#ask bels

★

Cool tendrils of condensation dripped from the glass rhythmically, as if they were painting a map onto the hardwood of the table.

Matty sat across from you, his cola half forgotten, yours nearly gone. Afternoon light spilled in from the windows, some old vinyl he had picked up last month spun on his overpriced record-player. Everything about the room was familiar. Domestic, even. It shouldn’t have been exciting. But, then again, he was there.

The heat had woven itself into his home, breaching concrete walls and settling in a slick sheen of sweat across his skin. He brushed back a drip of saltiness into his salt and pepper curls, letting a strand fall loose in front of his eyes.

Your vision danced lower, to his spread legs, jean-clad thighs open just enough where you could comfortably slot yourself between the–

“You’re staring.”

His voice came suddenly, tearing your gaze from the apex of his legs and back to his face. You felt a crimson flush seep through your cheeks, your fingers scrambling to find something to make you look occupied, They landed on the near-empty glass in front of you, only reminiscents of what once was a full drink left. You silently curse yourself for downing it so fast. Suddenly, the heat of the room didn’t seem comparable to the one that was growing as his eyes stayed on you/

“Sorry,” you mutter into the straw, sucking on it and letting the sound of nothing being sucked up into the plastic linger in the room.

“No you’re not.”

His eyes stay glued to you as he watches you hollow your cheeks around the straw, desperate to suck any liquid up.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You pause, letting the plastic fall from your mouth. 

“Drinking?”

You let out a small laugh, matched with a smile. Matty doesn’t so much as grin. If anything, his expression hardened more, eyes blown with something that resembled much more than simply interest. It was the same look he had given you each and every time before he had torn you to pieces: pure lust.

“Nah, you’re not,” his voice drops, “‘think you’re just tryin’ to get my attention.”

You pout slightly, playing into his game in the role you knew drove him mad. It was silly, sure, but it always seemed to get you the results you desired. Namely, handprints on your ass and his cum dripping down your thighs.

“‘M not. Swear.”

“Liar.”

His voice was swift after yours, not leaving any room for argument in the thick, humid air.

“I was just thirsty, that’s all.”

Matty smirks at that and the sight is sinful. He leans back in his seat, his thighs spreading even more as he grins wickedly.

“Clearly, love.”

You frown.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, well,” his voice is soft and condescending, rewriting your words as you speak them, “I think ya’ did.”

You shift in your seat, your bare thighs sliding over one another, desperate to relieve any of the pressure that had been building since the conversation had begun.

You have another go at your drink, shifting around the ice to try and get any liquid, but the attempt is futile. Just as soon as you’ve lifted the straw to your lips, Matty is pulling the glass away entirely.

“Stop that,” he snaps, placing the glass on the wood where it will surely leave a ring, “looking so fuckin’ desperate.”

You melt at his voice, at the sheer strength and force of it. It makes your stomach roll over and your veins run hot. The syllables had punctured every inch of your skin, injecting themselves into your veins and seeping into your bloodstream. You were addicted to the high, all you had to do was play along.

“Hmm? Don’t know what you mean,” You say softly, doing your best doe eyes at him through your lashes.

He looks down at you with a half-smirk half-scowl, “Oh please, love. You know exactly what you’re doin’”.

Matty takes your wrist in his hand, not bothering to lace his fingers with yours. Rather, he pulls you forward as he shifts back. 

Your body flows with the motion of his as Matty sits back in his chair, pulling you onto his lap. Any attempt by you to be graceful is lost as he yanks you forwards, his fingers finding the curve of your waist as he pulls you down onto him.

“Suckin’ on your drink like that,” he whispers low and dirty in your ear, placing a kiss right below your earlobe, “actin’ like such a little slut.”

You suck back a whimper as he bites at the sensitive skin of your neck, his hands venturing higher, up over your clothed tits.

“Matty…” you whine as he soothes the bite with his tongue. Your body was putty in his hands. The heat in the air made the rub of his rough denim jeans delicious over your bare thighs, skirt riding up as you bracketed them.

“Shhh, darlin’”, Matty palms at your chest, watching attentively as you arch your back, “I’m not done tellin’ you off, yeah?”

Your brain swims with hazy desire, only emphasised by every touch of his fingers against your chest, and every gentle move of your hips, each one generating addictive friction that shoots straight to your core.

