hannah_chapter1: (Invasion)
Title: Enemies Part Nine
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: A cop. A bank robber. Some sex. What else do you need?
Feedback: Please do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, this is fiction.

"Hi there!"

Dom blinks, confused and more than a little wary. All the way up to this cell, to this new home of his, he'd felt eyes on him, all over him, like a physical weight. Dom has no illusions, he knows what happens to ex-cops in jail. This is why they're usually kept in a separate block, far from the other prisoners. But Dom's being made an example of, so it's gen. pop. for him. He'd tried to prepare himself for what he might find here. A shiv in the guts, a rope around his neck, or maybe just a couple of thugs waiting to administer a welcoming beating - so many possibilities. But this friendly prisoner, greeting him with a smile and open hand, this Dom did not expect. He hesitates, then shakes the offered hand.

"Trevor's the name, Trevor Philips."

"Dom Howard."

"I know. I've been expecting you."

Dom backs up a step, suddenly wary.

"I didn't mean it that way. I'm here to help you."

"Why would anyone in this place want to help me?"

"Let's just say we have a mutual acquaintance."

"Matt?" Dom lowers his voice, moves further into the cell, "you know Matt?"

"I worked with him, on the first crew he put together when he got out of here. Good times. Good money, too."

"And now you're here. What happened?"

"Poker. I needed to make back my money, so I joined another crew and the boss, well, he was no Matt Bellamy. Go directly to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect 200 dollars."

"And you'll help me."

"I will."

"For a price?"

"Naturally. Friendship's fine, but it doesn't pay the bills. I help you and, when I get out of here, I got a nice, juicy retirement package waiting for me."

Dom sits on the bottom bunk, digesting all this.

"You've talked to Matt?"

"I have."


"All in good time."


Dom adjusts to his new life. He's put to work in the laundry, loading carts with fresh sheets. It's hours and hours of back-breaking tedium, but Dom doesn't care. It still beats the hell out of paperwork. And Trevor's almost always by his side, ready to lighten the mood with a joke or a story. Dom would be lost without this man, his guide and friend. His only friend - the others avoid Dom like the plague. Dom has no problem with this. Better ignored than raped and shanked in the showers.

But is he being ignored? He slowly becomes aware of a small group of prisoners, seven or eight huge slabs of muscle. They follow him everywhere. They eat at the same table, they even watch him shower. But all they do is watch and Dom can't work it out. He asks Trevor about it and the other man shrugs it off, tells him not to worry.


Four weeks into his sentence and Trevor's shaking him awake in the middle of the night.


This is all Dom gets out before Trevor clamps a hand over his mouth.

"Don't talk, just listen. You only get to do this once, so make it count and don't fuck it up for the rest of us."

Trevor releases him and pushes something into his hand: a cellphone. Dom puts it to his ear. He's still half-asleep, but the voice he hears wakes him right up.


Dom sits up so fast he almost falls out of his bunk.


"Baby, I'm so sorry. I wanted to come for you, but I just couldn't do it."

"I know. It's okay."

"It's not okay, it's not. You took the fall for me, and I let you do it."

"It was my choice. You couldn't have stopped me."

Matt sniffling, like he's fighting back tears.

"I'd come and get you now if I could. But they're still watching, just waiting for me to give it a try."

"I know."

"But they can't keep this up, not indefinitely. Enough time goes by, they'll ease up. They'll think I've forgotten about you."

Matt's crying now and Dom feels a lump rising in his own throat.

"But they'll be wrong. I could never abandon you. Hang in there, baby. I'll keep you safe and, when the time is right, I'll get you out."

"I know you will."

"I love you, Dom."

"I love you, too."

A click in Dom's ear and Matt's gone. Trevor takes the phone away.

"Did you have a nice chat?"

"We did. Thank you."

"Don't thank me, thank Matt. His money made it possible."

Dom wants to know all about this, how it was set up and how they got a cellphone in here. But he doesn't ask. He's already beginning to think like a long-timer. The less he knows, the less he can spill.

Two days after the phone call, Dom has his first - and last - fight with another prisoner. The con in question tries to take Dom's lunch, but Dom won't give it up. The other guy stands up, reaches across the table...

...and Dom's stalker squad joins the party. Two guys grab Dom's would-be attacker's arms, two more take his legs. They break him, snap all four limbs like twigs.

"What was that?" Dom asks when they're back in their cell.

Trevor laughs at him from the comfort of his bunk.

"See, I told you not to worry about those guys. They're your guardian angels."

"I didn't know they cared."

"Who said they did? Believe me, they don't. There's not a man among them who wouldn't fuck you in the ass just to see the look on your face."

"Matt's paying them?"

"Of course. They've all got people on the outside, people they care about. The deal is, they keep you safe and - "

Trevor traces a dollar sign in the air.

" - Matt takes care of their loved ones."

"And if they don't?"

The other prisoner makes a gun shape.

"Matt will take care of their loved ones."

"He wouldn't."

"He would, and you know it. Matt's not a cruel man, but he is a practical one. He'd do it, and do you know what he'd say afterwards?"

"Just business."

"Just business, exactly. So relax, Dom, you're safe in here. Your man is taking care of you."


Days turn into months and Dom looks for a way to occupy his time. He starts working out, lifting weights in the gym and doing sit-ups in his cell. It's a useful outlet, a way of channeling his boredom and sexual frustration.

"Do you have to do that?" Trevor asks one night.

Dom pauses mid sit-up.

"Is this bothering you?"

Damn right it is," Trevor holds up his book, "how am I supposed to improve my mind with you grunting on the floor?"

Dom flashes his cellmate a lewd grin and cups his crotch.

"I don't have to grunt on the floor," he says, rubbing himself through his pants, "I can go and grunt in my bunk. Would you prefer that?"

Trevor glares at him, then returns to his book with a long-suffering sigh.

"Fine, do your stupid sit-ups."


Seven months into his sentence, Dom is taken out of the laundry and taken to the governor's office. But the governor isn't there and the guard won't answer Dom's questions. Dom waits, nerves tingling, and not in a good way. His fears are confirmed when Dick Jones, crusading prosecutor, sworn enemy of crime, walks in, wearing a suit as sharp as his eyes and black as his heart. He sits behind the governor's desk, opens his briefcase.

"Dom. You look good. Prison blue suits you."

"And you look like a cheap prick in an expensive suit. Black does not suit you."

Jones ignores the fashion critique.

"Talked to Bellamy lately?"

Dom laughs.

"Of course, I talk to him all the time! Gay men send telepathic message through their rectums, didn't you know that?"

"Very funny."

"Thank you. I aim to please."

"Right. How about you skip the comedy and answer the question."

"Stupid fucking question. How could i talk to him? I get no phone calls, no internet access and I got eyes all over my mail."

"Like any of that matters. There are always links to the outside world."

"If you say so. I haven't been using them. I haven't spoken to Matt since the day I was arrested."

"Since the day he left you to take the fall for him, you mean."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to."

Jones grunts at that and takes a stack of photographs from his briefcase.

"Guess what your boyfriend's been doing."

"Robbing banks, like he always does."

"No, not like he always does. He had a pattern, a certain way of doing things, you know that better than anybody. But when you got sent here, he went off the rails. There are no breaks, no cooling off periods. He's done three, sometimes even four, banks a week, each and every week, for the past seven months. And then there's this."

The lawyer takes his photos and fans then out on the desk like a winning poker hand. Dom looks through them and giggles. Jones hasn't been straight with him. There's a pattern, there's always a pattern when Matt's involved. The pictures are ariel shots, with the places Matt's hit marked in red. Each set of red dots comes together to form a picture: a smiley face, a fist with a raised middle finger, even a cock and balls. Jones slaps the desk.

"Stop it! Stop laughing!"

Dom ignores him. Jones' mouth twists into an odd shape. He looks like a bulldog licking piss off a nettle.

"Is this all a joke to you? Do you even know what you've done, understand the situation you're in?"

This sobers Dom up. He offers the prosecutor a small, sad smile.

"Well now, let's see, " Dom ticks off points on his fingers, "I've destroyed my department's credibility, my parents have disowned me, I'm going to spend the rest of my life rotting in this shithole and some pissy little excuse for a prosecutor is wasting my afternoon. Have I forgotten anything?"

"No, I think that just about covers it."

"Alright, I'll say this one time: I don't know where Matt is. I don't know why he's doing what he's doing. I couldn't stop him even when I was really trying, I can't stop him now, so why don't you get the fuck out of here and leave me in peace?"

A greasy smile slithers its way onto Jones' face and his voice takes on a wheedling tone.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Dom. Why should we be at each other's throats? Wasn't so long ago, we were on the same side. And I always liked you."

"No, you didn't. Don't shit a shitter."

"Okay, so maybe I didn't like you, but I always respected you."

"Oh, really?"

Dom thinks about a string of homophobic murders he had the bad luck to be assigned to, all those young, gay men, mutilated and left to bleed out.

"I thought I was a limp-wristed little faggot with no stomach for real police work,."

"That's not - "

"Your words, not mine."

"Alright, you got me. I never cared for you, on a personal or a professional level. But I want to help you, if you'll let me. We can make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"Straight trade, you for Bellamy. We let you out, we fake an escape. Your loverboy gets in touch and you lead us right to him. He goes to jail, you go free. Sound good?"

"You're living in a dream. Do you think Matt's an idiot? Do you really think he wouldn't see the trap?"

"I think it's worth a shot. I think that, with the right bait, he could blinded to the existence of the trap."

"I think you're wrong, but it doesn't really matter. I won't do it."

"Just like that? We can't even talk it over?"

"Nothing to talk about. I won't be your bait."

"Oh, come on" You don't owe Bellamy anything! You throw away your career, your life, for him and he lets you. You do hard time while he lives it up. And you're okay with this?"

"You just don't get it, do you, Jones? It's not about keeping score, a game of who owes who. If I wanted Matt in here, he'd be in here. But he's not, because I love him and I want him to be free. Nothing he does and nothing you say can change the way I feel, so why don't you take this precious deal of yours and stick it up your ass?"

Red creeps out of the lawyer's collar and travels upwards, staining his face by degrees, turning him into a human thermometer. He leans forward until he and Dom are almost nose to nose.

"You want to stay in here?" he says, his voice soft and cold and deadly, "then stay here, it doesn't matter. We'll get your boyfriend, he slipped before, he'll slip again. And if we do take him alive, if we don't just splatter his brains all over the nearest wall, here's what I'll do. I'll pull some strings and have him isolated, locked in a tiny cell for the rest of his life. And you? Right there with him, in the next cell. Close, so close, but you'll never see each other, never touch, never speak. What do you think of that?"

Dom's statement is brief, but effective. He stands, unzips himself and pisses right in the prosecutor's face.

Jones gags and chokes and the guard grabs Dom and hauls him out of there. Dom laughs all the way to solitary confinement. He does three weeks in the hole for that little stunt, but it's worth it. When he gets back to gen. pop. the other prisoners look at him with new-found respect and things start to change. A few friendly words, then a couple of guys join his lunch table. When he's invited into the TV room and given a seat with a good view, he knows he's made it. He's been accepted.


Time marches on, but Dom never loses faith in Matt and, exactly one year and two months after his day in court, his faith is rewarded.

They're all in the TV room, watching the evening news. Thomas Anderson, the prison governor, is making his live television debut. He gives an interview, then takes calls from viewers.

Dom's tilted back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, when a familiar, high-pitched giggle brings him back to earth. He straightens up, looks at the screen and sees his own shocked recognition reflected in Anderson's face. The governor says two words, the only words that matter:

"Matt Bellamy."

Matt's laugh crackles over the phone line.

"Mr. Anderson, you remember me! I'm flattered. How long has it been since we've has the pleasure of each other's company?"

"Nowhere near long enough," the governor growls, "what do you want, Bellamy?"

"Don't play games with me, Anderson, you know why I'm calling. You've got something that belongs to me, and I want him back. I'm coming for him and nothing can stop me. Guns can't stop me, guards won't stop me, walls can't keep me out."

"You're crazy, Bellamy. No one can break into my prison, not even you. It can't be done."

"We'll see. I have one last thing to say, a message for my man. Are you watching this, Dom, are you hearing my voice? Get ready, baby. I'm taking you home."

And then he's gone. Around Dom the other prisoners whoop and holler and throw stuff at the TV. But Dom just sits there, the calm little island in the middle of the chaos, until the guards wade in and drive everyone out of the room and back to their cells. They're locked in and the cellblock is locked down. Trevor lies on his bunk, humming happily. He winks at Dom.

"Now we're gonna have some fun. I thought this party was never gonna start."

Dom paces his cell for a couple of hours before giving up and going to bed. But he doesn't sleep for long. At 1am, all the lights in the cellblock come on.

"What the fuck?" Trevor mutters as the door to their cell slides open.

The guards marching into the cell ignore Trevor and all his profanity-laced complaints. They only have eyes for Dom. He's scooped out of his bunk and frog-marched halfway across the prison.

The room they take him to is small, white, antiseptic. Dom looks up at his jailers.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"Shut the fuck up," the nearest one snaps.

One of the others steps in.

"Take it easy, George, this isn't his fault."

George retreats to the other side of the room, swearing under his breath. The friendly guard sits on the floor by Dom.

"You're getting out of here, Howard."


"We're taking you out of here. Anderson's scared of your boyfriend, thinks Bellamy's gonna blaze through this place in a tank or something. So you're being taken to a secure location, somewhere secret, where he can't get at you."


"At first light."

"Why not now?"

"We need time to set it up."

"Then why am I here now? Why couldn't you let me sleep?"

"The governer's idea. Keep you up all night, you won't cause any trouble when we take you out of here."

"When have I ever caused trouble?"

The guard doesn't answer, rejoins his friends. Dom spends a long, uncomfortable night shivering on the floor while his guards talk and laugh and drink coffee. Dom gazes longingly at their coffee cups, but he knows better than to ask for one.

Dawn finally comes. The white room has no windows, so Dom can't see it, but when they start chaining him up, he knows it's time to go. He's taken out of the prison and into the waiting van. One of Dom's chains is secured to the floor of the van and he's sandwiched between two huge guards. Dom wants to make a joke about a threesome, doesn't quite dare.

The van rolls and the sleepless night takes its toll. Dom begins to doze, head falling forward. But George is sitting right across from him and George is a mean and spiteful prick. He waits until he's sure Dom has fallen into a deep sleep, then he strikes. He kicks out with all of his might and gets Dom right in the shin. Dom snaps awake and George smiles, his prisoner's pained yelps sweet music to his ears.

"Aww, did I wake you?" he drawls, "sorry 'bout that. My foot slipped."

Dom curses the guard under his breath. He tries to rub his wounded shin, but his chains make it impossible. George sneers at him.

