bizzy ([info]abundantlyqueer) wrote,
@ 2004-05-05 01:46:00
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AU Fic: "Ume no Hana" 1/1 (DM/BB, NC-17)
Author's notes: this is what I would consider an 'AAU'. The world in which this story takes place differs from ours in ways that are much more profound than the career choices of a few actors.

This story developed from a couple of ficlets I wrote a while ago.

Dominic returns from the bath damp-haired and barefoot, wearing a blue cotton kimono that covers him from forearms to shins. Billy gestures to the bedroll spread on the floor; Dominic steps onto it, sinks to his knees and settles on his heels.

Billy sits down cross-legged in front of Dominic and opens up the lacquered box next to him. He selects a bottle of black nail enamel and shakes it up. He reaches for Dominic’s hand and draws it to him, laying it to rest palm-down on the inner curve of his own knee, forcing Dominic to lean forward a little.

Billy unscrews the bottle cap, strokes the brush against the glass neck, bends his head low over Dominic’s hand, and begins to paint each nail with four perfectly aligned passes of the brush. The color goes on in semi-opaque stripes.

Billy takes Dominic’s other hand, sets it on the inside of his other knee, and continues painting. The thumb of Dominic’s neglected hand presses against Billy’s knee, making a tiny quarter circle that slides the cloth of Billy’s pants against Billy’s skin. Billy pauses, lifting the brush tip from Dominic’s thumbnail.

“Hold still, yeh’ll smudge an’ spoil it,” he murmurs.

Dominic resettles into absolute stillness. Billy adds another coat of enamel and Dominic’s fingernails shine pitch black.

Billy returns the bottle to its place, takes out a black brush-pen, and uncaps it. The strokes of the forming letters curve over the tracery of bones and veins, the ink catching minutely around the fine hairs growing on the back of Dominic’s hand.

“Love,” Billy writes.

Billy lifts Dominic’s hand and blows on the drying ink. Dominic inhales softly. Billy turns Dominic’s hand over, passing his thumb across the estuary of tendons and veins inside Dominic’s wrist. Holding Dominic’s arm steady, Billy continues to write along the tender skin of his inner forearm.

“ … a white flower,
Blooming unseen at nightfall.”

Billy pauses and slides his fingertips up the swell of Dominic’s biceps, lifting the sleeve of Dominic’s kimono and exposing the inside of Dominic’s elbow. Billy folds and tucks fabric out of the way.

“Joy felt in … ”

The curl of the ‘n’ ends precisely where Dominic’s biceps tucks into the hollow below his shoulder muscle. Billy switches to the back of Dominic’s right hand.

“ … silence.”

Dominic withdraws both hands and holds them palm down side by side. ‘Love’, and ‘silence’.

Dominic begins to lift his gaze to Billy’s, his eyelashes describing a hesitant upward wing beat.

“Close your eyes,” Billy says quickly.

Dominic’s eyelids drop. Billy leans in, puts his fingertips to the skin at the outer corner of Dominic’s eye, and stretches it smooth. Billy draws the brush-pen in a single deliberate line along the roots of Dominic’s eyelashes, from the inner corner to the outer, ending with a delicate flourish. He switches sides and repeats the same line exactly on the other eye.

“Look up.”

Dominic opens his eyes, his gaze uplifted. Billy thumbs the skin beneath Dominic’s eye and draws another line along the lower lashes, then repeats the procedure on the other side.

“Perfect,” Billy breathes.

His hands go to the tie at Dominic’s waist, drawing the knot apart. Dominic curls his fingers into the two sides of the kimono’s neckband, parts the fabric over his chest, and rolls his shoulders to shrug the garment down into folds around his hips and hands, exposing the guild tattoo of a single stylized plum blossom on the top of his right arm.

Dominic bends over until his forehead touches the padded cotton of the bedroll. Billy leans over and smoothes his hand up the column of Dominic’s vertebrae to the nape of his neck; Dominic makes a small sound muffled against fabric.

“Joy felt in silence,” Billy inscribes along one side of Dominic’s spine, the final curl of the final letter lying between the dimples in the small of Dominic’s back.


