Stand and Deliver!

Title: Your Money or Your Life

Author: http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=lord_alexander

Pairing: Billy/Dom, but not as we know it.

Rating: Definately NC17

Summary: London. 1671. Body and Monaghan, gentlemen of the road, have been partners in crime since the previous year. What has happenened between Dominic's kidnap and now, and why does the presence of Rochester give William a reason to be jealous?

Disclaimer: Not mine in the 21st century, so not mine in the 17th.

Feedback: See me chase it like a dope-smoking penguin living in a tank of sardines.



*****



Darkness settled over the city, in the windows of a few of the tightly packed houses outside the walls that had not been affected by the Fire a candle, perhaps a lantern skinned with horn, burned. For the law-abiding citizens of London it was the moment when reality gave over to dreamstate, for who of them worriboutbout those who still lurked in the dark recesses of the ancient place?



There were those who remained, however. Thieves. Pickpockets. Muggers. Across the water in Southwark and in the narrower alleys of the town itself whores plied their thankless trade. The underbelly of the greatest city upon earth, exposed to all that wished to see the less palatable side of life.



Dominic had been in the darkness for perhaps a year now, and though he had come from the glittering beauty of a wealthy lifestyle, he would not have relinquished this new world, not for status or money.



Well, perhaps money.



His brown mare shifted lazily, muscles quivering in her twitching flank, and he stroked her neck, soothing the beast to rest. Who would have thought a mere twelve months previously he was the son of Lord and Lady Monaghan, an eligible bachelor, a not-so-dutiful son who had cynically looked upon the spheres in which he shifted and had friends who were equally as bleak in their outlook? Of course, the air of the true Restoration rake was one of boressiessimism, but he had taken it beyond an artform and had let it shape his life.



But for that one change in circumstance, he would still be there, he knew, probably married to one of those foolish girls that his mother seemed to love so much. The sort that was purely decorative, so that Lady Monaghan could wield her own power over her daughter-in-law. Rather like his sister, though it pained the man with the blond hair to admit.



Lizzie. How he’d missed her. It was idiotic, he knew, for in actuality he had barely tolerated the girl that was the nearest to him in blood, yet in his heart he still wished they had contact. When away from their mother she had proved to be rather witty, clever, intelligent in a very feminine way. That, that he could cope with. Those few flashes of what he considered humanity inside the shell that his mother had preened and pimped for sixteen years. It was his mother that had caused the problems. Strong willed, the woman was, like Dominic himself, answerable to no one and least not her husband. Even the young man admitted that Lord Monaghan was rather a non-entity.



Darling Lizzie, who had married so recently to a family friend’s son; of course their mother had been furious. He could see the scene. The son of a squire, however handsome and well brought up, was not the match she had desired for her youngest. But Lizzie had fallen in love, as the man had with her, and for once the girl had her way.



Apparently she was happily ensconced in a manor house near York, and there was a child on the way to match the one that had just been born in wedlock.



Of course Lizzie was a dizzy fool most of the time, but she had realised that she could get her way if there was the chance of a grandchild of the Monaghans being illegitimate.



Dominic had sent presents to the small boy he was the uncle of; a silver christening bracelet, money for his future. None had been returned, that was promising. Of course, the son of the squire, Mr Astin was his name, was a personable man - a little older than himself but a decent rather solid chap who wasn’t too intelligent. An excellent choice for a flighty girl to make, showing a maturity that Dominic had not expected.



Considering they had both rebelled against their parents, he had to admit that they were both happy.



*****



A year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty five days. Give or take a few days that was how long he’d been away. Of course, rumours abounded. Refusing to think that the Monaghan who rode with the Scot, Boyd, was their son, the Monaghans had said he had been kidnapped, killed, by someone unknown. After all, to admit that their son had been taken by William Boyd was tantamount to accepting that he was one of the duo that terrorised London.