"This is a waste of time, Bellamy isn't coming for you. Any asshole can make a phone call. Everyone thinks your boyfriend is such a badass, but he's just a smug little shit in love with his own legend. I swear, Anderson is such a chickenshit and I cannot believe he fell for-"

A sudden, shockingly loud, bang shuts off the guard's monologue. The van flips, lands on its roof. His guards fly up and flop into a dazed heap, but Dom remains chained in his seat - and now he's upside down. The van doors are ripped off and masked gunmen swarm inside. Two of them head right for Dom. They cut him free and carry him out. One man grabs Dom's injured leg, presses down on the bruise and Dom cries out. His rescuers stop. One of them pulls up Dom's pants leg and exclaims angrily when he sees the huge, purple bruise that's already beginning to form.

"Who did this?" he asks Dom.

Dom points at George.



The masked man turns, crouches and Dom hears a gunshot and a scream. The last thing he sees as he's carried out of the van is George, moaning and clutching his own wounded leg.

Dom wasn't aware of it, but he's been traveling in a convoy, with cars in front of and behind his van. It wasn't enough. Everywhere he looks, Dom sees masked men: trussing up the guards in the cars, standing by the truck they used to ram Dom's van and swarming around three big, black vans.

Dom's bundled into one of the vans, the men who busted him out climb in, too. The one with the itchy trigger finger sits right across from Dom. He barks a command and the van starts to move.

"Are you in pain?" he asks Dom, "can we get you anything?"

"Aspirin would be good."

The man gets up, duck-walks to the front seats. He returns with two pills and a bottle of water. Dom hesitates - should he take pills on an empty stomach? Then he takes them anyway.

"That guard was an asshole," Dom addresses his rescuer, "but did you really have to shoot him?"

"Matt's orders. They hurt you, we hurt them back, with interest. And it's Matt's show," he removes his mask, wipes his face, "it wasn't a fatal shot, He'll live and who knows, he might even learn something."

They're all relaxing now, laughing, taking off their masks. Dom wonders where Matt is. Why isn't he here? His new friend reads his mind.

"Matt wanted to be here, he really did, but he's needed elsewhere today."

"Needed for what?"

"To make sure all this goes off without a hitch. Getting you out was the easy part. We've got forty minutes, an hour if we're lucky, before news of this gets out. And when this story breaks, it's gonna break big - no, not big, huge. You thought the media shat its drawers when you got arrested, wait until they get a load of this. Can't you just see the headlines being written?"

Bank robber breaks boyfriend out of prison.

Outlaw couple!

"Yeah, I can."

"There's gonna be a lot of heat and Matt's gonna draw it away from us. He'll keep the cops and the media off our backs, we'll keep you safe and get you where you need to go."

"When will I see Matt?"

"Soon, I promise. But where are my manners?" he offers Dom his hand, "I'm Chris, Chris Wolstenholme."

Dom shakes hands. Chris gestures at the men at either side of him.

"My brother, Lee, and my nephew, Tony. That's Chad and Eddie to your left, and Ty is driving the bus."

"Pleased to meet you all. I really appreciate everything you're doing."

Chris waves off the praise.

"Always glad to help a friend."

"Matt's a friend of yours?"

"Hell yeah, we go way back," Chris says, "he's practically family."

Lee and Tony nod in enthusiastic agreement as Chris continues.

"Maybe we'll get the old, sassy Matt back now you're free. He's been so miserable, no fun at all. It's been hell. And don't even get me started on the day you got sentenced."

"What happened?"

"Matt damn near lost his mind. He wanted all the men, all the guns, he was going down to get you. Fuck all our carefully laid plans, forget about all the people just waiting for him to do something stupid. He didn't care, he just wanted you."

"How did you stop him?"

"I drugged the shit out of him and locked him in one of my spare rooms until he saw the light."


"Trust me, it was for the best."

The van stops and everyone gets out. A woman in a tailored suit is standing by a shiny new BMW. Chris kisses her and takes a bundle out of the back seat. He throws it to Dom.

"Here, get changed. Become a real person again."

Dom changes his clothes and Chris and his crew strip off their top layers. They toss their clothes and masks into the van and torch it. Tony and Lee takes the guns todump later and the crew scatters. Chris introduces Dom to the woman with the fancy car.

"Dom, this is my lady, Kelly. She'll be taking it from here."

"You're not taking me?"

"No, but I'll see you later in the day. This is just an added precaution. A guy like me, the cops might stop just on general principles. But nobody's gonna stop the professional lady in the expensive car."

"But what if, say, someone tries to carjack the professional lady? What happens then?"

Kelly smiles and Dom is suddenly looking into the barrel of a Desert Eagle.

"Then won't they be surprised," she laughs.

Chris takes Dom to the back of the car and opens the trunk. It's been lined with blankets and there's even a pillow in there.

"I'm sorry about this, but keeping you in the back seat is just too big a risk," he says.

"I understand."

"Do you need the bathroom? If you do, now's the time to say so."

"I don't."

"You're sure?"


"Okay. In you go."

Dom climbs into the trunk and makes himself as comfortable as he can. Chris shuts the lid, Dom hears the roar of an engine and the car starts to move. Dom falls asleep and has a long and involved dream about Pacman, of all things. He's running through an empty city, chased by the ghosts from Pacman. He's trying to remember the name of the fourth ghost - Inky, Blinky, Pinky and ... Clu? Cletus? - when the trunk opens and Chris smiles down at him.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty, time to get out."

Dom tries to get up but his legs are still asleep. Chris lifts him out and supports him until he can stand on his own. Kelly says her goodbyes and roars off in the beamer. Chris leads Dom over to his own, considerably less fancy, car.

"How long was I in there?" Dom asks.

"About six hours."

"Oh. What happens, now?"

Chris points to a small dock nearby and Dom can see a speedboat tied up.

"We'll get in that boat and go to Matt. But first - "

Chris leans into his car, brings out a bucket of fried chicken and a cold drink.

"I thought you might be hungry."

Dom takes the bucket and tears through the chicken pieces, only stopping when he needs to wash the food down with cola. Chris leans against the car and smokes a cigar while he waits. Dom finishes, belches.

"Thanks, I needed that."

"I thought you might."

Dom regards Chris thoughtfully.

"You're some kind of underworld Mr. Big, aren't you, Chris?"

Chris crushes the end of his cigar underfoot.

"What makes you say that?"

"I watched you with the others. You're a man accustomed to giving orders, accustomed to being obeyed, too. Matt's got that same kind of swagger."

"Okay, you got me."

"What exactly is it that you do, Chris?"

"A little bit of everything. I've got my fingers in lots of pies."

Dom sucks up the remains of his drink.

"But I've never heard of you."

"And I work very hard to keep it that way. Cops look at me and see an ex-con gone clean, keeping his head down, running a garage and junkyard. Family man, hard worker, maybe not too bright, no links with other active criminals, and most definitely not an associate of notorious bank robbers answering to the name of Matt Bellamy."

Chris walks towards the boat.

"Come on, let's reunite you with your man."

They climb into the boat and Chris casts off. Dom fidgets through the journey. He's waited for so long, now he just wants Matt. They arrive at another small dock. Chris kills the engine, ties the boat up, leads Dom up to a cabin. He knocks, the door opens a crack and Dom catches a glimpse of a familiar blue eye. They go inside and ...

...he's there.


Here they are, face to face, for the first time in over a year. Chris makes his excuses and leaves. They don't see him leave, don't hear the boat engine start up. They're too busy drinking in the sight of each other. The moment stretches, longer and longer. Then Dom jumps and Matt catches him. They sway in place until Matt, the smaller, lighter man, goes down on his back, Dom landing on top of him.

Neither man acknowledges or even notices the fall. They're too busy devouring each other. Cloth rips, buttons pop off and fly across the room and hands clutch and grope and squeeze whatever they can grab hold of. Matt pulls free, gets on his hands and knees, offers himself up.

"In me," he whines.

Matt's whole body spasms as Dom invades him and their moans mingle to produce a single, blissful note. The smaller man pants and claws the floor as Dom pounds into him. This pleasure is so close to pain, but Matt doesn't care. He needs this - they both do. There's no room for tenderness, not here, not now. They've both been reduced to their most primal level, animals in heat.

Matt's orgasm undoes him, turns him to jelly. His upper body goes limp, flops to the floor But Matt is is still holding his lower body up, still moving inside him,. His orgasm, when it finally comes, is the single most intense experience of his life.

Utterly spent, he falls forward, covering Matt. They pant and wheeze like old men as they lie there, still joined at the core.

"Dom?" Matt's voice is muffled, "I hate to ruin the moment, but you're crushing me."

"I'm sorry."

Dom pulls out and turns onto his back. Matt moves closer and they share a tender kiss.

"Hi," Matt says when they part.

"Hi, yourself."

"Uh," Matt bites his lip, "I kind of pictured a more romantic reunion."

Dom laughs in agreement. Matt touches his lover's face, fingertips scratching through his stubble.

"You're here," he says, voice soft with wonder, "you're really here."

"All thanks to you."

"But I'm the reason you were - "

"Shh, none of that. It doesn't matter now. We're together, that's all that matters."

A tear slides down Matt's cheek. Dom brushes it away, his own vision blurs and then they're crying in each other's arms.

Yeah. It's that kind of day.

Their tears taper off, then stop. Matt gets up, pulls Dom up with him.

"Come on, time to get cleaned up."

In the bathroom, they remove what's left of their clothes and step into the shower together. Dom closes his eyes as Matt lathers him up and sponges him off. And then he presses his hands against the tiles, bracing himself as Matt treats him to a slow, tender fucking. When they're done they dry off, Dom shaves and Matt leads him into a bedroom - their bedroom - and shows him a closet full of new clothes and shoes, all in Dom's size.

After all the excitement of the morning and afternoon, the evening is a calm, cozy affair. Matt makes dinner and builds a fire. Dom is not allowed to help. They cuddle up on the couch and watch TV. Dom's break out is the top story on all the news channels. Dom soaks it up, all the chaos Matt unleashed while Dom slept in the back of a car. It's truly epic. Anderson is interviewed and denies all responsibility, even though it was his idea to remove Dom from the prison, his vehicles that got ambushed, his guards who surrendered without firing a shot. The governor looks pale and sweaty and Matt clucks in mock sympathy.

"Poor Anderson. Something tells me he'll be looking for a new job soon."

"You knew he'd have me removed. That's why you called that show."

"I knew Anderson would be Anderson. Anything looks like it might cause a problem, he has it removed. He really believes in out of sight, out of mind."

The news ends and Matt channel surfs until he finds a station showing a couple of sci-fi movies from the '80s. By the time the credits roll on the second movie, the fire has dwindled away to nothing and they're half-asleep on the couch, dribbling on each other. Matt wakes up enough to drag Dom upstairs and into bed.


Dom's body is still on prison time and he wakes at 5:30 exactly, his mind trying to process these mixed signals; darkness where he's expecting harsh, flourescent light. A big bed, not a narrow bunk. And no Trevor, yawning and farting as he wakes. But there is Matt, spooning him, keeping him warm.

Not in prison, not anymore. He's free.

Dom smiles, closes his eyes, sleeps.

When he wakes again, he hears rattling crockery. He opens his eyes and sits up as Matt carries a tray into the room.

"Breakfast in bed? You're spoiling me, Matt."

Matt puts the tray on Dom's lap.

"You'd better believe it. I got you back, now I get to spoil you for awhile."

Dom digs in and Matt sits on the edge of the bed.

"It's a nice morning," he says, "fresh. How about a walk after breakfast?"

The blond stops eating.

"Is that safe?"

"Of course, nobody's looking for us here. I made sure of that."

"Do you own this cabin?"

"it's in Kelly's name, but yes, I do."

"How long do you think we can stay here?"

"A month, six weeks at most."

"What happens when we leave?"

"That's for you to decide. Do you want to go to that tropical paradise, leave all this begind?"

Dom thinks about it.

"Some day, maybe. But not now."

"Then what do you want to do?"

Eight months later....

Matt looks around the van.

"Everybody ready?"

They all answer in the affirmative. Matt faces Dom.

"And you? Ready for this?"

Dom smiles and cocks his gun.

"Oh, yeah."

They exchange one last, passionate kiss before putting on their masks.

"Alright," Matt's voice slightly muffled by his mask, "let's do this."

They burst into the bank and Dom shouts at the customers.

"Everybody on the floor! This is a robbery!"

hannah_chapter1: (Invasion)
Title: Enemies Part Eight
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Summary: A cop. A bank robber. Some sex. What else do you need?
Feedback: Please do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, this is fiction.

It's over.

It's all over and it's all Dom's fault.

He should have thought faster, moved faster. He should have taken Matt up on his offer while there was still time.

Now it's too late.


"We got him!"

Matt's on his knees, hands on his head, surrounded by a ring of loaded guns. His unlucky day came, just like he said it would. Although, if you want to get technical, it was loyalty, not bad luck, that proved his undoing: they were coming out of the bank, all but one of his crew in the van, ready to go. But the last man was brought down by an over-zealous bystander. Matt, loyal to a fault, went back for him and that was that. The rest of the crew got away, but who cares about a bunch of little fish when you've got the prize-winning salmon in the net, just waiting to be gutted and cleaned?

His squad are laughing and high-fiving each other, but Dom just stands there, looking at his lover, throat swollen with the tears he doesn't dare shed.

Not right, damn it all, this is not right. This is not how it happens!

"Lieutenant Howard?"

The over-ambitious pipsqueak whose name Dom can never remember is suddenly in his face, holding out some bracelets.

"Sir, we thought you'd like to do it."

The pipsqueak smiles and Dom is seized by an almost overwhelming compulsion to kick the cuffs right down the smug little fuck's throat. But he forces a smile and takes the handcuffs. The gun circle opens for him and then he's standing in front of the man he loves. Dom grabs Matt's arm and pulls him to his feet. They face each other and the love and acceptance shining in Matt's eyes is too much for Dom. The cop looks down, spins Matt around. Matt puts his hands behind his back like the pro he is, doesn't wait to be told. Dom cuffs his lover and, as the second bracelet snaps shut, Matt's finger brushes Dom's. The contact is brief, but it speaks volumes.

They hustle over to a squad car and Dom stashes Matt in the back. He rides shotgun and the pipsqueak drives. Dom ignores the flood of chatter from the driving seat and spends the journey staring at Matt's reflection in the rear view and thinking, thinking, thinking.

It can't end like this.

He has to do something.

He takes one last look at Matt, makes his decision.

"Stop the car."

This shuts the little shit up. But he keeps driving.

"Are you deaf? Stop the car!"

"What? Why would I stop?"

"Because I told you to and, last time I looked, I was your superior."

"Oh, I get it," the pipsqueak looks at the backseat and smirks, "an old-fashioned interrogation."

He pulls over, jumps out and opens the back door before Dom's even had time to unfasten his seat belt.

"Let's go, Bellamy. Time to play."

Matt's dragged out of the car, thrown to the ground. He doesn't resist. The younger cop steps back and waits for the fun to start. Matt blinks up at his lover.

"Don't do this," he says, voice pitched low so the other cop can't hear.

Dom shakes his head.

"Please," Matt, begging now.

Dom sighs.

"But I have to."

The pipsqueak's expression, when Dom spins on his heel, and sticks a gun in his face, is priceless.

"Lieutenant? I don't understand."

"You don't need to. All you need to do is put your gun on the ground."

