Eyes Wide Shut (II)

[mjartrod]

Title: Eyes Wide Shut
Author: mjartrod
Pairing: Belldom /??
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Voyeurism, group sex, S&M, het, various pairings, religious themes
Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story are fictional, even those based on real people and material (having been altered, added or left out for dramatic purposes). I do not own Muse.
Summary: Matt receives an invitation for a party he will not want to miss.

Muchas gracias to my beta, rockstar Anya for doing an awesome job as always! (I do wish she'd hurry the hell up with the sequel to her own story! what does one need to do to get her arse into gear??)

Btw, any similarity to ___orange  's  awesome Irdu Lili is purely coincidental,  I swear to Darwin! (and btw, go read her, cos she's fantastically fabulous *bows to goddess*)

Oh and please do let me know if the formating is weird, so I can fix it; I still hate LJ as much as I always have lol

 

EYES WIDE SHUT

CHAPTER 2

 

“Tell me what you want... I’ll give you anything you want...”

The blonde’s lips attached themselves to Matt’s before he could reply; not that he could form words beyond ‘naked’ and ‘fuck’, the way his head was swimming with arousal. She giggled coyly in his ear when he pulled the straps of her dress down her shoulders, the shift of her head giving him a view of the large mirror on the opposite wall, its reflection allowing him to watch the flimsy white garment sliding down her torso. Matt could see himself slouched on the sofa with the blonde straddling his lap, the white summer dress pooled around her waist offering a stark contrast to the black leather trousers and tight, black, long- sleeved top he had on. Her creamy back was fully exposed and he let his eyelids droop as her body undulated sinuously against him, his breathing quickening at the touch of her hands underneath his top.

He wasn’t sure how he went from being on set filming the video for Neutron Star Collision to this. But then she raised his arms and held them against the couch to keep them away from her body, her bare round tits pressed against his chest as she kissed him lavishly, and all questions ebbed away.

“What do you want, Matt?”

His eyes snapped open. She hadn’t stopped sucking him obediently, kneeling naked on the floor between his legs... how could she have spoken...? She raised her eyes to meet his, lush lips still locked around his cock.

“What is it that you really want, Matt?”

 

Matt groaned into his pillow, the reality before him dissipating and forming into a new one, where harsh sunlight hit his face and he was sweating profusely, the bed sheets sticking to his body. And not because he had been having brilliant sex. He rolled heavily onto his back and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, letting his forearm drop over them to block out the light. It was a weird dream. What did he want? For starters, he would have liked the dream to go on until after he’d banged her into oblivion instead of ending prematurely and leaving him painfully hard...

He wasn’t sure about the blonde’s identity; she had felt familiar but unknown at the same time and, frankly, he had no desire to dwell on the labyrinth-like ways of his unconscious mind this early in the day. He wriggled a little and stretched, the erection straining against his boxers rubbing against the much-too-light bed sheet. Either way, it had been unbelievably hot.

 

Matt had just gotten out of the shower when someone - who could only be Dom - knocked on the door. Opening it with only a fluffy towel wrapped around his waist, he peeked out.

“Ready?” The cheerful blond drummer was tapping his thighs, dressed in his black skinnies and one of his many printed white t-shirts. He also had his aviators on, though there weren’t any windows in the hallway.

“Up so early, Dom?” Matt smirked, Dom only smiling wider and flashing his perfect white teeth. “I’ll be down in five.”

They had breakfast together, Matt filling Dom in a bit more about the rendezvous, or at least the little he knew about it, before heading out into the scorching heat. They‘d had no chance to notice it the night before due to the lateness of their arrival, but their hotel, although far from luxurious, was situated in an almost paradisical spot. Under the bridge that they had crossed the previous night ran a river with clear waters, which Matt had discovered in the meantime to be the natural border between Portugal and Spain. The surrounding valley was like a beautiful painting of pasture and cottages, the serpentine traces of roads visible on the green hills connecting one small village to another. It was a breathtaking scene, the rural region an obvious choice for anyone who’d like to retreat to an idyllic destination, seeking a relaxing holiday spot. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Dom asked as they strolled to the car park side by side. The brunet had his head bent over his phone, texting. “We’re supposed to meet someone there? Party’s not till tomorrow night, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah...” Matt replied absent-mindedly, looking for the GPS coordinates of the gathering he had saved. “I wanna see where it is first. Dunno why they didn’t give us an address.” They both stared out at the lush landscape, as if the location would suddenly spring out at them.

