hannah_chapter1: (Sparta)
Title: Private Dancer 2: Electric Boogaloo
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: "I'm your private dancer/ A dancer for money/ I'll do what you want me to do." Although I don't think this is what Tina Turner had in mind when she sang that. Now remember: you can look but you can't touch....
Feedback: Take your passion and make it happen.
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake. Did I mention this was fake?
Notes: This is a birthday gift for the amazing ashamedbliss. Happy birthday, Em!


Hot.

Sticky.

Raw.

Dom winces, trying to remember what he did last night. Then the bed moves, someone sighs and it begins to come back to him, his lapdance and all that followed. They started in Dom's chair, then moved to the coffee table, the floor and, finally, to Dom's bed, where they panted and held each other and Dom wondered if it was possible to coax another erection from his startled penis.

As a matter of fact, it was.

Matt sighs and rolls over to face him, blue eyes sparkling in the morning sun. Dom risks a smile, Matt returns it, leans forward and they share a long, slightly sour, utterly glorious kiss. But the tender moment is over all too quickly as Matt pulls away and curses softly.

"Fuck, I'm late for college. I need to go home and change."

"You're a student?"

"Yep. Student by day, stripper, dancer and high-octane sex machine by night."

Matt hops out of bed and groans as his legs wobble.

"Oh God, look what you've done to me! I may never dance again."

Dom giggles, feeling absurdly pleased with himself as Matt leaves the bedroom to search for the clothes he was so quick to throw off the night before. He returns wearing his shirt and briefs, his ripped up trousers in his hand. He sits on the edge of Dom's bed and puts them back together, re-sealing the velcro strips. Dom clears his throat, suddenly nervous.

"Do you want some breakfast before you go?"

"Sorry, no time."

"Can ... can I see you again?"

Matt looks up from his task, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Are you asking for a date, or an appointment?"

Dom opens his mouth, then closes it again as Matt laughs.

"Joke, Dom, it was a joke. Of course I want to see you again."

"Really?"

"Really."

"When?"

"I've got tonight off, we could go for a drink."

"Okay, where?"

"Do you know the Organ Grinder pub?"

"Yeah, I know it."

"I'll meet you there at eight. Okay?"

Dom smiles, happier than he's been in a long time.

"Okay."

The dancer puts on his trousers, graces Dom with one last kiss and leaves, picking up his shoes and CD player on the way out. Dom sighs, stretches and rolls out of bed. He needs to get ready for work.

*****************************

Dom floats through his day, a smile permanently plastered to his face. His friends take note of his new, improved mood. The dancer they clubbed together to hire was expensive, but he was obviously worth it. He certainly seems to have put the spring back in Dom's step.

Eight in the evening and Dom is in the Organ Grinder, propping up a table and waiting for Matt. And waiting. And waiting. Twenty minutes and one beer, forty-five minutes and Dom's had three beers and is feeling like an idiot. Did something happen to Matt? Was the dancer's interest in him genuine, or just part of some elaborate practical joke?

"Dom!"

And, just to make matters even worse, here's Dom's ex, in all his muscle-bound, hairy-backed glory.

"Fancy seeing you here," he drawls.

Dom looks up briefly.

"Hi, Clive."

Dom sips his beer, keeps his eyes on the table. He fiddles with his beer mat, hoping Clive will take the hint and leave. But his ex, obnoxious arsehole that he is, can't resist an opportunity to twist the knife.

"You look good, Dom," he says, "well, as good as you can look, anyway."

Dom tries to ignore the other man, but Clive pulls up a stool and settles in.

"So, out on the prowl again, are we? You won't get lucky this way, hiding away in a corner where nobody can see you."

The blond tears his beer mat right in half.

"Fuck yourself, Clive."

"No need to be rude, I'm just trying to be friendly."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to be friends with you, not after the way you treated me."

Clive shrugs and takes a swig of Dom's beer. He never could keep his hands off Dom's food and drink. Dom snatches the glass away.

"Fine, we won't be friends, then. Wait a minute," he looks Dom up and down, taking in the clothes, the freshly-shaved skin, the gelled hair, "you wouldn't go to all the trouble for a random pickup. Do you have a date?"

"That's none of your business," Dom snaps, patience wearing thin.

"You do, don't you?" Clive looks around, "where is he then?"

"On his way."

"Hmm, is that a note of desperation I detect in your voice, Dom? You haven't been stood up, have you?"