He's frozen to the spot, eyes flicking between Matt and Dom, trying to make sense of the situation.


The gun comes out of the holster, hits the ground.

"Get over here, cut him loose."

Matt's pulled to his feet again and set free. Dom cuffs his colleague and throws him down, treating him the way he treated Matt. The younger cop glares up at him.

"Sir, why are you doing this?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Dom joins him and gives him the other cop's gun. Matt takes it and tuts.

"You just threw your whole life away, you know that, don't you?"

"I know. But you're worth it."

They kiss, a deep, passionate and very public kiss. Then Dom breaks away and gestures at the squad car.

"I think we should get out of here," he says.

"I think you're right."

They get in the car, Dom turns the key, the engine roars to life.

And then a bullet shatters his window.

"Out of the car!"

Ears ringing, half-blinded by broken glass, Dom wipes his face, twists in his seat and looks into the face of the now-furious pipsqueak.

"How-" is all Dom can manage.

The pipsqueak hold up the empty cuffs.

"Big Harry Houdini fan."

He shoves his gun in Dom's face.

"And I always carry a back-up piece. Now, out of the car!"

Dom gets out, moving slowly, brain ticking furiously, searching for a way out. Two of them, one of him, they could ... but now other squad cars are arriving and uniforms are on the scene. No way out. Unless...

Dom looks back at Matt, still in the passenger seat. One choice, one chance.

"What the hell is that?"

The pipsqueak is only distracted for a couple of seconds, but that's all Dom needs. He lowers his head and charges, knocking the other man to the ground. They fight for control as the uniforms look on, trying to make sense of what they're seeing. And then the pipsqueak, who's both younger and heavier than Dom, gains the upper hand. He shoves his lieutenant onto his back and cracks him a good one, right in the face. Dom grunts as he hears and feels his nose break. He flops back, dazed, all the fight smacked right out of him. Now it's his turn to be cuffed and shoved around. But it doesn't matter, none of it really matters. Because the pipsqueak is dragging Dom past their squad car and it's empty. It played out the way Dom hoped it would. He hoped the uniforms would be too distracted by the fight to take any notice of Matt and they were. He hoped Matt would be smart enough to take a chance when it was offered and he was.

In the back of a different car, Dom leans forward, closes his eyes and waits for the machinery to take over.


Their arrival at the station causes quite a stir. Heads turn, coffee is spilled and voices are raised in protest. The pipsqueak marches Dom through it all, bellowing like an Olde-Worlde town crier, announcing Dom's sins to anyone who cares to listen. He takes Dom to an interrogation room, shoves him into a seat. He sits across from Dom and folds his arms.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, lieutenant."

"I do, I most certainly do. But not to a jumped-up little shit like you."

The young cop tries and tries to get Dom to talk. But Dom clams up and waits for someone higher up the food chain to put in an appearance. His patience is rewarded when Tom Kirk walks into the room. He's brought coffee, aspirin and an ice-pack for Dom's nose. He nods at the pipsqueak.

"I'll take it from here, son."

"But I caught him!" the pipsqueak protests, "it's my collar, it's my case!"

"Yes, you caught him, but I outrank you and this interrogation is mine. Now, run along, the grown-ups need to talk."

He goes, bitching all the way. Tom pays him no mind. He unlocks Dom's cuffs and gives him the ice-pack. It feels like heaven against Dom's poor, abused nose. The pain fades to a dull throb and Dom takes the aspirin, washing it down with coffee. Good coffee, brought in from outside, with just the right amount of cream and sugar. He leans back in his chair and regards Tom thoughtfully.

"They thought I'd open up to a friendly face?"

"They thought it was worth a shot."

Tom reaches for his own coffee.

"You let Bellamy go."

"I did."

"You're screwing him, aren't you?"

"I'm in love with him."

Dom laughs at his friend's thunderstruck expression.

"I know, it's crazy. But it happened, Tom. Now, start the tape, get comfortable and I'll tell you all about it."

Tom hits the button and Dom starts talking. He lays it all out, omits nothing. Every last, sordid detail, recorded for posterity. He finishes and Tom turns off the tape.

"I don't know what to say, Dom."

"Nothing to say. I fucked up, fucked up big time, and now I'll pay for it. You've got my statement. Type it up, bring it back and I'll sign it."

"I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"I know."

Tom leaves and returns almost an hour later with a fistful of typed sheets. Dom reads his statement, signs it, then stands and puts his hands behind his back.

"Now, take me to a cell."


The story breaks and it breaks big. Locked away in his cell, Dom has no access to internet, television, or even radio, but they do give him newspapers. The tabloids go crazy: a high-ranking cop, a master criminal, a sex scandal, what's not to love? They print pictures of Dom's house ("the den of sin!"), they even break in and take pictures of his bedroom. Everyone Dom has ever known is pestered by reporters and, while some people are loyal to Dom, most are more than happy to spill the beans. Dom's ex, Peter, is in this latter camp. His interview takes up five pages. Reporters interview Dom's parents, or try to. Dom's father tells them he has no son, then slams the door in their faces.

When they run out of people to annoy they run polls, inviting people to write in and guess Matt's rescue plan. He must be planning a rescue; he invaded a station full of cops to rescue one lowly member of one of his crews, what will he do for the man he loves? Dom's captors worry about that, too. They bury him deep, surround him with itchy trigger fingers and wait for Matt to make his move.

But he doesn't make a move. He roams free, taking down scores, while Dom cools his heels and reads newspapers and his mail. He gets a lot of mail. Homophobic hate mail, that was expected. Love letters, marriage proposals and pornographic propositions, not so much. Dom's no innocent, but the things some men want him to do to them make his eyes pop. He pities the poor saps forced to go through his mail before he receives it, looking for secret messages from Matt. But there are no messages from Matt. Well, maybe one: Dom opens a newspaper one morning and finds an article on his ex. Poor Peter, mugged on the way to work one day and beaten to a bloody pulp. He'll live, but he'll spend the rest of his life pissing through a catheter.

Dom's day in court arrives. The security detail take no chances. Dom's chained and chained and chained some more and at least half a dozen guns are trained on him at all times. Any false moves, any attempts to bust him out and bang, no more Dom. He'll disappear from the waist up. Dom sees some of his colleagues - ex-colleagues now, he needs to remember that - in the crowd. He wishes they would curse him, spit on him, something. But all they do is stare and the pain and confusion in their eyes cuts Dom to the quick. These were his people, good people and he let them down.

They read out the charges and it's a long list. Dom pleads guilty. To everything. Guilty, guilty, guilty. No pleas for leniency, no attempts to explain it all away. The judge reads out the sentence. So many years for this, so many years for that. Dom's going to jail for a long, long time.

On the steps of the courthouse, reporters surround Dom and his guards. The guards look nervous and they drag Dom through the sea of cameras and microphones.

"Why did you do it, Dom? Why did you throw your life away?" a reporter yells.

Dom digs his heels in, locks himself in place for a few, precious seconds. He smiles into the camera and his voice rings out, clear and true:

"Love. I did it for love."

Then he's bundled into the armored car. The car takes off and doesn't stop until it reaches the state prison. The guards grab Dom's chains and drag him out of the car.

"Welcome to the rest of your life, lover boy."

The gates open and Dom's taken inside.
hannah_chapter1: (Leo)
Title: Enemies Part Seven
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: A cop. A bank robber. Some sex. What else do you need?
Feedback: Please do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, this is fiction.

Dom glares at the uniformed cop on his doorstep.


"We got a call, sir. Someone reported a disturbance at this address."

"They were mistaken. Everything's fine, no disturbance here."

"You're bleeding," the cop notes, his tone flat and matter of fact.

Dom looks at his hand, wipes it on his shirt.

"I cut myself."


"On some broken glass."

"Broken glass?" the uniform rolls his eyes in disbelief, "I've heard that one before. I think I should come inside, take a look around."

The blond blocks his path.

"You can't do that."

The uniform taps the badge at his breast.

"This says I can, and it's never wrong."

"Nice badge," Dom holds up his uninjured hand, "but it's not as nice as mine."

The other cop looks at the gold shield in Dom's hand. He steps back, swallows audibly.

"I'm so sorry, lieutenant," his tone now soft and respectful, "I didn't know you."

"It's okay, you were just doing your job."

"You're sure you're alright, sir?"

"I am. I dropped some glasses, cut myself trying to pick them up, that's all."

"Well, if you're sure - "

"I am. Have a good night."

"Thank you, sir. You too."

Dom shuts the door and goes back to the mess. He was calm when he left Matt bleeding on the floor. Calm as he climbed out of the brewery. Calm on the drive home - and if his vision was sometimes blurred as he drove, well, that was just stress. He wasn't crying, no, he most definitely was not crying.

He was calm, calm, calm ... right up until the moment he smashed every plate, cup, bowl and glass in his kitchen.

Dom kicks a path to the sink. As he washes the blood off his vision begins to blur again. He wipes the tears away and goes in search of a bandage for his hand and a broom for the mess.


Dom stumbles through the next two weeks. He can't stay in his bedroom, too many memories of Matt, so he moves to the spare room. He gets up, goes to work, says and does all the right things. He even takes couple of coffee cups and some paper plates from the station to replace the ones he broke. But he's barely holding it together, just one wrong word away from a four-alarm meltdown. An argument with the guy he hired to change his locks almost ends in a fistfight.

He can't go on like this. A break, some time to himself, that's what he needs. He takes five weeks worth of vacation and sick days. He comes home on his last day, sits on his couch ... and wonders just how in the hell he's going to fill five weeks.

He could go see his parents. It's been a long time and it would be good to spend some time with them. It would be good for all of a day, two at the most. Then it would start, all his father's jabs at his chosen profession, the lectures about how he's wasting his life on a career that's beneath him. Those are bad, but his mother's routines are even worse. When is Dom going to settle down with a nice girl and give them grandchildren? Well, he could try being with a girl, it never hurts to try. And, of course, the ever popular, "have you tried not being homosexual?"

No, visiting his parents never ends well. Better to stay where he is. And that's just what Dom does. He spends three weeks lying around his house, not answering his phone, only going out when he needs food. He lies on his couch, drinking wine and listening to the music of pale young men who died far too young: Nick Drake, Elliott Smith, Jeff Buckley.

He drinks, he listens to music and he aches for Matt. Nothing has ever hurt like this, not even his split with Peter. Oh, that one hurt - but it was also kind of a relief, like having a rotten tooth pulled. But this thing with Matt is a pain like no other. No amount of alcohol can numb it.

The fourth week of his vacation rolls around and a virus pays a visit. Dom lies in bed, sweating and moaning as everything that isn't nailed down comes out, one way or the other. Four days' worth of this finishes him. He lies in his own filth, too weak to even contemplate rolling away from the worst of the mess.

Lying there helpless, he begins to hallucinate. His fever-fried brain imagines Matt, leaning over him, pressing a cool hand against his brow, giving him water. Then dream-Matt is lifting him and carrying him into the bathroom.

The cold tile against his cheek brings him halfway back to reality. There's a click and then a thousand hot, sharp needles are piercing every last inch of his skin. Dom shrieks and tries to twist away from the water, but Matt climbs into the shower and holds him in place. The cop's pleas are ignored. Matt holds him down and washes away the mess. He even squirts some shampoo into his hand and washes Dom's hair.

Matt takes him out, dries him off and wraps him in a couple of dry, fluffy towels and a bathrobe. He deposits Dom on the toilet seat and goes back to clean up. Dom runs his tongue over his teeth and grimaces. His mouth feels like an open sewer. When Matt comes back he finds the cop clinging to the sink, fighting for balance. He catches him just as he loses his grip.

"What were you trying to do?" Matt asks in a worried, scolding voice.

"I need to brush my teeth."


Matt holds him steady as he brushes his teeth, washing away the foul taste. Then he's brought back to his room - not the spare room, his bedroom - and slipped between cool, clean sheets. Matt lies down beside him and strokes the back of his neck. It feels good, but Dom twists away from it.

"What are you doing here, Matt?"

"You've been in here for nearly a week without so much as a beer run. I was worried."

"So you're stalking me, now?" Dom winces at the memory of his changed locks, "and breaking into my house?"

"There's just no end to my awful crimes."

"That would be funny if it wasn't true. What's all this for? Did you run out of pictures to laugh over with your friends? I hope you got some good ones before you cleaned me up."

"I lied."

"About what?"

"I never told my friends about us. I never told anyone about us. Everything I said that night was a lie."

"I want to believe that, but how can I? How can I trust a single word you say? You could be lying to me right now."

"I could, but I'm not. What we had was real and we both know it. I couldn't fake what I felt for you, what I still feel for you. I'm just not that good an actor."

Dom sighs, a sad, hurt sound.

"So why did you do it, Matt?"  he looks back over his shoulder, "why would you hurt me like that?"

Matt is silent for a long time. Dom has almost drifted back to sleep when the criminal finally explains himself.

"I'm good at what I do, very good. But I'm not an idiot and I know that just being good isn't enough. Half my success is based on luck, and all that stands between me and a prison cell is one false move, one bad day. I had a bad day once and it cost me eight years of my life. I have another one, it'll cost me the rest of my life. And I love you and I don't want to drag you down with. So I drove you away."

"But you came back to me."

"I couldn't help myself. I tried to stay away, but I just couldn't do it. I had to be near you."

"So we've both been lonely and miserable and fucked up for over a month."


"And it was all for nothing."

"Right again."

Dom makes a rude sound.

"You really are an idiot, you know that, don't you?"

"I do," Matt agrees.

The cop's stomach growls, the sound loud enough to fill the room. Matt giggles for a few seconds before he can get himself under control.

"When did you last eat?" he asks.

"Uh..." Dom tries to think, "I don't know. Couple of days?"

"If I made you some broth, do you think you could keep it down?"

"I could try."


Matt gets off the bed and Dom squints up at him.

"Are those my clothes you're wearing?" he asks.

"Do you mind? Mine got dirty when I carried you to the bathroom."

"Of course not. What's mine is yours."

Matt smiles at that, then leans down and kisses Dom's temple.

"Try and rest. I'll be back before you know it."

"There's no food in the kitchen."

"There never is. I'll go to the all-night market."

He leaves and Dom drifts. He doesn't sleep, but he does doze until he hears Matt, coming upstairs. He sits up as his erstwhile lover comes in with a towel slung over one shoulder. Matt holds up a plastic tupperware box and Dom can see a spoon sticking out of it

"This was all I could find. What happened to all your plates and bowls?"

"I smashed them."

"Smashed them?"

Dom shrugs.

"I was in a bad mood. I needed to break something."

"Breaking my face wasn't enough?"

"Apparently not."

Now it's Matt's turn to shrug. Then he smiles.

"No great loss, you never used them, anyway."

"You saying I'm no good in the kitchen?"

"Well, put it this way, I'm surprised you didn't die of scurvy before I came along."

"I can cook," Dom protests.

"Hate to break it to you, Dom, but throwing things in the microwave and pushing a button doesn't count as cooking."

"I don't just use the microwave."

"Ordering pizza doesn't count as cooking, either."

