Title: Just Desserts
Word Count: 3679
Feedback: Would be amazing. :)
Summary: Dom and Matt get creative with some ice cream before deciding to get 'clean' again.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, even though it would be a lot of fun if I did. Not making any money and this is fiction.
Author's Note: I had Uni homework due, so naturally I wrote this instead.
“Shit,” Dom swore as a bunch of keys scattered across the hardwood floor.
The echo of them clattering together somehow more intrusive in the silence of the room than opening his mouth had been. His ears burned red - not a faint pinkish red - a deep scarlet colour usually reserved for embarrassing moments like surfacing after a dive in the pool to find his shorts missing and a crowd of onlookers barely bothering to hide their giggles behind raised hands. This wasn’t anything like that, and yet Dom was positive if it had not been six o’clock in the morning with the sunrise creeping in through blind-covered windows, they’d have glowed in the dark.
It wasn’t really early so much as it was late. Dom should have snuck out hours ago, but the bed had been so warm, and those arms wrapped around him so comfortable, it had been all too easy to slip into the deep rhythm of sleep, despite darkness being far more ideal for avoiding situations that set his ears on fire. Hindsight was a bitch.
The blond’s tight shirt slid up his back as he stretched down, fingers curling around the cold metal. He cringed at the slightest hint of a jingle. There was no one else in the room, and still he found himself holding his breath. There were moments when it seemed the tiniest of whispers could climb the stairs, turn the corner and march right on through the closed bedroom door to shout in the ear of one asleep. With Dom’s luck, there was a chance this could end up being one of those times, so he was keen to leave as soon as possible. Yesterday would be great, but as he hadn’t yet perfected the art of time travel, or indeed even invented the possibility, the next thirty seconds would have to do.
There was the creak of weight being shifted on a loose floorboard.
"I thought I heard you get up. Pancakes alright?"
Suddenly, a half-naked brunet - the right or wrong half depending on your point of view - was padding barefoot into the kitchen, the slightly too long pants legs dragging on the ground around his feet.
"Oh come on, it's just breakfast," he said as he poked a rather fluffy head around the door frame. "You weren't leaving were you?"
Dom now found himself facing furrowed brows and pouting lips. The other man seemed to shrink in size before him, not that there had been much of him to begin with. All that was left was to follow him into the kitchen or risk being responsible for ruining the brunet's plans. In any case, his no fuss, zero complications escape was now out of the question.
"Nah, I was thinking of picking us up some coffee," Dom said as he slipped the keys into the back pocket of his jeans. "But pancakes sound fantastic."
Smooth, Dom. Smooth. Combined with a wide grin and hand effortlessly running through blond hair, the trickle of sweat rolling slowly down his throat could hopefully be ignored as just a part of the whole 'Dom package', rather than seen as a side effect of the sheer panic that had run through him only minutes before. Not that the brunet had indicated any excessive interest in immaculate hygiene. Showers were not exactly places to get clean.
"Nice, ah, kitchen, Matt."
This was another of those moments Dom preferred to avoid - trying to remember the other guy's name and hoping to god you got it right because getting it wrong ultimately left you looking like a dick.
"Cheers," Matt said without turning around, arms buried deep in the fridge.
Dom had just enough time to notice his arse wiggling when the view was replaced with ingredients piled onto the countertop in front of him.
"So... last night..." Matt said, smacking the side of a sieve as white powdery flour snowed out from under it into a large bowl. "Quite interesting."
"Was it?" Dom swallowed, vaguely aware of how he was staring at Matt's hands as they added sugar, butter and milk.
"Oh yeah," there was a twinkle in Matt's eye as he cracked an egg on the side of the bowl, the yolk and whites swirling around the mixture much like what was happening in the pit of Dom's stomach. "It's amazing what can be done with a bit of dessert and some creativity."
Dom made a small noise in his throat when Matt's long fingers wrapped around the handle of a wooden spoon.
"The secret to a good pancake mix is a nice, firm grip," Matt said, sliding his hand along the handle to illustrate his point.
The throat noise became more of a choking sound as a wide-eyed Dom asked, "Really?"
"Nope," Matt giggled. "Pancakes aren't that hard. Well, er, you know what I mean. They taste pretty good with ice cream."
"A lot of things taste good with ice cream," Dom said before he could stop himself, a heat rising to his cheeks.
They weren't far off that scarlet colour his ears had been, and it was all because of the night before. If hindsight was a bitch, memory was her evil twin sister. It can't have been that bad though. In fact, the brunet running a finger along his bottom lip, tongue darting out to taste the pancake mix, seemed to think it was good enough to warrant breakfast.
