Change of State (1/3)
Title: Change of State (1/3)
Author: millionstar
Pairing: Belldom, OoS era
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, Smut, Wee bit o'angst
Summary: A shift in dynamic can change everything.
Feedback: Is appreciated if you're so inclined; either way, just enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, no profit is being made and this is fiction.
Beta/Support: As always, dolce_piccante, myz_bee & frisky_biscuit. Thanks for all y'all do for me, seriously. There are no words. <3 Kudos to lalalive23 for input and for being lovely. <3
Author's Note: I wanted to try something that wasn't AU for once, I hope that y'all like.
This is how I picture the boys in this fic.
When he spreads his legs widely to accomodate the vibrator two things happen: one, I can feel my pulse begin to thunder in my body, and two, my cock twitches violently in my trousers. Voyeurism. Let's add that to the list of kinks Matthew Bellamy indulges in. Why the fuck not, a kink a day keeps... no, wait, that's not how it goes at all. Whatever.
Standing in the doorway of our hotel room it occurs to me that I shouldn't be this affected by him. It's Dom, for fuck's sake. He's my best mate, he's not wank material.
Right?
As he kneels in front of the headboard my gaze is drawn to the curve of his spine, all the way down to his arse. From the way his arm is moving I can tell he's using the toy against his shaft lightly, and I wonder if he's leaking a little, if the head of it is coated in his juices. It's when he reaches around to penetrate himself with one of his fingers that he groans in frustration.
It's not enough for him.
Maybe that's why I'm crossing the room quietly, dropping my room key on the floor. Is it the post-gig buzz? The two glasses of wine I guzzled the second I walked offstage? I don't know, and I'm not about to overanalyze it. All I know is that I want to touch him; the urge is there and I'm too curious to see how he reacts to my actions to abandon going through with them. Swallowing, I watch as my knees sink, one by one, into the lush duvet. It's only when I slide one arm around his warm midsection that he gasps, turning to look at me with wide, aroused eyes. I panic momentarily, until his head falls back onto my shoulder. We stay in that position for a few seconds, both kneeling on the bed; the only difference is that Dom's naked and I'm not.
"Thought you were getting wasted with Chris."
"Changed my mind."
"What're you doing?"
I freeze. "Giving you a hand."
Lame joke? Perhaps. It's a good way to mask my nervousness as I wonder how Dom will reply to what I've initiated. He says nothing for a few seconds, and just as I've decided that I've made the biggest mistake of my life and intend to leave with what little dignity I have left, he speaks.
"At least take your shirt off," he mumbles, grey eyes fluttering shut as the toy buzzes steadily, "it's itchy against my back."
I obey, tossing the shirt across the room before pulling him close again. I can't even describe how good it feels to have his back against my bare chest; then again, I never thought I'd ever feel this particular sensation but now that I'm here I'm overwhelmed in more than just a physical way. I peer over his shoulder, watching as he continues to press the vibrating head of the toy against his balls, occasionally letting it travel up his dick, then back down slowly. I'm mesmerized as he moans, and I lick my lips as I watch the veins pulsing and the head leaking under the tremors he's giving himself.
It's an instantly addictive sight and I can't tear my eyes away from it.
"Are we gonna talk about you going through my things?" I say matter-of-factly, noting the way that Dom shivers when my breath ghosts across his cheek. It makes my blood boil quite steadily.
When Dom speaks it's in a quiet, assured voice, although I can hear a hint of mischief and sense the smile on his face.
"Well, I don't know, are we gonna talk about the fact that you're not only watching me wank, but are actually helping me?"
Touche. I don't have an answer to that one so I just shrug as he continues.
"You left your bag open, asswipe. Fuck, Matt, why didn't you tell me you had this? It's," he lets loose a full-body shudder, "fucking magical." He baffles me; is it possible that he's not nervous at all? I'm practically shitting myself while at the same time nursing a raging hard-on and Dom seems cool and unshaken.
"What are you, the vibrator police?" I shrug. "It's new."
"Didn't know you were into that. You used it yet?"
"Didn't know you were either. Once."
"Did you like it?" For some reason, he's stopped what he's doing and sits on the bed next to me, the vibrator momentarily tossed aside. I turn to him and roll my eyes.
"What kind of fucking question is that?" I snort. "Do you like it?"
"Let me approach the question differently. What do you think about when you're using it on yourself?"
I roll my eyes. "Fuck off."