"No, I haven't!"

Clive laughs and slaps the table, causing some of Dom's beer to slip out of the glass and onto the floor.

"You have, you've been stood up! Poor Dom, lost another one."

Dom is about to reply, but is suddenly distracted by someone landing on the stool beside him. Dom gets a quick, blurred impression of blue eyes and expensive cologne before Matt grabs him and tries to suck the tongue right out of his mouth. The kiss ends and Dom gasps for air as the dancer kisses Dom's cheeks and chin.

"I'm so sorry," Matt says between kisses, "I didn't mean to be so late. God, I've missed you, been thinking about you all day ..."

Matt finally deigns to notice Clive.

"Oh, hello," he says, "and who's this, then?"

Dom makes the introductions.

"So you're the ex I've heard so much about," Matt says, "and what, now you've come crawling back, hoping Dom'll give you another go? Well I'm sorry, you had your chance and you blew it. Dom's with me now, and I'm not giving him up. So jog on."

He kisses Dom again as Clive stares at them, mouth open. When it ends Matt gives Clive a critical once-over.

"I know it's none of my business," Matt says, "but I've heard prolonged steroid use can seriously shrink your willy."

Clive bristles. He's proud of his physique and the effort to took to gain it.

"I don't use steroids."

"Of course you don't," Matt says, sarcasm dripping from every word.

And, with that, Clive is dismissed, dropped off Matt's radar, Matt too busy snogging and groping Dom to even glance in his direction. Clive stands and flounces off with an angry sniff, leaving Matt and Dom alone. Matt stares at the empty stool with a thoughtful expression.

"So that's the ex."

Dom sighs.

"Yeah, that's him."

"A bad boyfriend?"

"Bad boyfriend, bad breakup, bad everything."

Do you want to talk about it?"

Dom takes a drink.

"He was always picking at me, finding fault with everything. The way I dressed, the way I walked when we were together in public, my weight, everything."

"Why did you stay with him?"

"Because being with him was better than being alone. But then he dumped me."

"Yeah, he did. But you're not alone, you've got me now. Clive must have been mad to let a gorgeous, dynamite shag like you slip through his fingers. I won't make that mistake."

Dom blinks.

"You think I'm gorgeous?"

"Yes, Dom, I do."

"And a dynamite shag?"

"What, you think I'm just saying that to make you feel better?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Trust me, Dom, I wouldn't be here if last night hadn't been the best sex I ever had. And last night wouldn't have happened if I didn't find you attractive. My dances don't usually end like that, it's not a bonus round."

Dom sits there, digesting Matt's words as the dancer goes to the bar to get them both another drink.

*************************************

They stumble into Matt's bedroom, fused together at the mouth. Dom lets out a soft squeak of protest as Matt pushes him away. The dancer turns on all the lights, pulls the curtains and leads Dom over to the far corner, where three big mirrors have been welded together. Dom giggles, a drunk, nervous sound.

"What are you doing, Matt?"

"I want to show you something. Trust me?"

Dom swallows thickly and nods.

"I trust you."

Matt's hands move over Dom, removing the clothes so carefully chosen earlier in the evening. When Dom is naked Matt reaches around, lifts Dom's chin.

"Open your eyes, Dom. Take a good, long look at yourself."

Dom does. Matt's fingers slide over his flesh, pausing to tweak a nipple here, to tease a bellybutton there.

"Forget Clive," Matt says, "forget him and all the things he said. He doesn't have a clue. You're beautiful, Dom. Everything about you is beautiful. This is beautiful - "

Fingers stroke the hollow of Dom's throat, brush over his Adam's apple.

"These are beautiful."

He tweaks and flicks Dom's nipples.

"And this, this is so, so beautiful."

Dom gasps and arches his back as Matt's hand grips his cock.

"Don't close your eyes, Dom, don't look away. Watch this, watch yourself come, try and see yourself the way I see you."

The blond nods, then jumps and whines when a long, wet finger eases its way inside him. Matt is a marvel of multi-tasking. He is somehow able to kiss and lick Dom's neck and shoulders, an operation that should capture all his attention, finger Dom's arsehole and stroke Dom's cock, hand and fingers moving in perfect sync.

Dom wants nothing more than to close his eyes and lose himself in sensation. But he made a promise and so he watches himself, watches the way sweat blooms on his body like early morning dew blooms upon a rose, sees his chest rise and fall rapidly as Matt brings him higher and higher, to a place Clive could only dream about.

