Enemies

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."

"Yes!"

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."

"What?"

"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?"

"No."

"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.