You get a bit more brave with your movements, experimentally rolling your hips deeper before Matty catches your waist with his steady hands, effectively stopping you entirely.

A whine escapes your lips instinctively, body mourning the loss of stimulation all together.

“Ohh, is my poor girl feelin’ needy?” 

Matty’s voice is dripping with condescension, and damn, if he doesn’t wear it well.

A smug grin paints his face, skin moist with sweat and humidity, every curl perfectly out of place.

“Of course you are. Always so needy, yeah?”

You divert your gaze, a sudden flush washing over you in a wave of embarrassment. You had been called out, after all. Maybe, you should have been embarrassed. After all, here you were, getting off on the way he was manhandling you into his lap. But, then again, he was the one who pulled you into his lap after seeing you sucking on a goddamn straw. 

Before you can retort, Matty’s hand is squeezing your face, his thick fingers pulling your chin so your eyes are level with his.

“C’mon, love,” he murmurs, pupils blown, “wanna hear you say it.”

Never in your life have you felt like such a walking contradiction; your chest bloomed with a deep burgundy flush, embarrassment creeping up your spine as need swirled in your stomach, your panties suddenly seeming a whole lot wetter than they were ten minutes ago.

“Say it.”

Matty squeezes your face again, and you’re snapped back into reality.

You open your mouth, tongue fumbling with letters that had seemingly lost all rhyme or reason under his demeaning gaze. 

“I– uh…”

Matty gives a final squeeze to your cheeks before dropping his hand back to your waist and gripping meanly.

“Tell me you’re being a needy little slut,” he mutters, breath heavy against your cheek, “and maybe,” he squeezes your waist, “I’ll give you what you’re clearly so desperate for.”

You whimper at the rasp of his voice against your skin, cheeks painted pink with a mix of desire and embarrassment.

“Say it,” he utters, and you know right there and then that he’s not asking.

You suck in a shallow breath, air barely hitting your lungs, “I–I’m a needy…” Your words trail off as Matty pulls you down, letting your hips roll against his navy jeans. “F-fuck Matty…please…”

Matty smirks, stilling your movements, “keep talkin’ or I’ll stop.”

You nearly whine, body seeming to melt even more, like wax to a flame.

“Keep goin’.”

You nod softly, mind having gone to cotton under his fingertips.

“I’m a n-needy slut…”

Matty smiles, gripping your waist tightly and rubbing you on his thigh. “Good fuckin’ girl. You’re so nasty, gettin’ off on this. Jesus Christ, you’re pathetic.”

A noise that resembles a squeal, but seems to be much closer to a moan escapes you. The friction is delicious against the fabric of his jeans; your flimsy cotton panties hidden under the edge of your skirt are thoroughly soaked through, and you can feel it with every forceful roll of your hips.

“Oh baby,” Matty rasps, “‘bet you’re makin’ such a perfect mess on me, yeah?”

You can’t manage a response, voice catching in your throat as he pulls you down for a particularly deep roll of your hips.

“Can’t even think straight when I’m making you feel good, can you?” He doesn’t wait for a response, in fact, he doubles his efforts, pulling you closer and closer to the edge of a mind-melting release. “‘S all you’re good for, meltin’ for me like this.”

Matty’s right hand slips from your waist up to your cheek, gripping the skin tightly with his digits. His left leaves your waist simultaneously, snaking beneath your skirt and rubbing gentle circles into the clothed skin just above your clit. The contrast is devastating: his right hand grips meanly at your face, his thumb coming up to part your lips. His left hand makes quick work of pulling your drenched panties to the side, parting your other lips.

“Oh darlin”, he smirks as you accept his finger into your mouth, tongue swirling around the digit and cheeks hollowing, “you’re soaked everywhere. Do you just stay wet like this whenever I’m around? Hm?”

His voice is punitive; degrading. He looke up at you as if you were hundreds of meters below him, and you fucking love it. “Mhm,” you gargle around his finger as he begins to circle your sopping hole. He pulls a gasp from your mouth as his fingers move north, rubbing tight figure-eights into your clit with your own wetness. “Always for you.”

“Mmmm, that’s right, darlin’,” Matty grips your chin with his free fingers, squeezing in a tight tempo as you suck on his thumb. “Baby? Can you stay still f’me? Wanna try something.”