“Nic’s gonna be there, is he?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“We should ring him, see when he’s arriving and if he wants to hang out.” Dom smiled lewdly to himself. “Maybe he’s got company, too...”

“For fuck’s sake...” Matt muttered, rolling his eyes and shoving his sunglasses on his face. Dom followed him into the rented BMW.

“Was only wondering...”

They inserted the GPS coordinates and were instantly guided to the same road they’d taken the previous night. Across the bridge and back to Spain, Matt drove for a few minutes along narrow local roads, the only traffic being a farmer on foot here and there who carried a basket, until a sign in Spanish welcomed them to Arbo. The stone houses in the village were charming, quite a few of them appearing to have undergone restoration work, and even the streets were mostly cobblestones. In a small square in front of a church, several older men sat on a bench playing cards; a group of children, playing in a front yard in swimming trunks, waved at the car as they went by.

The village seemed old, conservative and the least likely setting for an orgy you could imagine.

“You know what, this place reminds me a bit of Como.”

Matt thought the same, but he kept it to himself, more interested in how there didn’t seem to be a road leading to the exact location the coordinates pointed to. He ended up stopping the car, looking out to his right and across Dom, to where the place should be, on a small hill behind some houses. It was frustrating that the view was restricted by the surrounding buildings, not to mention the tall trees. He could just about make out the ancient stone walls of a large structure, through a stand of beeches.

“Has to be up there, come on.”

Hopping out of the BMW, Matt walked a few metres up and down the sidewalk, attempting to obtain a clearer view. The effort proved useless and he was already returning to the car, determined to find another way to reach the concealed building, when Dom called out.

“Why don’t we ask her?” The drummer was already walking towards a lady carrying a couple of shopping bags a little ahead. “Hello there,” he addressed the Spanish woman himself with a smile. “Do you speak English?”

The old woman, clad in black from head to toe, stopped as Dom reached her, but she held tighter to her grocery bags and, judging by her suspicious frown, it was obvious she hadn’t understood a word.

“Um, scusi...” Matt quickly joined them, removing his shades and trying to remember the right words. “Buongiorno...?”

“In Spain, you speak Spanish, Matt. Not Italian.”

Dom’s words dripped with mockery and Matt glared petulantly at him, though he was still kicking himself inside, a slight flush staining his cheeks at yet another embarrassing demonstration of his complete inability with languages. He didn’t let that thwart him, though, gesticulating expansively and pointing to the small hill, trying to convey what he wanted the best he could. The woman’s face lit with understanding and she put her bags on the ground to point at the stone structure.

“Ah, muy bien, muy bien! Buscáis la Igrexa de la Virxe do Livramiento?”

“What’s that?” Matt could tell she knew exactly which building it was and he bubbled with anxiety. The woman repeated it again, and then again, now smiling, but Matt kept shaking his head and after a few tries it also became apparent to her that they wouldn’t be able to get across the language barrier without further help.

“Ven aquí, chico!” She called out to a young man who was standing outside what looked like a small tavern with a beer in his hand, observing them. He was very tanned, wearing baggy jeans and a checked shirt. “Hablas inglés?”

The man nodded and then looked at Matt and Dom, who he then approached with a curious smile, shielding his eyes from the sun as the pair smiled politely back. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Hi, yes. Thank you,” Matt breathed out, swiping at his sweaty forehead. “We were wondering what that building up there is? And how you get to it? Is there a road?”

“There?” The local pointed, looking a little surprised. “The hill?”

“Yeah, yeah, right there.”

“It is Igrexa de la Virxe do Livramiento. It is, how you say, a church?”

Dom’s jaw dropped and he exchanged a look with Matt, who was displaying remarkable coolness. It had to be a joke.

“A church? An actual Catholic church?” Matt questioned.

“Yes. But has no mass for many years, is closed.”

“And how d’you get there?”

The man told them all they needed to know and at the simple inquiry about their interest in the old building, when there were many other, grander churches in the area, the two friends replied that they were taking photographs and were curious. Nobody asked why they didn’t have a camera with them.

After perusing the area for a little longer and finding the narrow dirt track that led directly to a rusty gate, which in turn gave access to the church grounds, they decided to go back to the hotel, the early afternoon heat simply too much for the Englishmen to bear. They also realised as they drove back that the church was more visible from further away; they could actually see the top of the bell tower rising above the surrounding trees.

