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."

"How?"

"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.

"Wha-"

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."

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

"Matt?"

"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."

"What?"

"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."

"When?"

"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.

"Him."

"Okay.

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."

"Oh."

"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?"

"Yeah."

"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.

Matt.

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!"


THE END

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.

"What?"

"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."

"How?"

"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."

"Alright."

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."

"Right."

"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."

"Okay."

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."

"Okay."

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."

"Mother?"

"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.

"Yeah."

"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."

"What?"

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

Matt smiles softly.

"Okay."

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."

"Mine?"

"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."

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.

"Well?"

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."

"What?"

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?"

"Yeah."

"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.

"What?"

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

"No."

"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.

Almost.

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.

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."

"You."

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.

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.