Conquest 1/3?
Title: Conquest 1/3?
Author: mistake_arrest
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: I'd say overall R-15
Warnings: Language, sexual content
Summary: AU, Dom's POV. Dom's had a one-night stand that he'd rather forget.
Disclaimer: I do not own the members of Muse - no matter how much I would love to - and this is just fiction. No profit is being made.
Note: Many thanks to engel_sehnsucht for all her help <3
My head pounded painfully. Cold sweat trickled down the back of my neck and my throat felt like I had just eaten a bucket full of sandpaper.
I scrambled around in my small apartment, throwing objects and stray pieces of clothing out of my way in search of my phone. Why did it always mysteriously disappear after a night out, just when I needed it the most?
Finally finding what I was looking for, I plopped down on my couch, thankful for the softness of the cushions giving way under my weight.
My brain slowly registered the fact that my bum was sore and I groaned, running a hand through my messy hair and tugging on a knot that got caught on my pinkie. A nice, long shower would be in order as soon as I got this mess sorted.
The mess was currently lying in my bed, snoring loudly and apparently close to being unconscious, judging by the fact that it hadn’t moved a muscle since I’d woken up half an hour ago.
I pressed a few buttons on my phone and brought it to my ear, biting my nails as I listened to the dull beeping on the other end.
“Morning…” came the groggy answer. My best friend, Chris, was notorious for suffering from horrendous hangovers and I could only suspect that I had cruelly woken him up once again.
“Chris!” I said in a loud whisper, trying to not wake up the stranger in my room. This conversation I wanted to have in private. “Did I wake you up?”
“What do you think?”
I grimaced. “Shit, I’m sorry. But this is an emergency.”
“It bloody well better be.”
“Listen… do you remember anything from last night?” I asked, glancing in the direction of my bedroom door to be sure that it was still closed and no one was listening. “Like, who were we with, for example?”
I heard Chris groan on the other end of the line. “Fucking hell, Dom. Do you seriously expect me to remember everyone that you rubbed yourself against?”
“Excuse me?”
Chris seemed to cheer up a little as he tried his hardest to remember the events of our night out. “You heard me. You, my friend, were on fucking fire. Haven’t seen you like that for months.”
It was probably true. I had been out with Chris for the first time in a long while - I was newly single and now, a couple of months after my most recent heartbreak Chris had decided that I had mourned enough and dragged me into the hottest, newest bar in town.
That was as much as I remembered.
I was quiet for a few seconds, contemplating leaving it there and just cruelly kicking my guest out without finding out what had happened. Finally I decided to prod Chris just a little bit more.
“Um… care to explain?” I asked.
“Well, like I said, I don’t think there was anyone left in the club that you didn’t feel up. And… well, let’s also say that I didn’t know you swung that way.”
Didn’t know you swung that way.
There it was: the truth that I knew deep inside but dreaded hearing from someone else. I shifted on the couch, suddenly all too aware of the dull ache that reminded me of what apparently had happened with the man currently taking up most of my king-sized bed just a few meters from where I was sitting.
I covered my face with my hand and mumbled something inaudible to Chris, who asked me to repeat.
“I said… I said that it’s not true,” I said, my voice shaking a little. “I’ve made a mistake. I’m… I’m not a fucking poof.”
“Hey, that dude you pulled last night was a bit on the scrawny side but surely he had a dick, right? At least, by the way you were grinding against him, I thought-”
“Enough, stop it,” I said after drawing in a quick breath, deeply disturbed by the image I now had in my head. I did not need to know more.
“Okay, whatever. But, just so you know, I’m totally okay with it.”
I didn’t answer; I was too busy trying to claw my face off. I was so humiliated. How many people that I knew had seen me with him? Was I now known as a fag in my home town? Would people point at me and whisper rude things about me to each other?
“Dom?” Chris called my name finally. “Are you still there?”
That was when I heard a particularly loud, snorting snore from my bedroom. I decided to suck it up like a man, if you’ll allow the metaphor, and reveal the severity of my situation to Chris.
“Chris, I have a little problem,” I started.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I… how should I put this… well, he’s still here,” I whispered, blinking in a panicked way, expecting to see the stranger crawl into my living room any minute.
I was slightly offended by the laugh I got in response.
“Chris, I’m fucking serious. How the fuck do I get him out of here? He’s sleeping in my bed!”
“Just tell him to go. You haven’t had any problems with kicking your women out before - it’s not that much different with a man, surely?”
The teasing tone in Chris’ voice made me furious, but I didn’t have the chance to spit out a nasty retort, because that was the exact moment he chose to step out of the bedroom.
“Chris, I’ll call you back,” I managed to say and pressed the red button on my phone to finish the call.
There he was, in all his naked glory. Well, almost naked - he had a pair of slightly too large dark gray boxers on. My boxers, I noticed, the fury I had felt towards Chris quickly transforming into anger towards this stranger.
How the fuck did he dare?
With a chirpy “Good morning!” he padded past me, smiling broadly, almost obnoxiously, at me before walking straight to my fridge.
Chris was completely right, he was very scrawny. Probably a little bit shorter than me, too. Perhaps I had mistaken him for a girl in my drunken state? Things like that must happen all the time. Right?
