Title: My favourite dessert
Author: thekeyholder (Brigi)
Betas: the lovely and wonderful starlight_myth , ashamedbliss and miss_ariake
Summary: The intriguing prompt on mkmeme : "This is just something I've always thought but I don't think anyone knows that I read slash so I've never actually voiced it, but Matt's fingers would taste metallic. I know it's a weird thing to say. I love being anonymous. But yeah, incorporate that into something dirty sometime, I'll notice and approve wholeheartedly."I thought it' was unusual and I had an idea about this. Dom's POV.
Feedback: is what I love the most (well, after Muse and chocolate, of course. :P)
Disclaimers: As you probably know, I don’t own Muse but original aspects belong to me. So don't steal unless you want me to put Dracula chase you. :PAN
: I'm unsure about the ending. Anyway, enjoy and tell me your opinion honestly! ;) LJ is bitching right now; so sorry if something is messed up. *rolls eyes*
A chilly breeze woke me up from my sweet afternoon nap. I rolled over to my right side, nuzzling up my sleepy face to the fluffy, sand-colored pillows and I sighed like a baby which amazes at the sight of the inconceivable images he sees in his dreams. My hands groped automatically for the warm blanket but I was gripping only the air; most aggravating. I groaned like a snappish dog and unfortunately by now I was wide awake, yawning as I tossed and turned on the comfy sofa.
I reached across for the remote control, hopeful that I would find something interesting but as you probably know on Saturdays you must put up with the most boring soap operas and the dullest of talk shows. I flipped to a music channel but then a certain Miley Cyrus was singing. No offence but this is not my genre. What should I do?
I stretched my arms above my head and headed to the kitchen. The cold, blue marble under my bare feet dispelled the last remains of sleepiness in me. I peered in the fridge as my empty stomach was rumbling furiously and I chose the ingredients of an omelet à la Dominic Howard.
I only needed an onion which I kept in the pantry. After peeling it, I took a big knife in my left hand and I don’t know what was in my mind but I started cutting it like a professional cook though there was absolutely no one I was trying to impress with my skills. My little showing off suddenly ceased when the sharp blade cut my finger, resulting a gash which poured blood continuously. My sight grew foggy as I was struggling with nausea; I ran to the sink and let the cold water wash away the red fluid. I took deep breaths and turned off the tap, making an effort to remember where the hell those fucking adhesive plasters could be…
As I looked down on my finger which was pulsating with pain, I noticed with relief that the wound wasn’t as serious as I first thought, though the blood still hadn’t coagulated. Guided by instinct, I put my index in my mouth; sucking off the disgusting but somehow appealing fluid which tasted like iron. The metallic and salty relish reminded me of an occurrence which I thought I’d secluded in a dark corner of my mind, but as I was getting out the plaster of a drawer and wrapping it around the cut, it overwhelmed me and I had to lie down on the sofa.
My head was spinning at an uncontrollable speed and despite the fact that I’d shut my eyes protectively, the memory ruled over me and took no account of my begging to stop. I started sobbing bitterly and despite flouncing my head against the softness of the bed, the haunting images had already invaded the room like the worst nightmares. My mind disconnected itself from reality.
I am now only the pure essence or my soul as some would call it. Yes, I’m facing an OoB, otherwise known as an out of body experience; with it, I finally have a clear view over things from above.
So you might wonder what did affect me so greatly? I tried to escape from it several times; I busied myself and literally locked myself from my own reminiscences. Still, as you can see, a seemingly insignificant event like me tasting blood has plunged me into misery. The misery I created with my own hands. Confusing? Come; let’s leave my inert body laying in the neat living room and just follow the glassy hallucinations of my heart and you will understand.
We don’t have to regress too far in time, only six weeks. Back then, I was spending some truly lovely days with my bandmates, despite the fact we were working long hours in the dark and slightly cramped studio. Recording an album had never been so pleasant and we truly felt that we’d been working on something special, something, well… almost perfect. I finished my drumming parts quite quickly but I didn’t want to leave Chris and Matt alone.
