And it's so ironic

matty in his lap, arms resting on his shoulders, knees bent beneath him, looking down at him.

he's telling george about something he likes, he thinks, but he really can't understand a word being said, focussed only on the way matty's eyes are big and brown and beautiful and staring directly into george's own, almost forcing him to look away, unable to hold it. he's so beautiful, hands occasionally meeting behind george's head, usually running through his hair just after doing so, pulling it straight just to see how long it's gotten.

each time he moves, george feels his stomach fizz, and his brain empty even more. he can't form a single thought. it's like matty's using up all his...brain power...for his own ranting, speaking of something to do with his records, maybe explaining how they work, maybe explaining where he got them from, maybe not even talking about records anymore, moving onto something better, but george isn't bothered either way.

he'd, usually, stop speaking after a while, then ask george if he wanted to say anything, because he would quite happily let matty talk his ear off all night if it meant he got to look at him, even if he had a speech planned, too. george wouldn't dare interrupt him, sometimes (like now) couldn't find the words to even do so. either way, he doesn't stop talking for a lot longer than he'd normally let himself.

but, when he does stop, it's because george has gone wide eyed, glossy, too, and he doesn't know why.

"are you...alright?" he asks, raising a concerned eyebrow.

george tries to stutter over a response, something like "yeah, no, yeah, i'm...fine," being the result. matty's brow sinks further.

"are you sure? you look like a fish."

that snaps him out of it a little. a fish? "excuse me?"

matty laughs, realising what he sounds like, "i meant you look like a goldfish, opening and closing your mouth like that." he looks almost endeared.

well, george can't really argue, because if he thinks about it, he probably does look like that.

matty seems to take that as a way to tell him to keep going, and so he does, and george only gets the first few sentences before he's blinded by how gorgeous he is again.

he's trying so hard not to stare at his lips, but it's so difficult, especially when they're red with the cold and from matty biting them, and he just can't help himself, letting his eyes flicker down every few seconds. if matty notices, he doesn't mention it.

it's only when matty shifts his hips a little, and george has to hide the weird, moan-like noise he makes behind a terribly faked cough, that matty notices his...state.

really, he's only shocked he didn't realise sooner.

"well, what's this then?" matty asks, smirking.

george whines, embarrassed, and covers his face with his hands, knowing that he's already blushing.

"i haven't even been doing anything! i've just been talking about my things!"

he gives matty a look. "you're sat in my lap! and you're...pretty." no matter how many times george tells him that, it never gets any less embarrassing.

he's hard, definitely, but he's refused himself the freedom to look and see how hard since he noticed the warm in his belly earlier, and now he's a little afraid to see what matty sees. he could feel it happening, knew exactly when he got too far gone to come back without matty's help, but it was just so nice to let it happen, felt too good to stop it.

matty leans down, presses a kiss to the arch of his nose.

"you're pretty, not me," he breathes, kissing again, and george squirms.

he doesn't like being watched, not really, but when it's matty, it's just so nice. when it's him, he feels more appreciated than observed, like he's seen, not just viewed, yet, still, he squirms as though there's a crowd all the same.

"well, do you want me to do something about this?" matty asks, and george nods. he feels like he's being held hostage, but safe, secure, everything nice but with the odd fear of having no release. matty always lets him, so he's not sure why he's always so afraid, but, now's not the time, because matty's shuffling forwards, and pressing somewhere that feels heavenly.

he threads his fingers into george's hair again, and does just what he was doing before, squeezes the strands between his fingers and pulls them up, looking at them like they're made from gold, and putting on the act of 'ignoring george'. he pretends to be so interested in the feel of his hair that he doesn't notice when george's hips come up to meet his own, and acts like he doesn't hear the quiet, breathy sound he gets when he tugs just that little bit harder.

but then, he gives in, looks back at george and kisses him.

george makes a noise into his mouth, puts his hand up to matty's waist as if to hold him still there.

it's not long before matty's equally as hard as george, and starting to want to grind down onto him for his own pleasure, too. and he does, he rolls his hips forward and holds himself up on his arms with george's shoulders, and george lets him.