But just what had happened the night before the morning after?
There hadn't been anything particularly unusual about how the evening had begun. When compared to others, it could easily be lobbed together with any number of Dom's experiences. The bar with its bright lights, dark corners and jukebox blaring tunes which were only acceptable when shared with alcoholic drinks and loud crowds. Not that Dom was drinking a whole lot. He liked to stay calm and in control. Becoming intoxicated did nothing to boost his confidence, and so the beer grasped firmly in his hand was likely to be his only.
It was just another night for him when a dark, handsome stranger - not tall, but sitting on bar stools had a way of removing this consideration from the equation - struck up a conversation to the left of him, a glass of red wine perched precariously on the edge of a faded coaster. It was just a typical taxi ride; arses sliding across leather seats, fists full of t-shirt, tongue tasting lips with hot breath across his face. A familiar tightness in the front of his jeans that felt oh so good when the brunet, who had introduced himself as Matt with a nervous giggle after ordering a second glass of wine, shifted his position and brushed against it with his knee.
It was never a question of ‘your place or mine’, Dom didn’t bring people home. It was impossible to predict when exactly it was they would leave and the whole idea of a one night stand was that it did not extend into the next day. So it was no surprise that the two storey house with the white picket fence - how typical - on a street lined with trees, in the middle of what appeared to be a quiet neighbourhood, was not his own. Or that he tripped over a bicycle left haphazardly across the path to the door with Matt’s hands still inside the back pockets of his jeans, the brunet giggling awkwardly when he gave Dom’s arse an accidental squeeze.
“The keys are, um, in my pants,” Matt said, his hands still occupied.
Dom reached into Matt’s pocket, pressed him up against the front door and whispered in his ear, “Anything else you need?”
He used his other hand to quickly undo the top button of the brunet’s fly, Matt’s breath hot on his neck.
The keys hit the floor as the two men stumbled through the doorway, before being inadvertently kicked aside, coming to rest below a side table. From the look of the small bowl on top deeming it ‘keeper of the keys’, it was close enough.
Managing to somehow make it up the stairs, - Dom’s hands running through fluffy hair, Matt nibbling on Dom’s earlobe, whispering things neither would remember later - they crashed through the bedroom door.
Dom flattened Matt up against the wall and inserted a hand into the brunet’s jeans, skimming his fingers down a thigh before bringing them back up over a quivering stomach, slipping a tight v-neck shirt off over his head. Stepping away from the wall, Dom fell back onto the bed, kicked his shoes off and almost held his breath as Matt slowly pulled the blond’s jeans down to his ankles and then climbed onto the bed next to him. Dom quickly removed his own shirt.
Dom’s breath caught in his throat at Matt’s half whispered word. “Is there a problem?”
Matt moved backward on the bed, bringing his knees up to his chest, hair sticking up at odd angles, and smiled weakly, “It’s just... I’ve not done this before. Not like this.”
“You’re a virgin?” Dom asked, eyes wide and eyebrows raised to the point of almost disappearing into his hairline.
“Oh no. God no,” Matt snorted. “I mean I don’t normally go to bars and pick up strangers. This would be a first for me.”
Dom thought of replying that this too was a first for him. He didn’t frequent the Kirk’s Place bar on weekends and every second Tuesday. This was just as unexpected and rare for Dom as it was for the brunet crouched on the other side of the bed, further away than he’d have liked him to be. But the lie was a dead weight on his tongue and not easy to spit out, so instead he just sat there and stared until the silence stretching between them grew more uncomfortable than the tightness in Dom’s jeans had been.
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Matt said softly, face falling in unmistakable disappointment. “I understand if-”
“I want to stay,” Dom said quickly, half winking then thinking better of it, the result being that he looked as though there was something in his eye. “Er, we’ll have fun. I don’t suppose you have some more wine?”
“Uh, there might be some in the fridge, but I dunno-”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
Dom raced down the stairs two at a time, skidding across the hardwood floor at the bottom and cursing at no one in particular when he slammed into a potted palm, clinging to a door frame for support. Luckily said door frame belonged to the kitchen as he hadn’t bothered to ask for directions.
“Fuck,” Dom cursed again when it became apparent there was no wine.
He sighed heavily, closing and reopening the fridge as if a bottle would just appear where there hadn’t been one before. The opening of the freezer was more out of general curiosity than an expectation there would be wine within it, much less anything drinkable in what was bound to be a frozen state. Sitting there innocently between a skinless chicken and a bag of peas was a rather unremarkable looking tub of ice cream. A closer inspection revealed it to be strawberry.