And then it happens, his climax taking him over, filling his mind with white noise. But he keeps his promise and keeps his eyes open, sees his mouth drop open in a scream as he squirts all over two of Matt's mirrors. He sees his knees begin to buckly and Matt's reaction, the dancer wrapping an arm around him and catching him before he can fall. Matt nuzzles his ear.

"You're beautiful, Dom. Never forget that."
hannah_chapter1: (Banjos)
Title: Private Dancer
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: "I'm your private dancer/ A dancer for money/ I'll do what you want me to do." Although I don't think this is what Tina Turner had in mind when she sang that. Now remember: you can look but you can't touch....
Feedback: Take your passion and make it happen.
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake. Did I mention this was fake?


Dom is on his second beer when someone knocks on his door. He ignores it. He already has plans for tonight. They include the following: lying on his back and watching television, lying on his side and watching television and drinking himself into a shallow coma. It's been three months since his very messy, not to mention very public, breakup and Dom still isn't ready to face the world. Ninety days since that lying, cheating fuckbag dumped Dom in the middle of a crowded restaurant, telling him he'd never been faithful and didn't feel the least bit guilty because Dom was crap in bed - is it any wonder Dom has retreated into his shell? Now he ignores his friends' pleas to come out and have fun, preferring to spend every night drinking alone and feeling sorry for himself.

The knock comes again, louder this time, the kind of knock that says "I'm not going away, so you'd better answer the door before I break it down." Dom sighs and gets up, putting the half empty can of beer on the kitchen counter. Opening the door, Dom blinks in surprise at the stranger standing before him. He's smaller than Dom and a lot thinner, with pale skin and amazing blue eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"Dom Howard?"

"Yes."

The stranger has a small CD player in one hand and two pieces of paper in the other. He thrusts these at Dom.

"These should explain everything."

The first is a sheet of notepaper. "If you won't come out and join the party we'll send the party to you." It's signed by three of his friends. The second is a brochure. "Private Dancer: Adult Entertainment in the comfort of your own home." The accompanying picture has a musclebound hunk of beef jiggling on top of a man in a chair who, judging by his expression, is having the time of his life. Dom laughs.

"Is this a joke?"

The stranger is offended. "No, why would it be?"

"Lapdances for men?"

"Yeah, why not?"

Dom waves the brochure. "What happened to the muscle man?"

"He got kicked out for steroid abuse."

Dom doesn't have an answer for that so he just stands there. The stranger grows impatient.

"Look pal, do you want this fucking dance or not? It's simple: you can let me in and I'll do my stuff or you can close the door and I'll fuck off to the pub. I've already been paid, so it's nothing to me either way."

Everyone around Dom has spent the last few months talking to him in soft voices, trying not to upset him in any way. He finds the other man's rudeness quite refreshing. He stands aside.

"You'd better come in."

Dom watches his unexpected guest as he puts the CD player on the floor and turns it on, tinkering with the track listing.

"What's your name?"

"Matt."

He stands up and gestures at Dom's armchair. "Have a seat while I explain the rules."

Dom sits.

"It goes like this: I dance, you watch. I can touch you but you can't touch me. You can take your top off if you want but that's it, the trousers stay on. Touch me and I'll black your eye, get your cock out and I'll break your nose. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good. Sit back and enjoy the show."

He pushes play and "Fever" fills the air, a punky, sexy version of the song.

"I've not heard this version before. Who's it by?"

"The Cramps. Now, no more talk. It distracts me."

Dom shuts up. Some part of him still thinks this might be all some kind of elaborate practical joke but, as he watches Matt swaying to the beat, he has to admit his interest has been aroused.

Matt unbuttons his shirt slowly, drawing it out, teasing the customer. Slipping the last button through the hole, he removes the garment and throws it into the corner. Dom's breath catches in his throat and he shifts in his seat. While it's true the dancer is thin and Dom generally prefers his men to have a bit more meat on their bones, this one's definitely got something. His confidence and the grace with which he moves stirs something deep inside Dom. And oh, it seems like a lifetime since Dom saw another man even half naked!

Matt dances his way over to Dom, kicking off his shoes as he goes. He bends, grips the bottoms of his trouser legs and tugs. Dom hears the rip of velcro as Matt straightens up. Now the dancer is dressed only in a pair of tight, black briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. It's safe to say a lot more than Dom's interest has been aroused by this point.