Dominic kneels upright again. Billy’s eyes catch on Dominic’s chest, the deep pink points of his nipples, the hard-edged curves of his belly. Dominic shifts and unfolds his right leg from under him. The folds of robe in his lap are partially disarranged, betraying the outline of his erection.

Billy sets his left hand palm-flat against Dominic’s inner thigh. Dominic’s chin comes up, his head falls back, and his eyes flutter closed. Billy leans in and sets the tip of the brush-pen against the skin and slowly brushes the ornate letters. Dominic bites hard into his own lower lip.

“Love,” Billy writes, the letters curling around each other like the unfolding petals of a rose.

Billy lifts the brush away and bends his head until the fine fair hairs on Dominic’s skin stir in Billy’s breath. Dominic jitters, then stills. Billy blows softly over the ink. Dominic gasps, his body twitching like a puppet on tangled strings. Billy withdraws his hand slowly along Dominic’s thigh.

Billy recaps the brush-pen and returns it to its proper place in the box. He takes a small glass jar of pink-tinged salve and unscrews the lid. He thumbs a little of the contents out, reaches forward, and smears it across Dominic’s cheekbone. Dominic makes a sound low down in his throat. Billy’s thumb moves in firm slow circles on Dominic’s cheekbone until the salve is only a whisper of color and moisture on Dominic’s skin.

Billy takes another smear from the jar and applies it to the other side of Dominic’s face. Dominic’s eyes open, his gaze hot and blurred. Dominic’s breath comes deep and tidal through parted lips. Billy recoats his thumb with salve and lifts his hand to Dominic’s face a third time.

Billy’s thumb slides across the swollen softness of Dominic’s lower lip. Dominic takes a long shuddering breath. Billy’s thumb rubs over Dominic’s upper lip. Dominic opens his mouth a little more, and the pink wet tip of his tongue catches against the side of Billy’s thumb. Billy exhales harshly and pulls back, rubbing the remnants of the salve on the inside of his own wrist. He exchanges the jar for a dark glass bottle of oil.

Dominic gathers himself into a kneeling position again, shrugs both arms free of his robe, and settles with both hands and a knot of fabric in his lap. Billy stands and circles behind him and kneels down. Dominic dips his head, offering Billy his shoulders and spine. Billy spills a little oil into his palm, glides it between both hands, and spreads it over Dominic’s shoulder blades.

Billy’s small strong hands go to work on Dominic’s shoulders and back, pushing and pressing at the underlying muscles. The warming oil exhales the faintest scent, like a single drop of plum juice in a cup of clean water. Billy’s hands and breath and heart fall into a single steady rhythm. Dominic relaxes, his almost naked body swaying forwards and back under the push and release of Billy’s hands. Dominic’s head bends lower, his eyes sliding closed, his breath dropping into the same tempo as Billy’s, until they’re moving as a single entity.

Dominic’s skin flushes pink, turning the freckles on his shoulders to tiny flakes of gold. Billy cups his hands over Dominic’s shoulders and pulls Dominic back against him. Dominic stretches like a cat, shifting his heels out a little and leaning back until he’s reclining along Billy’s thighs, his head resting in the hollow just under Billy’s ribcage. The lengthening of Dominic’s body pulls his groin from under the folds of the discarded robe. Billy’s gaze slips down the trail of darkening golden hair to the nest of brown curls below Dominic’s belly, where the pink gold shaft of his heavily erect cock sways awkwardly.

Billy lifts his hands away and recharges his palms with oil from the bottle, then leans forwards and strokes his hands up each side of Dominic’s chest, his oil-slick palms passing over the hard pink peaks of Dominic’s nipples. Dominic grunts and jerks, his body arching enough to set his ribs and hipbones jutting under his skin. His cock rolls a half circle, coming to rest pointing urgently upwards towards his navel.

Billy goes back to the slow steady rhythm of the massage, fingertips working along the muscles of Dominic’s shoulders and chest and sides. A pink blood flush gathers under the skin of Dominic’s chest, bringing the sparse curls of golden hair into bright relief. Dominic breathes rapidly, his body quivering minutely under Billy’s hands. When Billy sweeps his fingers briefly over Dominic’s nipples again, Dominic moans full-throated. His cock lifts, spinning a thread of shining liquid from the slit of the rose-red head to the skin of Dominic’s belly. There’s a sharper note overlaying the scent of the oil now, the salt-seaweed smell of semen.