A thought crossed Dom’s mind. Not one of those oh my god strokes of genius ideas, but one of those tiny notions that just find their way into your head and make themselves at home. In reality, it was probably completely ridiculous, but sticking to only one beer did nothing to improve on the blond’s decision making skills, and this night was not about to be the exception. He flipped the lid off, stuck a spoon in the tub and walked right back up the stairs with it, because helping yourself to ice cream in a stranger’s house was a relatively normal activity in the grand scheme of things.
“There wasn’t any wine,” Dom announced, crawling back onto the bed.
Matt’s eyes flicked from following the tub in Dom’s hands to the obvious bulge between his legs. “You’re... just going to eat?”
“Well I can think of things I’d rather be tasting,” Dom smirked, digging out a scoop. “But since you’re not comfortable with strangers...”
A large dollop of ice cream slipped off the spoon and landed right on Dom’s crotch. The material darkening with the growing wet patch.
“Are you... going to get that?” Matt blushed, staring directly at it as if unable to look away.
Dom, noticing the blue eyes fixed on him, slid a finger up over the cotton briefs, bringing it back up to his lips. He wrapped a tongue around it, sucking the creamy pink dessert into his mouth.
“This? Delicious,” Dom said, smacking his lips together and trying not to giggle at Matt’s arched eyebrows.
Matt didn’t say anything. In fact, his breathing became heavier and more audible with each rapid rise and fall of his chest. His skin shimmering in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, a film of sweat trapping stray strands of hair to angular cheekbones.
Without further prompting, Dom reached down and slowly slipped out of his briefs, tossing them aside before scooping more ice cream from the tub with his fingers and lowering them to his now free, throbbing cock. He hissed at the sudden cold, wet sensation, becoming warmer as his hand slid up and down the length with ease. Leaning back on one elbow, the blond twisted his wrist, fist tight around the head, sticky melting ice cream dripping down the shaft and onto his balls.
Matt whimpered and shifted uncomfortably on the bed.
“Have some ice cream,” Dom said, breath hitching. “It’s really fucking good.”
The brunet picked up a spoonful, eyes never leaving Dom’s cock, knuckles white from clinging to the smooth metal, licking it clean.
Dom pushed himself up off his elbow and brought his face to Matt’s, nibbling and sucking on his bottom lip before nudging his tongue inside, the sweet taste of ice cream on the roof of the brunet’s mouth.
“You taste amazing,” Dom breathed, pulling away.
Matt swallowed and licked his lips. “I can think of things I’d like to be tasting...”
Silence hung thick and heavy between them before Matt stretched an arm out, fingers lingering inches from Dom’s thigh, blue eyes meeting the blond’s grey ones as if waiting for permission. Matt stayed still for another moment, the corners of his lips curving upward in a slight smile.
Dom nodded - the mere gesture enough to render words unnecessary - and moved his own hand away. He breathed in sharply and held it, air trapped in his lungs as he watched the brunet dig more ice cream from the tub. He felt the chill as a wet hand wrapped around his cock; a tingle running down his spine, muscles tightening, breath escaping slowly through open lips.
And then Matt was spread out on his stomach between Dom’s legs, blowing hot breath on the tip of the length in his hand, teasing the slit. He went all the way down to the balls, twirling them on his tongue, licking slowly up along the shaft, before he sucked the entire head into the wet heat of his mouth.
“Hngghh. D-Don’t stop,” Dom moaned, throwing his head back as he relaxed his muscles and let himself succumb completely to the feeling of warmth radiating out across his body.
The blond thrust his hands into the brunet’s hair, curling it around his fingers as Matt’s head bobbed up and down beneath them. Lifting his hips to get as much of himself inside as possible. All too soon, there was cool air surrounding his cock, and Dom whimpered as he moved his hips trying to find Matt’s mouth again.
“You’re right, it is delicious,” Matt smirked, grabbing the tub and trailing creamy fingers along Dom’s stomach, swirling them gently over ice cream painted skin.
Dom squirmed as the brunet ran a tongue languidly from his inner thigh to his belly button.
“Put your mouth back on me,” Dom pleaded.
“Like this?” Matt asked, lightly nibbling on a nipple.
Dom jumped. “N-No. Just... suck my cock.”
Matt reached Dom’s ear, biting it softly and whispered, “You’re a bit dirty. While we get you cleaned up, why don’t you just fuck me?”
