Results may vary
Results may vary
one-off;NC-17; pwp; warnings: violence
Dominic is not pleased. He's not feeling cozy here, in a small red-painted bar, right across that famous street that is filled with lights, humour and restaurants today. The crowd that is moving back and forth in front of him seems to be very happy, all smiles and shy nods of their heads, while discussing different topics, none of which he'd like to hear.
Dominic is pissed off. He's fucked up, actually. He starts taking one drink after another, losing count and then suddenly life becomes a blur. His eyes look unusually pale and blank, the lack of expression filling them, his hair is a total mess, as well as his clothes. His dark blue shirt looks dirty, with some splashes of liquid on it and it definitely needs ironing.
While on the plane, everyone's expecting from me to get hysterical.I'm not getting hysterical, I'm getting wasted.I get so drunk that I can't walk straight and am absolutely not able to say a sentence without the word "fuck" in it. I'm drunk, serene, funny and calm. I'm everybody's Dream tonight. Remember our band consists of: a weirdo, a role-model man and a cutie. I'm a cutie and I'm proving it. Fucking proving it.
'Matt's upstairs,' Chris says.
'I dunno, Dom. Maybe you should cut back a little, hmm? I guess I've seen him upstairs.' Tom says
'Why the hell would I know?' our new tour manager says. 'Maybe you should try upstairs.'
'Who's Matt?' a drunk fangirl asks me back. 'Maybe upstairs.'
Everybody's saying that Matt's upstairs. But there's no fucking UPSTAIRS, it's not a fucking London bus now, is it?
The stairs are small and just too damn narrow, I'm about to fall but then the stairway ends and I see his door number.
The door is deathly white.
Dominic doesn't want to argue or play games. He doesn't need to talk or someone to keep him company downstairs at the bar. He's not going to ask for Matt's advice either.
He wants to fuck. To.fuck.Matt.Bellamy.
He needs it, badly. He's dying to do it. He cannot help himself and he doesn't want to.
He presses him to the wall and turns him around with a moan. Matt is struggling to get free, but it's not helping: his hands, his long wet fingers are slipping off Dom's sweaty skin. He gets turned around, his clothes ripped off and he starts to scream.
He doesn't know what he wants but he definitely doesn't want any violence. He's shaking, a moaning shaking mess, but he has to spread his legs as he feels Dominic's fingers enter him.
Dominic needs it deeper. Oh yes, just like that. Deeper into that sweet self-controlled, sexy, wet, screaming ass. It's only fingers, calm down, baby, be a good boy.
But no, he just can't stop doing it. It's not screaming and it's not moaning - it's something in between, he utters small loud gasps, trying to say something, but unable and then he shuts up for a second and then gasps again.
Fuck it, he's ready.
Dom throws him on the bed and rips off his own tie. It's black with some silver hearts ,he thinks he had bought it in New York in that way-too-expensive Barney's store but he's wrong because it's only a replica of those cool ties in Barney's. And he had bought it in China.
He's been to China, he's been to Las Vegas - he doesn't really like gambling, but poker is a lot of fun. It's just his type of a job, you know? Someone's job is about knitting sweaters, his job is about travelling. And playing music, of cause.
Matt gets tied up to the bed with a tie (isn't English language wonderful?). He can't move and he looks pleadingly at Dom. He doesn't gasp, moan or shout any more, he's just LOOKING.
Dominic wouldn't care if he fucking shot him with a gun, let alone the looks so he goes on.
It's rough. It's just how he wants it. He spreads Matt's legs, using his knee, licks his mouth with his tongue, then travelling all way down his neck, licking wetly. Matt shivers and goes mute.
He's like a TV. Turn him on and then turn him off. Switch him to another channel, this one is too boring. Break him. Fucking throw him into the nearest wall.
Dominic enters him without any warning, thrusting in all the way. Matt screams from the killing pain, but it doesn't stop the drummer. Nothing is going to stop him. Not tonight.
Tonight's an apotheosis.
He fucks him like an animal, entering over and over again, never slowing down, not trying to hurt him on purpose, but not being tender either. Sex just isn't about tenderness, it's an animalistic act, it's an act of putting someone like this on his knees and fucking him. Hard. Tight. Deep. Rough.
Matt is so hot inside and he gets even hotter from the friction. He's swearing underneath Dom and gasping, trying to shout his name at times, so Dominic puts a hand over his mouth and silences the tries. Matthew's still struggling, but he's sexy and he's welcoming - he might not know it even himself, but Dom is sure about it. It's Matt's body betraying him.
Matt's hips start backing into Dom's cock before they both realise it; his gasps turn to frenetic, uncontrolled moans. He loves it. He's loving it just like that - hard and deep. Oh please, more.
There's blood on the sheets, Dominic's hazy mind notices the detail absent-mindedly. The scarlet splashes of real blood on the pearly-white surface. Violence on those perfect sheets, a rebellion on their perfect fully-controlled life.
It's beautiful.
He comes inside Matt's tightness, leaving his sperm deep into the snow-white body, burning and falling through the brightest stars. He's feeling everything in one second and he's not able to adjust it - it's hell and it's heaven or maybe it's limbo. There's blood and there's water and then there's darkness, but through it all there's light.