But he had been. Stolen away by a man who had devilry in his eyes and angel kisses on his beautiful mouth. Stolen by someone who, when Dominic opened his eyes in the morning and when the dusty sunlight spilled over their bed, looked like a golden idol that had been fashioned to worship pagan gods. His Billy.



Rochester had been tickled pink when he’d found out.



They’d held up his carriage before Dominic had recognised the coat of arms, and the man had almost fainted when the sensual-eyed earl had stepped from the vehicle, smiling, as if this was one of the most amusing moments of his life.



“Good Lord, I am being hijacked! What fun!” he’d shrilled, and Billy had given him a strange gaze, not used to either being welcomed as a delic div diversion or to men who gave him a glance calculated to see through his clothing.



“Aye, you are, milord. Anything valuable, please give to my partner.”



“Well, well, you must be Mr Boyd, and this handsome creature must be Mr Monaghan. Mr Monaghan I am already aquainted with.” And then he held out his hand to be shook.



Dominic had frozen; recognition at who they were facing and the horror eingeing found out turning his body to a proverbial pillar of salt, while Billy stared at the effete hand, gloved in white kid leather, then grudgingly shook it.



“Of course, you may have all that you wish, as long as I can come and meet with you wherever you would like? Mr Monaghan will pledge that I am not the sort to raise the militia and have you taken, as frankly you two are far too thrilling for words, and friends do not have their friends arrested, do they?”



At a loss, Billy turned to Dominic, and it was the first time the younger man had seen his lover speechless.



“Rochester will not give us away, I swear it.”



“If he does…”



“He won’t.”



Nodding, Billy turned back to the Earl, who was readily removing his rings and earbobs, and the black-clad man morphed subtly back into William Boyd. Dominic had learned very early on that the man who committed highway robbery for a living and the man with whom he shared a bed were rather different people.



“The Tabard Inn, on”


“I know it,” replied Rochester, giving Billy a saucy look, the painted corners of his mouth turning up coquettishly.



“You would…”



*****



It was at their meeting, which became a regular event after the first contact was made, that Dominic learned of the marriage of Lizzie and other familial items. He didn’t ask for them, too proud to be even seen to beg for information regarding his previous life, but Rochester, knowing his friend well, offered them without being asked.



He did, however, ask for them both to join him in bed, for a rather generous fee.



It was turned down, Billy’s hand tightening on his lover’s thigh, the musical accent telling the Earl where he could put his offer, though the rejection was taken lightly by Rochester who, indeed, took everything in life lightly.



*****



“He wanted you,” growled the Scotsman, finishing his pint of ale and dropping the leather tankard to the floor, his eyes that were the shattering green of a sea just before a storm, raging. Watching his lover being asked to join the effeminate man, who Billy had to admit was attractive in a powdered sort of way and who had a mouth that was made for pleasures of the flesh, had twisted something in his gut that he’d never been aware of.



Before Dominic, there had been few others.



Brought up in the west of Scotlandrn trn to a Presbyterian family who were Calvinistic but loving in their approach to their children, William Boyd had been an intelligent lad. His father had hopes upon the boy having a rewarding career in the Church, sending him away to an austere but excellent school at the age of nine.



He had a persuasive tongue, a fey charm about him that had won him admirers in school, but an air of clever naughtiness that won him few friends among the masters.



Of course, he had been expelled, for not only was William Boyd a bright child, but he had the air of a magpie about him; bright eyed, drawn to beautiful things, items that often proved costly. His silver tongue and charisma meant he was tolerated for longer than should have been proper, but when a whole guinea was found to be missing from the school funds and a guinea was found in the pocket of one William Boyd, it was only natural that the institution sent him away.



Supposed to go home, instead the sandy haired boy, now aged fourteen, ran away to Edinburgh. After all, his family would have been tainted with his reputation, and, above all, William loved his family. However, he didn’t care enough to stop graduating from petty thievery and the stealing of small items to larger, more complex crimes.



One of his greatest treasures was stealing a bony old nag that he named Lionel.



Lionel launched William Boyd as a highwayman.