"I know that. But I cook, I cooked us that steak that time."

"Oh, that had been cooked? I thought it had been beaten into submission."

Dom pouts.

"Go ahead, make fun of the sick man."

Matt laughs.

"I'm sorry."

He spreads the towel on Dom's lap and gives him the box. Dom takes one cautious spoonful of broth. His stomach sits up and begs for more. And Dom is happy to give it, spooning broth into his mouth in a frenzy until Matt puts a restraining hand on his arm.

"Slow down, you'll make yourself sick."

"Sorry. I'm just so hungry and it's so good."

"Just take it slow."


Dom looks down at the box, which is already half-empty.

"How did you get to be such a good cook, Matt?"

"My mother taught me."


"Yes, Dominic, my mother. I do have parents, you know. I wasn't raised by bank-robbing wolves."

"I never said you were. But I've read your file, many times. Your parents are never mentioned. It's like they don't exist."

"Technically, they don't. Not anymore. Not since my arrest."

"I don't follow."

"My crew took care of it. New names, new lives, far away from me."

"Do you ever see them?"

"No, it's too risky. I don't want to mess up their lives anymore than I already have. It's better this way, better for all of us."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I do. I'm just no good for the people who love me. Why do you think I tried so hard to drive you away?"

"And look how that turned out."

"What can I say, I lived through one heart-breaking separation, I thought I could live through another. I was wrong."

"Yes, you were."

"That's been known to happen from time to time," Matt sniffs, "finish your broth before it goes cold."

Dom finishes it and Matt brings him some water in one of his stolen coffee cups. The cop finishes it and yawns.

"Think you could sleep now?" Matt asks.


"Then I'll leave you alone."

Matt walks to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be on the couch. Call me if you need anything."



"Don't go. Stay," Dom pulls back the covers, "stay with me, Matt. I sleep better with you beside me."

Matt smiles softly.


He strips, turns out the light and climbs into bed. Dom sighs, content, as Matt spoons him. He reaches down and squeezes Matt's hand.

"I love you, too, Matt."


Three weeks later Dom's standing on the street as night comes down, waiting for Matt. He sees himself reflected in the window of a passing car and he wants to laugh: who is this stranger in the tuxedo?

The tux arrived this morning. It had a note pinned to it, telling him to be at this very spot at this very time. Dom had his doubts, but finally decided to just go along with whatever Matt's got planned.

Dom is checking his watch for the second time when a limo glides up and stops beside him. The window slides down and Matt smiles out at him.

"Get in."

"Dom stays where he is.

"What's going on?"

"I'm treating you to a night out. Come on, Dom, trust me."

Dom still has doubts, but gets in the limo anyway. He rubs the seat, the leather softer than he ever could have imagined. He looks at Matt, clad in a tuxedo of his own.

"What are we doing, Matt?"

Matt hands him a glass of champagne.

"I told you, I'm treating you."

Dom sips him champagne thoughtfully.

"Okay. But what's with the fancy clothes, the fancy car?"

"We've done a few of my fantasies, I thought it was time we tried one of yours."


"Yeah, you remember how we watched that movie, No Way Out? And you said you'd like to try the limo scene sometime?"

Matt gestures at his tuxedo.

"I know I can't rock an evening gown like Sean Young, but ..."

The cop licks his lips, his pants already getting uncomfortably tight.

"You look great, good enough to eat," he says, voice husky.

Matt smiles, scoots closer and plucks the champagne glass from Dom's fingers.

"Well then," he purrs, "I think it's about time we had some mind blowing make-up sex, don't you?"

They've spent every night of the last three weeks together, sleeping in the same bed. But all they've done is cuddle and exchange chaste kisses without so much as a hint of tongue. They haven't gone any further and Dom was beginning to think they never would, that they'd lost that spark forever.

He's never been so happy to be proved wrong.

Oh, how he's missed the taste of Matt. They lick and bite at each others lips and paw at each other like a couple of hormone-addled teenagers in the back seat of Daddy's car. Dom throws his head back as Matt pulls apart both halves of his open shirt and goes to work on his bare chest.

"Tell me what you want," he mutters into Dom's nipple.

"I want your mouth on me," the cop gasps.

Matt smiles up at him.

"Your wish is my command."

He opens Dom's pants and pulls them down. And then his mouth and tongue are on the cop, all over him, doing all the things he knows Dom likes. Dom's sweaty palms skate over the seat as he watches Matt's head move up and down. He can feel himself approaching the point of no return, and it takes every last scrap of his self-control to pull Matt off him.

"Not ... like ... this," he pants, "want ... need ... to be inside you."

Matt licks his lips and smiles.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Matt is soon lying on his back, naked from the waist down. Dom looms over him, all lubed up and ready to go. The tip of him nudges Matt's entrance.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yes, God, yes," Matt moans, "fuck me, Dom."

They both gasp as Dom slides in. Matt looks up at his lover, eyes dark with desire.

"Hard," he begs.

"Hard," Dom agrees.

Hard it is, hard and fast and rough. It couldn't be any other way. It's fast and rough and utterly perfect. Dom watches Matt's face as the crook shudders through his orgasm and he knows, this is it. This is the only man he could ever want.

It ends, as every good thing must and they hold each other and listen to the purr of the limo's engine as the driver guides it through the city streets. Dom kisses Matt's sweaty hair.

"What now?" he asks.

"Now we get dressed."

They clean themselves up as best they can and pull on their rumpled tuxedos. Matt pushes a button, the partition separating them from the front seat slides down and Matt speaks to the driver, telling him their ready for dinner.

Dom is expecting a restaurant, but when the limo stops and Matt guides him out he finds himself in front of what is easily the most expensive and exclusive hotel in town.

"You can't be serious, Matt."

Matt takes his lover's arm.

"I can. I am. Let's go, dinner's waiting."

The crook leads the cop through the hotel lobby and into the elevator. Matt pushes a keycard into a waiting slot and the elevator begins to rise. Matt looks up at the camera and turns to Matt, worried.

"Are you sure this is safe, Matt? Us, together in public?"

"It's safe, I've got someone on it. He can do things with technology you wouldn't believe. That camera can't see us. We're not here. We never were."

The elevator stops and Dom follows Matt into the penthouse, which is at least three times bigger than Dom's house, and a hell of a lot fancier. A table has been prepared and a cart full of food stands beside it, all the things Dom loves.

"This is too much, Matt."

"No, it's not. Come on, let's eat."

They sit down to dinner and Dom eats more than he ever has at one sitting. When they're finished Matt tugs him to his feet and begins to undress him. Dom protests weakly.

"I can't have sex now, Matt, I'll explode!"

"Who said anything about sex?"

Matt finishes with Dom's clothes and quickly sheds his own. He takes Dom out onto the terrace, where a hot tub and another bottle of champagne await them.

Dom doesn't even try to protest. He gets into the hot tub and Matt settles behind him. They sip champagne and Dom hums as Matt's free hand strokes up and down his chest and stomach.

"You know, it could always be like this," Matt says.

"What are you talking about?"

"We could quit. No more cops and robbers. Just you and me. Together, the way we should be."

"How would we live?"

Matt giggles.

"Has the champagne rotted your brain? How do you think we'd live? I've got plenty of money, more than we could ever want."

"Where would we go?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere. I don't care. I just want to be with you."

"But you love robbing banks. You live for that thrill. Could you really give it up?"

"I don't know, but I'm willing to give it a try. For you."

Dom empties his glass.

"I need to think about this."

"Don't take too long," Matt warns, "the clock's ticking, Dom. For both of us."
hannah_chapter1: (Sparta)
Title: Enemies Part Six
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 15/R
Summary: A cop. A bank robber. Some sex. What else do you need?
Feedback: Please do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, this is fiction.

It had to happen. They were bound to reach a point of no return, a point where their true feelings could no longer be hidden, or denied with any real conviction. And trouble was sure to follow.


Matt tiptoes into Dom's bedroom. It's late, past midnight and he doesn't want to wake the cop. Dom is asleep on his back, the book he was reading half-open by his hand. His face, illuminated by the bedside lamp, is soft and open and innocent. The sight takes Matt's breath away.

Matt takes the book away, undresses and turns out the light. He climbs into bed and his hip bumps Dom's. A brief touch, but it's enough. The cop snorts, rolls over and butts his head against Matt's arm, a silent demand. Matt laughs and raises his arms.

"Come on."

Dom doesn't need to be told twice. He cuddles into Matt's chest and sighs as the crook's hands stroke up and down his back. He growls something into Matt's chest. Anyone else would dismiss it as gibberish, but Matt has become quite adept at deciphering Dom's sleep ramblings.

"I know it's late, I'm sorry. I had to take care of something."

More muttering from the direction of Matt's nipple, a question.

"You don't want to know."

Matt yawns and looks down at Dom.

"You working tomorrow?"

A brief, soft sound, Dom's half-asleep version of no.

"Good, that's good."

Matt smiles and closes his eyes. He kisses the top of Dom's head

"I love you."


Matt's eyes snap open. He couldn't help himself, the words tumbled out before he could stop them. He waits for a reaction, any reaction, from Dom. But there's nothing, the cop's gone back to sleep. Matt relaxes,

But it's a long time before he can relax enough to sleep.


In bed together on a cold Sunday afternoon, Dom on his back, Matt inside him, so deep inside him. Good, so, so good, but Dom wants, needs, more. He reaches up and cups Matt's cheek. They look into each other's eyes and are stunned by what they see, their real feelings finally exposed.

This isn't just sex.

It's love.

They finish together, sobbing and moaning into each other's mouths. Matt pulls out and flops over onto his back. They lie side by side, staring up at the ceiling.

And neither one can think of a single thing to say.


"Come with me."

Dom shakes his head, trying to clear the sleep from it. It's been almost two weeks since he last saw Matt, twelve long, mostly sleepless nights, and now he's in the cop's kitchen, making demands. Dom sets his coffee cup down with a bang, spilling some.

"Asshole! You disappear for two weeks, don't bother to call or text so I'll know you're okay and then you just walk in here, in broad daylight, when anyone can see you? What's wrong with you?"

Matt smiles, a soft, friendly smile. But his eyes are cold, so cold.

"Come with me, Dom."

"Go fuck yourself."

"You don't get it, do you?" Matt pulls a gun from his jacket, "it wasn't a request. Refusal isn't an option. Come with me, Dom. Now."

Dom looks at the gun, then back up at Matt.

"You can't be serious."

Matt's not smiling now. He raises the gun and puts it to Dom's head.

"Serious as a heart attack. If you want to keep what passes for a brain inside that skull of yours, you come with me now."

Dom licks his lips, acutely aware of the cold metal pressed against his temple.

"Alright, you win."

Matt puts his gun away and grabs Dom's arm. The cop just has enough time to snag his keys before he's hustled out of his house and into Matt's car. He scowls at the other man.

"You know this is the second time you've kidnapped me."

"I know. But look on the bright side, you're not in the trunk this time."

Where are we going?"

Matt's lips twist into a cruel smirk.

"You'll see."

And that's all Dom gets. Matt keeps his eyes on the road, won't look at Dom, won't answer his questions. Dom gives up and spends the rest of the journey staring out the window, a tight knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Matt parks beside a warehouse. He crawls into the back seat, grabs a bundle and thrusts it at Dom.

"Here, put these on."

Dom examines the bundle. A boiler suit, a hockey mask, gloves. He drops the bundle in disgust.


Matt's struggling into a boiler suit of his own.


"I can't do this."

"You can. You will."

"I won't. You can't make me."

"I can't?"

Matt leans over Dom's seat, grabs a fistful of hair and pushes his gun into the tender flesh beneath the cop's jaw.

"Listen up, 'cause I'm only going to say this once. You're in my world now. You do what I say, when I say. You don't, you won't survive the day. Understand?"

Something tells Dom that trying to argue the point would be a serious mistake.

"i understand."

Matt lets him go.

"Good. Now, suit up."

Dom does it. Matt grins at him, gun in one hand, his own hockey mask in the other.

"Very sexy."

Dom follows the crook out of the car and over to the door of the warehouse. Matt opens it, sticks his head through and shouts something, Dom doesn't catch all of it. Something about masks. Matt steps back out and looks at Dom.

"Okay, keep your mask on and your mouth shut. I'm serious, don't say anything to anyone. Keep a cool head, follow my lead and everything will be fine. You ready?"

Dom nods, afraid to speak.

"Alright, come on."

The cop follows the crook into the warehouse and comes face to face with five men in boiler suits and hockey masks: Matt's latest crew, or maybe just a Jason Voorhees fan club. They stare at Dom. He stares back, feeling about as welcome as a fart in a space suit.

"We're taking an extra man along today," Matt announces.

Dom can't see the crew's facial expressions but, if their loud and, in some cases, profane protests are anything to go by, this doesn't sit well with any of them. The biggest member of the crew speaks up.

"Why do we need an extra man?"

"Because we do."

"But you always go with a six-man crew."

"I do. But not today."

"A seven-way split is messy."

"We're not splitting it seven ways. Our new boy isn't getting a cut. He's just along for the ride."

"Who is this guy, anyway?"

Matt smiles, reaches out and slaps Dom's ass, making the cop jump.

"This is my boy. I thought it was time I showed him what Daddy does for a living."

This does not go down well.

"A civilian? He's a fucking civilian? You expect us to put out lives in the hands of an amateur, risk some serious jail time, and for what? Just so your latest cum dumpster can get a cheap thrill? I won't stand for it, Matt."

Matt moves up to face the giant. Dom can't see either man's face, but he can read their body language just fine, can sense the waves of barely chained anger emanating from Matt, see the big man shrivel up beneath Matt's stare.

"You're giving the orders now?" Matt's voice is soft, cold, deadly, "you're telling me what to do?"

"No Matt, I just - "

"Because last time I looked I was the boss. I make the plans. I say what we do and how and when. Anyone got a problem with that?"

Matt turns on the rest of his crew and they cower before him.

"I say he's coming with us, he's coming with us. He'll be an extra pair of hands on crowd control and he won't fuck up. There's no risk. Everyone does what they're supposed to do when they're supposed to do it and everything will be fine."

His crew are silent, nobody else rises to challenge him. Matt smiles, all sweetness and light again.

"Good, that's settled. Somebody get our new boy a gun."

The giant stalks over, hands Dom an automatic.

"Do you even know how to use one of these?" he asks.

Dom takes the gun, pops the clip, checks it and slaps it back in, checks the safety a couple of times, hands moving with an efficiency born of years of experience. The rest of the crew trade urgent whispers as they take in his performance. Then Matt laughs.

"Isn't he precious," he drawls, "a few trips to a shooting range and he thinks he's a gunslinger."

They laugh with him, the bubble of tension popping before it's even had a chance to form. And then Dom is swept along with the rest of them, out of the warehouse and into a van and he's on his way to commit the very crime he's paid to try and stop. As they approach the bank Matt squeezes Dom's hand, tells him he'll be fine. They get out of the van and the giant is suddenly beside him, clamping a huge hand down on his shoulder and offering his own unique words of encouragement:

"Don't fuck this up. You do and I don't care what Matt says, I'll gut-shoot you and leave you for the cops."