"No really, what does it for you, Matt?" he asks cheekily, and when I finally look at him he's sitting indian-style, his dick still standing hard between his legs, and let me just tell you that's not at all the most distracting thing in the universe to have to deal with. It's like trying not to look at the six hundred pound gorilla in the room when it's dripping-
-I mean, standing-
-right in front of you.
And yet, somehow, he's still fucking talking. "Tits? Arse, a nicely trimmed snatch? Is that what you're thinking about when your pants get tight?"
"Stop it, Dom," I mumble.
He snorts. "Pussy."
Now I'm just pissed off at his tone and before I can stop myself I shoot back, "You tell me, then, what does it for you?"
He raises his eyebrows at me and swallows but he's still looking me in the eye in an irritatingly confident manner. "All sorts of things get me stiff, Matt. You have no idea."
"So hardcore," I snort.
"Please," he sighs, scratching his neck absentmindedly, "like you're so innocent." My eyes watch as his hand smoothly slides across his shoulder, gently across his nipple, until it's resting against his inner thigh. His fingertips scratch at the tender skin lightly as my heart thunders in my chest. It's a deliberate gesture and one that I should be strong enough to resist but it's only served to turn my erection into one that is so hot it could now be classified as atomic.
"What?"
"Don't think for a fucking second that I don't know what you play at onstage."
I stand up, shaking my head. Retrieving my shirt from the floor, I shrug into it. "This conversation just took a turn for the stupid, Dom. Enjoy your wank." I"m almost to the door when I hear him toss a casual question in my direction.
"Are you angry with Chris?"
It stops me in my tracks and I turn to face him. "The fuck? No! Why are you asking me that?"
Dom shrugs, a sly smile on his face. "Just checking. I noticed that you don't interact with him onstage the same way you do with me. Riding my bass drum. Shaking your arse in my direction while you practically molest your guitar. Amp-fucking right next to me..."
Confession time. What can I say?
He's got me.
I can deny it, I can pretend that I'm as shocked as you are to hear these things, I can blame it on the post-gig buzz I mentioned earlier, but they would be the most heinous of lies. I've always had a good relationship with Dom, even when we're mad at each other, we still manage to work it out in the end. Over the past couple of years, though, there have been more and more instances where I've found myself seeing him in a completely different light. Suddenly sharing a bunk with him on the bus isn't such a bad thing; I find myself tagging alongside him no matter what he's doing. I'm behaving like a love-stuck schoolgirl.
I've changed my post-gig routine a little bit so I don't have to see the birds throw themselves at him, for one thing. Not that I can blame them, but it's just too hard for me to be witness to just how much he enjoys it. Watching him snogging some random girl while her hands are down his pants is torture, that much I learned only last week. I'd feigned a headache that particular night and retreated to my hotel room alone, nothing but an empty wank, the rain against the window, and a bottle of Jack to keep me company.
Yeah, I want him. And I have absolutely no damn idea what to do with myself. I swallow and glance at the window because fuck me if it's not getting hotter in here; I feel like I can't breathe suddenly.
"...I keep wondering, Oh fairy drummother, will this be the gig where Matt finally sticks Chris' bass up his arse?! It never is, though." He slides back to his pillow and stretches. "Why is that?"
Before I can reply he continues. "Why didn't you just turn away when you saw me in here naked? You obviously liked what you were seeing, didn't you? I bet that fucking blew your mind and put you in a right state!" he laughs. "Poor Matt."
To add a new level of discomfort to this situation tears are threatening to prick the edge of my eyes. He doesn't mean to be cruel, I know, but he doesn't realize how right he is, how I've battled with myself internally in an attempt to turn this feeling off, only to be shattered when it becomes obvious I can't. He doesn't realize that I made my way to the bed because I'd finally, after so long, gotten the courage to just go for it.
And now he's laughing at me.
"Stop it," I say shakily, and his expression shifts when he hears me speak.
"And here I thought you were doing it on purpose," he says matter-of-factly, putting his hand out. "C'mere, please?" Because I am apparently a glutton for punishment my feet seem to move at their own will and seven steps later there I am, staring wide-eyed as he pats the bed. Just as I plant my arse into the lush mattress, Dom sits up and moves closer to me. "You did it tonight, not even an hour ago."
"Did what?" I whisper, studying his collarbone and the way the sweat that's collected there shimmers in the low lighting of the room.