You nod, a smile forming around his finger as he pulls it from your mouth with a wet popping noise. At the same time, his left hand leaves your clit, dragging a trail of your slick with his fingers. His two hands swap places, his right finding your cunt as his left reaches your mouth. 

“Ready?”

“Mhm…please…”

“Ya’ don’t even know what you’re beggin’ for,” he laughs, “you’re so cute when you’re ruined.”

Matty pushes four fingers in you all at once: two in your mouth, coated in your juices, and two in your aching cunt. The stretch is delicious, and you go from positively empty, to utterly and completely full.

“Fuck!” you gargle as you clench down, barely colding on to any composure. Matty’s thumb finds your neglected clit once more as his fingers scissor inside of your mouth and spongy walls in tandem.

You can taste yourself on his fingers– heavy and sweet and sinful and heavenly.

“Open wide, darlin”, and god, you do. “So willing,” he breathes, “just takin’ whatever I give you. Good girl, yeah.”

Your mouth is wide open for Matty as he presses harshly on your tongue with two fingers, nearly making you gag. Before you can close your mouth, he leans his head back, collecting a wad of spit in his throat, and spits it into your mouth. It's hot and thick and it tastes like cola and ice and him.

“Augh– please!” You rasp, mouth full of your own arousal and his sickly sweet spit, punctuated by the lingering taste of the cola he had been sipping on.

“If you were so damn thirty for that soda, then drink.”

He taps his wet fingers against your throat twice, and it’s all the instruction that you need. You swallow the mixture in one gulp, feeling as the liquid moves down your throat, soar from gasping around his hands.

“Oh, such a good slut, fuckin’ hell”.

Matty presses his lips against yours, and you taste him once more. All while, his right hand never lapses in its torturously quick circles on your clit. As the tension in your stomach increases, you’re sure you're close. After he had dragged you mere inches away from the edge on his thigh, you’re desperate for the release.

“Please, Matty– ‘m close, so close…”

Matty smirks as he kisses you again, his tongue dancing with yours as his taste seeps into your mouth all over again. You swear it’s nearly enough to make you cum on the spot.

“I know, I can feel you squeezin’ me, so tight, babe,” Matty groans as you clench around his fingers over and over, your stomach beginning to spasm as he drags you over a cliff of pleasure. “Let go f’me, come on, give me all that you’ve got.”

You come in a wave of red hot lust and release, a sharp moan shooting from your mouth and immediately being caught in his. Your body shakes and shutters around him in flutters of your cunt and your eyelids. Every inch of you is affected, and hell, if he doesn’t know it.

“So good, fuck. You’re makin’ it so damn hard for me to hold my composure, you know that?”

You smirk as you collapse into his shoulder, “this is you with composure?”

Matty just smiles, stroking your hair. He pulls you back, wiping a lingering line of his spit from the corner of your mouth. 

★

Your body lay limp on the couch in preparation. Every muscle relaxed, every tendon unflexed. Your mind was thoroughly wiped, left only with thoughts of him, of what was about to become of you. 

George got this look in his eye on nights like these. Lust wasn’t the right word– lust wasn’t enough.

It was a sheer, unrequited need. A desperation that exceeded a physical desire. It was mental, spiritual, molecular. His body ached for yours as much as yours ached to be changed by his. To be loved is to be changed, after all.

And, change you he would.

George was beside you before you could process it fully, the couch dipping under his weight.

“Baby,” he mutters, voice heavy and low, “are you okay?”

You nod softly, a lazy smile finding your face. Your brain was hazy, sure, but you were sure of one thing at least: you wanted this. You wanted him. You wanted him to bend you and stretch you and fill you and break you. You needed it.

“‘M okay,” you lean up on the back of your forearms, “just need you, George.”

George tsks, taking one of his large hands and placing it between your breasts, pushing you down into the couch. 

“Nope, don’t sit up, love. Let me take care of you. Let Daddy take care of you, alright?”

“O-okay.”

“Yeah, good girl, using your words. Thank you for letting me do this, baby.”

Your brain is melting out of your ears at his words, at his touch against your bare skin. The sight was sinful: you, naked and flushed against the dark fabric of the sofa, and him, fully clothed, eyes dark and pupils blown. He looked like he wanted to devour you. And, if his first touch to your chest was any indication, he very well might.

