million_star: ((Matt: Orgasmic))
[personal profile] million_star
Title: Proof of Fucking Ownership
Author: [livejournal.com profile] millionstar
Pairing: Belldom, Non-AU
Summary: In which legal documents are presented to Dominic. Total crackfic.
Rating: R, simply for swearing.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Matt or Dom, no profit is being made and this is fiction.
Author’s Note: Just a drabble, in light of the photo of Matt and Dom eating together, and a request from [livejournal.com profile] amusedinred for Matt to draw up official ownership documents regarding Dom’s ass. If you choose to read, thank you, so much. I really do appreciate it.



The restaurant was small and quiet, with an intimate vibe. It was the perfect setting for a pre-gig meal. Matthew and Dominic were happy to have a few moments to themselves on such an important, and busy day.

“Just a few hours to go. Are you nervous?”

Dominic considered Matthew’s question; he shrugged, a soft smile on his face as he pushed the food around his plate. “Maybe a little. It’s exciting, though. You?”

“Nervous as fuck. But it’s a good nervous, you know? I’m excited to get back on stage, it’s been too long.”

“I have something for you.”

“Not here, you arse,” Dominic glared, whispering as he glanced around the small restaurant. “Besides, we don’t have time for that.”

“For once,” Matthew laughed, “I don’t mean that.”

“Fair enough.”

Matthew handed Dominic a gold-colored, thick envelope. “Here.”

“What is it?”

“Open it, Einstein, and you’ll see.”

Dominic put down his glass of wine and did as he was instructed. He soon found himself holding what looked like a legal document.


Affidavit of Fucking Ownership

Planet of Earth
State of Cydonia*

*not really.

I, Matthew James Bellamy, resident of Earth, being of legal age, a sound fucking mind and all that other shit, do depose and proclaim for all the motherfucking world to know that:

Description Of Fucking Property

I am presently the owner of the posterior and lower region (heretofore known as “Ass” - sometimes referred to as loveseat, or sex muffins) of one Dominic James Howard, as recorded in the heralded annals of my admittedly glorious inner psyche.

Fucking Ownership

I fucking acquired ownership the Ass some years ago one night during a really hot rimjob. Fuck you, I don’t know the exact date. It doesn't matter - I’m not on trial here. For legal purposes, we can state the release date of the public declaration (i.e. the legal release of the lyric “You ass belongs to me now”) as being in the year of our Spacelord 2015, the 12th fucking day of March.

Fucking Possession

I have remained in continuous, open, peaceful (except for those times when Dom wanted to get kinky) and notorious (if you only knew) possession of the Ass since the aforementioned fucking date that I’m not precisely certain of but whatever. Note to self: this fucking legal shit is hard and confusing.

Lien and Fucking Encumbrances

I have no knowledge of any fucking facts which would indicate that my title or possession of the aforementioned Ass would be called into question or dispute. Furthermore, to my fucking knowledge, my title has never been disputed, rejected, or questioned, but if you think you’re hard enough, bring it on, my friend. I’d like to see you fucking try.

In continuation, no fucking claim or action has been brought to my attention which questions my title or right to possession of the Ass, and to my knowledge, no actions are pending against me in any court… although I do have that public nudity charge from last week. Whatever, it’s natural, okay?

Fucking Purpose

This affidavit is being made as proof to the world, indeed the fucking galaxy, that Dom’s ass belongs to me now. His heart, too. It’s mine, bitches. And I love him fiercely.

Legally yours, or whatfuckingever,
Matthew James Bellamy
15 March 2015

(I was going to ask Chris to witness and sign this document but I was afraid he’d suggest, yet again, that I need help. Maybe next time. But probably not.)

Dominic put the paper down on the table and threw his head back in an epic series of giggles. Matthew grinned, flushing a bit at Dominic’s reaction. A few of the other restaurant patrons were staring at them now, but neither of them noticed. They were in their own little world.

“I don’t think most legal documents use the word fucking as much as this one did.”

“Most legal documents aren't drawn up by me at three in the morning.”

“Jesus, Matt. You are fucking crazy. Are you going to tattoo your name on it or something next?”

“Don’t give me ideas.”

“Jesus. What the fuck am I going to do with you?” Dominic asked, folding the paper carefully and putting it back into the glided envelope.

“Just thought that tonight, on the eve of this new era, that I’d stake my claim. Just in case you’d,” Matthew twirled his fork in the air, a mischievous glint in his eye, “forgotten.”

Dominic reached for Matthew’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Forgotten? No,” he whispered, “that’s never going to happen.”

“Good,” Matthew whispered, standing up for a kiss, “because the dick documents will be delivered to you next week.”
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