Chapter Text
Matthew, his name was. Dominic had been leaning against the bar and watching him out of the corner of his eye. He was here alone, and Dominic hadn’t seen him around before. In his shirt and neatly pressed trousers, he looked out of place in the bar, surrounded by young girls and boys out for a Saturday night drink, yet he was strangely calm, as if he had already found his niche in the bar. There was something alluring about him, that erased potential awkwardness, and Dom found himself eager to talk to him. Ordering two beers, he made his way to the table the man was lounging by.
"Hi there," he greeted him with his widest smile, taking in pale skin, razor sharp cheekbones and styled black hair, "I'm Dom. Dom Howard."
"Matthew," the man replied, nodding at the spare drink beside Dom's on the table. "That for me?"
"Sure, figured I'd bring you a welcoming present. Haven't seen you around here before."
"Haven't been here before." Matthew took the drink in his hand, slender fingers wrapping around the glass as he lifted it up to his lips, taking just a sip and smacking his lips together to savour the taste. "Seems more lively than most of the places in this town." Dom slipped into the chair opposite him, comfortable with the conversation.
"Yeah, it's not very upbeat here, but there are some places to go. My mates and I have been scouring for so many years that we've pretty much found them all. This is a favourite haunt of ours." Matthew nodded, watching as Dominic gestured to where his friends were sitting at the bar. Three other men were staring at them and, as Matthew slowly turned to meet their gazes, they ducked out of sight and disappeared. He smiled to himself.
"So, Dom," Matthew pronounced the word carefully, as if waiting for confirmation that it was correct, "if you don't mind my asking, what do you do? For work, that is."
"No, it's fine!" Dom scratched the back of his neck where is hairline ended, able to feel the sweat beading up there due to the unusual humidity. "Just work in an office for one of the local companies. Housing and stuff."
"Ah." Matthew took another, longer sip of his beer. "Is that interesting?"
"Not really. But it pays the bills, you know? And I'm hoping for a promotion soon, so maybe I'll have a bit more fun at work when I'm more in control." Matthew smiled, taking note of how much Dominic was revealing to him within the first five minutes of conversation.
"Well, good luck to you, then! If you feel like you're due a promotion, it's most likely that you are." Dominic's cheeks flushed lightly and he turned his head to the side, taking his eyes off Matthew to drink his beer.
When the glass was half empty, he set it down on the wooden table again.
"So, how about you? You look all dressed up, which I presume is for work. What do you do?" Dom asked, resting his elbow on the table and cupping his chin with his hand.
"I study," Matthew replied carefully, cocking his head and smoothing down his shirt. "People, mostly. I'm writing a book about their behaviours."
"Hasn't that been done a lot before?" Dom teased, a glint of teeth showing between his lips. Matthew pressed his lips together in a tight smile.
"Well, of course, but I'm hoping to offer something new to the library."
"Ah, right."
They lapsed into silence for a few moments, Matthew's fingers playing with something in his blazer pocket. Dominic bit his lip, trying to think of how to change the topic. Matthew didn't seem too comfortable talking about his work, which, to Dominic, was understandable. He knew that it was a touchy subject with many people he'd come across in the town, the recession bringing many people down until their jobs almost appeared to be something to be ashamed of. He shook his head at the thought and looked up, seeing Matthew smirking at him.
"Something the matter?" he asked in a light, playful tone. Dominic laughed softly, itching his neck again. As Matthew watched, his shirt sleeve slipped up to reveal the smooth, tanned skin of Dominic's bicep. He bit down on his tongue, the tangy metallic bite a familiar feeling from similar situations, and turned his head to the side so that Dominic was just out of his view.
"No, no, just thinking, is all." Both men nodded, watching each other closely. Dom downed the last of his beer.
"I'm going to get another glass," he told Matthew, "would you like one?" Matthew tilted his own glass, watching the bitter liquid rolling around in the bottom, the image of the table distorted. He traced the grain of the wood with his fingertip.
"Yes, please," he answered, hurriedly adding, "I'll pay, though!" Dom shook his head and made his way to the bar, unaware of Matthew watching his every move and analysing it, undressing him and redressing him in his mind.
Three beers later and Dominic's speech was already slurring, his movements slowing down as he tried to process his speech before it fell out of his mouth. Matthew was louder and less reserved, large hand gestures threatening to knock the collection of beer glasses off the table. The conversation topics ranged from how their days had been, what brought them to the bar and, eventually, and perhaps inevitably, to previous relationships.
"I don't tend to have relationships," Matthew admitted. "I had a girlfriend in Year 9 but I didn't take that too seriously. Needless to say, she dumped when me the gossip started to spread." He grinned, revealing a row of slightly crooked teeth, his nose scrunching up and mischievous eyes crinkling at the edges. Dom's jaw dropped.
"You cheated on your girlfriend when you were thirteen!" he cried. "What did your parents say?" Silently revelling in Dominic's astonishment, Matthew sat up straighter and leaned closer over the table.
"I didn't tell them. They didn't really like to get involved in all the whispers, you know? Wise, really. And good for me." Dominic shook his head in disbelief.
"Jesus. Here I was thinking that I was bad for never being able to hold down a relationship, but at least I tried!" Immediately, Matthew's grin was wiped off his face.
"You don't think badly of me, do you?" he asked tentatively, his voice small. Dominic looked over at him and was surprised to see that he appeared shrunken. Knowing he would retreat into his shell and scuttle off if Dom said anything else, he reassured Matthew that, No, he did not think badly of him and that it was several years ago.
"Besides, I'm not exactly looking for a relationship tonight," he added with a cheeky wink, his heart pounding wildly as he waited for Matthew's response, his face betraying nothing but desire.
"Is that so?"
"Mm-hm."
"And...what exactly were you offering with that statement?" His voice was low and smooth, and Dom watched hungrily as his fingers tiptoed across the table towards Dominic's hand.
"Whatever you want."
"Whatever I want?" Matthew's eyes flashed, bright azure startling Dominic into the present. A smirk began to inch its way across his face.
"Anything. With one request: come back to my place." Matthew licked his thin lips and smiled.
"I thought you'd never ask."
Hence Matthew soon found himself in a large, unfamiliar bed that Saturday evening.
Dominic leant his head back to rest against the pillow, pressing the cool fabric into the heated skin of his neck and gasped, moving his hands to rest on the hips of the man sat astride him.
"Fucking hell, you're good at this," he exclaimed breathily, Matthew smirking at him between choppy breaths.
"Had a lot of practise," came the reply, Matthew’s head snapping forward so that his eyes locked onto Dominic's. Only a sliver of blue was visible around the deep black of his pupils, his gaze lust-clouded and hazy. Dominic felt his eyes roll back into his head at another twist of his hips, a pale hand falling onto his heaving chest as the pair moved faster.
“Would’ve loved to have seen that.”
“I bet you would.” Matthew laughed between gasps, using his lithe body to his advantage as he rolled his hips. His eyes fell shut and he arched his back, his torso on display for Dominic’s hands to roam over every inch of creamy skin. Fingers gently brushed his nipples and circled his navel, Matthew gasping into the touch as he gripped the biceps he’d been eyeing up earlier. His nails dug into the skin there as the pleasure built, the flesh bending to his will, his eyes squeezing shut. Dominic could barely feel Matthew's fingers wrapped around his arms, he was so focused on finishing.
With a sharp grunt, he snapped his hips up just as Matthew ground down. The pair howled at the glorious friction and Matthew fell forwards so that his chest was pressed against Dominic's, his face buried in his neck. He could hear Dominic's frantic pulse in his neck and smiled to himself, relishing the steady pounding, licking up the column and savouring the shiver it produced.
“My, my, Dominic Howard, aren’t you delicious,” Matthew drawled, one hand cupping Dom’s face and keeping his head pressed into the pillow, Dom squeezing his eyes shut as Matthew’s voice slithered over his skin. He let Dominic take control of his lower half, instead lathing the skin of Dom's neck and then biting down.