Message received and understood.

Now it's happening, now it's on. They burst into the bank, waving their weapons and scaring the shit out of everyone. Dom casts a worried eye at the security camera, then remembers how Matt's people always kill them before they hit a bank and is almost giddy with relief. It just wouldn't do to have a cop - and not just any cop, but the boss of the bank squad - filmed robbing a bank, mask or no mask.

Matt's crew go about their business, each member performing his assigned task with quiet efficiency. One man takes care of the guards, Matt and the giant go for the money and Dom helps the others, covering them as they get the customers on the floor and destroy all cellphones. As he stands over the customers with a gun in his hand, Dom is forced to admit he's enjoying himself. He thought he knew all there was to know about bank jobs. But there's a big difference between the cold, hard facts as set down in witness statements and caught on camera and the altitude sickness-inducing high of actually participating in a job.

They get the money, pile into the van and take off in a rush of squealing tires. If the ride to the bank was quiet and intense, the ride back is anything but. Lots of backslapping, laughs all round - but the others still don't drop their guard around Dom. They don't use any names and Matt's the only one feeling secure enough to take off his mask. He pats Dom's thigh.

"You did good in there."

His hand moves higher. Dom squirms and tries to shove it away.

Matt giggles and cups him through his suit. He's deaf to Dom's pleading and Dom doesn't want to start a fight,  not here, not in front of these men. Better to keep quiet and let Matt do what he wants. Matt's gang are giggling and elbowing each other as they watch. Dom closes his eyes, cheeks burning with shame, cursing Matt even as he responds to his touch. He tries to keep quiet, to take his humiliation in silence, but he can't help but give voice to a long, low moan as he comes.

They get back to the warehouse, the others deal with the cash and Matt leads Dom back to the car where the cop is finally allowed to remove his mask and suit. Dom sits in the passenger seat, limp and mute, mind scrambled by the events of the last couple of hours. He's still trying to process it when Matt dumps him at the end of his street and leaves him there.


Matt is sprawled on the couch on the top floor of his brewery, waiting for Dom to come to him. The cop will come, there's no doubt in Matt's mind, it's just a question of when. He hears footsteps and smiles, but doesn't get up. Dom picks his way through Matt's living area, he hasn't been here since the night he cuffed Matt to a rail and fucked him senseless. He glares down at Matt.

"Know where I spent the afternoon?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

"At a crime scene, working my way through a bank that got robbed this morning. But I'd already been there, I was one of the bank robbers!"

"Yeah, you were," Matt smiles up at him, "what's the problem? You want a cut, is that it? You can have some of mine, if it's that important to you."


"What, then?"

"I ..." Dom pinches the bridge of his nose, "you ... why did you take me there? I wasn't supposed to be there! I'm a cop!"

"A pathetic excuse for a cop. A real cop would have done his job and locked me up long ago."

The pain and confusion on Dom's face tears at Matt's heart, but he keeps smiling.

"We had an understanding."

"And you trusted it? You trusted me?" Matt laughs, "you really are pathetic. Did you really think you could trust me? That I could care about someone like you? Maybe even love you? Please, the very idea."

"Stop it, Matt!"

Dom's hands are pressed against his ears, trying to block it all out. Oh, how Matt wants to taker it back, all the lies he just told. But he can't. He has to do this, has to make Dom believe the lies, drive him away. It'll take just one last thing to push Dom over the edge. Matt summons up a look of pure contempt and plunges ahead.

"I can't believe you fell for that."

"What? Fell for what?"

"This morning. You really think they didn't know who you were? They knew. All my crews know. I told them all about you, the sad, lovesick cop I've been stringing along. I told them everything, every single thing we've done. I've even shown them pictures and we've laughed at you, oh, how we laughed - "

That does it. Dom grabs the front of Matt's shirt and pulls him off the couch. Now it's Matt's turn to be held at gunpoint as Dom swipes the pistol from the holster at his back and forces the barrel between Matt's teeth. There's a long moment where Matt fears he's done his job too well and that his reward will be to have his brains blown out by the man he loves. Dom wants to do it; Matt can see it in his eyes, in the way his hand tightens on the gun. But then Dom screams, a high, inarticulate sound, full of pain and rage. He pulls the gun out of Matt's mouth, reverses it and whacks the crook across the face with the butt, putting all his strength into the blow. Matt hits the floor, seeing stars. Dom stands over him, breathing hard.

"Stay away from me, Matt. Next time I see you, I will pull the trigger."

Matt watches him go. His mouth is full of blood and he touches a finger to cheek and winces. His cheekbone's broke for sure.

But it's not the pain in his face that makes him cry.
hannah_chapter1: (Ale)
Title: Enemies Part Five
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: A cop. A bank robber. Some sex. What else do you need?
Feedback: Please do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, this is fiction.

Dom circles the table once, twice, three times. He stops beside the suspect and puts his hands on his hips.


The suspect sneers up at him.

"Well what? You've got nothing on me and we both know it. You can't keep me here. I know my rights"

He stands and walks to the door, or tries to. Dom grabs him by the shirt and shoves him back, hard. The suspect bounces off the table and almost falls. He regains his balance and, when he looks at Dom, his eyes are wide and full of fear.

"Fuck your rights, you leave when I say you can leave. Now, take your clothes off."


Dom places a hand on the butt of his gun.

"You heard me. Do it!"

The suspect reluctantly complies. He cups protective hands over his genitals, hiding them from Dom's view. That won't do. Dom tuts.

"Come on, no need to be shy. Let me see you. All. Of. You."

The naked man shudders, closes his eyes and drops his hands.

"Oh yes, very nice."

Dom's across the room and on him in a heartbeat, forcing his tongue into the man's mouth and thrusting a hand between his legs. The suspect squirms, tries to get away; Dom grabs a fistful of hair in his free hand and holds him in place. Hands brush the front of Dom's uniform and push against his chest. But they fall away as the cock in Dom's hand begins to stiffen. The suspect sighs into Dom's mouth, all thoughts of resistance forgotten.

Dom grabs him by the shoulders, spins him and presses him down until his chest and face are flat against the table's surface. Dom bends and licks the man's ear.

"You belong to me now," he hisses.

The suspect twitches and whimpers as Dom stands and runs possessive hands over his back and ass. Dom takes his hands off him and steps away but the man doesn't move, doesn't raise his head to track the cop's movements. The snap of a latex glove echoes around the room, followed by the click of a bottle cap. Lubed-up fingers pry the suspect's cheeks apart and probe his entrance.

"No," he whines.

It's an empty protest; even as he says the words he's pressing back against the fingers, like a dog longing to be petted. He doesn't fool Dom for a second and the cop's lips twist into a sardonic smile as his fingers explore the other man's back passage, giving a new, perverted meaning to the phrase "full cavity search." And while he'd love to tease the suspect until he's begging for release, his own need is too urgent. There's no time to waste.

The latex gloves come off and hit the floor and Dom's pants, weighed down by the gunbelt, soon follow. The suspect's head lashes from side to side, mouth open in a silent scream as Dom rams it home. His back arches and his nails claw at the table's surface as Dom snaps his hips forward and back. Dom's hat falls off and he can feel the sweat running down his face. He clenches his teeth and tries to hold back, wanting to make this last. But then the other man begins to spasm, clenching around Dom's manhood and the cop loses it, panting and swearing as he loses control.

They fall forward onto the table, still joined at the crucial spot. The fog in Dom's brain slowly clears and he uses one arm to prop himself up and the other to shake the limp form beneath him.

"Matt? You okay?"

The criminal nods weakly, still trying to pull himself together.

"I'm fine, I just need a minute. I think you just rearranged all my internal organs."

Dom smiles, absurdly pleased with himself.

"Was it everything you hoped it'd be?"

"All that and more."

"How long have you had this fantasy?"

"As long as I can remember. I've always wanted to be bent over a table and fucked by a cop in full uniform."

"Why didn't you just buy a costume and get someone to wear it?"

"I wanted to be fucked by a cop in uniform, not a guy dressing up in a fake cop uniform. There's a difference."

"You are twisted."

Matt laughs.

"And you're just figuring this out now?"

Dom nuzzles the back of his neck in response and winces as he pulls himself up and out of Matt. His uniform reeks of sex and sweat, so Dom takes it off and drops it on the floor, making a mental note to take it to the dry-cleaner - but not his usual dry-cleaner. He doesn't want the nice old Korean lady who usually does his clothes touching this. Matt pulls himself together and they go up to the bathroom.

It takes two tries in the shower, the first ending with them both panting and slippery on the floor as the hot water flows over them, their game of "I'll wash yours if you wash mine" quickly turning into something else. They dry off and curl up in Dom's bed, facing each other and locked together so tightly Dom can't tell where he ends and Matt begins. The criminal gives Dom's shoulder a playful pinch.

"Such a serious face," he teases, "what's on your mind?"

"I was just thinking ... it's nice, having someone here with me."

"I know what you mean."

"Have you ever had something serious, Matt?"

"In prison?"


"No. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a monk, but I never had a boyfriend. What about you?"

"Once. We lived together for about a year. I was in Homicide then and Homicide cops keep odd hours. He didn't like that. In his mind the bed was half-empty, not half-full, and so he filled it. I came home early one day and caught him with another man."

"I'm sorry."

Dom shrugs.

"It was a long time ago. And I can't lay all the blame on him. It was a bad time for me and I wasn't easy to live with."

Matt nods sympathetically and, before he knows what he's doing, Dom is spilling it all. The rotten luck that seemed to dog him, making sure he got stuck with all the worst cases, the real horror shows. The stress, the sleepness nights, the weight loss. Matt doesn't judge or make fun, he just holds Dom as he lets it all out. They lie together, not speaking, for a long time.

"Dom?" Matt breaks the silence.


"Have you ever killed anyone? In the line of duty, I mean."


"Do you think you could?"

"Could I kill just anyone or could I kill you?"

"Could you kill me?"

Dom thinks about it.

"If I had to, if it was the only way to stop you hurting someone, I'd like to think I'd do the right thing."

"But could you really do it?"

"I ... no. No, I don't think I could. What about you, could you kill me?"

"No. Why do you look so surprised?"

"You've killed before."

"Only when I had to. I never enjoyed it and I don't kill innocent people or work with anyone who does."

Matt shifts slightly in Dom's embrace.

"If I was going to kill you, Dom, I would have done it that first day, when I caught you sniffing around my warehouse. But I didn't and now I can't. I can't hurt you. I won't."


This conversation changes everything. The L-word is never mentioned, but they both know their feelings go beyond sexual desire. And their relationship begins to change.

Matt spends almost every evening at Dom's and they don't spend all their time in the bedroom, as they did in the beginning. They have dinner, wash dishes, watch television (Matt lying on his side with his head in Dom's lap. Dom's hand on Matt's hip), normal, boring stuff. There are more conversations and less kinky sex games. Dom could almost believe they're just a normal couple.


But not quite.


Dom leans against the wall of the interrogation room. He got lucky today: they caught one of Bellamy's guys. He tripped coming out of the bank and was tackled to the ground by a passing beat cop. Now he sits across from one of Dom's men with his arms folded across his chest, ignoring their questions.  Dom tries again.

"Come on, Morgan. We don't want you. We want your boss. Give us Bellamy and we'll make a deal with you."

"Bellamy? I don't know any Bellamy. I don't have a boss. I run that crew, me and nobody else. Congratulations, you just hooked a real big fish."

"You're lying. We know you're not the boss of that crew."

"I'd like to see you prove it."

Dom walks over to the table and switches the recorder off.

"We're not getting anywhere. Take him to a holding cell. We'll give him some time to think, then we'll try this again."

They take Morgan away and Dom goes for coffee. He's on his way back to his office, planning to spend a couple of hours wrestling with his paperwork load, when the power goes out, plunging the entire station into darkness. The emergency lights come on and, in the faint glow they provide, Dom can see people staring at suddenly dead computers, confused. Dom drops his coffee and runs for the stairs.

He couldn't, he couldn't be this reckless ...

He could. By the time Dom gets all the way down to the cells, they've been transformed into a dark and smoky hell. The smoke reaches the ceiling and the sprinklers, which are also on the emergency circuit, go off. Dom throws an arm across his mouth and tries to breathe normally. He can see blurred shapes, moving through the smoke and water. Someone grabs the back of Dom's shirt collar and he's dragged into a nearby bathroom.

The door closes behind them and Dom wheels around, furious.

"What are you doing?"

Matt pulls off his gasmask.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"You can't bust a guy out of a police station!"

"Just watch me. Don't worry, it's all smoke bombs and rubber bullets. Nobody gets hurt."

Matt pushes him into a cubicle and, before Dom can fully process what's happening, his belt is unbuckled. He tries to shove Matt away.

"No. Not here."

Matt presses against him again.

"Yes. Here. Now. In this station, with your fellow officers all around."

Even as he speaks he's reaching into Dom's pants and freeing his cock. The sensation, coupled with the insanity of the situation, melts the rational part of Dom's brain. He moans and unzips Matt's pants, taking his lover in hand.

There's no time for slow and gentle. Their movements are fast and rough and they cling to each other for support as they topple off the cliff together.

Matt's the first to recover. He cleans himself up and tucks himself back in. Dom's still trying to catch his breath as Matt blows him a kiss, puts his mask back on and walks out into the fog.


The lights are already on when Dom finally gets home. He finds Matt in the kitchen, fussing with the oven. He straightens up and smiles but the cop's not in the mood.

"Have you gone insane, Matt?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"You raided a police station!"

"No one got hurt."

"And that makes it better?"

"Doesn't it?"

Dom groans in frustration and goes upstairs to clean himself up and change. This - the life he's living - is so fucked up it's not even funny.

But it's still better than what he had before.

hannah_chapter1: (Belleville)
Title: Enemies Part Four
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: A cop. A bank robber. Some sex. What else do you need?
Feedback: Please do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, this is fiction.
Notes: Happy New Year to one and all! This story is (obviously) inspired by all the crime films I've seen - but this chapter takes inspiration from one film in particular. First person to guess it gets a prize!

The phone is ringing, the sound dragging Dom out of the land of sleep and back to the real world. He tries to get up but Matt is lying on his arm. He must have decided to stay the night. Sometimes he leaves the second they're done - you could say he comes and goes - and sometimes he stays all night. There are nights where Dom comes home to find Matt waiting for him (the cop walked into his bedroom one night and the criminal was lying on his bed, wearing nothing but a red ribbon around his cock and a whipped-cream arrow on his chest and stomach, pointing down) and nights where Dom goes to sleep alone and wakes an hour or two later with a tongue in his mouth and a hand on his cock.

Dom pulls his arm free and stumbles out of bed and over to his jeans. He picks them up and wobbles over to sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the after-effects of four beers and a couple of hours of fierce, slam-against-the-wall sex. Matt's hands settle on his waist as he fishes the phone out of the front pocket and answers it. Dom tries to give the caller his full attention but it's not easy with Matt kissing his back and shoulders.

The call ends. Dom drops the phone and then Matt is on him, pulling him down. He moves over Dom and pins him to the mattress.