After an animated weekend we spent together in Milan just playing cards, drinking and having fun in general, we returned to Matt’s house at Lake Como which our studio was situated as well. My blue-eyed host decided on a bright Monday morning to record his guitar solos, starting the week in motion vigurously.
I was lazing on an old-fashioned armchair but I was secretly staring at Matt. His hands moved so fast on the guitar that they actually grew dim, only a blurry image being sent to my tired mind. His face was flushed from the strain and the passion he wanted to share with everyone; his forehead was jeweled by tiny beads of sweat. As he bowed his head rhythmically to the loud music, some of these sweat drops slurred and the combined clear tear slipped off…
I swear, I saw it shining in the air… I was marvelling and for a brief moment, time felt frozen but before I had the chance to realize this, the tear disappeared. Had it not been for this, I would have caught the tiny diamond and treasure it forever.
No, I didn’t know that these daydreams and fantasies have the power to knock me off my feet… It’s not like I had the intention to voice them loud. It was just a heart-warming sensation to stay in the corner and notice the reactions of Matt’s body, writing artistic stories in my mind about his uncombed hair or about the cute way he blushed.
Matt decided to take a break, a satisfied smile lightning up his face. He clutched a chair and pulled it alongside my armchair. While he was wiping his sweaty forehead, I wanted to bring him a glass of water but the door flung open: two men were laughing at our shocked faces.
“Aye, mates, look who’s here!” Chris jested as he patted Tom’s back.
We all looked at each other and grined happily as Tom showed us a white box he was hiding behind his back.
“And I brought some delicacies just to spoil my favourite friends!”
He opened the box and a lovely vanilla aroma caressed our noses. Chris was literally drooling and Matt rubbed his hands, both attacking the creamy cakes and stoking up eagerly.
I was just standing in the middle of the studio looking amazedly and a bit helplessly at Tom.
“Hey, guys, you should leave something to Dom! Don’t be so piggy!”
Don’t believe that I would have gone into a tantrum if I hadn’t got a piece. I’m not sweet-toothed, Matt’s the one. That’s why I was utterly shocked when he approached me with a vanilla slice, a French dessert which is my favourite, while Chris and Tom went out to grab some wine, I believe.
“Close your eyes!” Matt comanded with a twinkle in his baby-blue eyes. He also added laughing, “And open your mouth!”
I did as he wished. I felt the soft puff on my tongue and I took a bite… it was like a vanilla cloud and I abandoned myself to its sweetness. I couldn’t resist and I opened my eyes to see an excited Matt probably feeling like a mother which feeds her beloved child.
However, with the next bite, a new sensation invaded my being. Matt’s fingers touched my tongue and I gawked at him breathlessly.
The taste of his fingers was to my biggest surprise… metallic…The toxic scent got into my saliva which slowly rushed through my whole mouth. It’s kind of embarassing but I think I enjoyed the weird flavour of the sweet combined with Matt’s guitar strings even more than the superb vanilla aroma alone. No, no; this was the best thing I’d ever tasted in my life; it was pure, it was sultry, it was smothery… I was experiencing for the first time the incredible savour of Matthew Bellamy.
I wanted more and more so I gripped tightly the wrist of my friend. No, excuse me, at that point I didn’t think of him as a friend. I held him tightly, though he didn’t want to go away either. He pushed his fingers deeper in my wet opening and he did it of his own free will. The remains of the cream melted but all I wanted to feel was the layer beneath it, the poisonous and metallic flurry. I continued to suck off his long and desirable index finger while his drooping eyelids and little moans assured me that I was doing it right. He even put his free hand in my hair and stroked it tenderly. No words were needed, we communicated with our satisfied looks.
Were we aware of what we were doing? In the twinkling of an eye, I understood that this was what I had been waiting for in my whole life. I was hoping, even craving that Matt felt the same and didn’t just give in to my insistance. His middle finger was now beneficiating the caressing of my esurient tongue and the desire in his beautiful eyes was making my body feverish. I couldn’t get enough of his taste, even though it was almost choking me; a sudden noise however ruined our orgasmic encounter and we broke apart, faces redder than a healthy apple.