Straddling his client, Matt grips the edge of his t-shirt. He cocks his head to the side, silently asking for permission. Dom swallows, nods and raises his arms, letting Matt pull the shirt off. Then the dancer's hands are on him, all over him. Skating over the flesh of his chest, toying with his nipples. Dom grips the arms of his chair, nails tearing the fabric. He wants to touch, needs to touch but he can't. Those are the rules.

The song has changed, the Cramps replaced by a female singer. It might be Grace Jones. Dom's not sure but he's afraid to ask. He doesn't want to do anything that might break this spell. Matt moves back and turns so that he's facing away from the client. This is his favourite part of the dance. His arse is his best feature, he knows it and takes every opportunity to show it off. Even over the music he can hear the customer moaning. Dom thought he was tearing through the arms of the chair before, now he's sure he'll need a new chair by the time this dance is over. Dom is an arse man, always has been and to have such a tight bum wiggling mere inches away from his face is torture. He hopes it never ends.

Matt faces Dom and straddles him again. Dom stares up at the dancer, spellbound: eyes closed, teeth biting his bottom lip, completely lost in the music, he is the most beautiful thing Dom has ever seen. Matt's movements grow wilder as the song reaches its climax. Then, as the last note fades away, Matt drops his full weight onto Dom's lap. Dom gasps as the bulge in his trousers meets an answering one in the dancer's briefs. Matt's eyes fly open and they stare at each other. Dom licks his lips.

Can't touch ... musn't touch ... the rules ...

... rules ...

Oh, fuck the rules!

Dom runs his hand down Matt's back, enjoying the feel of warm, smooth flesh beneath his fingertips - Dom's ex had quite a hairy back and Dom definitely doesn't miss that, no, not one little bit - and trying to make the most of this brief contact before the dancer shoves him away and blacks his eye, as Dom is sure he will. Dom has broken the rules, after all. But the punch never comes. Matt leans forward and touches his lips to Dom's and then they're kissing - hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses and Matt is trying to get closer to Dom and Dom is trying to pull him closer...

The need for oxygen finally seperates them. Dom whimpers as he feels Matt's mouth kissing a wet trail down his throat, down his chest. Kneeling before Dom, Matt grins up at him as he undoes the button on his trousers and slowly pulls down his zip. Dom raises up slightly, allowing Matt to pull his trousers and underwear down to his ankles. The dancer wraps his fingers around Dom's cock and Dom cries out, the sensation of another man's hand on him after so long pushing him dangerously close to overload. Matt swipes his thumb over the head of Dom's cock, wiping up the fluid that has gathered there. Keeping his eyes on Dom's at all times, he raises his thumb to his mouth and licks it clean, moaning as he does so.

Dom growls and pulls Matt up. Their mouths meet again, tongues sliding wetly together as Dom's hands slip beneath Matt's briefs to cup that divine arse. He is pleased to report that it is every bit as pert and perfect as it looks. Matt pulls Dom's hands away and steps back and Dom whines at the loss of contact. Matt winks and slowly pulls his briefs down and off. Then he lies on Dom's couch, sucks two fingers into his mouth and starts preparing himself. Dom licks his palm and strokes his cock as he watches the dancer sliding his fingers in and out of himself.

Matt's ready now. He hops off the couch and goes back to Dom. Placing his hands on Dom's shoulders, Matt closes his eyes and impales himself on the other man's cock. Dom hisses as he feels the dancer's heat surrounding him and, with an animal groan, he grabs Matt's thighs and begins to thrust up into him. Holding Dom's shoulders, Matt lets him set the pace. He feels weightless, boneless, his movements controlled by the man fucking him.

Dom thrusts harder, lost in Matt, lost to Matt, all the pain and self pity of the last couple of  months washing away. Then he stiffens and surges up one last time, screaming as his orgasm overtakes him. He feels something hot and wet spilling onto his stomach as Matt comes and then the dancer falls forward onto Dom. Dom puts his arms around him and holds him tight as their breathing slows and their skin cools. Dom clears his throat nervously.

"Are you going to beat me up now?"

"Hmm?"

"I broke the rules."

"Oh." Matt smiles and strokes Dom's cheek. "Well, the way I see it, some rules were meant to be broken."

Profile

hannah_chapter1: (Default)
hannah_chapter1

August 2016

S M T W T F S
 123456
78910111213
141516171819 20
21222324252627
28293031   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 25th, 2017 10:26 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios