Strobe lights flash across the room. Thumping music shakes the very foundations of the building. The air is almost foggy, CO2 blocking Matt's view of the crowd except for those people directly in front of him. He knows that Dom is somewhere in that mass of writhing bodies, but he hasn't seen him for at least half an hour. Empty glass in hand, Matt heads back to the bar to get a refill. He slips onto the stool there, swivelling around to survey the scene. He has already had three beers, and he's debating whether to go onto something with a bit more oomph; he's danced with three different people already and is sweating like a beast; he's surrounded by beautiful women batting their eyelashes and pouting at him.
It's safe to say that Matthew Bellamy is having a fantastic evening.
Dom is also enjoying himself rather a lot. With two gorgeous girls on either arm, he's enjoying being pampered in one of the booths. In fact, he would be content to stay here the whole night, if he didn't know that they were needed in the recording studio the following day.
Still, it was their night out. They were going to enjoy it, even if Chris had decided he'd rather not try to make the album with a hangover, and Tom was crying over his latest broken camcorder.
Having downed a shot or two, Matt is now sufficiently drunk. He grins to himself, leaning sideways and almost toppling off the stool. One of the women beside him giggles and moves to help him up, pushing her breasts in his face as she did so. His eyes fall unfocused as he is sat back down, and he bangs his forehead with his fist.
"I need to find Dom," he states simply, and scrambles off the chair towards the dancefloor. He pushes his way through the quagmire, the people around him brushing his exposed skin and sending tingles down his spine. The smell here is...not entirely unpleasant, but not too great either. He can taste alcohol on his breath, and he knows that the smoke isn't just from the CO2; something dodgy was going on around here.
After declining several offers to dance, Matt appears on the other side of the dancefloor. He shakes himself out, taking a deep breath now that the air has cleared a little bit, and scans the area in search of Dom.
He finds his best mate lying in a red leather booth, two girls stroking his skin as he speaks to them lowly. Matt can't hear what he's saying, and isn't yet close enough to read the words from Dom's lips, but he can see the girls giggling. He makes his way over to them, sliding onto the seat on the opposite side of the table and smirking as he waits for Dom to notice him.
A blonde head pokes over the top of the table and grins, and Dom reaches out a hand to give Matt a sloppy high-five.
"Hey, mate, how's your night?" he asks, one of the girls crawling further down his body. Matt is watching her as he replies,
"Pretty good, yeah. I'm smashed." The pair laugh, one high-pitched, the other deep and throaty.
"Don't tell me you're heading back to the hotel." Matt scoffs incredulously.
"Of course not! I was wandering if you were going to get up and dance, is all." He scratches the back of his neck, feeling sweat begin to spring up there, his collar suddenly too tight.
"Yeah, I guess I might. Why? You looking for a partner?"
"No!" Matt answers quickly, glancing away from Dom to see that the girls had started onto each other, now. He rolls his eyes. "I was just curious." He stands up and edges out of the booth. "I'm going up now. See you in a bit."
Dom watches as Matt disappeared into the crowd, the wild party-goers swallowing him up immediately. He rolls out of position, apologising to the women, and follows after him. A wave of heat hits him as he approaches the dancefloor, the dancers generating enough power for the whole of New York City. He pushes through the couples, recklessly accepting an unknown drink from a stranger and downing it in one. Stumbling to the side, he hands the glass back with a grateful smile and continues his search.
There, in the middle of the dancefloor, he can see the skinny figure of Matt sidling up to some woman. As he watches, the woman ducks her head and shuffles off, and Dom can see Matt's cheeks flushing from something other than the warmth of the room. He chuckles to himself and makes his way over, sliding his hands over Matt's shoulders from behind. Startled, Matt tries to break free, but a simple, "Hello," in his ear is enough to make him relax.
"Hi," he croaks back, his voice barely audible over the deafening music. Nothing can be made out except the drum pattern, something that Dom revels in but Matt finds slightly off-putting. The music shakes their bones, coursing through their veins in time to the beat of their hearts. Matt is distracted from his growing headache, however, when he realises that Dom still has his arms draped over his shoulders and is gently swaying behind him. Without thinking, Matt grabs Dom's hands to rest them on his waist, leaning back into his arms. Dom immediately tightens his hold and starts to move a bit more forcefully, pressing himself into Matt's back. The brunette leans his head back until it is almost resting on Dom's shoulder and looks up at him with darkened, cobalt eyes.