Luckily, Chris and Tom didn’t see anything but Matt still ran out of the studio. I took it as a sign of shame, a huge mistake; I felt guilty. I was the devil itself and I deserved to die… Matt locked himself in his bedroom so it was clear that he didn’t want to see me. I thought about our future as a band and feared that my stupidity would put a stop to our succesful career. By choice, I wished nothing more than to disappear from the earth’s surface than to be in such a mess. There was nothing to it but to lie; I fled to my sister’s house in the English countryside and told Chris and Tom that I’d been suffering whilst I was in Italy so much, that I needed to leave.
Unfortunately, I had to involve my mum and my sister in my crazy plan. I only told the guys that I needed some time alone so we cooked up an efficient plan. We came up with the story that I was confined with mononucleosis, a viral illness which would keep the unwanted visitors away. Moreover, it meant I didn’t have to answer the phonecalls because I was supposed to have an extremely sore throat and my glands were supposed to be swollen.
Of course, many people called and they wished me a quick recovery. My poor mother answered to everybody, calmly reassuring the friends like Chris and Tom who had fears for me that I was in good hands and I only needed to rest a lot. She also told them in a trembling voice that the doctor suggested that nobody was allowed to visit me for at least six weeks. Although by the third week, I ended up answering the guys’ email, complaining about how bored I was and how I still had high fever every day. They had no idea about my big, fat lie…
I got a shitload of messages but none from Matt. Well, I’m sure somebody informed him about my illness and I didn’t expect him to send me plush teddy bears; but I hoped that he at least still cared a bit about me. No phonecalls from him…
With every day I felt the burden getting heavier and heavier; during the night, my brain would decide if my next day was going to be pleasant or shitty. Therefore, if I had a dream about Matt…sometimes even our licking scene… then it made me hopeful, but in most of the cases I was tortured by nightmares, visions dragged right from Hell.
Returning to the day I was telling you about at the beginning of my story… according to the cute dream I had the previous night, it should have been if not good, then at least bearable day. However, that toxic flavour had knocked me out; now you know why it had such a powerful effect on me so it’s high time that we go back to my motionless body.
My soul returned with a twisty falling that made me jump in my sleep. After a few deep breaths, I started feeling much better and with my eyes still closed, I cried out curiously:
Deafening silence. After a few seconds though, I heard some muffled noises coming from the kitchen; I wasn’t in the mood for playing silly games like this. I slowly got up, nearly having a heartattack when I caught a glimpse of … a plate full of vanilla slices. My heart was pounding and just as I was about to stagger to my feet, a smiling figure appeared in my field of vision. My mouth formed an ‘O’ and I thought he was a hallucination but as he came closer, I simply sank in the sofa.
Matt was holding a bunch of yellow roses and looked at me impishly, “I always knew you could become a great actor. Everybody believed your charade. Congratulations! But leaving me out of the fun? How could you?! Tsk, tsk, tsk! Bad Dommy!” He took a cake from the plate and started to eat it, licking his cream-covered lips. I gulped…
“When Chris told me about your ‘illness’, it freaked me out no end. I knew that it was actually me who the cause of it, I was so on edge that I didn’t even recognised myself. Until… your sister called,” I looked doumbfoundedly at him, “and told me what the real situation was.”
My gorgeous Matt knelt down beside me and put his head in my lap; I couldn’t help but start running my fingers through his black hair.
“I’m so sorry, Dom, I shouldn’t have run away! You were as confused as I was. You needed my support and I let you down! Please, take these flowers as a sign of my regret!” I wiped his tears with my trembling thumbs and Matt got up and leant against me. We hugged each other longingly, tenderly stroking each other’s back.
“Dom, don’t you want some vanilla slices?”He raised his eyebrows at me playfully.
“Only if you will feed me.” I was already licking Matt’s slender fingers, enjoying that unmistakable, metallic taste; the sweetest taste ever…