His messy locks were slightly overgrown, tufts of dark brown hair sticking up around his ears and on the left side of his head from where he’d had it pressed on my pillow.
I coughed experimentally. No reaction.
He took a carton of juice out and drank straight from it, to my horror drinking most of my mango juice in one gulp. Humming something that eerily resembled a song by Lady GaGa - the name of which I couldn’t remember even if I tried - he pushed the carton back into the fridge and pulled a jar of peanut butter out.
At this point I was still sitting on my couch, but my mouth was hanging open in shock. I was staring at him, yes, quite openly, but I thought I had every right to do so in my own apartment. Despite this, I felt like an intruder in someone else’s home, because of the way this man was moving around in my kitchen as if he had always lived here.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked suddenly, making me jump. I hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped humming and was now standing in the middle of my kitchen, hands on his hips. I couldn’t pinpoint his accent, it sounded pretty generic to me.
“Uh… yes. I think I passed out after we… after we got back here last night?” I tried hopefully.
His eyebrows quirked. “Oh, sweetie, you were awake for quite a while after. Where do you keep your bread?”
Stunned, I pointed at one of the cabinets beside the fridge and felt my face flush bright red. Shit, shit, shit.
“I was?” I piped and tucked my legs under myself on the couch, curling up the best I could. Maybe if I tried hard enough I could disappear.
“You sure were… you have amazing thighs, by the way.”
I looked at my thighs. They were nothing special. Although, if the purple bite marks on them were anything to go by, this man really, really liked them.
I sat silently for a while, observing the stranger prepare breakfast for himself. He asked me if I wanted any, but I could hardly swallow my own saliva, let alone something else, so I shook my head. I was starting to get very self-conscious, slowly realizing that I wasn’t wearing anything but my boxers, a similar outfit to my mystery guest. I wanted to ask him to return my boxers before he left, but I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth.
“W-what happened last night?” I blurted out instead, crossing my arms over my exposed chest. “Between us, I mean. Did we… what… uh…” I just couldn’t say the words.
“Oh, sweetie. Dom, is it?” I nodded. “Dom, we had so much fun. You’re a fucking blast.”
I’m pretty sure I pouted at this point, feeling my throat swell unpleasantly.
“And yes, we did it. Went all the way. You have the tightest, sweetest arse I have ever had the pleasure of fucking.”
His smirk was mischievous as he carefully pronounced every filthy word between loudly crunching bites of his toast. I squirmed where I was sitting.
“Nothing wrong with your cock, either. Filled me up quite wonderfully.” He opened the fridge door and took the juice carton out again, downing a mouthful and letting out a loud belch before putting the carton back inside. “I would love to do it again.”
“Stop it!” I almost screamed, putting my hands over my ears. “I… I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Oh. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, no, no. It’s not that. I’m not gay.”
“Sweetie, are you sure about that?” he asked, spreading an extra layer of my super expensive, luxury peanut butter on another slice of toast before taking a huge bite.
“Definitely not queer,” I nodded.
“That’s not the impression I got last night… you told me that-”
“Listen, I do not care what I told you,” I said as calmly as possible. After all, even though this man was an obnoxious idiot, there was no reason to treat him like one. I didn’t know him - what if he was violent? I certainly didn’t want to mess with a violent, dangerous person in my own home. Oh my God, what if I had a murderer in my apartment, just waiting to stab me with my butter knife?
“The bottom line is that I’m not attracted to men in any way, and I never will be,” I said, swallowing my growing panic.
He giggled; a strange, high-pitched giggle. The slightly murderous glare that I shot in his direction did nothing but spur his giggles on.
What a freak, I thought and stood up to walk to my bedroom to get dressed, needing to get out as soon as possible. I slammed the door shut behind me. I was in the process of hopping into my too tight, bright blue skinnies when I heard a determined knock on the bedroom door.
“Hey, can I use your shower?”
I rolled my eyes.
“It’s not like you asked if you could use my fucking juice or bread either. Whatever, I don’t care,” I said, loud enough for him to hear through the door as I almost tripped on the legs of my trousers.
When I was finally fully dressed, I grabbed my wallet, keys and phone and walked to the kitchen to write him a note. I heard the shower running and was thankful that I didn’t have to say what I had to say to his face.
Gone for a walk. I’ll be back in an hour. I expect you to be gone by then.
And don’t even think about nicking anything, I’ll keep an eye on you.
-Dom
I decided to be as blunt as possible to avoid any misunderstandings. I was not interested in him. Nope. I stuck the note on my bedroom door.
When I came back an hour and a half later - I spent all the time hiding behind a dumpster and waiting for him to leave, paranoid that he would walk out of my apartment with my huge, brand new plasma TV - he was gone. He’d left a note on my front door in turn, though, and I quickly ripped it off, desperately hoping that none of my neighbours had seen it. I opened the folded paper and read what was written on it in a messy scrawl.
Sweetie, thank you for the breakfast and the shower. And for letting me sleep in your warm bed ;) You were so much fun.
P.S. I hope you don’t have plans for tonight. -Matt