His hands were big, much bigger than your own, and you knew for a fact that wasn’t all. Compared to you, he was giant, almost scarily so. 

You let out a small gasp as his hand finds one of your peaked nipples, his thumb rolling over the sensitive bud. You let out a sharp gasp at the sensation, sparks of pleasure and need going straight to your core.

“George! Please…”

George pulls his hands from you entirely, leaving your nipple sore and aching.

“N-no…please, why?” You whine at the loss, trying to push yourself closer to him once again. 

George stops you effortlessly, pushing you back into the sofa with two hands this time, one against each of your shoulders.

“Don’t move, be good.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he presses a finger against your lips, effectively quieting you.

“Don’t wanna hear anything out of that pretty mouth of yours until you address me properly. None of that “George” shit. Do you understand me, sweet girl?”

You nod, body shivering at his reprimanding. 

“I understand…”

“You understand, what?”

“I understand, Daddy.”

“Oh, good girl,” his hands find your nipples again, this time alternating between rubbing and pinching, sending waves of pleasure-pain through your body. “Knew you could be good for me.”

“Daddy…need more, please,” your voice is hushed and airy, but your tone is clear: desperate.

George flashes a smile before letting one hand drop lower, down to right below your navel.

“Want Daddy to fill you up? Is that it?”

You nod quickly, lashes fluttering.

“Words, sweet girl.”

“Y-yes…please Daddy.”

George nods, pressing down on the sensitive skin.

“Gonna fill you up so good, you’ll feel Daddy right here,” he presses hard on your stomach, making sure that you feel it. “You’re gonna feel my cum for days, baby. ‘Wanna make sure it sticks, yeah?”

You close your eyes at the idea, imagining his cum dripping out of your used cunt– imagining him re-arranging your guts, leaving you marked with something only he could give you.

“Yes Daddy, yes, please– want you so bad.”

“Okay sweet girl, I hear you. Begging so good for Daddy.”

George makes quick work of unbuttoning his trousers, freeing himself in one, swift motion. His cock is red and angry, practically throbbing with need. You try to hide the lick you do to your lips at the sight, but you’re sure you saw George smirk.

George leans down, spreading your soaked folds between two thick fingers.

“Holy shit, love– you’re dripping…”

You squirm under his hot breath, the contrast with the cold air delicious.

“All for you, Daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know…” George coos as he begins to line himself up with you, tapping the head of his cock once, twice before pushing inside in one, fluid motion.

“F-fuck!!” You practically scream at the feeling. Full was an understatement. He had taken you, body and soul; penetrated every inch of your being. “Daddy!”

“Language, sweet girl,” George punctuates his sentence with a deep thrust, his tip kissing your cervix perfectly. “Be” thrust “my” thrust “good” thrust “girl” thrust, thrust, thrust.

Your body had turned to jello under him, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he railed into you over, and over, and over again. Your gelatin muscles contrasted the ever-tightening rubber band buried in your stomach, getting stretched tighter with each tap to that godly spot inside of you.

George releases your hip from the clutch of his right hand, reaching to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“I can feel you clenching me so tight, baby. Y’close?”

Words form in your head, but don’t seem to meet your lips, getting caught somewhere between the loud sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelch of your drenched cunt.

“I know,” he babies you, “I know, sweet girl. I can feel it, don’t even need to say anything at all.”

You nod, or at least try your best to, before your face is distorted in pleasure once more as George lifts your leg above his shoulder, ramming into that spot that makes you see stars.

“I need you to come for me, alright? C’mon, give me all that you’ve got. I know you can, baby.”

His words are all the permission you need before your used cunt is spasming around him, milking his cock as you cum around it. You let out a near pornographic moan as you cum, letting your body melt as pleasure consumes you.

You have been thoroughly changed.

George isn’t far behind, and god, you can feel it. His dick twitches inside of you as your spasms subside, his pace increasing as he chases that desperate edge.

“Fuck– gonna, shit, gonna make you a mum, yeah?” His hand finds your hip again, stabilising you as he uses your body, “gonna fuck this cum into you and give you a baby in your stomach, alright sweet girl? Just say the word, just tell me, love.”

“Y-yes–” you croak, voice spent from moaning, and body limp from your mind-shattering orgasm.

In a moment's time, George is cumming deep inside of you, his milky sperm latching on to every last curve of your cunt.

“God, thank you baby, thank you.”