Dominic cried out at the sensory overload and dug his hands into Matthew's hips, moving him faster and faster, his fingertips leaving bruises on his pale skin. Matthew's mouth fell open as he gasped hotly into Dominic's skin, one hand reaching up to fist in his golden hair. He felt Dominic within him, sliding into places only a select few were allowed to visit, extracting nuggets of pleasure with every single touch, every brush of his hands over Matthew's skin.
"Ohh, God, Dominic," he moaned, his voice unexpectedly high-pitched. Dom groaned in response, forgetting in the heat of the moment that he hadn't told Matthew his full name. He pressed their lips together, tasting the sweat gathering on Matthew’s upper lip. He gently stroked Matthew’s palette with the tip of his tongue, teasing him with little flicks, and the other man shuddered in his grasp, responding enthusiastically. He pulled away from Dom’s lips just to breathe, "Go on. Do it."
The pillow was soaked beneath Dom’s head, the sweat from his back and neck seeping into the cotton and curling the ends of his hair. Matthew took in the view from above hungrily and his voice lowered to a whisper.
"Do it."
With a low groan, Dominic let himself go, carried along on the current by Matthew's touches, the smaller man's voice joining him in a delirious chorus. Matthew fell limply onto Dominic's chest, giggling at the stickiness and wrinkling his nose up. Dominic's brain was too addled to pick up on Matthew's sudden change in demeanour, and his arms moved automatically to wrap themselves around Matthew's body. Matthew squirmed in the embrace, the sweat on his skin making him itchy and uncomfortable. Dom pulled his arms away immediately, unsure whether he'd stepped too close to Matthew. There was a certain detachment during sex that separated it from other acts of intimacy, and Dom had learned this the hard way.
Still, Matthew didn’t seem to be making an effort to move off Dom’s chest, instead lying there with his limbs askew, his face pressed into Dom’s shoulder and tickling the skin there.
“Best I’ve had in ages,” Dom murmured, stretching out his arms with a satisfying click. The post-coital glow radiating throughout his body made him sigh softly, his eyes fluttering closed.
“Got that right, bitch,” Matthew mumbled into his shoulder, Dom chuckling.
“You can definitely come back again.” There was a pause as Matthew mulled that over, watching Dominic as his lazy movements grew droopy.
“I don’t know about that.”
“I know you’re not looking for a relationship. Just don’t rule it out.”
Again, they lapsed into silence. Matthew cleared his throat and pushed himself up from the bed, bending over the edge to fetch his boxers.
"I should probably be going." Dom opened one eye and stared at him, slate grey fixing on bright blue.
"You can stay, you know." Matthew frowned and carefully manufactured a reply.
"I don't want to encroach..."
"It's fine, really. I think I owe it you after that." He laughed into his arm, bringing up to rest on his forehead. Matthew rolled his eyes. "Besides, you must have heard about the accidents recently. I'd be cruel if I let you go out there in the dark all by yourself, and there's no way I'm getting up now."
"Yes, I suppose I should worry about the murderer," Matthew whispered, shaking his head as he slipped back into his original place on the bed.
Dom rolled over onto his front, ending the conversation. He pressed his face into the pillow and grumbled when he could smell his own sweat. He could feel Matthew's eyes on him but didn't let it put him off, and his exhaustion eventually dragged him into sleep. Matthew remained silent, shifting so that he had his arms wrapped around his knees. He watched the way Dom hummed quietly in the early stages of sleep, a few loose strands of blonde hair drifting when he exhaled. His lean body was spread-eagled over the bed, leaving barely enough room for Matthew, one hand clutching at the duvet half hanging off him.
He took the time while Dominic was sleeping to observe his room. It wasn't especially large, the bed taking up most of the room, but Dom had made the best use of the space he had. A shelf hanging off the wall held a large number of CDs; a few picture frames decorated the other walls, some he recognised, some newer; an old dresser presumably contained Dominic's clothing, and there were a few things spilling out of the top drawer. Matthew smirked to himself at the typically messy nature of the other young man, wondering to himself how old Dominic actually was and thinking proudly of his own neat home.