matty doesn't let his face come too far away from george's as he moves, making sure he can kiss whenever he likes, however hard he wants, and george doesn't argue. he likes when matty kisses him, especially when he's gentle, and he's being very gentle now, treating george like he's a ceramic figure that would break if matty put too much pressure on him.

and it's like matty's in his head, because when he pulls back to catch his breath, he's smiling so softly that george can almost feel it, and then he asks, "what do you want me to do, honey?"

george tries to tell him, but the words don't come out right, partly because of how matty's still moving down on him, pressing himself into george and watching with glee as his eyes roll back a little, doing whatever he can to make it happen again.

he does manage eventually, somehow gets the message across that all he wants is this, what's happening right now, as long as matty does it harder, and he gets exactly what he wants the second matty knows what it is.

he still moves like george might crack, but at the same time, with even more strength than before, squeezing george's thighs between his own and relishing in the response.

for whatever reason, george loves the feeling of being touched through his clothes, and, angel that he is, matty lets him love it. he often does it to him just because he likes to watch, loving how quiet he gets. as much as he likes it, though, he's always slightly afraid of it, because george just...stops being able to speak most of the time, overwhelmed to the point of being forced to stay quiet or he might explode, but he checks in, and all his worries disappear, because george gives him looks that no words could equate to, begging.

but, that's those times, and this is this time, and george is still speaking this time. he's breathing the word 'please' into matty's neck, over and over and over, intermittently matty's name, too, and matty thinks it's the most wonderful thing ever.

matty gives him what he needs, kisses his face, the space below his ear, his neck, and george tilts his head to give him a better angle to work from each time he adjusts. matty would kiss him until the sun burned out if he could. he'd break the laws of physics if it meant he could be inside george fully, take up as much space as something that isn't even possible just so he could love him harder.

he settles on kissing, tasting the sweat building and kissing just to kiss, gentle pecks on his collarbones, shirt pulled down so he can get to the hot skin, charm on his chain necklace thrown behind so he can reach anywhere he pleases.

george doesn't even feel like a person anymore, he feels like an entity, a floating, glowing ball of light, with matty being the only thing tethering him to this earth. he's light and he's dark and he's warm and he's cold and he's so, so close.

"matty. matty, please."

the only indication matty gives that he's heard george is a nod, a slightly harder kiss to his neck, and then a roll of his hips that feels like it's done only to make george fall apart. if that was the intention, it's working.

"matty, i'm, oh my g–i'm close. i'm so close." he feels like he might cry, so weak, feeling so good that it's almost unbearable. he's starting to shake.

matty nods. "i know, honey, i know. you can come whenever you want, go on." he's so quiet, words all spaced out between kisses, that george can only just hear him.

he lets himself grind back up, friction from his jeans letting the heat in his stomach turn into some fire, burning through. he's so wrapped up in how beautiful matty is that he doesn't even fully realise when he's about to come, not until the last second, and as he does, he makes a weird noise, sounding like he's wrong and needs to fix something impossible to change, and then he comes.

he comes hard, just into his underwear, and matty talks him through it. he tells him he's gorgeous, tells him he's doing well, and it only serves to make george feel like he's died and gone to heaven. he feels so good that it's almost sickening, like eating too much of something sweet and feeling unwell, and he's so blinded by it that he forgets to pay attention to matty. but, regardless, matty keeps talking, cupping his face in his hands and pressing strong kisses all over his cheeks like he's trying to ground him.

he'd do the same back if he could, but just as he's starting to come down, matty comes, too, and he doesn't even get the chance to try, because he's rolling his hips into george's and collapsing down onto him, and it makes george feel slightly bad, because he didn't even think about matty being tired from holding himself up, only himself.

but then matty's wrapping his arm behind george's neck and letting him bury his face into the dark curls there, and it's all fine again. he can't care because he's completely coated in matty. he's swimming in a bath of matty. the air smells like him and he's with him and matty's there and it's all fine again. it's fine.