billy waited, and eventually the man put down the tarantula he'd been cuddling and placed his hands on his hips instead.

"What's the puppy's name?"

Billy blinked. "I... don't have the puppy yet," he said. "I want to get a puppy. From you." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Yes, I understand that." Why was the clerk talking to him as though he was the mad one? Billy wondered. "But what's its name, this puppy you want to get?"

Billy worried his lower lip with his teeth and examined the man. Smallish. Lean. A wonky face, ears that had to be seen to be believed, a nametag that said MY NAME IS DOM I PRACTICE PURR-FECT CUSTOMER SERVICE.

Alright then.

"The puppy's name is Pippin."

"Ah. I have a Pippin. Stay here."

Billy couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes this time, but the lad had already turned and walked away.

He returned with a small black dog, floppy-eared, curly, sad-eyed. "Here he is."

"That's not a Pippin," Billy said immediately. The pet-shop lad glared at him.

"Of course he is." He thrust the dog at Billy, who took it.

"No," Billy said firmly. "This is not a Pippin." He scritched the dog's long ears. "This is a nice dog, but not a Pippin." He lifted it and stared into its face. "A Frodo, maybe." He looked up at the clerk. "If it weren't a girl."

The lad blushed and--was he--did he--was he about to--? Yeah.

Dom burst into laughter.

"Oh my god, you'll do," the clerk said. He took Billy's elbow and led him away, toward the pens at the back, where a few dozen dogs yapped, scratched, yawned, slept, ate, and licked themselves. "Pick out a dog, sir," Dom said, lifting Frodo from Billy's unresisting grip.

~*~*~*~

For fluttering_by, who requested Merry/Pippin (among others), and a first-time kiss. PG-13, 100 words. Yay!

~*~

Merry was drunk when Pippin kissed him for the first time.

Pippin was sober.

And to Merry it felt like, it felt like--

He didn't know. Pippin's mouth was cool on his, and then warm. He tasted like strawberries, the ones they'd nicked from the field behind Brandy Hall, and wine, the glass he'd had before declaring he wanted water. Merry leaned forward, into the kiss, pursuing, and Pippin's hand came up, threading through Merry's hair, cupping the back of his head.

It was Pippin who gasped when they broke for air, Merry who straightened.

"Another?" Merry said.

Pippin nodded.

~*~*~*~

For freedomfry, who requested Dommie and Boyd from "Very Good, Boyd." PG, 200 words.

~*~

"What do you want to do today, William?"

"I did have an idea."

"I always like your ideas."

"I was going to inquire whether you might be interested in attending the races at Ascot."

"Oooh, that'd be lovely. I haven't been to the track in donkey's years."

"There's a sizable prize today, you know. All your friends will be there."

"Oh. Well... do you think it's a good idea, then, love?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we've said we should be discreet, and we haven't really told anyone, about us, I mean, but if I'm going then I want you with me. It would be a crashing bore otherwise."

"I was thinking of going as your valet again. Sir."

"...Oh, really?"

"Yes, sir. Perhaps we could spend the entire day... not-touching one another."

"I say..."

"Although if we were to steal away, for instance, to the third rank of stables, there might be an empty loose-box... ahem."

"Rather."

"There'd be people very near by--walking about outside, sir. We'd have to be very quiet."

"It would be dusty. Straw on the floor. Harness... harness on the wall, perhaps. Leather... tack. Reins, and such."

"Precisely, sir."

"I'll get dressed."

"Very good, sir."

~*~*~*~

For green_queen, who requested Billy/Dom, in Canada, and the word "exigency." Elijah also had to be present--which he is, if in a rather disembodied form. R, 300 words.

~*~

"You want me to come where?"

"You know I'm in Toronto."

"...Why again?"

"You know why! It's your fault!"

"I have no idea what you mean, Dominic."

"Don't you Dominic me, you wee Scottish fucker. You get yourself on a plane and get up here. You're only in New York anyway, it can't be more than a few hours away."

"I think you're forgetting how big this continent is."

"Billy, please."

"So it's an urgent matter, is it?"

"Desperate. An emergency. An exigency, even."

"How bad?"

"Elijah's starting to look half-decent."

"For god's sake, man, pull yourself together."

"It's your fucking fault, goddamn you! You did this! You!"

"If you want to blame someone, blame Seanwise."

"Please tell me Sean had nothing to do with that e-mail."

"What--? Oh. Jaysus, no! Christ, what a thought. No, he just helped me figure out the timer on the digital camera. ...Hoy, we could blame you for the whole thing, since you gave me the fecking camera."

"Billy, please, are you going to come or not?"

"Keep your knickers on, Monaghan, I'll come, you'll come, everyone'll come. Except Elijah."