They weren’t hungry, the weather more conducive to light sandwiches and cold drinks, so they installed themselves in lounge chairs by the pool at the back of the hotel, a fine view of the green valley before them. They had tried to spot the church from there, without success, which hadn’t stopped Matt from using the zoom function on his iPhone’s camera to try and detect it anyway, leaving Dom to sip on his second mojito.

“Are you sure it’s there, Matt?” Dom asked quietly after awhile. The idea that such an event could take place in a church was bizarre, to say the least. He didn’t exactly believe in the wrath of God, but still...

Matt, who was still holding the iPhone in front of him, slowly turned the device in Dom’s direction, his face serious behind the shades he was sporting, and snapped a picture of the shirtless drummer. “Of course it’s there, that’s what the coordinates say, where else would it be?”

Dom shrugged. “Yes, obviously. Where else would an orgy take place if not in a church?”

Matt chuckled and put the phone down at last, stretching out on the lounge chair before turning his head to face Dom with a wicked smirk. “It’s quite fitting, isn’t it? Just think of the debauchery that went on in there for hundreds of years. You know, priests and nuns are always up to no good. Maybe that’s why it was closed down.”

Dom could agree with that. “I’d fuck a nun.”

“You’d fuck a priest.”

“Yes, I would. Sadly, my lack of priest fuckage thus far has left a gaping hole in my repertoire,” he drawled in his best French accent. “Maybe I can finally scratch that off my list tomorrow.” He rubbed at his chin contemplatively.

“I’ll be sure to send all men of the cloth your way, then.” Matt tipped his head back against the chair, adjusting his shades.

“You can keep one for yourself if you like. I owe you. Plus I’m not that selfish and I know you’re not that altruistic.”

“Not being altruistic, I’m just not interested.”

“What if it was a bishop?” Dom grinned at him.

Matt giggled. “Nah, status means nothing to me. Couldn’t tempt me if it were the Pope.”

“Bloody hell, Matt, that’s revolting. I wouldn’t shag the Pope to save my life.”

Matt burst into hysterical high-pitched laughter at the tone of disgust in his voice, Dom joining in. The couple sitting at a table under a large yellow umbrella nearby shot them a long, disapproving look. When the laughter subsided, Matt cleared his throat and began shifting around on the lounge chair again, looking for a more comfortable position. Dom took another sip of his mojito, looking thoughtful.

“You’ve thought about it?” He asked.

“About what?”

“If it’s an all male party.”

Matt halted his fidgeting for a moment and lay back down calmly. He hadn’t given much thought to who would actually be there, he had been far more tempted by the whole idea, curious what the vibe would be. But he’d automatically assumed it would be a gathering composed equally of both men and women.

“Nah. Nic would’ve invited you, then, not me. He knows you’ve got no standards, you just need a hole to put your dick in.”

“Oi, easy there, wanker.”

“Just so you know, I haven’t told them you’re coming yet.”

Dom bit his tongue, sensing Matt’s smugness as the singer stretched languidly. “Wasn’t joking, though. What if he wants to drag you over to the dark side? You know Nic’s well dodgy himself.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous and you can give up on trying to wind me up, alright?”

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Dom’s scenario turned out to be true, to be honest, but he wasn’t bothered. The idea was to go in with an open mind and have a blast, wasn’t it? Even if it involved something as farfetched as Dom was suggesting. He’d had his experiences in the past, anyway, a few brushes, literally, with other guys (including Dom a couple of times when they’d been pissed out of their minds), but he’d quit the ambiguous ‘activities’ after the ‘Origin’ tour, unlike the drummer.

“If Anderson were here he’d already be plotting a day out,” Dom lifted his chin towards the river below, “then coming up to us like, ‘Hey lads, I’ve got a brilliant plan for tomorrow – let’s go rafting!’“ Dom mimicked their tour manager whenever he proposed one of his adventurous schemes.

Matt laughed. “Where does he come up with some of that stuff? I reckon Tom’s to blame. You know I don’t trust that sneaky little fucker sometimes, I swear he’s just looking for an excuse to film us doing embarrassing shit. Makes us look ridiculous!”

“I never look ridiculous doing anything. You, on the other hand...” Dom turned to Matt with a grin, his shoulders shaking as he tried to contain his giggles.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Dom let out a gurgle of laughter then. “Glad we’ve got him,” he continued. “Anderson.”

“Yeah, keeps things interesting on tour,” Matt yawned. “It’s tough out there.”

