Title: Make me dream your dreams
Setting: 7th July, 2000 (gee, I'm impressed by the precision, this time, lol !) It takes place right after the Eurocknéennes Festival at Belfort (if you don't know it, just look for it on you tube, it's amazing! )
Pairing: BellDom (of, course!)
Rating: pg 15 for now, I still don't know if I'll go any further
It's a POV, once again, but this time you'll immediately figure out who is talking! ;P
Disclaimer: I don't know and own Dominic Howard and Matthew Bellamy, this had never happened (but it would be nice if it had) . Plus, I don't earn anything from it, just the personal satisfaction of writing it.
The title is inspired from the lyrics of 'Showbiz ' by Muse, of course!
Feedback: Loves it like Matt loves glitter and Dom loves skinny, colourful pants!
Okay, dear people. This is a new story and it's absolutely BellDom.
So, f you find your time to leave me a comment (a good or a bad one, I accept everything ) I will be eternally grateful for that.
Summary: Matthew talks in his sleep. That's all you need to know…
I.
"We were great!" you rejoice, as you pretend to be interested in the movie that's on TV, but neither am I giving much attention to it.
This must be the twentieth time you repeat that, since we've come back, but how can I blame you? It's true, we were great!
I confine myself to nod, showing you one of my most satisfied smiles.
"I'll tell you what, this is just the beginning of our rise, " you go on as you find a most comfortable position on my bed, laying down, a few inches from me, and lay your head on the soft pillow, turning to me. " It's just a ma.. atter of ti..me and the Muuu .. uuse will con...quer the whoo...le woor..ld!" you add, staggering the words with long yawns, before closing your eyes and after a few minutes you show no sign of life anymore.
Well, my dear conquer, it seems that right now you lack the energies!
I would like to say that out loud, just to tease you, but I don't want to disturb you. You deserve to get some rest: you gave yourself to the crowd; so now it's more than normal if you feel exhausted and collapsed.
After all, it's you who suggested that: once we were done with the concert, we have spent a little time with the fans, just to the bare minimum, we have said a bunch of sentences for the local press and then you asked me to come back to the hotel and spend some time in my room, without even warning Chris about our disappearance.
I'm not surprised by that, quite the contrary, you've always liked spending time alone with me, since when we were just kids. You say that it's the best way for you to relax.
It has been always the same for me, too, but in my case it's a little bit different, there's something more.
At the beginning, I thought it was just the typical and more than normal possession between two best friends, you know. That pang at your stomach that you feel when said best friend prefers spending time with someone else than you.
But I soon realized that it wasn't so easy, that there was no best-friend-handbook that explained that I was supposed to be hurt if I saw you with a girl.
I had girlfriends, too, so many more than how I can recall now, but none of them had never thrilled me, no one had ever become my one-track-mind... like you are.
No, I don't think that either this is something that falls into any category of said handbook.
And then, just something like a couple of years ago, that dream that you, Chris and I had never stopped chasing relentlessly finally came true. First, there were the first gigs in places that really meant something, and then the first people who really meant something gave us some attentions, making us sign a contract with a label that really meant something.
So, now, here we go, protagonist of an afternoon where the eyes, the ears, the attention and sometimes even the adoration of tons of people were just for us; and Chris, you and I tried our hardest to match up to all that interest toward us and I guess that the final result was more than satisfying.
Anyway, if you believe that success and fame changed something, you're so terribly wrong, my dear; quite the contrary, all that just brought me to spend even more time with you than we used to do before, in several corners of the whole world.
Feeling a little bit of homesickness and missing all those places that we swear we hate but at the very end are so special to us, I guess that it's more than normal if one of us makes the other feel at home and vice versa.
Not mentioning the fans, we have and still keep having thousands of girls that would like to make weird things with us and with some of them we actually made weird things, sometimes even all together, in the same room.
I watched you having sex with the girl you had picked up, as I was having sex as well with the girl I had picked up, although my only wish was to take the place of that lucky girl chosen by you.
And when our gazes met, for a very fleeting moment, I got the feeling you were thinking the same thing.
After all, if I just think about the way you look at me, the way you talk to me, every kind of way you relate to me with , sometimes I have the oh-so-sweet suspicion that maybe I'm not the only one who is walking though this path made of confusion, disbelief , oddness, but mostly… desire.
But you're so enigmatic that I'm afraid I'm not willing to bet on it, maybe you just have fun making me believe that, that's it.
I'd like to ask you, you know? But I just can't, since now you're sleeping.
Who the hell am I kidding? Even if you were awake I would never have the courage to ask you and I guess I never will.
Anyway, the fact that now you're so deeply asleep gives me such a precious opportunity: watch you.
Before throwing yourself onto the bed, you found the strength to kick your shoes off, showing your so piebald socks, one different from the other. It's something that has always amused me.
Just like the funny pose you struck, with a leg stretched and the other leg bent, with your left foot on your right calf, almost making a 4 .
You have always had such spindly legs, but I find them fascinating.
I lift my gaze until my eyes land on your red shirt, the same shirt you wore during the show, and you have no idea of the effect it has on me. Oh, God, Matthew, you can't even begin to imagine how good you look in red!
The sleeves are rolled up, still revealing the sign of the felt tip pen you used to trace your veins out.
Here's another of your funny habit that has been intriguing me since I met you, making me wish I could let in your so introverted and bewildering world, but it's a world I don't wanna ever get out of anymore.
I observe your hands, so delicate, with long and tapering fingers that, placed on the piano keys or on the guitar frets, can make a real, charming magic.
I wonder what else you could do and do to me with your hands…
I'm secretly grateful to you for leaving that shirt half unbuttoned, letting me catch a glimpse of the alabaster skin of your lean and smooth chest.