The weight was lifted from the bed as Matt climbed off, stripping out of his jeans and boxers. He disappeared through a door, followed shortly by the sound of a squeaking tap and the splattering of water on ceramic tiles.
This was one of those moments where Dom just lay there staring up at the ceiling. Shadows really did make interesting shapes if you looked at them long enough, much like clouds became butterflies, or rabbits, or a man, or two men fucking - it was all dependent on the angle really. But then he became aware of how hard his cock still was, twitching for attention, a lonely bead of precum dribbling out of the end and still no relief. It was almost pathetic.
“Are you coming?” Matt said, peering around the doorframe. Catching sight of the blond’s face he added, “Hurry the fuck up and you soon will be.”
Dom didn’t even need the encouraging wink from the brunet. As he entered the bathroom, he was aware of Matt standing completely naked beneath the strange blue lighting, casting shadows which emphasised all the right spots. Matt seemed to be taking him in as well, his own erection hard and neglected, hungry eyes raking in every inch of the blond that hadn’t already been explored. Dom remembered the ice cream and instinctively moved toward the shower, suddenly feeling sticky and slightly uncomfortable.
The hot water hit him like a breath of fresh air, soaking his hair, running down his neck; streams of the large droplets creating patterns on his stomach until the last of the dessert was washed away. He breathed in deeply, steam filling his lungs. So warm and relaxing.
Matt stepped in front of him, the shower small but not overly cramped. Soon Dom was tracing soapy hands down the brunet’s spine, pausing at the curve of his smooth bare arse. He reached a hand around and wrapped it around Matt’s cock, tugging as he slid a finger of his other hand down between his arse cheeks.
“Are you ready?” Dom whispered, chin resting on the back of Matt’s neck before he planted a trail of soft kisses down along his shoulder.
Matt, putting his hands up on the cold tile wall for support, breathed, “Fuck me.”
After lathering his cock with baby oil, Dom carefully massaged the hole with the head, painfully slow until neither he nor Matt could hold out any longer. The brunet bucking backward just as Dom made a move to enter. Dom’s cries of pleasure as the heat surrounded him, shivers fanning out from the base of his spine, mixed with Matt’s low moans as he repeatedly pulled out and pushed back in.
The water continued to beat on the back of his skull, keeping perfect time to the pounding of his heart. Matt barely managed to stay standing as he clung to the wall, Dom biting his shoulder, squeezing his cock as it slid back and forth within the fingers entwined around it.
“I can’t... I’m coming,” Matt cried out, the clenching of his entire body around Dom’s cock sending the blond into a state of bliss.
It was barely seconds later that Dom was shuddering, spilling hot seed into the smaller man, struggling to catch his breath with each movement.
It was not just a typical night when Dom fell into the bed - having not even bothered to towel dry - and let those arms wrap tightly around him, the night air cool across his warm, damp skin. Or when he fell into a deep sleep only to wake hours later, not wanting to leave the comfort he found himself in too soon.
The kitchen was filled with the wonderful smell and sound of frying pancakes. Matt flipped them in the pan with one hand and grinned at Dom.
“You know,” he said, slapping a large stack on a plate in front of Dom with a plastic spatula. “I wouldn’t mind doing something like that again.”
“Er,” Dom fiddled with a napkin absent-mindedly.
“I had a good time. Did... did you?”
Dom shoved a large bit of pancake into his mouth to avoid giving a coherent answer and instead settled for nodding and making an ‘I’m trying to speak, but my mouth is full of food’ noise which was a generally acceptable substitute for ‘yeah’.
“Shame there’s no ice cream left for the pancakes,” Matt giggled.
Dom blushed again, utterly regretting his sudden knack for becoming a human beetroot.
Matt narrowed his eyes and considered him for a moment. “You know what? I’m not stupid. I know who you are and what you get up to, well I didn’t know how inventive you were with things, uh, and I know you don’t like to stick around with guys like me... but... I like you and I... I just like you.”
Dom swallowed and looked down at the bit of paper tossed casually near his hand, a phone number in black ink.
“Just call me if you change your mind,” Matt said, weakly, already turning to start on a sink full of dishes.
“I will,” Dom said, folding the paper between his fingers.
There was that arse wiggle. Dom was a believer in no fuss, zero complication, one night stands that did not extend into the next day. But that bed had been so warm and those arms so comfortable... The corner of the paper dug into his hand. He should have left hours ago. Hindsight really was a bitch, but memory was the one not letting him go this time.
“I will,” he said again.