Dom nodded. “Touring’s never boring, though.”  

Matt snorted. “I’m going to remind you of what you just said next time we’re stuck in the tour bus in the States, on our way to some gig in the Midwest.”

“That’s a small price to pay.”

Things could get pretty dark when they were jammed together for days on end in a tour bus in the middle of nowhere; but at the same time, it could be the catalyst for memorable moments, too. Where would Chris’s epic Pedro ‘tache have come from, if not from arsing about on the bus? And how many brilliant riffs had Matt come up with when he was trapped inside with no other distractions?

“You know you’ve got a problem, don’t you, Dom?”

The drummer turned to Matt in momentary confusion, but he realised what he’d meant as soon as his eyes landed on his band mate.

“Why is enjoying what I do for a living a ‘problem’? You’d like it better if I told you I’m sick of you, touring is shit and I can’t stand this life anymore?”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Bellend. You know what I mean. It’s this... this fucking addiction to the road. What’s it going to be like next year when we’re on a break? You gotta have something else besides that.”

“A farm?” Dom smirked and Matt showed him the middle finger, no longer bothering to reply to taunts about that particular topic. “You’re just like me, you just won’t admit it. You and Chris. The tour is always the priority for you two.”

Matt paused and looked away. “Maybe it is now. But maybe it won’t be one day.”

“I’ve been hearing you say that every single day for the past ten years.”

Through girlfriends, five studio albums, changing record labels, leaving England to settle in other countries, countless fights, personal problems, deaths in the family... the band and the tour had always come first. Although Dom would concede that lately Matt had been more vocal about the need to focus on his personal life, claiming he constantly neglected it. It was unsurprising, given the turmoil he’d been through in the past year; it was also unsurprising if Dom held his own firm belief that Matt just couldn’t bear the thought of being alone.

“You think I’m taking the piss,” Matt continued, “and then one day I’ll tell you I need a break and then we’ll see how you react.”

Dom shrugged, not bothering to remind Matt of all the times in the past the singer had announced in the most dramatic fashion that he couldn’t do it anymore, that he wanted to quit. “You can’t live without it, Matt. Why do you think you’re here?”

“Eh?”

“Here. This.” Dom opened his arms wide to encompass their surroundings. “Why did you come here, what do you want from this? Have you thought of that?”

A shiver ran down Matt’s spine as he recalled the voice in his dream that morning. “It’s just a fucking party to let off some steam, have some fun. Why the fuck are you making such a big deal out of this now?”

“I’m not making a big deal out of it,” Dom shrugged nonchalantly. “You’ve bagged a Hollywood star and you could be in London with her right now, but you sneaked away for a fucking sex party instead.”

“Your point?” This was starting to irritate Matt. What Dom was saying and the infuriatingly calm way he saying it. 

“It’s a way of life, Matt. And no matter what you may say, you’re not ready to let go of it.”

 

***

 

They had moved to Matt’s room after a healthy dinner of grilled fish and salad. The red wine from the local vineyard had been an excellent choice, as was the Port and the sparkling red wine that followed. It was a full moon, the sky clear and the light spilling into the bedroom, and the two band mates switched the bottle of home made liquor they had purchased at the bar downstairs back and forth between them. They drank in silence until they finished it and Matt was left to play with the cork.

 

Dom had removed his t-shirt, tossing in onto the bed, and stood on the balcony smoking, taking in the view of the valley at night, a mix of pleasant drowsiness brought on by the alcohol and lethargy caused by the heat taking him over. When he turned around, he felt his head spin, which surprised him, though it probably shouldn’t; they hadn’t done much the whole day except drink. He leaned back against the railing for support, elbows resting on top of it, his eyes falling on Matt. The singer was sitting Indian style on the vintage settee, staring forward in perfect stillness, as if he'd been hypnotised. If he was as pissed as Dom, then he was sure disguising it well.

“Alright?”

For a moment Dom thought Matt hadn’t heard him but then the singer spoke.

“It’s like I’m always waiting for all this to be over. Everything. I’m not going back to painting and decorating, I know that much, but... I need something else to rely on for when it all goes tits up. When I stop and think about it, I can’t believe we got this far, it’s fucking surreal, d’you know what I mean? I don’t want it to end, but it’s not gonna last. I’m enjoying the ride, but I don’t know how much longer it can go on, Dom. I’m not good at anything else. I don’t have kids and don’t know if I ever will... When this is all over I need… I need there to be something waiting for me, I need there to be something else for my life to be about. I need -“ He shook his head. “Or I’ll go off the deep end.”