George collapses against you, his head resting on your shoulder, your hair sticking to his forehead.

“You were so perfect for Daddy.”

Matty could not keep his hands still.

The entire evening, he had been fidgeting in some manner: picking at his nails, ruffling his hair, biting at his lips. But, nothing seemed to catch his attention like the dark tie around his neck. 

His suit was fitted and crisp, the type of getup a proper celebrity would be in. 

You had teased him before you had left for the award show, smoothing out the dents on his jacket.

‘Looking like a regular Mick Jagger, aren’t you, Healy.’

It was funny then.

You couldn’t think of anything less funny now.

The night was seemingly endless. Meaningless speech after speech, awards being passed around, and you and your boyfriend tucked away in a corner with him pulling at his tie and an ache between your legs.

It had started when he had pulled the knot a bit too tight, choking him ever so slightly. You had to take a sip of your drink and fake a cough to stifle the gasp that had been dragged to your lips.

Things only got worse when he started loosening the tie, flipping the thin fabric around his fingers and twirling the ends up and down.

You wanted to pull him in right there and then and have your way with him.

Matty, ever the observer, was all but oblivious to how he was affecting you. It certainly didn’t help that all night, he had been dropping not-so-casual innuendos, surely to try and knock you off your game.

Your dress was tight and slightly sheer. Short, and hugging your curves perfectly. Unbeknownst to you, the second Matty saw it, he had decided his own fate for the evening: driving you crazy so that you would put him in his place. Minx. 

“Y/N?”

Your attention is drawn from the incredibly boring ceiling and the droning voices to that of Matty beside you, your gaze narrowing instantly as you watch him fiddle with his tie.

“What, darling?”

Matty smirks.

“‘M bored.”

You smirk right back.

“I can tell.”

Matty raises an eyebrow, pulling down on his tie slightly.

“You’re fidgeting,” you add.

“‘M not,” he counters with a frown.

God, he was asking for it.

You look down, your eyes finding his fingers at the fabric, effectively stopping his movements with your gaze.

“Oh.”

You smile at his small, barely verbal admission.

“How can I help you, baby?” You ask, leaning in closer to his neck, voice low and sultry as to not be heard by the irrelevant guests at your table. “I want to make this evening fun for you, Mr. Rockstar.”

Matty swallows. Hard.

“Poor boy,” you whisper, “you’re so easy.”

Matty pouts, “‘M not.”

You bite your lip, “sure, baby.”

Your gaze leaves him momentarily as you scan the room, eyes landing on the dimly lit ‘WC’ sign. 

“Darling,” you motion gently with your head towards the sign, “c’mon.”

Matty, still pouting from your previous comments, drops his tie from his fingers and crosses his arms across his chest in protests. “No. I’m busy.”

You grin, leaning in closer. “Don’t be a brat. I said, let’s go.”

The word brat lingers with him. It tastes salty on your tongue, and you watch as he mirrors it right back. Somehow, you’re sure it’s sickly sweet on him.

“‘M not a brat.”

“Oh yeah?” Your hand finds his wrist, gripping firmly. “Then show me. Let’s go, Healy.”

That’s all it takes to get Matty on his feet, his wrist still trapped between your fingers. 

He’s so in for it.

The door to the restroom slams shut behind you, and in an instant your hands are on Matty. You free him from the confines of his suit jacket, leaving only his fitted button down shirt and that damn tie behind.

“You’ve been so fucking distracting all night,” you growl into his ear, pressing him back against the wall and slotting him between your thighs, “what did you think you were doing back there?”

“I wasn’t–”

“Don’t. Don’t be dumb, Healy.”

Matty’s sly smirk is entirely gone at the tone of your voice. You’re not messing around, and he knows it. 

His plan had worked perfectly.

You lean in close, your lips ghosting over his. He tries to meet you half way, but you shove him back harshly against the wall.

“Stay put,” you murmur against him.

And then, you kiss him.

Perhaps kiss is the wrong word. You lick into Matty’s mouth with aggression and passion, biting down hard on his lip.

Matty whines at the feeling, and you suck the noise right into your mouth. Matty’s at a loss for words, his breath coming is spurts. You pant into his open mouth, breathing for the both of you.

“Are you gonna be my good boy tonight?”

Matty grinds against your thigh at your words, desperately seeking friction. 