*****



“He wanted you,” Billy repeated, turning his gaze to Dominic, who was resting against the shutters of the window, rather taken aback by the vehemence of the words and the glitter of rage in the sea green irises of the Scotsman.



“He’s always wanted me, even when, well, before.”



Another low growl, fists, still clad in leather for Billy rarely removed his gloves, clenching. The feeling of white heat smoking at the base of his spine was something felt many years before, when his brother had been born and he’d thought that his parents didn’t love him any more. A searing of warmth over his back, prickling Billy’s pale skin under his black shirt, so sudden that he felt chilled all over.



Jealousy.



It was why Billy had green eyes.



“He will not have you, Dominic, he will not even entertain the thought of having you.”



The younger man watched, his own body chilled as the rage of envy consumed the body of his lover. He guessed that Billy was angry because of…he wasn’t sure. There was definitely some sort of resentment manifesting in the smaller body, the way Billy had risen from the bed and was pacing, fingers linked behind his back, giving Dominic raking looks that made him feel as if the flesh was being scorched from bone.



Suddenly, he stopped, and his eyes for a split-second revealed the feelings tearing him apart, then he fell on the other, mouth ravishing Dominic’s own, fingers gripping at his shoulders and tangling in blond locks that now tumbled to his shoulders. Wearing a wig wasn’t easy for a highwayman, so the younger had grown his hair long.



Gradually, as Dominic kissed back, the Scotsman began to relax, welcoming the hand that was stroking his short sandy hair, nuzzling his face against the fingers when they petted his cheek.



“I hate the thought of you not being mine.”



The words had slipped out, unbidden, the residual anger and hurt pushing them into reality, and Billy gave a sigh, resting his forehead on his lover’s shoulder. He hated emotion, the way they bid him do foolish things; much of his past life had been based on inner feelings, revenge for acts done or imagined, they ruled him uncomfortably even though he was always trying to shake off their clawlike grip on his soul.



A gossamer touch, ghosting his cheek, and Billy looked up to see the younger man looking at him with a mixture of dazed comprehension, and something approaching what he felt, the thing that had caused the painful jealous knot of intestines.



“You’re jealous of Rochester and I? Billy, I would not even entertain the idea of giving myself to him, when the one that I would give everything to is here, in my arms, right at thomenoment.”



It seemed so simple when Dominic said it, with that sweet tone, with the hint of the Lancashire accent that bedevilled his aristocratic speech, the soothing voice that made Billy melt against the Northerner and lay his head on the proffered shoulder. As he did, he found himself behind pushed backwards slightly, walked towards the bed, and he fell onto it as Dominic slid on top of him.



A tiny smile, and another of those kisses that burned the soul and sent the entire world spinning for both of them, and they were carelessly pulling off clothing, revealing pale skin, un to to sunshine. Now they were creatures who worked in darkness, both men hardly were ever outside in the daylight, preferring to sleep all day wrapped around each other then emerging to make the night their own.



Billy moved a little, the bed creaking, and managed to use his feet to work the tight leather boots from his legs. Unlike Dominic, whose clothing tasted had changed though through necessity rather than vanity, he existed still in knee boots and leather breeches, as soft as his own skin, close fitting his buttocks and thighs. The younger man thought they were an affectation, though one he could definitely cope with; William Boyd, highwayman, in those breeches, either astride a horse or astride him, was one benefit from such tight fitting clothing.



The breeches were hurriedly undone by the blond, who tugged at the buttons until they popped from the eyelets. Though there was a slight struggle given the snugness of the leather, they were eventually pushed away with little ceremony to join the footwear on the floor.



Leaving the shirt, Dominic had to undress himself before it became too much for him, and he started on his coat. Claret velvet, rich and burning like coals, his own eccentricity of dress and his strange law that highwaymen should at least try and be flamboyant. The younger man’s ideas about what a gentleman of the road should or shouldn’t wear had always amused Billy, who thought the finality with which Dominic announced his ideas perfectly charming.