Dom swallowed, sobering up momentarily at the raw emotion in Matt’s voice, drunken rambling or not.

“It’s this, Matt, it’s always been this,” he responded softly. “We’ve been to hell and back, the three of us, and we’re still together. And if it’s up to me, and you know Chris agrees, it will always be this. We can always play together, even if it’s not in a stadium, but some dump of a London club. No matter how the band does from now on, no matter if no one buys one of our records ever again, this is what we do. This is us.” Matt’s gaze was downcast at this. “And let me tell you,” Dom continued, “we’re fucking good at it, too.”

“You’re willing to go on like this forever, Dom? Even if we turn into pathetic old dicks who should’ve known when to stop?” His eyes met Dom’s with an intensity that surprised the drummer.

“Aren’t you?” Dom smiled. “As long as we’re having fun and still enjoy it.”

After a few seconds, Matt nodded pensively and then returned the smile. “Forever.”

Dom was the first to look away, out into the night, his throat dry. If it was due to the alcohol, the heat or the turn the conversation had taken, he couldn’t tell.

Providing reassurance - that had always been his role in the band, hadn’t it? A touch of Matt’s chaotic genius, a sprinkle of Chris’s calm and logic and then Dom to tie it all together. They had perfect chemistry, always had. He was comfortable with his role, both in and out of the studio. Supporting Chris when another child was born and he doubted his ability to cope with the separation; supporting Matt when it all began to get too much and he felt the weight of the world on his slim shoulders. And the truth was that they had both been there for him when it mattered most, too. Like in 2004, when the band was more successful than ever and Dom’s world was unexpectedly turned upside down. Ironically, it was then that he realised Muse could go on forever.

A soft giggle broke the silence that had fallen and Dom turned around again. Matt had his head tipped back, his knees now raised up to his chest, one arm wrapped around them.

“Fuck me, I wish Anderson were here,” Matt said as he rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “He’d keep us busy and entertained. Keep things shallow... even if it is by going rafting.”

Dom grinned, hands groping for a steadier hold of the handrail, eyelids drooping. “Is that your subtle way of saying that I bore you?”

Matt giggled again. “You know I’m bad at subtle, I’d say it straight to your face if I thought that... ”

He never would, though, at least not while being honest, as it was never boring with Dom. It was rarer to be alone with him these days, there was always someone else around, but when it happened, the banter and familiarity were the same as they had always been. Possibly better, as after so many years they knew each other like the backs of their own hands. With the unpredictable and nomadic life they led - a life that, despite all his protests, Matt knew he wouldn’t swap for anything - it was truly a comfort.

“Fucking hell,” Matt rubbed his eyes again, fearing he was about to get all soppy, for which he’d be endlessly teased. “I need some fucking entertainment, something proper. Entertain me, Dom,” he whined.

The drummer sniggered. “Very well.” He pushed himself away from the balcony and stood in front of Matt, legs spread and hands on hips, an impish grin dancing on his face. Tackling Matt seemed like the most brilliant idea in the world at that moment, and the brunet wouldn’t even see it coming. “Tell me what you want.”

The drawled words resounded oddly in Matt’s head. They were the same that had been whispered to him in his dream that morning, and as he dropped his perplexed gaze from Dom’s shirtless figure, brain rattling, his eyes landed on an antique mirror on the opposite wall. The expanse of Dom’s bare back was shown in the reflection, his black skinnies riding low on his hips, and Matt’s heart hammered violently in his chest at the unmistakable feeling of déjà-vu.

“What I... want...” Matt wondered aloud.

Dom sensed the shift in mood right away and cocked his head to the side. Matt was breathing harder, he could tell, and when his gaze returned to Dom, there was a glint in his eyes which hadn’t been there five seconds earlier. The blond knew what it meant, the nature of the thoughts running through Matt’s mind when he got that look in his eye. Bemused as he was, he still stepped closer. His will to attack Matt had slipped to half what it had been, though, and then Matt unfolded his legs, his previously bent up knees no longer acting as a barrier between them, and Dom was disarmed. Matt was looking up at him, half curious, half unsure. And at that moment, the most natural thing for Dom to do seemed to be to join Matt on the couch. On his lap. He straddled him, one knee on each side of the singer, and perched comfortably on his thighs, facing him. The blue eyes were now fixed on some point behind Dom and the drummer glanced back over his own shoulder, one hand shooting out to the wooden arm of the settee when he realised his balance was more precarious than it seemed. There was nothing there but the wall and a mirror that hung there.