Billy lifts Dominic’s arms and trails his scented fingers through the brown blond curls of hair in the hollows of Dominic’s armpits. Dominic arches again, his breath quick and purposeful.

Billy draws back, sliding his thighs out from under Dominic’s shoulders. Dominic remains stretched out, legs folded under himself, heels pressed against his hollowed flanks, spine curving down onto the floor, head tipped back against the padding of the bedroll, arms curled in graceful abandon above his head.

Billy selects a smaller bottle from the box and tips a little of the heavy golden oil inside onto his fingers and spreads it between both hands. He steps around Dominic and kneels down between Dominic’s legs. Dominic’s chest rises and falls frantically as he pants open mouthed, his eyes still closed.

Billy hesitates. Dominic arches harder, silently pleading with angle of his hips.

Billy reaches out. His hand is shaking so badly it’s a mercy his brush-work is finished.

Billy combs the fingers of one hand through the curls of Dominic’s pubic hair. Dominic twitches and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, pressing hard enough to indent white stars into the dark red flesh. Billy passes both hands down the creases of skin between Dominic’s thighs and groin. Dominic is shaking too, with a coarser, more violent rhythm than Billy. Billy cups his palms under Dominic’s balls and draws upwards slowly. The flesh feels full and tense. Dominic moans and rolls his hips in a slow figure of eight. Billy’s heart hammers against his breastbone.

“Billy,” Dominic whispers desperately.

Billy wraps the fingers of one hand around the thick shaft of Dominic’s cock. Dominic lurches and cries out, his eyes flashing wide and wild, then crams his hand over his own mouth to stifle himself into silence.

Billy holds absolutely still, stuffing down the flaring instinct to just move, to slide his hand swiftly and mercifully on Dominic’s cock, to spread himself over Dominic and use his own mouth to muffle Dominic’s cries of pleasure.

Dominic grows still, the taut curves of his thighs and abdomen loosening and smoothing. He keeps his hand over his mouth, but he looks at Billy with something like sanity behind his gray eyes.

Slowly, firmly, Billy pushes his hand down to the root of Dominic’s cock, then pulls back up, spreading the oil on his palm over the velvet skin. Dominic keeps staring at Billy, holding frantically to the connection of Billy’s glass green gaze, but the slow drag of skin on skin, the sharpening smell of Dominic’s arousal, the pounding of Dominic’s pulse under Billy’s fingers, are all cruelly immediate.

Billy thumbs around the edge of Dominic’s foreskin and pulls it back from the shining seeping head of Dominic’s cock. Dominic gasps behind his hand and his thighs open wider. Billy closes his eyes and draws back, pulling his focus inwards, counting the frantic beats of his heart and willing them to slow. By touch alone he circles his thumb over the leaking slit, spreading the slick seepage over the scorching skin. Dominic shudders, screaming behind the muffle of his own palm. Billy pulls his hand away, waiting with his heart hammering while Dominic turns rigid, then slowly forces himself to unknot, his cock and balls flushing dark red with urgency.

Dominic gathers himself, dragging himself up off the floor, his spine unfurling into a graceful convex curl over his parted thighs, his head hanging down, and his shoulders slumped.

“The rest,” he pants, without looking at Billy.

“We can wait … ”

“No! Now … while I can still bear it.”

Billy nods, though Dominic’s head is bent too low for him to catch the gesture. Billy oils the fingers of his right hand generously, and shifts behind Dominic again. Dominic folds a little more, supporting himself on his elbows and forearms.

The pang of desire that spears through Billy’s body is so pure and swift and strong that Billy cannot stifle the tiny sound of complaint from his own throat. Dominic stirs.

“Do it.”

Billy curls his hand under Dominic, fingers sliding along the heated cleft and catching in the tight pucker, then pushing slowly in, two fingers side by side.

Dominic gasps, but pushes back to smoothly engulf Billy’s fingers to the knuckles. Billy’s breath turns hectic as if the scorch and squeeze of Dominic’s internal muscles are driving Billy towards some disastrous edge too. Dominic drops his forehead on the floor with a dull thud, panting in short staccato jerks as he struggles against the urge to grip and grind.