"Kiss," he demands.

Dom turns his face away.

"Morning breath."

Matt grips his chin, forcing Dom to look at him.

"I don't care."

Dom sighs and lets Matt have what he wants. The criminal releases him and Dom gets up and looks for something clean to wear. Matt yawns and scratches his chest.

"Where are you going? It's early."

"I have to go to work. Someone just took down a security van."

"You're chasing other criminals? I thought what we had was special!"

"I can't help what you think," Dom glares at Matt, "I can't have a day off, can I? Not even one. You people are so damn inconsiderate."

"Aww, poor baby. Want to take a shower together? I'll wash your back."


"Yeah. If you're very good I'll wash your hair, too."



Tom Kirk sits on a bench in the locker room. He hasn't moved since they left the squash court. Dom taps him with his foot.

"Kirky? You dead?"

"Amost," he opens his eyes, "you're a maniac on that court. I may never walk again."

"Don't be such a baby."

Dom pulls off his t-shirt without thinking.

"What happened to your chest, Dom?"

"Nothing, it's nothing. Forget it."

Dom turns away and heads for the showers. A hand on the back of his neck arrests his progress. Kirk inspects the scratches and bitemarks on his back.

"What did you do, get mauled by a mountain lion?" Kirk pulls down around to face him, "and these marks on your chest, what are they?"


"Burns from what?"

"Candle wax," Dom shuffles his feet, uncomfortable, "I like to play rough sometimes, it's no big deal."

Kirk says nothing, just keeps right on staring at him and Dom's temper slips a notch.

"Don't you look at me like that. I don't have to explain myself to you, I don't have to explain myself to anybody! My private life is my business and none of yours!"

"C'mon Dom, it's me. I'd never judge you, you know that."

Dom's shoulders slump.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. It's just, old habits can be hard to break, you know?"

"I know. I remember the bad old days."

They were rookies together and Dom, faced with a choice between hiding his sexuality and living in constant fear of exposure or being honest and facing the inevitable consequences, went with the second option. He refused to be intimidated and met every homophobic slur and prank with one of his own. When someone wrote "I like to suck fat, hairy cocks" on Dom's locker door, Dom got a pen and replaced "like" with "love" and added the words "every day." If someone put a dildo or buttplug in his cruiser, he'd stand in the middle of the squadroom and simulate blowjobs with it. The practical jokes and insults stopped long ago but, even after all these years, Dom's first instinct when quizzed on his private life is to go on the offensive. And it's safe to say the mess he's gotten himself into has made him edgier than usual.

"I know you do. But you don't have to worry about me, Kirky, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Things get a little wild sometimes, but I've got everything under control."

Oh, what a golden flood of bullshit. For a minute Dom can feel it all boiling up inside him and he wants to just sit on the bench and spill the whole thing. But he can't. He won't. He changes the subject instead, asking the other man about his family. Get Kirk started on his kids and it's next to impossible to shut him up and he's soon searching for his wallet and the pictures in it, all thoughts of the marks on Dom's back and chest long forgotten.


Matt threads his way through the junkyard, edging his way past the compacted remains of old cars. The path he's on suddenly opens out into a large, flat space with lawn chairs dotted all around it. Matt eases the gun out of the holster at his back and creeps forward, never taking his eyes off the bare-chested, tattooed man sunning himself in one of the chairs. He's less than a foot away when the man turns and sticks a sawn-off shotgun in his face. They glare at each other, unmoving. Then Matt grins and holsters his weapon.

"I'll catch you napping one of these days, Chris."

"It'll never happen."

Dropping his shotgun, Chris bounces up and envelops Matt in a bone-crushing hug that leaves the smaller man breathless.

"Where the hell have you been? Weeks go by and nobody sees you, nobody hears anything. I was starting to think you were dead."

"I've been keeping a low profile."

"There's low profile and then there's no profile. I know you like to lay low between jobs, but that's never stopped you coming to the club and fucking boys in the bathroom. But now they sit around, all your little crime groupies, crying into their cocktails and waiting for you to come back to them."

"They'll get bored and move onto someone else. They don't have a choice, I'm done with that shit."

"You've become a monk, is that it?"

"Not exactly. I've ... met someone."

"And you're being faithful. You?"

Matt shrugs.

"I'm as surprised as you are."

"Who is this amazing man?"

"No one, he's just a guy I met."

"Oh, I get it," Chris grabs Matt by the scruff of the neck and gives him an affectionate shake, "you got yourself a nice little boyfriend with a nice little white-collar job and you want to keep him as far away from our world as you can. What did you tell him when he asked what you did for a living? Did you tell him you were in banking?"

"Something like that."

Chris pulls at Matt's pocket.

"Come on, get your phone out, I want to see this boy in action."

Matt slaps his hand away.

"There's nothing to see, Chris."

"Oh, come on! You're telling me you haven't filmed him blowing you at least once, or taken a picture of his junk while he was asleep?"

"I haven't."

"Fuck me, this is serious. Matt Bellamy in love, I never thought I'd see the day."

"Can we get off this? I didn't come here to talk about my love life."

"Ooh, so prim and proper all of a sudden, I love it," Chris sits down, "alright, tell me what you need. You know I'd do anything for you, Matt."

And he would. Matt could have done a lot less jail time if he'd cut a deal and given up his crew. But he refused to even consider it. Chris's brother and nephew were on that particular crew. They've since turned their backs on the bank scene and gone into coke dealing, a field much more suited to their talents.

Matt grabs a chair and perches on the edge of it.

"I think it's about time you took your dogs for a walk."

"They could use a little exercise," Chris agrees, "how many should I take?"



"Not for me."

"It'll cost you."

Matt takes an envelope from his jacket pocket and tosses it to Chris, who catches it neatly.

"This should cover your end and the cost of setting it up. They can keep whatever they take, a bonus from me to them."

"That's more than fair," Chris opens the envelope and thumbs rapidly through the bills inside, "you got a route in mind?"

Matt reaches into his pocket again and takes out a piece of paper. Chris takes it and scans it.

"You know I can't just put this together overnight."

"I know. How long will it take?"

"At least two weeks. I like to be thorough."

"I'd expect nothing less from you," Matt stands up, "call me when you're ready. Be seeing you, Chris."

"Leaving already?"

"I'm a busy man, you know how it is. Places to go, people to see, things to do."

"Boyfriends to fuck."

"You'd better believe it."


It's late when Matt finds the spare key and lets himself into Dom's house. In the bathroom he finds a new toothbrush, still in the packaging, along with a note: stop using mine! Matt unwraps the brush and cleans his teeth. He walks into the dark bedroom. The bedclothes rustle and the bedside lamp clicks on. Dom scowls and rubs his eyes.

"Look what the cat dragged in," he mutters.

Matt takes his jacket off, dropping it carelessly on the floor.

"Did you have a good day at the office, dear?"

"Not really."

The criminal unbuttons his shirt.

"How do people work in offices? I'd go crazy, all those people stuck in one place all day..."

"Less talk, more stripping."


Matt undresses the rest of the way, taking it slow and enjoying the way Dom looks at him. He clims into bed and kisses the underside of Dom's jaw.

"Tell me something," Matt's hand moves beneath the covers, "is that a huge erection in your shorts or are you just pleased to see me?"

"What do you think?"

Matt pulls the cop's boxers off and strokes him. Dom moans softly but he doesn't reach for Matt, like he usually does. Matt's strokes become rougher, to no avail. Dom just lies there.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm tired."

"And you expect me to do all the work?"

"You catch on fast."

Matt is outraged.

"Lazy," he chides as he gets up and finds the lube.

Dom smirks and reaches behind him, gripping the headboard slats.

"Very lazy," Matt kneels on the bed and begins to prep himself. When he's done he moves onto Dom, lubing up his cock.

Dom blinks up at him as he gets into position.

"Just for that, I'm taking my time."

Matt sinks down onto Dom's cock, moaning and biting his lip as the thick shaft pierces him. When he's adjusted to the sensation he begins to move, setting a slow, almost glacial pace. Dom stares up at him, not moving, not making a sound. It's like he can't even feel what his cock is doing. But Matt soon learns that's not the case; the cop grows impatient and rocks his hips in an attempt to make Matt pick up the pace. Matt ignores him, sliding slowly up and down the other man's cock until Dom snaps.

The cop sits up and grabs Matt by the hips, lifting him up and off his cock. He flips Matt onto his back and now it's Matt's turn to reach up and grab the headboard as Dom sticks it in and pounds him into the mattress, giving him what he wants and needs. Matt's inner porn star decides to join the party.

"Daddy," he moans, "it's so good."

"You like that?"

"I love it, I love your big, long cock..."

"It's for you, it's all for you."

Dom punctuates each "you" with a vicious thrust. And then they're beyond words. Matt feels like a ragdoll, flying and jerking bonelessly beneath the cop and he's soon screaming as the pleasure becomes too much to bear. But Dom shows no sign of slowing or stopping and Matt's wondering if he'll leave this bed alive when nature finally takes its course and Dom discharges his weapon.

Now Dom is the boneless one, collapsing into Matt's embrace. But he doesn't stay down for long. Propping himself up on one hand, he slides the other one under Matt's back and flips them over without breaking the connection of their lower bodies. Matt laughs.

"Lietenant Howard, I'm impressed. Did they teach you that move at the police academy?"

"Nah, boy scouts."

"Speaking of the police academy, do you still have a uniform?"

"Yeah, for parades and special occasions. Why?"

Matt yawns and rubs his cheek against Dom's chest.

"I'll tell you in the morning."



The newest member of Dom's team, a little pipsqueak still wet behind the ears, collars Dom as he's about to go for lunch. The pipsqueak's eyes bulge with excitement.

"You need to see this, sir."

Dom groans and follows the pipsqueak into the briefing room. There's a special map on the wall, covered in tiny lights, one for evey bank in the city. If a bank's silent alarm is triggered, the matching light on the map will come on. The rest of Dom's team is gathered around the map and, when Dom gets up close, he sees why. Five .... ten ... thirteen lights are now on. Dom faces the team.

"Did these lights all come on at the same time?"

"Yes, sir, they did."

Dom takes a deep breath.

"It's Bellamy, it has to be."

"Wait a second, lietenant," the pipsqueak pipes up, "you're saying all this is the work of one man? I think that's highly unlikely."

Dom turns on him.

"And I think you need to shut your mouth. Too many stupid things are coming out of it. Thirteen separate alarms in thirteen separate banks don't just go off at the same time. This was planned and there's only one guy we know who'd go to all this trouble."

Turning his back on the suddenly silent pipsqueak, Dom addresses the man closest to the map.

"There are cars on the way to all these banks, right?"

"Right, automatic response to the alarms. But where do we go? Which bank is Bellamy at?"

"None of them."


"Someone triggered all these alarms. When has Bellamy ever set off an alarm? These are decoys, distractions. He's not at any one of these banks."

"Then where is he?"

Dom looks at the cluster of bright lights, trying to spot the thread. Then he sees it: one dark light right on the edge of the group, less than five minutes' drive from this very station. He taps the dark light.

"He's at this one. Let's move out."

His team just stands there and Dom glares at them.

"What, am I talking just to hear myself? Get on your fucking horses and ride!"

They almost make it. Almost. Dom's in the second car and, as they close in on the bank, he can actually see the suspects getting in the van. Bellamy's the last one in. He's wearing a mask, obviously, but Dom would know that posture anywhere. Then a loud bang echoes around the street and the lead car does a full one-eighty.

Spikes! Spikes in the fucking road!

Dom hits the brakes and, somehow, manages to avoid the spikes and the first car. The van disappears around the corner and Dom just knows Bellamy is laughing at him.

The rest of the day fades into a haze of arguments, paperwork and shitty coffee. When Dom finally escapes the circus he's completely whipped. All he wants now is a shower and his bed. Walking through his living room he takes his gun, holster and all, and drops it on the couch as he passes by. A shocking disregard for the rules of gun safety, but who gives a shit?

Dom loses his jacket and shirt as he climbs the stairs. He walks into his bedroom and has just enough time to see the candles and the naked man before the blindfold is slipped over his eyes.

"What a clever boy you are," Matt coos, "most cops would never see through my plan. They'd just sit around with their thumbs up their asses while I did my thing. But not you, no, you got it right away. Such a clever boy deserves a reward."

Matt guides Dom over to the bed. The cop protests.

"I need a shower."

"No, you don't."

"But I smell so bad."

Matt sniffs the hollow of Dom's throat.

"You smell delicious," he licks the place he just sniffed, "and you taste even better. No shower yet."

The cop lands on the bed and the criminal kneels on his chest and pulls his hands above his head.

"One thing I love about my job, no paperwork, no red tape, it gives me lots of time to shop for toys."

A pair of fur-lined handcuffs click around Dom's wrists, binding him to the headboard. His cock sits up and begs for attention as Matt pulls off his pants and shoes. But Matt doesn't touch him and Dom is left lying there, dizzy with anticipation.

The first hot blob of candle wax hits Dom's chest and he yelps, the sound a mixture of pain and pleasure. Another blob hits his stomach. Then his chest again, two drops this time. Back and forth it goes, sometimes on his chest, sometimes on his stomach. Dom tugs at the cuffs in a futile attempt to free himself when Matt brings the candle to his crotch, the flame so close Dom can feel his pubic hair sizzling. Oh, he wouldn't - would he? Matt teases him for a moment or two more, then giggles and takes the candle away.

He settles himself on top of Dom and the cop opens his mouth to curse him out. But then Matt's mouth is on his, tongue plunging deep inside, and Dom's anger melts away. He nibbles at Matt's lips, then the salty-sweet skin of his neck. Matt moves over him and Dom licks, blindly, down his neck and chest until he reaches Matt's nipple. He latches onto it, licking and tonguing it. Matt grabs the back of his head and cradles him there, moaning.

"That's it, baby. Lick me."

Dom's tongue stabs at the nipple until Matt pulls his head away. When his head is pulled forward again Dom is confronted with Matt's erection, twitching alongside his cheek. The cop opens his mouth and takes Matt as deep as he can. Matt tugs at his hair.

"Just like that. So good, you feel so good."

Matt soon comes, growling and moaning. Hot spunk fills Dom's mouth and throat and he swallows frantically to avoid choking. Matt climbs off him and Dom can hear him move around the room.

"What are you doing?"

Dom is ignored. A hand raises his buttocks and a pillow slides underneath. Dom's legs are pulled apart, leaving him open and exposed. Slippery fingers circle his entrance, then delve inside, hollowing him out. When he's satisfied, Matt pulls his fingers away.

"There", he murmers, "now you're ready."

Dom frowns in confusion as he feels a large, smooth object push into his asshole. It's not Matt's cock, so what ... Dom hears a click and the object begins to vibrate. Oh, sweet Jesus...

The vibrator moves in and out of his ass. It hits his prostate and Dom whimpers, already on the brink. But then Matt's free hand clamps down on the base of his cock and Dom's whimper turns into a frustrated screech. Matt laughs at the sound.

"Don't worry, I'll let you come. But not until I'm good and ready."