The damp ends of his hair are curling at the edges of his forehead, his skin almost glowing under the flashing lights. The exposed column of his neck reveals tendons that seem to dance under his skin. Dom swallows, his hand subconsciously tangling itself in the rich, dishevelled locks, and Matthew's eyes slip closed.
The pair move together slowly, the alcohol clouding their brains until their surroundings are fuzzy, and all they can feel is the other. Matt arches his back until he is pressing into Dominic, and that's when it changes. A sharp intake of breath is all that is needed for the small man to turn himself around and press his lips to Dom's, hot breath shared between them as rosy lips slide and pull. Firm hands draw him closer, one between his shoulder blades, the other shamelessly venturing lower, sparks of pleasure shooting up their bodies as they come close.
Matt pulls back, Dom whining as he pouts. "Come on," he says breathily, "let's get out of here." Slim fingers wrap around Dom's wrist as he is led to the bar. Matt tosses some cash onto the surface and they escape from the room as swiftly as possible, the cool midnight air outside hitting them as they peer around the curb.
"We'll be waiting ages for a cab," Dom groans.
"Let's just walk, then," Matt suggests, tugging on Dom's arm as he leads him down the road. They stumble over the pavement together, giggling when the other trips up, and eventually find themselves outside the hotel.
"In, in, in," Matt urges, pushing Dom through the double doors into the foyer. They try to be discreet as they hobble over to the stairs, but when Matt clatters up and bursts into laughter only five steps up, everybody in the lobby stares at the door.
It takes them several minutes to reach their floor but, eventually, they do find themselves in the corridor. It is hushed here, most of the residents sleeping already, and Matt's giggles are the only things to be heard. He fumbles in Dom's trouser pockets for the door key, waggling his eyebrows lewdly as he gives his thigh a squeeze. Dom squeaks and plucks the key from Matt's fingers, unlocking the room.
They don't even bother to turn the light on.
The following morning, Matt wakes up with a pounding in his head. His eyes water as he squints over at the clock on the bedside table and he laughs quietly to himself. Of course. Chris was going to be so pissed.
He rolls over onto his front and is met with a solid, warm body. He grins to himself, hand sliding up this person's torso and gently stroking the soft skin there. When he is met with a flat chest, however, he pauses. Confusion forces his face to crease up, and he sits up slowly, holding one hand to his head. Glancing over at said person in his bed, he swears furiously.
Surely he hadn't gone to bed with a certain blonde man, who just happened to have tempting biceps, right?
Surely he wouldn't have gone to bed with any man, let alone his best friend?
But, no, there's Dom, sleeping his bed like it's no big deal.
Is this even his bed?
Dom turns over in his sleep, and suddenly Matt is trapped by a tanned arm. He swallows, looking down at it and seeing red marks all along the length of his muscle. Are those...?
Yes, it's all coming back to him now. As he tries to shake his hangover free, he remembers some of last night. Only glimpses and flashes, but they hold enough importance to change him. He remembers half-lidded, stormy eyes staring at him and a feeling deep within him that's unfamiliar yet so completely perfect. He remembers feeling his own lips on tanned skin, biting down to mark it as his own. He remembers dragging his fingernails down a muscled back, the glorious feeling of hot, sweaty skin beneath him. He remembers slightly salty kisses, remembers giggles and deep groans and Dominic.
He bites his lip.
Did it all happen?
Is he glad it happened? He certainly isn't as freaked out as he expects himself to be, but this isn't the first time he's woken up in the same bed. Far from it, in fact. The only thing different about this time is that he's naked as the day he was born, and Dom isn't so close to the edge of the bed that he's about to fall off.
He hears a cough from behind him and turns his head to see Dom's eyes starting to open. There's an exasperated groan, and his eyes flutter shut again before reopening suddenly.
"Matt?" Dom exclaims, his voice too sleepy to be firm. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?" There's the subtle glance down, and Matt knows that Dom can see his pale, bare shoulders, and is probably just registering cold feet pressed against his shins. Matt smiles uneasily.