You smirk, “fuckin’ desperate, aren’t you? C’mon, answer me. What are you, darling?”

Your hand finds his clothed bulge, and oh fuck, he’s hard hard.

“I’m…fuck, please…I’m desperate. And I–”

You squeeze his bulge tightly, adding even more pressure to his already tight trousers and he whimpers into your mouth.

“Keep going.”

“I…I’m gonna be your– fuck! I’m gonna be your good boy.”

You smile planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose as a reward, and as a distraction as you pull your hand away from him entirely.

“Good fuckin’ boy, baby. Good job using your words, just like we practiced, yeah?”

Images of nights spent with Matty tied up and begging flash across your mind, and you can’t help but smile at the thought. 

“Tell me what you want, baby. I wanna hear that pretty voice of yours beg.”

Matty’s head hits the wall once more as he grieves the loss of your hand, his body tensing as you slide your fingertips up his chest instead.

“I want…I want you to let me fuck you– please?”

You smile. It was cute to let him be vocal, as if he had any say in what would be going down this evening.

“Oh baby, that’s so sweet! You wanna make me feel good? You wanna make mommy feel good?”

Mommy.

It wasn’t the first time you two had used the word. Actually, far from it. Many nights had been spent with him choking around your fingers, begging for his mommy, and tonight would be no different. Well, maybe slightly different.

“Yes, yes– I wanna make mommy feel good, please.”

You rub a gentle finger over his cheek, your other hand stopping at the end of his tie, gripping it tightly in preparation.

“You wanna feel good too, darling?”

Matty’s eyes light up, desire and need flashing across his face.

“Yes– yes! I need it. ‘Wanna feel good so bad, please, Mommy.”

You smirk deliciously. No one ever said tonight would be easy fun.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad, baby,” you watch as Matty’s expression falls, “maybe you should have thought of that before you were a fucking brat at the table, yeah?”

You watch the wheels turning in Matty’s brain as he realises what is about to happen; he was going to make you get off and be left with nothing.

“But–”

“Shhh,” you press a harsh finger to his lips, tugging on his tie as he stumbles forward slightly, your body now pressed flush against his. “Don’t mouth around. I don’t wanna hear anything except ‘yes mommy’, alright?”

Matty looks utterly destroyed, and hell, if you don’t love it. His lips are puffy from your biting, his tie tight against his neck as you pull on it again. A small sound escapes his throat, and you’re sure it's as much of a moan as it is a yelp.

“Y-yes mommy.”

“Good boy,” you praise, pulling tighter on his tie. You’re practically choking him now, the fabric so tight around his neck that his face is going a bit red. Out of fear for his wellbeing, you loosen your grip ever so slightly and watch as he gasps for air.

“You’re doing good Matty,” you praise, “taking it so well after being such a brat, yeah?”

Matty nods, brain practically melting out of his ears at the combination of praise and degradation. 

“How about this,” you pull on his tie again, jerking him forwards, “since you’ve been good, I’ll sit on your face. How does that sound?”

Matty nods frantically, desperate to be of service to you.

You grin madly at the sight of him, so fucked out already. “Fuck baby, you’re a fucking wet dream for me, you know that?”

“Yes mommy,” Matty gargles through choked breaths.

You smile, pulling him down by his tie. He gasps as his knees hit the tile, his neck red from being pulled around. And fuck, he loves it.

You hike up your dress above your hips, spreading your legs and settling over him. You watch as he begins to grind his hips into the floor, chasing and relief to his raging hard-on.

“Tell me what you’re going to do, darling,”

You pull sharply on his tie to signal him to speak. “I’m gonna– fuck, I’m gonna eat you out, mommy.”

You grin, patting the top of his curls twice, and allowing for a bit more slack around his neck.

“Good boy, baby. So smart for me.”

You pull his mouth towards you by his tie, and his hands find your thighs.

“Nuh-uh, nope,” you scold, wiping his hands away, “no touching, only your mouth, baby.”

Matty pouts, but does as he’s told, leaving his hands to fall behind his back, and his mouth resting against your clothed cunt.

His eyes are blown wide at the sight of your drenched underwear, and honestly, you’re a bit surprised too. You had been so focused on him, that you had forgotten just how affected you were getting. 

Matty’s breath fans over the sopping fabric in hot streams.