Dom curses the criminal. Then he threatens him. Then he begs. None of it has any effect. The vibrator keeps fucking him and the vice-like grip on his cock never loosens. Dom has long since been reduced to sobs and moans when Matt releases his cock and shoves the vibrator into him one last time, the head of the device colliding roughly with his prostate.

Dom's entire lower body surges up and he comes so hard he half expects to see spunk dripping from the ceiling when the blindfold is finally removed. The vibrator and pillow are both taken away and Dom relaxes into the bed and waits for Matt to release his hands. But the crook just stand there and gives him a wolfish smile.

"What, you thought we were finished? Baby, we haven't even begun. It's going to be one hell of a night."
hannah_chapter1: (atlas)
Title: Enemies Part Three
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: A cop. A bank robber. Some sex. What else do you need?
Feedback: Please do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, this is fiction.

Dom paces up and down his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand. The other hand holds a phone to his ear. He listens for a minute, then shakes his head impatiently.

"No, that will never work. Because he's too smart for that."

The voice on the phone begins to argue its point. Dom breaks in and shuts it down.

"Shut up and listen to me. There's just one thing you need to understand about Matt Bellamy: stealing is his life. He's a clever son of a bitch and a natural born criminal. If we can see something from three angles, he can see it from twenty-three. These traps you're talking about might work on other guys. They won't work on him."

More indignant squawks from the other end of the line.

"It's late, I'm tired, we'll talk about this in the morning."

He hangs up without waiting for a reply and tosses the phone on the dresser. Pulling off his pants, socks and underwear, he slips beneath the covers and looks into a pair of sparkling blue eyes.

"You say such nice things about me," Matt bats his eyelashes at the cop.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Dom does just that, rolling on top of Matt and stopping the criminal's mouth with a savage kiss.

Three weeks earlier:

Dom leans back in his office chair and rubs his eyes. Paperwork, paperwork, it's everywhere he looks, mountains of it on his desk and the floor around his desk. Things are quiet on the bank front, with Bellamy laying low, licking his wounds and planning his next string of jobs, so Dom thought he'd make the most of the lull and try and shift some of the paper in his office. But it's hopeless; for every small stack he gets rid of, two more take its place. Ah, to hell with it, it's Friday night. He'll start again on Monday.

He's halfway home before he remembers there's next to no food in his house. Food shopping sounds like too much hard work, so he parks around the corner from his favourite pizza place. Returning to his car, he opens the passenger door and deposits the pizza on the seat. Then something digs into his back and an all too familiar voice hisses in his ear.

"You're not very observant, are you, lieutenant? That's a serious flaw in a cop."

Dom tries to turn and the gun jabs into his back, hard enough to bruise.

"No, no sudden movements."

"What do you want from me?"

"Walk to the back of your car and open the trunk."

Dom does it and something cold and metallic is shoved into his hands.

"I thought you might like these back. Cuff yourself, hands in front."

The second bracelet locks into place and Dom is shoved into his own trunk. The lid slams down and the car starts. Dom's not a big guy but, after twenty minutes in this small space, he's in agony. He's sharing this already cramped space with a spare tyre and every bump and movement of the car slams the offending object into the small of his back.

The car stops, the trunk opens and he's dragged out and dumped unceremoniously on the ground. He lies there, glaring up at Matt and turning the air blue, calling the bank robber every foul name he can think of until Matt grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him to his feet.

"You have a filthy mouth, lieutenant."

Matt pins him to the car.

"And I love it."

Dom opens his mouth to curse some more and Matt shuts him up, covering the cop's mouth with his own and thrusting his tongue deep inside. Dom knows he should resist and he raises his cuffed hands to push Matt away. But as Matt's tongue maps the inside of his mouth the need to resist melts away and, instead of shoving Matt away, he grips the front of his shirt and pulls him closer.

When the need to breathe finally separates them Dom clears his throat.

"What are we doing here?"

"I'm feeling romantic."

"This is romantic?"

"Sure it is."

Matt drags Dom to the front of the car and pushes him down until he's spread out on the hood, looking down at the lights of the city.

"See, very romantic. A nice, warm night and a great view."

Matt reaches around and unbuckles Dom's belt.

"I even," Matt nips at the cop's earlobe, "brought lube."

He pulls Dom's pants and boxers down, exposing him to the night air. Dom jumps and moans when a slick fingertip slips between his cheeks and toys with his hole. He pushes back, wanting more, and is rewarded when a slippery, impossibly long finger begins to slide in and out of him. It's soon joined by a second and then a third. They tease him to the point of insanity, moving deep within him, just glancing off his prostate. Dom's head lashes from side to side, every inch of him drenched in sweat.

"Stop fucking around back there and fuck me!" he bellows.

Matt clicks his tongue.

"Patience is a virtue, lieutenant, didn't anyone ever tell you that?"

"Fuck that! Do it!"

"If you insist."

Dom fairly sobs with relief when the criminal finally enters him. This is all kinds of wrong - but, oh God, it feels so right. They were meant to be together, in every way there is. They fit together, in every way there is. They both know it and now Matt proves it, creating a delicious friction that will soon send both men over the edge. Dom rests his cheek on the hood, the cold metal feels like heaven against his flushed, sweaty skin. If the guys at the station could see him now...

Matt reads his mind.

"What would your friends say if they saw this? What would they do if they came up here and saw Lieutenant Howard sobbing out his pleasure at being pleasured? Would they look away, disgusted or would they cheer you on?"

He punctuates each word with a sharp thrust, the last one hitting Dom's prostate in just the right way. Dom screams into the night, barely feeling Matt's last thrusts as he fumbles his way to his own release.

Matt withdraws, letting Dom sink to the ground. He pulls his pants up, then kneels beside the cop and presses a small key into his unresisting hand.

"Here, you'll need this. Don't worry, I washed it. Thoroughly. I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got things to do."

Matt gets back in the car and drives off into the night, spraying Dom with gravel as he goes. Dom frees his hands, stands and rearranges his clothes. Oh, this is just fucking perfect. He's alone in the middle of nowhere, his car's been stolen - and he never got to eat his pizza.


Dom's standing in the main squadroom, getting a cup of water from the cooler when a uniformed cop approaches him.

"Lieutenant Howard?"

"That's me."

"We found your car, sir."

Dom's eyebrows shoot up like oil prices. It's been over a week, he thought Bellamy had sold the damn thing to a chop shop.

"Where is it, the impound lot?"

"No. I think you'd better come with me, lieutenant."

"It's been burned out, hasn't it?"

"I think it's better if I just show you, sir."

Dom follows the other man to his cruiser. He can smell the crime scene before they get there, a strong chemical stench searing the inside of his nostrils. Stepping out of the car, he's met by Tom Kirk from Homicide. The other cop passes him a face mask.

"Here, you'll need this," Kirk puts on a mask of his own.

"What is that?"

"Bleach. Whoever dumped your car here doused it in industrial strength bleach, inside and out. We're looking at a real pro here. The chemical destroyed all the forensic evidence."

"Evidence of what?"

Kirk leads Dom to the car and point at the back. Dom stares at it for a long time. Lenny's lying in the back seat, a couple of holes in his chest and the word RAT carved on his forehead.

Dom walks away, trying to control his breathing. Kirk's right there with him.

"Looks like Lenny opened his mouth one time too many. He was one of yours, wasn't he? I'm guessing that's why he was dumped in your car. "

"He was mine, when he wanted to be. Was he killed here, do you think?"

"Hard to tell, but I wouldn't think so. I'm guessing whoever did him put two in his heart, mutilated him post-mortem, then drove him here."

Dom squeezes his temples, he can feel a headache coming on. This is going to be one bitch of a day.


Dom locks his new car and fumbles with his keyring, looking for the key to the house. He spent the day in various offices, explaining his relationship with the deceased, just how his car was stolen and why the body was found there of all places. Telling the truth would be suicide so he danced around the issue and the experience has drained him.

Just as he opens his front door a figure steps out of the shadows.

"I thought you were never coming home."

Dom's gun is in his hand and aimed at the other man before he knows what he's doing. Matt holds up a hand in surrender.

"No need for that. I'm not armed."

Dom lowers the pistol.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you."

"Jesus," Dom is suddenly aware of their surroundings, "get in here before someone sees you."

He grabs Matt's leather jacket and pulls him inside. In the kitchen, Dom makes sure the blinds are shut before he turns on the light. Matt holds up a bottle of wine, then places it on the kitchen table.

"I brought you something."

"Cut the shit and tell me what you want."


Dom blinks, not expecting such a direct answer. Matt comes closer and Dom draws his gun again.

"Stay away from me."

Matt stops and shakes his head.

"Does it always have to be like this? Guns, handcuffs and threats? Can't we just talk like normal people?"

The cop lowers the gun and places it on the counter behind him.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I just told you why. I want you. I can't stop thinking about you, you've gotten under my skin. And I think I've gotten under yours, too."

"You really are an arrogant little shit, aren't you?"

"Tell me I'm wrong."

Dom is silent as Matt closes the gap between them.

"I'm right, we both know it, so why don't we drop all the macho bullshit and just fuck each other's brains out?"

Dom can't think of a counter-argument as Matt's mouth meets his. He's not sure how it happens, but they're on Dom's couch now, both naked from the waist up, kissing and groping and grinding against each other. The pressure builds until Dom stiffens and screams into the other man's mouth. Fuck, he just came in his pants. He can feel the blush start in his toes and work its way up his body. He waits for Matt to say something smart, but the crook is grimacing down at his own crotch.

"I hate it when that happens."

Dom blinks up at him.

"You too?"

"Yeah. I think we should get cleaned up."

"Sounds good."

One quick shower later they're lying in Dom's bed. Cuddled up together, they pass the wine back and forth, swigging directly from the bottle like the manly men they are. Dom passes a hand over his face.

"This is insane. What are we doing?"

"I believe the technical term for this is cuddling."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know," Matt props himself up on one elbow, "let's make a deal. I'll keep doing what I do and you'll try and stop me doing what I do. But when we're here, like this, we're off the clock. And if you catch me in the act - "

"When I catch you in the act."

"If you catch me in the act, I'll keep my mouth shut about this."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"This is the one thing you can trust me on. I don't like rats."

"I know. I saw what you did to Lenny."

"Poor Lenny. But he brought it on himself. Somebody had to put a cork in him. I made it quick, I could do that much."

"How very noble of you."

"It was nothing personal, just business."

"What about those guys you offed in prison? Were they just business?"

Matt rolls onto his back.

"When I got to that place I took a good look around and I knew I wouldn't last. I'd be chewed up and spat out unless I did something, and fast. My first week, I tried to make myself invisible and I looked for that one guy, the one who walks right to the front of the lunch line, the one who gets the nice chair with the best view of the TV in the lounge. I found him and then I made a plan, I'm good at making plans. He cornered me in the shower one morning, like I knew he would. He made a point of breaking in the new fish. I let him back me up against the wall. I had a razor blade in my mouth and then I - "

Matt whips his head from left to right, a quick, savage movement.

"All the evidence washed down the drain. Nobody saw anything, nobody heard anything, nobody said a word about it. But, from that day on, the nice chair in the TV lounge was mine and I was the one who walked right to the front of the lunch line."

It takes a while for Dom to find his voice.

"And the others?"

Matt shrugs.

"Sometimes you have to fight to keep what you have. Law of the jungle - eat or be eaten. When you're in the trees, you have to swing."

"Nice. How do I know you won't cut my throat while I sleep?"

"You don't. But doesn't that just make life more interesting? You haven't answered my question. Do we have a deal or don't we?"

Dom takes a drink, then sets the bottle on the floor.

"Get on your hands and knees."

"Yes, Daddy."

As he straddles the other man, Dom knows he's sowing the seeds of his own damnation. And he doesn't care.
hannah_chapter1: (Banjos)
Title: Enemies Part Two
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: A cop. A bank robber. Some sex. What else do you need?
Feedback: Please do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, this is fiction.

Matt struts into the warehouse and watches his crew work. The van has been unloaded, all the money dumped on the ground. Three men count it and the other two sort it into separate stacks. They've been busy while he was ... otherwise engaged. No doubt about it, this is the best crew Matt's ever had and he wishes they could do more work together, a lot more. But that's just the kind of sloppy, sentimental thinking that sends a man to jail for eight years. This has to be the last job. Have a plan and stick to it, that's always been Matt's philosophy. The crew look up as Matt approaches.

"Everything okay, boss?" one of them asks.

Matt smiles. "Everything's fine, Tom. How'd we do today?"

"Good, real good. We just finished carving out your share and there's plenty left for us."

Matt stretches, feeling his spine crackle.

"I've been thinking about that, and I want to show you all how much I enjoyed our time together. You can keep my share, I don't want it."

They stand in stunned silence.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Tom finally asks.

"I'm sure. It's been a good day and you deserve it."

Matt walks away as they clap and cheer. Oh it's been a very good day, better than any of them could ever imagine. He could tell them about it: all about what he just did and really rub the cop's nose in it, destroying him more completely than a bullet in the head ever could. Matt could do it, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to share this, he wants to keep it for himself.


Dom sits in the captain's office, eyes on the floor as the older man chews him out.

"A mess, a disaster, a catastrophe, a clusterfuck of epic proportions!"

Dom snorts.

"A what of what?"

"You're laughing? You think this is funny?"


"Good, because it's not. Now tell me, how could you let this happen?"

"I told you I wanted a smaller team. You wouldn't listen."

"Fuck the size of the team! Big, small, who cares? How effective can a team be when their leader abandons them?"

The captain drops his considerable bulk into the chair on the other side of the desk and ticks off points on his fingers.

"You leave your men, you go after six heavily armed criminals on your own, you cause half a dozen small crashes and you abuse members of the public."

"They were in my way."

"Their taxes pay your salary," the captain wipes his forehead, "seriously Dom, what were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?"

Dom hangs his head as the other man gets up and walks over to the window.

"Go on, get out of here. Crawl back to your office and write this up. I want it on my desk by the end of the week."

Back in his own office, Dom toys with a pen and stares at a blank sheet of paper. Morning becomes afternoon, afternoon becomes evening and the paper remains blank. Dom's on fire inside, half of him burning with shame and the other with lust - how is he supposed to write a report when he can't even think straight? He gives up in disgust, grabbing his jacket and leaving the station.

Dom stops at a liquor store on the way home, looking for something to douse the flames. Torn between his good friends Jack and Jim, he decides to get a bottle of each. He's walking back to his car when a tiny man blocks his path. Dom steps around him but he refuses to take the hint. Dom sighs.

"I'm not in the mood, Lenny."

"I need to talk to you, lieutenant."

"I'm not giving you any money."

"Don't need money."

"You can't have any of my booze."

"Did I ask? Did I?"

"So what do you want?"

"I'm in trouble. I've got warrants out on me."

"Warrants for what?"


"I'm not in Narco anymore."

"But you still have friends there. You could talk to them."

"I could, but why should I? What do I get in return?"

"Matt Bellamy."

Dom stops dead in his tracks and Lenny goes in for the kill.

"You want him, I can give him to you. I know where you can find him. Say you'll help me and I'll give him up."

