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Fire and Ice
Jul. 30th, 2015 05:33 pmTitle: Fire and Ice
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Summary: You need one to melt the other.
Rating: 18/NC-17
Feedback: Worshipped and adored.
Summary: Don't own them, this never happened, all that jazz.
It's been a year since the Tameleos wiped out the Wolstenholmes. Three hundred and sixty-five days since they cut a bloody swathe through restaurants, cab companies and night clubs, knocking off key lieutenants and captains, since Christopher Wolstenholme went swimming with three bullets in his face and cement blocks for shoes. The Tameleos rule the city now. Gambling, whores, dope, it all belongs to them. There's no one left to challenge them, so now it's time to party.
Dominic Howard sits at one end of the high table, surrounded by low-level guys eager to make a good impression. Dom took a lot of scalps on that long, bloody night and his gun fired the bullets that took Wolstenholme out of the game for good. This pushed him quite a ways up the ladder and there's no telling how high he might climb. He's acquired a little gang of followers, men who hope to ride his coattails all the way to the top. Dom knows better than to blow them off - they might come in handy some day - and so he charms them. He smiles and says all the right things, but he's on autopilot. He's talking to the guys on his end of the table, but his attention is on the middle where Henry Tameleo, boss of the whole family, is holding court. Matthew sits beside him, sipping wine, pale and beautiful and with eyes as cold as ice. Everyone who's anyone knows the score; Matthew was Wolstenholme's lover and now he's Tameleo's boy, one of the spoils of war. But he's a trophy, nothing more. Henry keeps Matthew by his side but he doesn't fuck him, never has, never will. Whores of either gender go in and out of Hnery's bedroom so often, some say, he ought to install a revolving door. Yet Matthew remains untouched.
A real shame, Dom thinks, to let such beauty go to waste. His smile widens as an idea begins to take shape.
*******************************
Henry's busy today, real busy, and his regular driver is sick so he gives Dom the keys to his Mercedes and asks him to drive Matthew home. It's the opportunity Dom's been waiting for. Matthew ignores Dom in the car, in the elevator and, as they walk into the apartment, ignores him some more. He slams the bathroom door behind him and Dom hears the hiss of the shower. The blond makes himself a drink and gets comfortable.
Matthew emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of sweet-smelling steam, wrapped in a silk robe that matches his eyes. He scowls when he sees Dom sprawled on the couch.
"Why are you still here?" he asks.
Dom sips his drink.
"Ah, so you can talk."
"Of course I can talk. I just choose not to. You haven't answered my question."
"I thought I'd keep you company."
"I don't want or need your company. Please leave."
Dom sets his drink aside and stands up.
"Don't like us much, do you?"
Matthew lets out a short snort of derision.
"Are you serious? I hate you, all you worthless Tameleo humps. You killed all my friends, threw my man off a bridge and stuck me with a pig who doesn't even smack me around."
"Like that, do you? That rough stuff?"
"No, but at least it would be something. But he won't even do that. I'm not a person to him, just a doll he dresses up and shows off. That's what he gets off on."
"What are you talking about?" Dom asks, even though he already knows the answer.
"He knows at least half of you want to bang me, but you're too shit-scared of him to try anything."
"I'm not scared of him."
"Oh, so that's your play."
"What is?"
"You want to get rid of Tameleo. You'll play the loyal henchman until the time is right, then take out the boss and claim the big chair for yourself."
"No, that's not me. I might sit in that chair, but it won't be anytime soon and I'm fine with that. I don't want to get rid of Tameleo. But I'm not afraid of him like the other guys are. If he came in here right now, I'd blow his head off and keep right on doing what I'm doing."
"And just what are you doing?"
Dom advances on the smaller man and flashes a predatory grin.
"This."
The blond backs Matthew against the wall and pulls his robe open, revealing flawless white skin, silk briefs that match the robe, and the perkiest little nipples Dom has ever seen.
That cool, white skin is soon warmed up by Dom's hands. Matthew gasps when Dom begins to touch him, and his own hands slap the wall.
But he doesn't say no.
He doesn't say stop.
Dom's palms rasp over the other man's nipples and Matthew lets out a low, keening note of pure bliss, his arousal straining against his briefs, which leave nothing to the imagination.
"Like that, do you?" Dom smirks.
He flicks those tiny, rock hard buds and Matthew's knees buckle. Dom holds him in place and keeps right on fondling him.
"Oh yeah, you love it, I knew you would. I could tell, just by looking at you, that you were a greedy little nipple slut."
The blond starts tonguing Matthew's nipples, the robe hits the floor and Matthew grabs Dom's head and holds him in place.
Dom finally straightens up, lifts the smaller man and Matthew promptly obliges him by locking his legs around the blond's waist. Two mouths become one, tongues tease and taste and battle for dominance, only to find they are equally matched.