“Fuck, baby– Need you to be good and eat mommy’s cunt, just like you said, alright?”

“Mhm, okay, mommy.”

Matty looks up at you through hooded eyes, and you’re done for. You pull him in by his tie and his mouth goes straight to work. He licks and sucks over the lace, biting gently at your clothed clit as you let out a soft moan, stabilising yourself with a hand against the wall behind him. The other stays tightly wrapped by Matty’s tie, pulling him impossibly closer into you. 

He laps at the fabric, tongue swirling around your clit, and you feel yourself falling closer and closer to the edge. 

Before you can let go, you yank him back by his tie, allowing him gasps of breath as you pull down your panties. The fabric pools between your legs and you step out of it, leaning down to grab them and toss the lacy scrap aside atop of Matty’s discarded jacket. You’re sure he will find a way to sneak the pair into a coat pocket, and you’ll surely have to go without for the rest of the evening. But, you’re not complaining.

“You’re doing so well for me, darling. ‘Gonna finish the job? ‘Gonna make mommy cum on your face, baby?”

“Yes, yes– please, wanna taste you,” Matty begs frantically, trying to lean in to get a taste of your glistening core, but you hold him back by his tie.

“I want to hear you beg.”

“Mommy, please, please, please I wanna’ make you cum, please let me, please–”

Before he can finish, you’re yanking him in by his tie, his mouth colliding with your soaked core.

Matty laps at your entrance like a man starved, licking up every last taste of arousal and swallowing desperately.

“F-fuck, baby…so fucking good,” you moan your free hand falling from the wall and rooting in his mess of curls, “don’t stop–”

Matty hums around you, licking with a new found fervor at the praise. He directs his attention up to your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue rapidly.

You can feel yourself being dragged closer and closer to the edge with each lap at your cunt, Matty’s tongue now fucking into you speedily.

“I’m gonna cum, baby– fuck! I’m gonna–”

Without finishing your sentence, you’re falling apart on Matty’s tongue, body spasming as he licks you through it. The aftershocks hit you hard as he sucks a final time on your clit, just the way you had taught him.

“You did so well for me baby, you’re so fucking perfect. My good boy,” you ruffle Matty’s hair as you pull him away by the strip of fabric, eyes mapping over his face, sparkling with your arousal. “Open up, baby boy.”

Matty does as he’s told, sticking out his tongue, coated in your milky cum.

“Swallow.”

 The word is a command and Matty knows it. He quickly does as he’s told, making a show out of swallowing down your release.

“Oh, good boy. You’re perfect, baby. You did so perfectly,” you pull Matty up by his tie, his knees as wobbly as yours.

You raise an eyebrow, your eyes flashing down to a new, dark spot on his trousers.

“Did you…?”

Matty blushes, hiding his face away in his hands. 

You wipe his hands from his face, holding his chin with your own palms.

“It’s okay baby, you did what you were supposed to and made yourself feel good. That’s because my boy is so smart, he figured it out all on his own, all while making mommy feel so good.”

Matty preens at the praise, the flush in his cheeks turning a perfect, rosy pink.

“Thank you mommy.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The water of the creek was mirror-like under the stars. It was almost eerie, you thought. It stood still– too still. The liquid was dark. Innately, it was. Even if it hadn’t been hours past dark, and the two of you hadn’t turned off the headlights of Matty’s dad’s beat up beamer, and the shadows of the trees hadn’t warped themselves into the puddle-like body. 

The water was dark. 

It held secrets, you were sure of it. 

Maybe they were held in the blood that had been sucked from the limbs of innocent teens who had ventured to swim in it and ended up with leeches.

Maybe it was in the blue flag iris that had woven its way between the blades of grass. Maybe it whispered to the marsh marigold and they all laughed with the cardinal flowers.

Maybe, but probably not.

You were almost sure you knew where the secrets were; where they came from.

They were in the smoke that had been passed between your mouth and Matty’s.

They were in the messy kisses you had pressed into his unruly curls as you came down from your highs; basking in the bright afterglow that reflected off of the water just as easily as the stars above.

They were in the cum that you had washed away in the creek as you washed the sunrise.

They were spewed from the mouths of deer who had seen too much and come back to tell stories like war heroes who had just narrowly survived the hunters that had taken over their woods.

They were in the slow, methodical drip of crimson down Matty’s back.

