Beta : the lovely . Million thanks!
Pairing : Belldom
Summary: Your ass belongs to me now, Matt sings and points at Dom. But who owns whose ass in reality?
Feedback: would be lovely if you have some time! <3
Warnings: sexual references, profane language.
Disclaimers: I don’t own Muse, but original aspects belong to me. So don't steal, please!
Author's note: Hello, everyone! I'm not dead, and more importantly, I feel more inspired than ever
Possession and Proclamation
After twenty years, you’d think I’d know him, and expect his next move. But no, he was as unpredictable as a wild animal, waiting for me to relax around him, and only then attacking. Well, you know, not literally. He liked to catch me off guard, provoke me, then observe my reaction with a sly smile on his face.
At first, it was just small things. I remember he once drew a penis on the back of my Maths notebook, and unfortunately, I only noticed it at the same time my teacher did. That was an uncomfortable explanation… Of course, this trolling of his wasn’t reserved for our school years exclusively – he never grew up. He would often nick my things on the tour bus, then claim that I was just too drunk to remember where I put them.
Things got serious when he started suspecting that I felt more than friendship for him. He was never that observant, but I guess my crush wasn’t that hard to figure out. Or maybe Tom told him. Anyway, we had always been close, but he suddenly became touchy feely, his hands lingering on me for longer than necessary, or they would caress me gently. He was so good at this that I didn’t even notice that it was just one of his tricks until he stopped doing it.
Then it was his girlfriends. Well, we all had them and especially faceless, nameless fucks, but his relationships were peculiarly long lasting, so again, I didn’t suspect him. But even while he was committed to someone, he would still tease me. A flirty smile, a seemingly carelessly thrown reply, which was, in fact, a double entendre if I stopped to analyse it, and the songs. I’d just shake my head whenever he’d enter the studio with that stupid notebook of his, encrypting our cat-and-mouse game into whimsical adjectives.
However, his biggest attack was after a very hot concert. Sure, he flirted with me, he always did, but the moment I saw his face in the faint light of my dressing room, I knew. He pressed me against a wall and we kissed with the fierceness of ten years worth of suppressed lust. We were so keyed up, that we barely touched each other’s cocks before we came.
Did things change after that? They did, in a way, but at the same time he still continued his provocations. He didn’t break up with his girlfriend, but we would also sometimes engage in the horizontal tango. It wasn’t just him initiating it, though: it was a mutual tension release. Yes, tension release, because to name it anything else would have made the illusion of balance crumble. It never went beyond kisses and handjobs.
It’s been ten years since then, and as I said, I had experienced a lot of things beside this crazy man. A lot has changed too. It was our first concert after our holiday in Greece, and no one wanted to leave. We were almost at the airport when Matt noticed that he left his passport at the hotel, so we were running late as well. The flight was rather short – we only had to fly to Bucharest, but there was a sense of unrest in the air. Or maybe it was just me – I didn’t feel ready to return to the real world after everything that happened in Skiathos... Nevertheless, the others were in a great mood, and it proved infectious.
“It’s a hot evening,” Tom stated as we got off the airplane, and I caught Matt staring at me with a glint in his eyes.
It was very similar to the looks he only afforded when we were alone, but I shrugged, thinking that he was just bolder given that his newest girlfriend didn’t come with us. He disappeared in his dressing room until the start of the gig, but even when he exited, he seemed normal, and smiled widely as Tom wished us good luck.
I said the little bastard couldn’t surprise me anymore, but guess what.
“Your ass belongs to me noooow,” he sang and pointed at me, grinning as if to say that he won again.
I grinned back, and continued drumming, but all I wanted to do was stop and just stare at Matt with a “REALLY?!” look on my face. I think the little wanker forgot the previous week when I was basically pounding into his ass every day. He forgot that night when he was so aroused that he climbed over his balcony to mine, and then sneaked into my bed, whining and touching his dick. I guess he also forgot the time when we were alone on the beach, him sat in my lap, as I drove into him and the waves kept hitting our legs, imitating the back and forth rhythm of our bodies. He threw his head back when he came without me even touching him, his nails digging into my shoulder…
No, no, I know his memory was intact, he would forever remember those moonlit nights. But this was a political move on his part: he wanted to proclaim his masculinity in front of everybody. He wanted to show people that I was his little bitch, and not the other way around, that he was always on top, and that included on top of me.
I laughed, because I didn’t expect this, but mostly because I knew he was provoking me, and expecting punishment later. Don’t worry, I will show him as many times as necessary that his ass belongs to me. It always did and it always will.