"Alright. Tell me what you know and I'll pull some strings for you. But if I find out you've lied to me, I'll fuck you up. Understand?"

"What makes you think you'll find me, lieutenant?"

"Oh I'll find you, Lenny. Slugs like you always leave slime in their tracks."


The river stinks and Dom can see beer cans and used condoms floating in it. Nice. Bellamy lives in a classy neighbourhood - if he lives here at all. Dom works his way along the waterfront. until he finds the abandoned brewery Lenny told him about. All the doors are rusted shut so Dom climbs in a window. The first two floors are filthy and filled with junk. Dom doesn't waste time searching them. He climbs up to the third floor and hits the jackpot. Half of this floor is just as messy as the ones underneath, but the other half has been cleaned up and turned into a comfortable living area with furniture, lamps, heaters and even some bookcases. Dom's prey is lying on a couch dressed only in a pair of jeans, hands behind his head as he watches television. Creeping closer, Dom can hear the hum of generators somewhere.

Matt doesn't even flinch when Dom puts a gun to the back of his head and pulls back the hammer.

"Lieutenant, so nice of you to drop by. Can I get you some coffee?"

"Shut up."

Dom keeps the gun on the criminal as he moves around to the front of the couch. Matt sniffs.

"How'd you find me?"

"Does it matter?"

"Someone ratted me out, didn't they?"

Dom ignores the question. He takes a quick look around and makes a low sound of disgust.

"This place is the shits."

Matt laughs.

"True, but just look at my  little island of elegance and good taste in the middle of it all. Are you sure I can't get you some coffee, or something stronger?"

Dom pulls the handcuffs from his belt.

"Get on your knees."

"Now we're talking."

Matt slides from the couch and kneels in front of Dom. The cop's mouth waters at the sight but he tries to stick to the script.

"Put your hands on your head."

Matt pouts.

"I don't want to put my hands on my head. I want to put them on your cock. And you want that too, don't you?"

Matt crawls forward and tugs at Dom's belt.


The criminal smirks up at him.

"We both know you don't want me to stop."

Dom moans and drops the cuffs as Matt pulls his pants and boxers down and strokes him with a gentle hand, caressing him from base to tip.

"Beautiful," Matt murmers, "so beautiful."

He swirls his tongue around the very tip of Dom's cock, then takes the cop in his mouth. Dom's gun hand dangles loosely at his side as the criminal pleasures him. Somehow, the other man knows just how to please him, every swipe of his tongue hitting all the right spots and bringing Dom closer and closer to the edge. Dom can feel his knees shaking as a finger slips between his cheeks and teases his hole.

No! Not Like this!

Using what little willpower he has left, Dom shoves Matt away and the criminal lands in his back. Dom picks up his handcuffs and throws them at Matt. They land on his bare chest.

"Chain yourself," Dom points at a railing just outside Matt's living area, "to that, hands in front."

"Kinky. I like it."

Matt does as he's told and Dom shuffles over to him. He drops his gun and runs his hand down the crook's back, fingertips gliding over soft and supple skin. Then he draws his hand back and delivers a stinging slap to Matt's buttocks. Matt squirms with delight.

"Oh yeah," he gasps, "treat me rough, sugar."

Dom slaps him again and again, each blow harder than the one before. He doesn't stop until every inch of skin on Matt's ass is bright red. The cop sinks to his knees and kisses and tongues the raw flesh, soothing it. Matt babbles above him, a steady stream of pleas, curses and nonsense words as Dom thrusts two spit-soaked fingers into him.

Standing again, Dom parts Matt's cheeks. But he doesn't enter him, not right away. He torments him, running the tip of his cock over Matt's hole until the other man is sobbing, begging for it. Only then does Dom push into him.

"Jesus, you're tight," he hisses in Matt's ear, "I never thought anyone who'd been in jail as long as you have could be so tight."

Matt doesn't answer back, he's beyond such things. Dom sets a furious pace, hands clawing and twisting at Matt's hips as he pummels him. Fuck, but it feels good to be in the driver's seat. Dom feels a familiar tightening and knows he's right on the edge. He pulls out of Matt and jerks himself roughly, unloading all over Matt's back. Panting, coming down from his high, he suddenly remembers that Matt hasn't come yet.

"Where are my manners?"

He snakes a hand around Matt's waist and takes hold of him, tugging gently. Matt shudders and spills into Dom's hand. Dom releases him and steps back.

"Does this dump have a bathroom, or do you just shit on the floor like an animal?"

Matt is still fighting for breath.

"On ... the ... right. In the corner."

Dom shuffles over to the bathroom, cleans himself up and splashes water on his face. Walking back to Matt he picks up his gun and shoves it in the holster.

"How did you get running water in here? How is that even possible?"

"Anything's possible when you know the right people."

Matt seems to have regained some of his former cockiness. He rattles the cuffs impatiently.

"You going to take me in now? I'd love to hear you explain just how your DNA got all over me."

Dom produces the handcuff key, releases one of Matt's hands and pulls the criminal into a searing kiss. When they finally part he smirks at Matt and closes the empty cuff around the railing, trapping him. Matt opens his mouth to protest, Dom pops the handcuff key into it and, in his surprise, Matt swallows it. Dom admires his handiwork.

"Well, this has been interesting. We must do it again sometime."

He walks away and Matt tugs at the cuff around his wrist.

"You can't leave me like this!"

Dom turns.

"I'm not. I gave you the key, you'll be able to free yourself. Eventually."

Dom walks away, laughing to himself as Matt screams and curses.


Sep. 5th, 2011 08:56 pm
hannah_chapter1: (Calm)
Title: Enemies
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: A cop. A bank robber. Some sex. What else do you need?
Feedback: Please do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, this is fiction.

Dom Howard walks into the briefing room and runs a critical eye over his team. Most of the men are his, he knows them and he would trust them with his life. Some of them are new, drafted in from other divisions at the captain's insistence. Dom's not so sure about them. He claps his hands to get everyone's attention.

"Listen up, people! We're hunting bank robbers today. The crew we're going after have taken down six banks in just two weeks."

Dom walks over to the map on the wall, ticking off the locations. One bank is circled in red and he taps it.

"They've been regular as clockwork, taking down a score every three days and working their way through all the banks in this one district. Their last job was exactly three days ago and this bank right here, the People's Choice, is the only one they haven't hit."

"How many men in this crew, lieutenant?" asks one of the new guys.

"Good question. It's a six man crew. One man drives, one man deals with the guards. Two men on crowd control, keeping the customers in line and destroying cell phones. The other two get the cash and keep the staff away from the silent alarms."

"Cameras?" asks one of Dom's guys.

"Killed exactly one minute before they hit the bank."

The new man raises a hand. "Any names on our suspects?"

"Just one, but he's the only one that matters. Five of these guys are drones. Yes, they're professionals, but they've got no flair, no imagination. But their leader, he's something else."

Dom picks up a file on a nearby desk, opens it and passes around pictures of a blue-eyed man.

"Matthew Bellamy, the brains of the outfit. He started robbing banks at the age of seventeen, the precocious little scamp. Busted at the age of twenty-two, he did eight years. They say he killed three men while he was inside, but nothing's ever been proved. When he got out he went right back to work. Here's how it works. Bellamy gets a crew together and they pull a few jobs, each one more high-profile than the last. Their last job is always a big one. When it's done they split the money and go their separate ways. Bellamy lays low for awhile, then he gets a new crew and does it all again."

"How do you know it's him?" asks a voice at the back of the room.

"I've been tracking him for a year and I know how he works. Bellamy's the fun-loving type, does it for the thrill, not the money. Just look at this pattern and ask yourselves this: why would a professional thief like him draw attention to himself like this? It's obvious, isn't it? He's playing with us, he wants us to come after him."

"What's the plan?" asks the man at the back.

"I want four-man teams covering all possible exits. I want snipers on the roof of the building across the street, too. We watch them go in, we let them do their thing. They come out and we take them down, one way or another. Questions, comments?"

There are none.

"Then let's do it."


Matt Bellamy checks his rifle and slings it over his shoulder.

"Gentlemen. It's time."

His crew claps and cheers.

"Now, this is our last job together," a chorus of boos greet this and he waits until they've died out before going on, "and it's going to be the biggest one we've ever done."

More cheering and waving of guns.

"We've attracted a lot of attention," says Matt, "especially from Lieutenant Howard and his Bank Squad. He'll be waiting for us today. Will he get us?"

"No!" The crew speak as one.

"We'll make him look like an idiot. We'll make them all look like idiots."


Matt smiles. "Okay, you all know what to do. Let's go to work."


Dom watches the front of the bank, listening to the chatter on his headset. The thieves went into the bank exactly seven minutes ago. Dom's men are in position, just waiting for them to come back out. Any minute now....

A voice crackles over the radio, one of the men on the men on the roof. "They're coming out."

"Okay," Dom says, "on my mark. One, two..."

But, before he can get to three, all hell breaks loose. A loud bang echoes up and down the street and the air is suddenly thick with pink smoke. Dom can't see the bank robbers, or their van, or much of anything, really. His men are in the same predicament. Dom tries to give orders but can't be heard over all the frantic chatter on the radio. He rips the headset off and throws it to the ground. This is why he wanted a smaller team - the more people on a team, the bigger the confusion when things go wrong.

The thieves' van drives out of the smoke, heading right for Dom. He dives to the side and he can just imagine Bellamy inside, laughing at them. Laughing at him. No! Not this time! Dom throws himself into his car, twists the key and floors it. He pushes the accelerator all the way down, eyes fixed on the van ahead of him. He's blind to the other cars on the road and deaf to the blaring horns and angry shouts of their drivers. All he cares about is the prize up ahead, getting closer and closer.

Someone sticks their head out of the window on the passenger's side of the van and throws something: a rock, a can of beer, something hard. It hits Dom's windscreen and cracks it. Dom's hands twist the wheel and the car spins a full three hundred and sixty degrees before he can get it under control. By the time he does the van is gone. Dom curses and gets out of the car. Two pissed off drivers approach him. He isn't in the mood for this shit, so he shows them his gun and badge.

"Fuck off!"

They do.

Dom takes a good look around. Lots of boarded up windows, burned out houses and abandoned factories - this is the bad part of town and the perfect place for a gang of thieves looking to get low after a job. They're around here somewhere, Dom can feel it in his gut. And he's not ready to give up just yet. He slips down an alley and searches the nearest maze of derelict buildings, finding nothing.

He keeps searching and he's edging along a red brick wall when something cold and metallic is pressed against the back of his head and a cheerful voice rings in his ears.

"Lieutenant Howard, I presume?"

Dom turns around and comes face to face with Matt Bellamy. He never heard him coming. The man must move like a cat. The criminal has a smile on his face and a gun in his hand.

"It's nice to finally meet you, lieutenant."

"I wish I could say the feeling was mutual."

"Yes, I'm sure you do. Now, toss the weapon."

Dom does it.

"Lose the vest."


"Just do it!"

The smile is gone and the crook's eyes are chips of blue ice. Dom unbuckles the kevlar vest and pulls it off.

"Face the wall."

Dom turns, the other man shoves him up against the wall and the gun is jammed into the small of his back.

"Are you wearing a wire?"


"You don't mind if I make sure, do you?"

Matt slips his hand under Dom's t-shirt and slides it over the cop's stomach. The hand moves higher, exploring Dom's stomach and chest. Fingertips brush against his nipple and Dom shivers. His reaction does not go unnoticed. The fingers run over his nipple again, slower this time and Dom can't help himself: he shivers again.

"You like this, lieutenant? Does this turn you on?"

"... no ..." Dom whines, but he's lying. The thrill of the chase, fear for his life and impotent rage at being put in such a helpless position by this man of all people: somehow, these individual sensations have blended together to create a heady stew of arousal. Matt chuckles darkly in his ear.

"I think you're lying to me, lieutenant."

Matt's hand strokes the heated flesh of Dom's chest and stomach. It moves lower and palms the erection Dom really wishes he didn't have.

"Oh yeah, you like this."

Matt nips Dom's earlobe, then licks it.

"You're one of those workaholic cops, aren't you, lieutenant? The kind that never has any fun, the kind that spend all their time trying to put guys like me behind bars. Doesn't that get boring? Don't you ever long to take a walk on the wild side? Don't you just wish someone would shove you up against a wall and fuck the living shit out of you?"

Dom's hips snap forward at that and Matt chuckles again. He nuzzles the back of Dom's neck, kissing it wetly. Moving with exquisite slowness, he twists open the button on Dom's slacks and pulls down the zipper. His hand delves inside, tracing the outline of Dom's erection through the thin cotton of his boxers.

"Oh my," Matt purrs, "and I thought cops were all hung like baby carrots."

He wants to tear the cop's pants right off and fuck him until he screams, but teasing him is so much fun. He runs his tongue over the back of Dom's neck, lapping up droplets of sweat, and strokes him through his boxers until the lieutenant is damn near sobbing with frustrated desire.

"Fuck me," Dom begs, arching his back, "I need it, I need it so fucking bad."

"Whatever you say, lieutenant."

Matt kneels behind him. Dom can feel Matt's hands on him - both of them, he must have dropped the gun. But Dom makes no attempt to fight back or free himself. He's too far gone for that. He claws the wall as Matt pulls his cheeks apart and licks his hole again and again, each swipe of his tongue rougher than the last. Dom throws his head back and bites his lip so hard he draws blood when he feels Matt's tongue boring into him, exploring him, tasting him. Fuck, he feels like he's being eaten alive.

The tongue is suddenly gone and Matt gets to his feet. Dom hears a rustle of cloth and the sound of a zipper being pulled down and then feels the tip of the other man's cock at his entrance. Matt wastes no time, he slides all the way into Dom on the first thrust. He grabs the lieutenant's hips and pounds into him, setting a fast and furious pace. Dom doesn't even recognise his own voice anymore, he sounds like an animal in heat as he shrieks and moans. But he can't help himself, every thrust of Matt's cock hits his prostate in just the right way and he knows he can't last much longer.

He pulls one hand away from the wall and strokes himself in time with Matt's thrusts. The sensation is too much and just enough and Dom howls as he comes. Matt is still moving inside him and Dom uses both hands to brace himself against the wall again. He watches his own spunk drip down the red brick as Matt grunts and pulses into him.

Matt collapses against Dom's back, panting in his ear. Dom turns his head to look in the other man's eyes and suddenly they're kissing - soft, wet, kisses and Dom reaches back, fingers tugging at Matt's hair. But the tender moment doesn't last. Matt pulls away and out of Dom and pulls his pants up.

"Well, that was interesting," he says, "we must do it again sometime."

Matt picks up his gun.

"Please don't try and follow me, lieutenant. I would hate to have to shoot you."

Dom pulls his own pants and boxers up.

"This isn't over, Bellamy. I'll catch you in the act one of these days and, when I do, you'll spend the rest of your life rotting in a cell."

"You just keep telling yourself that, lieutenant."

Matt walks away. Dom lets him go - for now. But, as he picks up his gun and vest, Dom is sure of one thing: this is far from over.


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