Billy rotates his fingers slowly, then withdraws. More oil, and he strokes his fingers once again along the cleft of Dominic’s behind from his tailbone to the underside of his balls. Billy feels the tiny threatening quiver of Dominic’s so-close orgasm through the tightly contracted skin. Billy takes his hand away and waits.

Dominic unravels, his body unfolding into a broken sprawl on the bedroll. Billy stands up, replacing the oil bottle in the box and removing the box to the next room.

When Billy returns with the perfectly folded pile of Dom’s clothes and a small gilt box, Dominic is still lying on the floor, his skin fever pink and gleaming. He struggles back onto his knees, then onto his feet. He’s still fiercely hard, the heat around him sharper than ever with the smell of his precum.

Billy begins to dress Dominic: knee breeches of black cotton with a simple edge to edge fly and a single tie at the waist. The weighty shaft of Dominic’s sullen erection and his balls hang free between the two panels of fabric.

A narrowly fitting kimono shirt of white gauze, with no sleeves, and a neckband cut long enough to stand away from the back of Dominic’s neck and expose the word ‘joy’ painted on his nape. Billy smoothes the cloth over Dominic’s torso and fastens the three ties at the side, ignoring how every brush of his fingers elicits a shudder from Dominic.

Knee length close boots of black glove suede, soft-soled and tabi-toed, underlapping the hems of his breeches. A gray brocade kimono tunic, cut wide in the shoulders and close at the waist and flared in the shin-length skirts. The pattern woven in the stiff cloth is a stylized square plum blossom. Billy knows, of course, that the guild’s token color is not the reason that Dominic chose Ume no Hana. But there could not be a better match; the steel gray emphasizes the perfectly flat shade of Dominic’s eyes, how they are without the slightest taint of blue or green or hazel. Billy crosses the long tunic-ties around Dominic’s waist and fastens them with a square knot at the front. Carefully Billy arranges the neckband of the tunic and the shirt so that they run perfectly parallel. He folds back the ends of the long sleeves just enough to expose Dominic’s painted fingernails and the edges of the letters inscribed on Dominic’s hands.

The black velvet over-tunic echoes the shape of the garment beneath: wide in the shoulders, narrow in the waist, and flaring wide in its knee-length skirts. There is a sash of plum-purple silk for Billy to wrap around Dominic’s waist, and a black silk cord that goes over the sash and hangs low around Dominic’s narrow hips.

Billy opens the small gilt box and begins to slip the many rings inside onto Dominic’s fingers and thumbs: pierced silver, woven steel, polished hematite, and black onyx. There’s a wide hinged cuff of silver for Dominic’s right wrist.

From the courtyard comes the sound of soft music, flutes and cymbals in a twisting swirling song. Dominic’s eyes flicker to Billy’s. Billy pushes his hand forward into the folds of Dominic’s clothes, fumbling the lump of Dominic’s erection through layers of cloth. Dominic hisses, both hands flying to Billy’s arms and gripping hard. Billy rubs a fistful of cloth against the hard ridge, and Dominic opens his mouth and mews.

“Good evening.”

The sound of Ian’s smoothly rolling voice in the next room pulls Dominic and Billy apart. Dominic squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again. His gaze is steady, but searing.

“Yeh look beautiful,” Billy whispers.

Dominic smiles, a slow languid curl of his mouth. He needs no mirror; Billy’s eyes tell him everything he cares to know.

Something scratches softly at the closed half of the porch screen.

“He’s here,” Liv says quietly from behind the semi-translucent white plastic.

Dominic and Billy look at each other.

“I wish it was you,” Dominic breathes recklessly.

“Hush. Don’ say that,” Billy whispers. “It isn’t decent.”

Dominic’s eyes fall away from Billy’s and a deeper blush of shame colors Dominic’s already flushed cheeks, and the effect is so perfect it almost soothes the pain flowering in Billy’s chest.

Dominic turns away and moves hesitantly to the doorway leading into the main room. Slowly he reaches out and slides the screen aside, revealing himself on the threshold.

“Dominic,” Ian says, and the awe and reverence in his voice flows down Billy’s spine like warm honey.