God, you have no idea of how much I crave letting my hands wander on your chest and teasing those dark nipples of yours.
You're even way too skinny, a simple gust of wind could make you fly away, but that only makes me want to protect you even more.
I contemplate every inch of your face, all your sharp features, your cheekbones , the so thin and red lips of your mouth, your nose, your perfect, small ears… instead, my ears are way too big, I hate them.
There's a little shading on your face, given by your thick and black eyelashes, with your lids down that are hiding your most precious treasure : your eyes.
You haven't got two eyes, you have got two lethal weapons that you shouldn't be supposed to aim so freely at whomever, without a warning. They are two skies, two oceans: they're the bluest thing that can be found in the whole Universe.
Anyway, they're a double-edged sword, since they're the most vulnerable part, though them and their changing colour gradation I can always figure out any emotion you are feeling.
I could get lost in your eyes so easily, for hours, without doing anything else.
The last, but not the least, one of the parts of you I adore the most.
Your hair, i.e. another sign of your enchanting madness; starting with the way you arrange it, ruffled, messy, spiked with hair gel, but somehow also fluffy.
And then, its colour. Now you are wearing a blinding blonde, almost white, and it suits you so perfectly, you almost seems an angel. Plus, it sets your eyes off even more, it makes you look even more bizarre.
You dyed your hair blonde just now that I dyed my hair red, it's funny, isn't it? Anyway, it's such a pity, it would be so cool to be blonde together.
I just want to imprint your hairstyle in my memory because you already told me it won't last for long, since it's just a transitional phase, before dying your hair blue.
I already know I'll adore even that hair colour of yours, but for now I just wanna enjoy this one.
I'm so tempted to let one of my hands flow through your messy hair, but I must resist, otherwise I would wake you up and I'd screw everything up.
I'm becoming a connoisseur of resistance, you know? After all, during this concert you put a strain on me. You always do, but today it was even more intense than usual.
Those red sunglasses you wore at the beginning of our show. Oh, God, I could have jumped you only for that, especially whenever you turned to me, something tells me you did that on purpose.
Matt, you were born to provoke, it's your second nature.
Do you want some proofs of how much you enjoy teasing? Well, the way you approach the microphone, almost as if you would want to eat it, the way you play your guitar or I'd rather say you make love with it. There are also all your derange facial expressions, your so powerful jumps, your improvised dancing, the countless time you get closer to me as you play.
Today I was very close to lose control and take you on the stage, right there right then, whether you agreed or not!
But I thank my lucky stars for managing to maintain my self-control and take out all my frustration and arousal on my drums, playing frantically.
As a matter of fact, I feel quite exhausted, too, but my tiredness is also a psychic one.
I switch off that television that I don't even know why we switched on and I lay down on my side of the bed, ready to follow your example.
I look outside the window and I almost burst out laughing, since it's not even sunset and we are already sleeping.
We are only twenty-two years old, we are supposed to be a little more lively than this.
But we have plenty of time to be livelier, now we just deserve some rest.
A quarter of an hour after, I managed to fall asleep, but it doesn't last for long, since something woke me up. More specifically, it's your lament.
I turn to your side, thinking that maybe you need some help, but then I listen to you better.
It seems to be more of a pleased moan than a lament
"No… wait! What are you doing?" you exclaim, out of the blue, but your eyes are still closed.
Here we go again. You resumed talking in your sleep.
It's not the first time I hear you talking, usually you babble about alien invasions or get paranoid about the fact that the Government is controlling us all.
But this time it's something totally different.
"Uh! Tell me, where and when did you learn to do this? Oh, I like thaaaaaat… " you go on as your lips stretch in a large smile.
Yep, I definitively figured out what kind of dream it is, and it had never happened so far.
"Don't stop… just go down.. lower… just a little more.. there you go…oh, yeeeaaah!" you keep instruct whomever is there with you, now, in your dream.
Suddenly, an insane curiosity takes me over. Who is it? Maybe a groupie at the show? The waitress that served lunch to us? Or maybe it's the Receptionist at the hall, I noticed the way she smiled at you!
"Faster, faster, harder.. yeahhh just like thiiiiss… " you yelp and moan as your smile gets even larger.
It's not just curiosity, now even jealousy is gnawing me.
Who is it? Who is that slut who is doing that to you, that is making you feel so good? How can she do that? Who are you thinking of now?
"Yeeessss ! Oh, God, God, God, yeeeeessss!" you almost scream, biting your lower lip and clenching your fists arounf the sheet, arching back a little bit.
There's no need to say you're such a vision in your aroused state.
"You're wonderful… Dominic!" you murmur, before turning on the other side and then you resume sleeping without talking anymore.
After all, I'm still crippled by your last word.
I didn't imagine that. You really said my name. My complete name. I adore when you do that.
I just can't believe that. Did you… did you really dream about me? Did I really make you feel so good? Was I the cause of your wonderful smile, of your so delighted expression?
Should I wake you up and tell you or should I just keep it for me and pretend that it never happened?
I rack my brain, trying to find the answer to this dilemma, until, maybe due to these too many strong emotions, I fall deeply asleep with only one thought in my mind: please, Matthew, make me dream your dreams!
TBC
What can I say? I achieved my goal, now I have a fic for every hairstyle of Matt's : blonde, in this one, blue-haired in 'Oh my, it's him! ' ( by the way, if someone still cares about that story, I updated it on my lj some days ago… ) black-haired in 'How did it come to this? ' or 'Try something new ' , red-haired in the one I'm writing for the Muse BB, and natural, just like Matt wears it lately, in 'You feel so good you make me s-s-stutter ' or 'This time we'll get it, get it right '
Yay! ^^
Anyway, I hope you'll like it, I really do. Even a word is enough, really.
Otherwise, thank you just for reading.
Cheers!