"During New Born. Eyeing me while you went at it for everything you had, playing like your fucking life depended on it." His hand is on my lower back now, rubbing slow circles at the skin just beneath my shirt. The instant his fingertips made contact with my skin a part of me died; yet, another part of me woke finally, after so many moments spent denying it was even there to begin with. "I saw what that did to you. It made you so hard that I could see it, and I couldn't take my eyes off of you after that."
There's nothing I can say because he's caught me out completely. I merely sit next to his gloriously naked body and try to process what's happening right now. Well, I try to do that but Dom has other plans, it seems, and continues speaking.
"You still wanna know what gets me hot, what I was thinking about when you walked in on me just now?" Dom has moved even closer to me and his voice is tickling my ear in a completely delicious and sinful fashion. "Even though I think you've finally figured it out?"
I nod, finally turning to look him in the eye, our noses bumping together.
"You," he breathes as his lips meet mine softly at first, then urgently after a beat. It's a feeling I never thought I would ever experience; it's also a revelation, an awakening, for I find myself leaning back and pulling him down with me as he kisses me even more deeply. He pulls back to gasp, "It's you, you dumb fuck," then reclaims my lips again. I should be alarmed that his tongue has slid smoothly into my mouth, but instead I choose to reciprocate his kiss. I'm ecstatic when he moans aloud at my awkward efforts.
OhmygodohmygodohmygodI'mkissingDom.
Strong, practiced hands have made their way to my hair and are scratching my scalp teasingly. My own are wrapped tightly around his neck and shoulders, which are so warm and soft that it's intoxicating. He's been here all this time, and Dom feels unbelievably good, so good that I can't see or think straight. A grin manifests on my lips mid-kiss, and it widens as Dom grabs one of my hands and guides it to his lower back, only to plant it against his waist. My fingertips curl into his skin automatically as though I were claiming ownership of that sweat-covered patch of his body.
After a few blissful minutes of snogging, he finally lifts his head and stares at me quizzically, as if he wants to gauge my reaction to what's just transpired between us. I wonder what he's thinking right now; wonder what he thinks my next action will be. We don't have anything to compare this to in our history. Dom and I have shared a lot of things over the years: clothes, booze, meals and the like, but never saliva. Now that we finally have though, I never want to stop. My heart pounding, I lick my lips again and pull his head down to whisper into his ear.
"More?"
I can feel Dom's wide smile against my cheek.
Author: millionstar
Pairing: Belldom, OoS era
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, Smut, Wee bit o'angst
Summary: A shift in dynamic can change everything.
Feedback: Is appreciated if you're so inclined; either way, just enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, no profit is being made and this is fiction.
Beta/Support: As always, dolce_piccante, myz_bee & frisky_biscuit. Thanks for all y'all do for me, seriously. There are no words. <3 Kudos to lalalive23 for input and for being lovely. <3
Author's Note: I wanted to try something that wasn't AU for once, I hope that y'all like.
This is how I picture the boys in this fic.
When he spreads his legs widely to accomodate the vibrator two things happen: one, I can feel my pulse begin to thunder in my body, and two, my cock twitches violently in my trousers. Voyeurism. Let's add that to the list of kinks Matthew Bellamy indulges in. Why the fuck not, a kink a day keeps... no, wait, that's not how it goes at all. Whatever.
Standing in the doorway of our hotel room it occurs to me that I shouldn't be this affected by him. It's Dom, for fuck's sake. He's my best mate, he's not wank material.
Right?
As he kneels in front of the headboard my gaze is drawn to the curve of his spine, all the way down to his arse. From the way his arm is moving I can tell he's using the toy against his shaft lightly, and I wonder if he's leaking a little, if the head of it is coated in his juices. It's when he reaches around to penetrate himself with one of his fingers that he groans in frustration.
It's not enough for him.
Maybe that's why I'm crossing the room quietly, dropping my room key on the floor. Is it the post-gig buzz? The two glasses of wine I guzzled the second I walked offstage? I don't know, and I'm not about to overanalyze it. All I know is that I want to touch him; the urge is there and I'm too curious to see how he reacts to my actions to abandon going through with them. Swallowing, I watch as my knees sink, one by one, into the lush duvet. It's only when I slide one arm around his warm midsection that he gasps, turning to look at me with wide, aroused eyes. I panic momentarily, until his head falls back onto my shoulder. We stay in that position for a few seconds, both kneeling on the bed; the only difference is that Dom's naked and I'm not.
"Thought you were getting wasted with Chris."
"Changed my mind."
"What're you doing?"
I freeze. "Giving you a hand."