He too fell asleep eventually, his eyes on Dominic the entire time until they closed of their own accord. The blonde shifted onto his back just as Matthew stretched out in his sleep, accidentally punching Dominic in the back. Dom screeched, waking them both up, and rolled onto his side to glare at Matthew accusingly.
"S-sorry!" Matthew squeaked. "I'm sorry, Dom, I didn't mean it, I fidget a lot, I know, I'm sorry." He peeled the covers from himself carefully and started to crawl out of the bed to get the rest of his clothes, but the cogs whirring in his mind were telling him to slow down. "I'll just leave."
"No, Matthew, don't worry," Dom mumbled sleepily, "Come back to bed, it's fine. I know you didn't mean it." Matthew pressed his lips together and nodded. Of course he didn't mean it.
Matthew returned to the bed and felt a pair of arms wind around him from behind. He grinned into the pillow and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. He'd known Dominic for, what, five hours? Was it even that? And yet here he was, being cuddled in his bed. The night had certainly been a successful one.
Walking home the next morning, he whistled to himself as he craned his head up to gaze into the deep blue sky. It almost seemed to stare back at him sometimes, but it couldn’t disturb him this morning. A few of Dominic's neighbours seemed surprised to see an unfamiliar fellow departing his flat at such an early hour, but he merely flashed them a cheeky grin. He didn't have time for their judgemental natures.
Stuffing one hand in his pocket to avoid looking like all those pretentious prats by swinging his arms on his walk back home, he found a slip of paper there. Eyebrows drawn together, he fished it out from among the folds of fabric and laughed to himself, fingering the edges. Dominic had obviously ripped a piece of paper from a notebook somewhere and scrawled his phone number on it, hiding it in Matthew's pocket when he wasn't looking. Matthew fingered the edges of the paper as he passed a nearby bin, glancing sideways at it and debating what to do with the paper. However, as his fingers held it over the rim of the bag, he thought better of it, instead refolding the paper and replacing it. That might come in handy later.
The walk back from Dom's flat to his house wasn't too far, to Matthew's delight, and he unlocked his wooden front door and kicked it open merrily. As soon as it slammed shut behind him, he started grinning to himself.
"Yes, indeed, it is a wonderful day, is it not?" he laughed to himself, swinging into the study. He slid onto the stool in front of the pure white grand piano, stroking the sleek surface and pressing his fingers to the keys. A delicate melody forced its way from the piano, major tones with added embellishments echoing around the large room. Matthew bent over the keys, prising note after note from the ivory and revelling in the sweet music.
A knock on the door startled him out of his reverie and he grumbled to himself, rushing to the door and smoothing down his shirt before he opened it. In the doorway stood one of his clients, barely dressed with wild hair and missing a shoe. Her eyes were red-rimmed and he could see tear tracks glistening on her flushed cheeks. He repressed a disappointed sigh. So much for a wonderful morning.
"Dr Bellamy, I'm sorry to burst in on you like this, but I really have been having such a dreadful problem. Would you terribly mind helping me?" He spread the door wider, opening his arms and stepping back to allow access into the study.
"Of course not. Do come in."
Matthew watched the woman step into his study, feeling the soft carpet on her bare foot.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, wiggling her toes at the new texture, "I hadn't realised that. I forgot my shoe. I hope you don't mind, Dr Bellamy." He shook his head and watched as she sat herself down in one of the velvet-covered armchairs, her clammy hands leaving prints.
"Not at all. You know I only want to help you." She nodded and wiped a hand over her eyes, feeling tears threatening to spill again. Matthew slowly sat down in the chair opposite her, the leather creaking under his weight. He leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. "So, tell me, what exactly is the problem?"
"Well, I-I just," the woman began, trailing off after a while when she felt her throat begin to close up.