It hadn’t hit the water. No, not yet. 

It hadn’t been returned back to the world yet.

That meant it was still yours.

That meant he was still yours.

“F-fuck…hurts…” Matty groans under your fingertips, facedown and utterly helpless against the grass, “hurts s-so good…”

You smirk, pressing your sharpened nails into the meat of his back once again.

You’re not entirely sure how the evening began.

Well, maybe that was a bit of a lie. 

It had begun just as most evenings with Matty did.

A call.

His tires in the gravel of your driveway.

Sparkly lip gloss against the pale skin of his neck.

Teasing whispers poured into his ears about the boner that he had developed far too soon considering the circumstances.

A drive down to the creek where you had grown up learning the route to.

A ruined orgasm and a needy whimper that escaped his mouth.

That’s when things changed.

Part of you thinks the creek willed it to be so– it must have.

Afterall, it held all of those damn secrets, all of those sacred stories and promises woven into the very fibers of your souls.

As he lays under you now, tears staining his face and the grass below, one singular stream of blood trickling down from the apex of his shoulders from where you had dug too deep, you remember what he said said to you.

Maybe you would have felt guilty if it wasn’t for the tone of his voice.

The sparkle in his eyes; it was shinier than any eyeshadow you had ever seen on the shelves of the stores you spent your paychecks at.

“‘Want you to make it hurt.” He had said, voice so quiet you could have easily mistaken it for the rustle of the wind, or the snap of a branch under a deer’s hoof. “‘Need you to make it hurt. P-please.”

“Okay baby,” you had cooed back to him, stroking his hair as you sat in his lap, stroking him slowly with one hand, the other running up and down his chest, tracing soothing circles into his skin, “just let me take care of you, yeah? I’ll give you what you need, I know what you need.”

That is exactly how he ended up here.

And, god, you’re certain he had never looked so beautiful. Stained and red; punctured and marked.

You dragged your nail up and down across the now-maroon flesh; two high peaks with low tails.

‘M’

One, straight line. You press deeper.

‘I’

One more peak and a long stripe downwards. Matty’s back arches, he whimpers in pain and grinds against the muddy ground, eliciting a muffled moan from his grass-kissed mouth.

‘N’

“One last one for me, yeah? ‘Know you can take a bit more,” you press an open mouth kiss into the back of his neck as his noises alternate from sobs to moans, mind writhing between pain and pleasure. “You look so pretty for me, doing so well.”

You drag your pointer finger across the make-shift canvas, into a long straight line with three tallies across.

‘E’

“Done,” you lean back, pressing a flat hand over the wounds. One begins to bleed a bit more and you begin to worry if you may have gone too far. You pull your hand back and Matty hisses at the lack of contact.

“Mmmhhh– ahh! Please…”

The moment that your eyes lock on the writing, all remnants of worry or disdain for your actions dissolve and melt right into the creek beside you.

‘MINE’

“Shhh, my pretty baby did so well, yeah?” You pull Matty back up, moving him to face you.

Your bodies press flush against each other as he sobs into your shoulder, his back crimson and flaming and dripping with love. 

Every last drop is love that will be returned to the creek. Love that you can’t get back.

The creek will feast on secrets tonight; you mouth a ‘you’re welcome’ to the midnight pool as Matty heaves in overstimulation.

You hadn’t even realised that he had finished all over himself in the process. The thought suddenly crosses your mind that he may fear that you’re upset that he didn’t ask. Worry washes over your face as you pull his head from the crook of your neck.

“Hey, hey– you did so well, my love. You’re so perfect, you know that?”

Matty lets out a noise that can only be described as a hiccup; his eyes still teary and his expression fucked out and hazy.

“I-i did good?” Matty looks at you like you were God– as if your fingers weren’t the smoking gun that had shot him with such perfect aim– given him the mercy of agony that he had begged so sweetly for.

“Of course, perfect boy.” You kiss his forehead, tasting the salt of his skin and the earth that lingered there from being pressed into the dirt.

“Absolutely perfect.”

You run your palms over his still-bare back as he melts further into you.

Your hand begins to feel wet– sticky, almost. You pull it back and are met with a thin sheen of red over your fingertips. You let out a small gasp.

1. Modelling Matty

2. Awkward on stage Matty

3. Greasy Polaroid Matty

4. Sonic Youth bowl cut Matty