He turned to Matt again with a smile. “What is it that you’re thinking?”

Matt stared back at him, shaking his head almost imperceptibly and Dom decided to follow his gut feeling, experimentally closing the distance between them, unblinking. Their lips touched for a brief moment and then he slowly pulled back, never breaking eye contact with Matt, who hadn’t flinched.

“Is this proper entertainment for you, Matt?” Dom whispered.

The brunet blinked and glanced back at the mirror before meeting Dom’s gaze once again. The drummer seemed amused. Matt was the one to reach out this time, pressing his mouth against Dom’s, the blond responding by gently pushing forward, Matt leaning back until his head rested on the top of the upholstered settee. They exchanged a few chaste, light kisses, lips moving tentatively until Dom parted his mouth and let the tip of his tongue nudge Matt’s upper lip, poking inside his mouth slightly. Matt tasted so sweet, like the golden coloured liquor they had consumed... Their mouths were sliding over each other’s before he knew it, tongues tasting, tangling and then exploring greedily until they were both out of breath and Dom pulled away. Matt was staring at him with flushed cheeks, heavy lidded eyes and moist parted lips. Shit.

He took a hand to the back of Matt’s head, grabbing him by the hair, and he crashed their lips together again, this time coaxing a moan from the singer. Matt’s hands were instantly in blond hair, nimble fingers twisting the silky strands, the pace increasing as they devoured each other; hot, alcohol-tainted breaths ghosting over slick lips and skin. 

Grabbing Matt’s wrists, Dom removed his hands from his head, pinning them to the back of the settee, and Matt groaned as the drummer shifted on his lap and their chests collided. He pulled his mouth from Dom’s with a small popping sound and hurried to look for the image in the mirror over the drummer’s shoulder, mesmerized by the reflection of the two of them. Dom’s head was tilted to the side, the tip of his tongue lingering below his ear, Matt shuddering at the feeling of the blond’s nose softly brushing his skin as he moved lower. Dom's tongue flattened on the patch of skin over Matt's pulse point for a stroke and the slow, deliberate motion of the wet muscle made the brunet's eyes squeeze shut involuntarily.

All too suddenly, he was aware of Dom’s bodyweight on his lap, of the heat he radiated, of the way Dom’s hips were shallowly rocking against him.

“You taste so fucking sweet...”

The drummer’s sultry voice in his ear forced Matt to open his eyes again, watching in the mirror Dom’s left hand letting go of his wrist. The hand rested on his waist before straying to the front of Matt’s trousers, causing him to suck in a breath. In his mind, a vivid image formed - the head of the blonde in his dream bobbing between his legs - and a hot stinging in his lower abdomen made his cock twitch. Jesus.

“Wait.” His hand shot out to seize Dom’s. What the fuck were they doing? “S-stop, wait.”

“Why?” Dom insolently rocked his hips, drawing another sharp intake of breath from Matt. His jeans were so tight that if he didn’t do something soon, he was going to shout out from the pain. Matt must have been suffering, too, judging by the bulge in his trousers. “Don’t lie, I can feel you...”

Matt felt the heat rising in his neck and his jaw tightened; but he was simply too far gone at that point to protest. He loosened his grip on Dom, the other man’s fingers immediately reaching for his zipper. When Dom rubbed the heel of his hand down his cock, Matt’s forehead fell forward to rest against Dom’s clammy shoulder, his hand clutching tightly around his bicep.

“Fuck...”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Dom sighed, massaging him through the cloth. He searched for Matt’s face, placing a trail of quick kisses along his jaw until he reached his lips, catching the breathless groan when he pulled Matt’s cock out of his boxers and started stroking him.

Matt’s hand shakily opening his trousers and wrapping around him in return, they were soon wanking each other without reservation, the singer’s head lolling against the back of the settee, eyes rolling back. He didn’t care to watch anymore; he was deaf to all the grunts and sighs. There was nothing but the burning heat, the fit of Dom’s hand around his cock, the pressure of his thumb on the head shooting tingles through his whole body. And then Dom leaned forward with a gasped, “Come here,” and he caught Matt’s mouth at the same time he grabbed both their erections in one hand. And he finished them off together.

For the seconds that followed, there was no buzzing, no musical notes fluttering around in Matt’s head; just soothing silence.