As he managed to throw the garment across the room, knocking over the tankard on the bedside cabinet, it was growing more and more obvious that the plushness of the matching breeches was arousing Billy to new heights. Grinning, the Northerner pulled his own shirt over his head, tangled for but a second, and then, when released and the white cotton was polled by their side, he shifted his hips. The action had an immediate affect on the Scot, and he moaned, cursing, his own body rolling to meet Dominic’s.



“Bastard.”



“I shall stop if you think I ought…”



“You dare and you will be thrown out of the bloody window!”



A breathy laugh escaped them both, and Billy’s fingers skittered down Dominic’s chest to the fastenings of the blond’s own breeches, Far easier to remove than his own, for his lover did not wear them as tight, he ripped them down, hands then lingering on the backs of creamy thighs as they collapsed into a kiss, tongues teasing. Further down their mostly naked bodies their members, slick and needy, ground together.



“Oh…”



Soon, the last pieces of fabric were removed and both men were fully naked, bodies pressed together full length, fitting against the other perfectly. That had been the advantage they had both discovered in their first kiss, and they used it fully.



Dominic nipped at Billy’s collarbone, his eyes watchful and shadowed, before he managed to catch his breath to speak.



“If you do not take me then truly I will burst.”



It was answered by a low laugh, and Billy, stronger than his slender faunish body could ever be imagined, rolled the blond onto his back.



“Do you need me?”



“Yes!”



A grin, a demon’s grin on the face of a falling angel who had prepared for the unending delights of hell, and the older man slid a hand under the mattress to find the oil.



“Warm it first.”



“I do not think that I have taken anyone as fastidious in their love making as you, Dominic.”



However, Billy did as he was asked, keeping up a slight momentum of their hips rocking together, not to lose the heady feeling of sensuality as he cupped his hands around the glass jar. It had been coming to pass for a long time now that the Scotsman would do as Dominic asked, though he dressed it up with pretending to refuse and disguising his want to please his lover as something less needy.



Uncorking the glass bottle, he dipped his fingers into the liquid, which wasn’t as warm as Dominic liked it and not as cool as Billy preferred, and carefully applied them to the younger man. It was a joy to see the slight panic of the younger man feeling of cold oil between his perfect buttocks, which dissipated as a finger probed a little more into a hazy drugged look of pleasure. A little more oil, and another digit applied, though as Dominic tensed up, the Scot had to lean forward and suckle the proud erection of his lover, thereby giving him enough pleasure to cope with the trespass.



Even after a year together, sometimes it felt like it was their first time over again.



“Now, It hat have you, before you give me too much pleasure.”



A nod, and Billy used the residue of the liquid to anoint himself, a holy baptism in a sinful act, before he entered the slickened channel, eliciting a low cry from each man as he moved forward. With enough control to stopper the bottle of oil and rest it on the cabinet, the Scotsman raised himself up, giving an experimental twitch of his hips that was met with a noise of perfect joy from the other. The note was soon smothered by that mouth that was too beautiful to contemplate, and as Billy took his lover, his tempo perfect counterpoint to the movements Dominic made, they kissed.



It seemed an infinitely short length of time, something that lasted forever but seemed over in a trice. A shudder from underneath him, the breathily calling of the sandy haired man’s name, and Dominic climaxed between them before his bodily contractions took Billy over the edge and into the endless fall of the abyss.



*****



Laying together, wrapped around Billy, Dominic opened his eyes and spent a moment watching the Scotsman sleep. He was golden again today, the sunlight deigning to gild the man’s skin, warming it to a molten honey. Spidery lashes lay along his pale cheek, the lovely mouth relaxed in sleep, and he leaned over the tiny gap between their lips to kiss him.



“I am in love with you, William Boyd.”



An eye winked open, and for the first time in the history of knowing each other, the older man coloured, faint flush pinking his cheekbones.



“Daft bastard.”



Sometimes even insults meant the same as professions of love.