Dominic steps across the threshold and slides the screen closed behind him. Billy turns and sinks to his knees on the bedroll. He bends, bows, touches his forehead to the soft cotton and inhales the secret trace of Dominic’s skin. Billy pushes his fist between his thighs, beneath the tails of his tunic, and grips himself fiercely through the cloth of his pants, and he’s coming, white-fire edged ripples of pleasure spreading though his body while he whispers harshly into the muffle of the quilt

“Dominic Dominic Dominic … ”

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2004-05-04 11:11 pm UTC (link)


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2004-05-04 11:18 pm UTC (link)
It's 7 am and I'm meant to be getting ready for work. Instead I'm staring at this, allowing myself to breathe in what seems like ages.
This is beautiful. There is cadence here. Such perfect choice of words to create some of the most powerful visuals I've had in a while.
Beauty in so many forms but most of all in your writing.

Thank you for this.

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2004-05-04 11:27 pm UTC (link)
i think you just killed me. I almost stopped breathing there for a while.

the combination of intensity and self-denial is overwhelming.

I so hope you can write the world around this, I'm desperate to know why and how and what next.

(Reply to this)

2004-05-04 11:43 pm UTC (link)
donteverstopwriting. EVER.

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2004-05-04 11:48 pm UTC (link)

So quietly volatile.

And I suppose it doesn't help (yet doesn't hurt) that I was watching The Pillow Book the other night.

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2004-05-05 12:57 am UTC (link)
your description and attention to detail is breathtaking.

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2004-05-05 03:05 am UTC (link)
I love this, but you already knew that :D

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2004-05-05 03:26 am UTC (link)
This is the hottest gentle loving despairing thing I may ever have read.

I virtually never print fic out, but I want to go buy some handmade paper and print it out in elegant font to carry with me everywhere.

*hopes, despairing, that there will be more*

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2004-05-05 04:05 am UTC (link)
“I wish it was you,” Dominic breathes recklessly.


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2004-05-05 05:05 am UTC (link)

Silent, beautiful, HURT.

(Reply to this)

2004-05-05 05:08 am UTC (link)
I don't know what to say. Just. Wow. Heartbreaking, especially when one considers the words written on Dominic's skin.


(Reply to this)

2004-05-05 05:36 am UTC (link)
Absolutely beautiful.

(Reply to this)

2004-05-05 05:45 am UTC (link)
My heart is literally in my throat, and it hurts to breathe.
In a good way, of course.


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2004-05-05 05:48 am UTC (link)
Breathtaking. Beautiful. Amazing.

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2004-05-05 06:06 am UTC (link)
You are incredible.
I am.... speechless.

(Reply to this)

2004-05-05 06:31 am UTC (link)
This is the most intoxicating thing I've read in ages. Beautiful.

(Reply to this)

2004-05-05 06:34 am UTC (link)
Sweet fancy Moses.


This was absolutely beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.

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2004-05-05 07:02 am UTC (link)
Stunningly beautiful. I can't even find the words to describe the way this made me feel.

(Reply to this)

2004-05-05 07:16 am UTC (link)
The word beautiful is not a beautiful enough adjective to truly describe this piece of writing. Your eloquent and skilled use of words creates goregous images of a delicate love that cannot be. Just. Exquisite, really exquisite.

(Reply to this)

2004-05-05 07:21 am UTC (link)
everything you write just slays me.


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2004-05-05 07:21 am UTC (link)
*tries to start breathing again*

This is gorgeous.

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2004-05-05 07:24 am UTC (link)
This was so evocative, I am stunned by its beauty. The words flow like nothing I've read before. Absolutely amazing.

(Reply to this)

2004-05-05 07:26 am UTC (link)
This is amazingly, incredibly gorgeous. I am in awe. I wish I had the words to leave you the feedback that this deserves, but I am absolutely speechless.

Thank you for sharing this. I have a feeling it's going to stay with me for quite a while.

(Reply to this)

2004-05-05 07:32 am UTC (link)
Absolutely gorgeous and lush. I could just taste the longing and the desire in the room. This is a masterpiece!

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2004-05-05 07:36 am UTC (link)
I'm glad I can read, so I could read this.

in utter awe

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