"Why must you torment me this way?"

"Just trying to cool you off. I'm flying in tomorrow morning."

"You are?"

"I am. Booked the flight before I sent the pictures."

"Thank fuck. This hard-on's going to kill me otherwise."

"Mm. Tell me about it."

"...Tell you about it?"

"Yeah. Something to think about on the plane."

"Fuck off. No relief for me, no relief for you. Just know that I've got an erection that's the size of the CN Tower, and I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll be walking funny for a week."

"...I wonder if I can get an earlier flight?"

"You work on that, Bill. Call if you manage it."

~*~*~*~

For harusamemosuke, who requested Bonden/Geoffrey, dockside, and the word "textbook." For some reason I could not make Bonden/Geoff work, so I resorted to Bonden/Dom. I couldn't get "textbook" in there either. *headdesk* But here is my offering. I hope it serves. G, 200 words.

~*~

"This is where I first came aboard ship." They pushed their way through the crowds along Portsmouth docks, going nowhere in particular--Dom, at least, glad for the solid earth beneath his feet.

Bonden glanced at his companion, one eyebrow showing his surprise. "You were far from home," was all he said, though.

"Aye, I was that." Dominic offered no explanation, but instead went on: "I was on the Elephant, but she was old and we put into Torquay, so's not to founder, while I was still puking over the rail."

"That's where we picked you up," Barrett said. "There's a hotel down that way." He gestured but didn't turn; they were leaving the throngs by the water behind, moving upward through the narrow streets into quieter neighborhoods.

"I wouldn't have thought I'd end up here, nor trusted with liberty," Dom said finally. "It's a strange world."

Bonden looked sidewise at him. "It is that," he agreed. "...Shall we go to a public house, or the hotel?"

Dominic didn't answer for a time, but the back of his hand brushed Barrett's knuckles, and both men stopped.

"The hotel, I think."

It didn't really matter which one of them said it.

~*~*~*~

For hyacinth_sky747, who requested Boyd/Dommie, in their new manor house during a thunderstorm, and the word "frightful." R, 350 words.

~*~

"Mmphhmm?" I said, which is all one can be expected to say, really, when one is woken from a sound sleep by a tongue in one's mouth and a warm, sleek body pressing against one from toe to crown. ("Mm-hmmmm..." is also an acceptable response, I am reliably informed by my better half, who has educated me in this as so many other fields.)

A sudden flash of lightning and a frightful roar of thunder alerted me to the fact that the hissing I heard was not, as my dream had misled me, a leaking bicycle tyre, but rather the rush of rain against the panes of our bedroom window.

"Are you awake then, Dominic?" Boyd took his tongue out of my mouth long enough to allow a reply, though he attached it so assiduously to my neck that I was hard-pressed (so to speak) to do so.

"Ngh," I managed, rolling onto my back and clutching him tightly enough to make one think of the many-tentacled beast of Grecian lore.

"The storm woke me up," he whispered into my ear, and then neither of us said anything more for a while, aside from many rather involuntary ejaculations--if that's the word I want--of the "Oh I say" and "Oh please more" sort from myself.

Once some rather more voluntary--though scarcely more pleasing, William told me once--ejaculations took place, and once both of us had recovered a bit of oxygen to the brain, William pulled the duvet back into place and curled close to me beneath it.

"So urgent," I mumbled, and he understood my question as he always did; a faint crash of thunder from the fading storm delayed his answer and sent him burrowing into my side.

"I dislike storms," he said. "I needed you to be noisy for me."

I pulled the blanket right up over our heads and tentacled him again. "I am always pleased to help, my lovely," I said.

And I held him tight until the night was quite silent and quite dark and he was quite, quite fast asleep again.

~*~*~*~

For ixarachnexi, who requested Jamie/Geoffrey, with Geoffrey's first time bottoming (so to speak), and the word "virgin." Hard R, 150 words.

~*~

I gritted my teeth hard and you stopped, shoulders curving and hunching as you bent to me. "Stop it, stop it," you whispered, and you kissed my mouth and then my jaw. "Open for me." Your breath was hot, face red.

I breathed in and sighed and let my mouth fall open and my body, too, and you entered me suddenly, smoothly. It hurt, but you swallowed my moan, and the stuttered curse that followed it when you began to move.

"I'm like a fucking virgin," I sobbed, and you rocked forward more deeply still.

"Mine," you whispered. "Mine. Sweet. Beautiful."

And it was, with that word. You didn't let me go, you held me. You took me, and it got easier and easier yet and then suddenly it was far beyond easy, it was necessary.

"Yours," I gasped--
and you moaned "beautiful" and--
It was.

We were. Are.

Beautiful.

~*~*~*~

Part Four: coming soon.