Dom snatches a quick breath and gasps one word: "bedroom."
Matthew thrusts out an arm, points in the general direction of the boudoir before dragging Dom's lips back to his. They land on the bed in a messy tangle of limbs and Dom's clothes disappear, torn off and scattered by four eager hands. The blond mobster takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him: the ice queen, melted at last and his for the taking.
"Lube?" he gets it together enough to ask for this vital ingredient.
"Bedside table."
Dom finds it, deep in a drawer, and that's not all he finds. He pulls out a huge, black vibrator and gives Matthew a questioning look. The smaller man shrugs.
"Well, what did you expect? A boy has needs."
"Oh, I know he does. Why else would I be here?"
The toy is soon forgotten as they put the lube to work. Matthew bites his lip and clutches the sheets when Dom greases up his cock and puts it where it aches to be, needs to be, joining them together in that most primal of dances. The gangster watches his new lover carefully, the way he moans and contorts with every one of Dom's thrusts.
"Was Christopher good at this?"
Matthew doesn't answer and Dom siezes a nipple and twists it.
"Answer me," he commands.
Matthew glares up at him.
"Yes," he spits, "he was. Better than you, way better. He knew how to please me."
"That's nice," Dom grins, never missing a beat, "maybe if he'd spent less time balls deep in you and more time taking care of business, I wouldn't have blown his face off."
"Bastard!"
Matthew's whole body spasms and he swings a hand at Dom's face. The blond catches it neatly.
"Temper, temper," he taunts, pushing Matthew's hand south, "put that hand of yours where we both know it belongs."
Matthew curses the blond but obeys, jerking himself savagely in time with Dom's thrusts.
"I fucking hate you," he half-moans, half-sobs as he comes, asshole clenching around Dom's cock like a hot, slick fist.
Dom laughs.
"I know," he grunts as his own orgasm overcomes him.
They lie side by side in the aftermath, not moving, not speaking, until Matthew breaks the silence.
"This changes nothing, you know. I still hate your guts."
"Yeah," Dom gets up and starts looking for his clothes, "but that won't stop you rolling over and sticking your ass in the air for me, will it?"
Matthew throws a pillow and Dom dodges it, laughing. The smaller man crosses his arms and pouts as the blond leaves the apartment.
But they both know Dom's right and they both know he'll be back in this bed again.
Oh yes, he'll be back.
Soon.
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Summary: You need one to melt the other.
Rating: 18/NC-17
Feedback: Worshipped and adored.
Summary: Don't own them, this never happened, all that jazz.
It's been a year since the Tameleos wiped out the Wolstenholmes. Three hundred and sixty-five days since they cut a bloody swathe through restaurants, cab companies and night clubs, knocking off key lieutenants and captains, since Christopher Wolstenholme went swimming with three bullets in his face and cement blocks for shoes. The Tameleos rule the city now. Gambling, whores, dope, it all belongs to them. There's no one left to challenge them, so now it's time to party.
Dominic Howard sits at one end of the high table, surrounded by low-level guys eager to make a good impression. Dom took a lot of scalps on that long, bloody night and his gun fired the bullets that took Wolstenholme out of the game for good. This pushed him quite a ways up the ladder and there's no telling how high he might climb. He's acquired a little gang of followers, men who hope to ride his coattails all the way to the top. Dom knows better than to blow them off - they might come in handy some day - and so he charms them. He smiles and says all the right things, but he's on autopilot. He's talking to the guys on his end of the table, but his attention is on the middle where Henry Tameleo, boss of the whole family, is holding court. Matthew sits beside him, sipping wine, pale and beautiful and with eyes as cold as ice. Everyone who's anyone knows the score; Matthew was Wolstenholme's lover and now he's Tameleo's boy, one of the spoils of war. But he's a trophy, nothing more. Henry keeps Matthew by his side but he doesn't fuck him, never has, never will. Whores of either gender go in and out of Hnery's bedroom so often, some say, he ought to install a revolving door. Yet Matthew remains untouched.
A real shame, Dom thinks, to let such beauty go to waste. His smile widens as an idea begins to take shape.
*******************************
Henry's busy today, real busy, and his regular driver is sick so he gives Dom the keys to his Mercedes and asks him to drive Matthew home. It's the opportunity Dom's been waiting for. Matthew ignores Dom in the car, in the elevator and, as they walk into the apartment, ignores him some more. He slams the bathroom door behind him and Dom hears the hiss of the shower. The blond makes himself a drink and gets comfortable.
Matthew emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of sweet-smelling steam, wrapped in a silk robe that matches his eyes. He scowls when he sees Dom sprawled on the couch.
"Why are you still here?" he asks.
Dom sips his drink.