"You don't remember, do you?"
"Oh, God, we didn't. Oh, no," Dom groans, throwing himself to the other side of the bed and taking the duvet with him. Matt yelps as his naked body is exposed to the chilly air, tugging on the duvet for a bit of coverage. It won't budge.
"Dom." No reply. "Dom. Dominic, I can see your arse. Dommy!" His voice turns sing-song as he pokes the flesh, and Dom squirms, tucking the duvet underneath him. "I'm just going to lie here, butt-naked, until you give me some duvet."
Horrified, Dom throws the duvet back in Matt's direction, the smaller man smirking with victory.
The sound of knocking on the door startles them out of their playing, and they glance at each other and then back to the door comically.
"Shit," Matt hisses. He scrambles out of the bed, hearing Dom's cries of, "No! I am scarred for life, now. No-o!"
"I don't know why you're so afraid of my bum, Dom. You spent enough time there last night," Matt says, accompanying the statement with a cheeky wink. Dom buries his head in his pillows.
The banging is more insistent now, and the pair can hear the sound of Chris outside.
"If you don't open this damn door, Dom, I'm gonna come in," he yells. Matt stumbles across the room.
"I can't find my clothes!" he cries. "Dom, where did we put them?"
"I don't know!" Dom answers, his voice strained. He runs a hand through his hair and leaves it there, tugging on the strands. "Just throw some of mine on and get in the bathroom."
Matt picks up the first thing he can find and scurries into the en-suite, locking the door and disappearing. Dom flops out of the bed, wrapping his dressing gown around him and opening the door for a very angry Chris.
"You were supposed to be at the studio nearly two hours ago!" Chris exclaims, throwing his hands up.
"Sorry, mate. Must've slept in," Dom mumbles.
"Clearly. Don't you know how to work an alarm?" Chris angry voice goes right to Dom's head, his hangover making him woozy.
"I-yeah. I don't remember it, though. It didn't go off." Chris sighs and leans against the doorframe.
"Fine, whatever. This is your time too, so it's your time you're wasting lying here in bed." Dom nods. "And, while you're at it, do you have any idea where the hell Matt's got to? He didn't answer at all, and I even got reception to ring up his desk, but there was no reply." Dom shrugs in the hopes that Chris will leave him alone.
"Can't help you there, mate, sorry." Chris narrows his eyes.
"You always know where Matt is."
"Not today." There's an awkward silence between the two as Chris searches Dom's face, and it is only interrupted but a bang and the sound of Matt swearing from the bathroom. Chris raises his eyebrows slightly and steps into the room. Dom swallows nervously behind him.
"Chris, if you want me to get dressed, at least give me a little privacy," he orders, but Chris ignores him.
"Who've you got in here?" he asks, tapping on the bathroom door. All noises are silenced. "Pick up a bird last night, did we?" Dom nods shakily and watches as Chris looks down at the floor. He hooks his foot through a pair of braces on the floor, holding them up on his Converses, and his eyebrows skyrocket up to the roots of his hair.
"These don't look like yours," he remarks casually. "In fact, they look quite a lot like something I saw Matt wearing la-"
"Ok-ay, Chris, that's enough now!" Dom practically pushes him through the door in an attempt to usher him out. "I'm going to get dressed, and I'll see you at the studio. Hopefully one of us will run into Matt." There is another dubious noise from the bathroom and Dom curses inwardly.
"Yeah, hopefully," Chris mutters, shaking his head. He eyes Dom once more and then leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.
Dom collapses onto his bed and Matt falls out of the bathroom door, a pair of Dom's tight skinnies cutting off the blood supply to his legs.
"Dom, help," he squeaks, tugging at the legs in an attempt to yank them off.
"Matt, are we going to talk about last night?" Dom questions, searching through his suitcase for some paracetamol.
"Uh, I don't know, are we?"
"Well, I think we should."
"Okay. What do you-shit-want to say?"
"Just want to make sure that we both agree never to speak about this ever again to anybody ever."
"Sounds like a good plan," Matt agrees, struggling with the jeans. "Now could you please help me get these off, preferably before I die."
"If I must," he sighs dramatically.