Lame joke? Perhaps. It's a good way to mask my nervousness as I wonder how Dom will reply to what I've initiated. He says nothing for a few seconds, and just as I've decided that I've made the biggest mistake of my life and intend to leave with what little dignity I have left, he speaks.
"At least take your shirt off," he mumbles, grey eyes fluttering shut as the toy buzzes steadily, "it's itchy against my back."
I obey, tossing the shirt across the room before pulling him close again. I can't even describe how good it feels to have his back against my bare chest; then again, I never thought I'd ever feel this particular sensation but now that I'm here I'm overwhelmed in more than just a physical way. I peer over his shoulder, watching as he continues to press the vibrating head of the toy against his balls, occasionally letting it travel up his dick, then back down slowly. I'm mesmerized as he moans, and I lick my lips as I watch the veins pulsing and the head leaking under the tremors he's giving himself.
It's an instantly addictive sight and I can't tear my eyes away from it.
"Are we gonna talk about you going through my things?" I say matter-of-factly, noting the way that Dom shivers when my breath ghosts across his cheek. It makes my blood boil quite steadily.
When Dom speaks it's in a quiet, assured voice, although I can hear a hint of mischief and sense the smile on his face.
"Well, I don't know, are we gonna talk about the fact that you're not only watching me wank, but are actually helping me?"
Touche. I don't have an answer to that one so I just shrug as he continues.
"You left your bag open, asswipe. Fuck, Matt, why didn't you tell me you had this? It's," he lets loose a full-body shudder, "fucking magical." He baffles me; is it possible that he's not nervous at all? I'm practically shitting myself while at the same time nursing a raging hard-on and Dom seems cool and unshaken.
"What are you, the vibrator police?" I shrug. "It's new."
"Didn't know you were into that. You used it yet?"
"Didn't know you were either. Once."
"Did you like it?" For some reason, he's stopped what he's doing and sits on the bed next to me, the vibrator momentarily tossed aside. I turn to him and roll my eyes.
"What kind of fucking question is that?" I snort. "Do you like it?"
"Let me approach the question differently. What do you think about when you're using it on yourself?"
I roll my eyes. "Fuck off."
"No really, what does it for you, Matt?" he asks cheekily, and when I finally look at him he's sitting indian-style, his dick still standing hard between his legs, and let me just tell you that's not at all the most distracting thing in the universe to have to deal with. It's like trying not to look at the six hundred pound gorilla in the room when it's dripping-
-I mean, standing-
-right in front of you.
And yet, somehow, he's still fucking talking. "Tits? Arse, a nicely trimmed snatch? Is that what you're thinking about when your pants get tight?"
"Stop it, Dom," I mumble.
He snorts. "Pussy."
Now I'm just pissed off at his tone and before I can stop myself I shoot back, "You tell me, then, what does it for you?"
He raises his eyebrows at me and swallows but he's still looking me in the eye in an irritatingly confident manner. "All sorts of things get me stiff, Matt. You have no idea."
"So hardcore," I snort.
"Please," he sighs, scratching his neck absentmindedly, "like you're so innocent." My eyes watch as his hand smoothly slides across his shoulder, gently across his nipple, until it's resting against his inner thigh. His fingertips scratch at the tender skin lightly as my heart thunders in my chest. It's a deliberate gesture and one that I should be strong enough to resist but it's only served to turn my erection into one that is so hot it could now be classified as atomic.
"What?"
"Don't think for a fucking second that I don't know what you play at onstage."
I stand up, shaking my head. Retrieving my shirt from the floor, I shrug into it. "This conversation just took a turn for the stupid, Dom. Enjoy your wank." I"m almost to the door when I hear him toss a casual question in my direction.
"Are you angry with Chris?"
It stops me in my tracks and I turn to face him. "The fuck? No! Why are you asking me that?"
Dom shrugs, a sly smile on his face. "Just checking. I noticed that you don't interact with him onstage the same way you do with me. Riding my bass drum. Shaking your arse in my direction while you practically molest your guitar. Amp-fucking right next to me..."
Confession time. What can I say?
He's got me.
I can deny it, I can pretend that I'm as shocked as you are to hear these things, I can blame it on the post-gig buzz I mentioned earlier, but they would be the most heinous of lies. I've always had a good relationship with Dom, even when we're mad at each other, we still manage to work it out in the end. Over the past couple of years, though, there have been more and more instances where I've found myself seeing him in a completely different light. Suddenly sharing a bunk with him on the bus isn't such a bad thing; I find myself tagging alongside him no matter what he's doing. I'm behaving like a love-stuck schoolgirl.