"Ah, so you can talk."
"Of course I can talk. I just choose not to. You haven't answered my question."
"I thought I'd keep you company."
"I don't want or need your company. Please leave."
Dom sets his drink aside and stands up.
"Don't like us much, do you?"
Matthew lets out a short snort of derision.
"Are you serious? I hate you, all you worthless Tameleo humps. You killed all my friends, threw my man off a bridge and stuck me with a pig who doesn't even smack me around."
"Like that, do you? That rough stuff?"
"No, but at least it would be something. But he won't even do that. I'm not a person to him, just a doll he dresses up and shows off. That's what he gets off on."
"What are you talking about?" Dom asks, even though he already knows the answer.
"He knows at least half of you want to bang me, but you're too shit-scared of him to try anything."
"I'm not scared of him."
"Oh, so that's your play."
"What is?"
"You want to get rid of Tameleo. You'll play the loyal henchman until the time is right, then take out the boss and claim the big chair for yourself."
"No, that's not me. I might sit in that chair, but it won't be anytime soon and I'm fine with that. I don't want to get rid of Tameleo. But I'm not afraid of him like the other guys are. If he came in here right now, I'd blow his head off and keep right on doing what I'm doing."
"And just what are you doing?"
Dom advances on the smaller man and flashes a predatory grin.
"This."
The blond backs Matthew against the wall and pulls his robe open, revealing flawless white skin, silk briefs that match the robe, and the perkiest little nipples Dom has ever seen.
That cool, white skin is soon warmed up by Dom's hands. Matthew gasps when Dom begins to touch him, and his own hands slap the wall.
But he doesn't say no.
He doesn't say stop.
Dom's palms rasp over the other man's nipples and Matthew lets out a low, keening note of pure bliss, his arousal straining against his briefs, which leave nothing to the imagination.
"Like that, do you?" Dom smirks.
He flicks those tiny, rock hard buds and Matthew's knees buckle. Dom holds him in place and keeps right on fondling him.
"Oh yeah, you love it, I knew you would. I could tell, just by looking at you, that you were a greedy little nipple slut."
The blond starts tonguing Matthew's nipples, the robe hits the floor and Matthew grabs Dom's head and holds him in place.
Dom finally straightens up, lifts the smaller man and Matthew promptly obliges him by locking his legs around the blond's waist. Two mouths become one, tongues tease and taste and battle for dominance, only to find they are equally matched.
Dom snatches a quick breath and gasps one word: "bedroom."
Matthew thrusts out an arm, points in the general direction of the boudoir before dragging Dom's lips back to his. They land on the bed in a messy tangle of limbs and Dom's clothes disappear, torn off and scattered by four eager hands. The blond mobster takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him: the ice queen, melted at last and his for the taking.
"Lube?" he gets it together enough to ask for this vital ingredient.
"Bedside table."
Dom finds it, deep in a drawer, and that's not all he finds. He pulls out a huge, black vibrator and gives Matthew a questioning look. The smaller man shrugs.
"Well, what did you expect? A boy has needs."
"Oh, I know he does. Why else would I be here?"
The toy is soon forgotten as they put the lube to work. Matthew bites his lip and clutches the sheets when Dom greases up his cock and puts it where it aches to be, needs to be, joining them together in that most primal of dances. The gangster watches his new lover carefully, the way he moans and contorts with every one of Dom's thrusts.
"Was Christopher good at this?"
Matthew doesn't answer and Dom siezes a nipple and twists it.
"Answer me," he commands.
Matthew glares up at him.
"Yes," he spits, "he was. Better than you, way better. He knew how to please me."
"That's nice," Dom grins, never missing a beat, "maybe if he'd spent less time balls deep in you and more time taking care of business, I wouldn't have blown his face off."
"Bastard!"
Matthew's whole body spasms and he swings a hand at Dom's face. The blond catches it neatly.
"Temper, temper," he taunts, pushing Matthew's hand south, "put that hand of yours where we both know it belongs."
Matthew curses the blond but obeys, jerking himself savagely in time with Dom's thrusts.
"I fucking hate you," he half-moans, half-sobs as he comes, asshole clenching around Dom's cock like a hot, slick fist.
Dom laughs.
"I know," he grunts as his own orgasm overcomes him.
They lie side by side in the aftermath, not moving, not speaking, until Matthew breaks the silence.
"This changes nothing, you know. I still hate your guts."
"Yeah," Dom gets up and starts looking for his clothes, "but that won't stop you rolling over and sticking your ass in the air for me, will it?"
Matthew throws a pillow and Dom dodges it, laughing. The smaller man crosses his arms and pouts as the blond leaves the apartment.
But they both know Dom's right and they both know he'll be back in this bed again.
Oh yes, he'll be back.
Soon.