"In your own time," Matthew told her, at the same time urging her to hurry up. She liked Dr Bellamy; even when he was constantly asking her about herself, he didn't seem prying. She always felt calm in his study, as though there was something in the air that soothed her as soon as she stepped in. She turned her head to the side to stare at the bookshelves lining the walls, not a single patch of mahogany visible through the large numbers of books. Intricately designed titles graced each spine, some in an unfamiliar language, others in English but impossible for her to understand just the same. Dr Bellamy was a clever man, that she knew, but he somehow never made her feel inferior.
"I've been having nightmares. Persistent ones," she confessed. "I would have waited until our next appointment, but I had such a terrible night last night that I felt like I just, I don't know, something was drawing me here." Matthew nodded slowly, watching the woman's movements as her eyes flickered quickly from side to side. He bounced his knees to keep himself busy, the conversation far less than stimulating.
"And...what exactly do these nightmares entail?"
"The murders."
"The recent ones?"
"Yes. I've been reading about them a lot, because they're so close to home, and now they're infiltrating my dreams." Matthew pursed his lips and thought for a moment, reading through her diagnosis and previous therapy in his mind.
"Do you think that perhaps you are so afraid of the murderer that it is invading your dreams? That your fear transcends daily life? Because that would be perfectly normal. I can assure you that you aren't the only person in this town who is afraid."
However, she shook her head violently, her already messy hair falling in her face. Matthew noticed she failed to brush it back, her wide eyes still darting around the room.
"No, I'm not afraid, that's the point. I'm not afraid of the murders at all."
"You are not," he repeated bluntly, and she confirmed it with a sharp nod. Matthew proceeded tentatively, "so...what is it that you are afraid of?"
"Nothing." He paused and leaned back into the chair, folding his arms across his chest, keeping an eye on her as she steeled herself, looking directly into his own eyes.
"Nothing at all?"
"No."
"What is it about this room that disturbs you?" The sudden change in topic threw her off course, and she stumbled for words.
"You don't have music playing today," she noted with surprise, looking up at the ceiling and then over towards the piano. The cover was still up.
"You're right, I don't. Is that what's putting you off?" She shook her head, rubbing the tops of her arms. "You don't have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable."
"No, it's just that I'm not disturbed at all."
"And...you are usually? Does something feel different?" Matthew was losing his patience. The woman was showing obvious signs of fear, and yet she would not tell him anything. As her psychiatrist, he was determined to get everything out of her, and yet she was withholding all that she knew. How very infuriating.
"No, Dr Bellamy, nothing is odd at all. Everything is just as normal. Perhaps that's it. I was expecting something to have changed." She shrugged and turned back to focus on him. He watched her with a scrutinising stare and then smiled slightly, unfolding his arms to hold out his hands to her.
"There is nothing new here. Things are much the same as they have always been, except perhaps the difference in my schedule now that you have turned up on my doorstep." He gave a shallow chuckle and she laughed along with him.
"Maybe that's it. I usually have evening appointments. The lighting might be different. I don't know." She laughed again and scratched the back of her neck. Matthew's lips parted as he watched, and for some bizarre reason, he wondered whether Dominic had woken up and found him absent yet. He hoped that he had, and for a brief moment allowed himself to imagine Dom's disappointed pout. The thought brought a genuine smirk to his lips.
Indeed Dominic had woken up and rolled over, patted the duvet in search of another body, and sighed deeply when the other side of the bed was empty. The sheets weren’t even warm. He hauled himself from the bed and threw some clothes on, looking down at the floor and reminding himself of the night he’d had, a smile spreading involuntarily over his face.
He scooped yesterday’s clothes from the floor and took them into his tiny kitchen, throwing them into the washing machine and leaning against the counter as he pondered what to make for breakfast. There was a strange hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach which he pinned down as a minor hangover and gave him an excuse to swallow a tablet, shaking his head and wincing at the taste, even though he knew that wasn’t quite the case.
And so did Matthew.