I've changed my post-gig routine a little bit so I don't have to see the birds throw themselves at him, for one thing. Not that I can blame them, but it's just too hard for me to be witness to just how much he enjoys it. Watching him snogging some random girl while her hands are down his pants is torture, that much I learned only last week. I'd feigned a headache that particular night and retreated to my hotel room alone, nothing but an empty wank, the rain against the window, and a bottle of Jack to keep me company.
Yeah, I want him. And I have absolutely no damn idea what to do with myself. I swallow and glance at the window because fuck me if it's not getting hotter in here; I feel like I can't breathe suddenly.
"...I keep wondering, Oh fairy drummother, will this be the gig where Matt finally sticks Chris' bass up his arse?! It never is, though." He slides back to his pillow and stretches. "Why is that?"
Before I can reply he continues. "Why didn't you just turn away when you saw me in here naked? You obviously liked what you were seeing, didn't you? I bet that fucking blew your mind and put you in a right state!" he laughs. "Poor Matt."
To add a new level of discomfort to this situation tears are threatening to prick the edge of my eyes. He doesn't mean to be cruel, I know, but he doesn't realize how right he is, how I've battled with myself internally in an attempt to turn this feeling off, only to be shattered when it becomes obvious I can't. He doesn't realize that I made my way to the bed because I'd finally, after so long, gotten the courage to just go for it.
And now he's laughing at me.
"Stop it," I say shakily, and his expression shifts when he hears me speak.
"And here I thought you were doing it on purpose," he says matter-of-factly, putting his hand out. "C'mere, please?" Because I am apparently a glutton for punishment my feet seem to move at their own will and seven steps later there I am, staring wide-eyed as he pats the bed. Just as I plant my arse into the lush mattress, Dom sits up and moves closer to me. "You did it tonight, not even an hour ago."
"Did what?" I whisper, studying his collarbone and the way the sweat that's collected there shimmers in the low lighting of the room.
"During New Born. Eyeing me while you went at it for everything you had, playing like your fucking life depended on it." His hand is on my lower back now, rubbing slow circles at the skin just beneath my shirt. The instant his fingertips made contact with my skin a part of me died; yet, another part of me woke finally, after so many moments spent denying it was even there to begin with. "I saw what that did to you. It made you so hard that I could see it, and I couldn't take my eyes off of you after that."
There's nothing I can say because he's caught me out completely. I merely sit next to his gloriously naked body and try to process what's happening right now. Well, I try to do that but Dom has other plans, it seems, and continues speaking.
"You still wanna know what gets me hot, what I was thinking about when you walked in on me just now?" Dom has moved even closer to me and his voice is tickling my ear in a completely delicious and sinful fashion. "Even though I think you've finally figured it out?"
I nod, finally turning to look him in the eye, our noses bumping together.
"You," he breathes as his lips meet mine softly at first, then urgently after a beat. It's a feeling I never thought I would ever experience; it's also a revelation, an awakening, for I find myself leaning back and pulling him down with me as he kisses me even more deeply. He pulls back to gasp, "It's you, you dumb fuck," then reclaims my lips again. I should be alarmed that his tongue has slid smoothly into my mouth, but instead I choose to reciprocate his kiss. I'm ecstatic when he moans aloud at my awkward efforts.
OhmygodohmygodohmygodI'mkissingDom.
Strong, practiced hands have made their way to my hair and are scratching my scalp teasingly. My own are wrapped tightly around his neck and shoulders, which are so warm and soft that it's intoxicating. He's been here all this time, and Dom feels unbelievably good, so good that I can't see or think straight. A grin manifests on my lips mid-kiss, and it widens as Dom grabs one of my hands and guides it to his lower back, only to plant it against his waist. My fingertips curl into his skin automatically as though I were claiming ownership of that sweat-covered patch of his body.
After a few blissful minutes of snogging, he finally lifts his head and stares at me quizzically, as if he wants to gauge my reaction to what's just transpired between us. I wonder what he's thinking right now; wonder what he thinks my next action will be. We don't have anything to compare this to in our history. Dom and I have shared a lot of things over the years: clothes, booze, meals and the like, but never saliva. Now that we finally have though, I never want to stop. My heart pounding, I lick my lips again and pull his head down to whisper into his ear.
"More?"
I can feel Dom's wide smile against my cheek.