#flatmate!matty

"Never have I ever...." Your friend trails off, swirling the contents of her wine glass absently in her hand. Her living room is packed but all the attention is on her as she speaks. A sudden blast of nostalgia from college collides into you: you sitting in your much smaller common room with her and your group of classmates, drunk off cheap beer as you swap horror stories about professors and dating. She had always been the most gripping and magnetic person you knew. Someone who could pull all of your darkest, deepest secrets out of the folds of your mind before you even realized.

Or maybe it was the expensive wine that she always had stocked now that you were adults.

"Oh! Never have I ever made someone choke me during sex." A few flickers of laughter go up around the room, and you watch as some couples proudly throw back gulps of their drinks. Your mind whirrs, suddenly self conscious at the idea of someone seeing you take a drink, but you do it anyway. There's so many people here, and so many of them are drunk that it's unlikely anyone would remember anyway. You take a hearty gulp and feel the pleasant buzz settle in your veins, whether from the alcohol or the quiet liberation of admitting one of your darkest desires like this.

Her question seems to have inspired a new theme of the game, as the next person in line slurs, "never have I ever been spit on and liked it." Less people offer up their admittance than on the last round, and your face flushes as you try to subtly bring your glass to your mouth. Your eyes dart around, drunkenness making you feel sleepy. The room was mostly occupied by your coworkers and friends of friends, all people that you could elect to never see again if you had to, and a wash of relief has you taking another sip of wine- this one just for enjoyment.

"Never have I ever let someone I'm hooking up with come inside me." Even you have to laugh at the absurdly sexual way the game began to go, but you jovially drain the last of your wine, throwing your head back lavishly as a round of jeers go up in the circle around the coffee table.

Your head is back upright, warm and swimming with intoxication as you giggle in spite of yourself. Remnants of wine stick on your lips and you lick them, trying to pry off the last of the sweet taste. Your body feels so heavy and so light at the same time: flying and sinking with intoxication and the inherent comfort that comes with it. Your eyes flutter open, mostly because you're afraid you really could fall asleep right on the couch if you keep them shut. As soon as the visual world comes back to you, you see him.

Matty, your generous flatmate who always accompanies you to these parties when he has the time, standing just behind the seated circle of people in the game who you now notice are beginning to disperse. The sight of him is sobering. How long had he been standing there? The rest of these people were inconsequential to the rest of your life, but Matty? You share a home with him, cook each other dinner, and swap each others' laundry, and pick up medicine when the other is sick.

Nerves curl in your stomach. If he had seen all of that, he definitely would think you're a freak, a sexual deviant. Maybe he would want to terminate his lease and you would be forced to find a new place. You suddenly feel dizzy as he approaches.

Handsome as ever, he pushes a hand through his already wild curls and plops onto the couch beside you. He hums thoughtfully, examining your face closely; the flush of your cheeks, the unhinged look you're sure is present in your eyes. As hard as you try, your intoxicated mind can't comprehend the emotions showing on his own face.

About all you can muster to think is "handsomehandsomehandsome" as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth before prying the empty wine glass from your hand.

"We've got to get going," he says to someone as you stand with him, slightly wobbly in your platformed sneakers. You wave at your friend and manage to support yourself long enough to make it out of her front door. The night air is thick and sticky with humidity but Matty keeps an arm around your shoulders as you go down the stairs, silently ensuring you don't wipe out and skin your knee again.

"Thanks," you finally speak once you're onto the familiar even sidewalk back to your flat. He just hums, dark eyes sparkling under the street lamps dotted along the path.

"You didn't drink?" You ask, suddenly realizing that he seemed remarkably steady tonight.

"'course I did," he wiggles his flask from his jean pocket and waves it in front of you, "I'm just not a lightweight." You sigh, throwing your arms up dramatically. He's already giggling before you even begin to defend yourself.

"I didn't get drunk off of the one glass, Matthew! I actually had three tonight. And I didn't even get sleepy till the last one."

"Sleepy? Is that the word for it?" His voice is clipped as you make the final turn to your street, the looming complex you call home only yards away. Your brow furrows at his tone.

"What are you implying?" You stop, arms crossed defensively over your chest. He deflates, visibly dropping at your change in demeanor as if it wasn't him who caused it.

"Seriously, Y/N? We're almost home." You don't budge and he relents. "Sorry, that was rude of me. I know you're sleepy, let's go. Please? Forget I said anything." You sigh, appreciating the candid look of relief on his face when you start to walk again, all the way until you're into the safety of your bed.

---

"Oh, fuck," you grimace upon waking up. You have no idea what time it is, but sunlight is streaming in through the crack in your curtains, and you can faintly hear the sounds of the tv down the hallway. You know that your hair is tangled, and it's a miracle that you even bothered to change out of your clothes before bed.

You grasp for your phone and sit up, cursing the throbbing headache that always comes with getting wine drunk. You start picking up pieces of the night in your memory like loose change: a selfie here, a bump into a guy from accounting there, a handful of pretzels tossed into your mouth by your friend, the game of never have I ever-oh.

Shit. You swallow hard, listening for the noises downstairs, and the confirming shuffle of Matty's footsteps makes you freeze. Shit, how much had he heard? You meant to ask about it last night but lacked the cognitive ability for such a thing.

Your stomach bottoms out as you think, practicing different ways to approach it in your head.

Hey, did you hear about all of my weird sex stuff last night?

Hey buddy, learned anything about me recently that changed your view of me as a person and now you want to move out?

Hi Matty, thanks for coming with me to the party and getting us home, did you see me admit to liking being spit on?

Each idea was worse than the last, and a shiver of fear runs up your neck. You had always expected to have to deal with some differences in this living agreement, and had before, but never about something like this. Okay, maybe you could just avoid him until you came up with a good way to ask? Or maybe it would never come up at all? Perhaps he really hadn't been in the room the whole time. And worse case scenario, you have time to think about it. You could crawl right back into bed and pretend to sleep all day and-

"Y/N? You're up, right?" Matty's voice sounds from right outside the door, strong and clear. You consider ignoring him but he nudges on the door and it swings open just a bit, revealing him clutching onto a bakery to go box. He smiles bright when he sees you upright and takes a step into your room.

"Brought you a cinnamon roll,” he smiles the small, earnest smile that you don’t even think he realizes he does, and your heart melts. Surely this is a sign off goodwill.

You thank him and take the box, immediately flipping the lip open and staring down at the pastry. Your stomach rumbles at the scent so you dig in, flakes of dough falling off and back into the box as you eat. Matty stays silently in your doorway until you vaguely gesture at your bed, inviting him to sit as you chew.

He perched himself at the foot of your bed: hair messy under the hood of his favorite old sweatshirt and his hands tucked endearingly under his thighs, as if he’s waiting for something.

You finish your bite and raise an eyebrow at him, hoping that he voices whatever he wants or needs from you. Not that you didn’t love just spending time together or the random act of kindness, but faint alarm bells were still ringing at the possibility of what he learned last night. Neither of you were prudes: you’d had your fair amount of conversations about hook ups throughout your years as friends, but it still felt like a delicate line to cross.

“‘S good?” He asks, voice stunted as if he had to swallow down his nerves before he spoke. “Are you feeling okay? Not too hungover?” His eyebrows crinkle cutely as he asks, eyes roaming your face as if to make sure you’re telling the truth.

You nod your assurance. “Fine, I was mostly just hungry but you fixed that.” He echoes the grin you produce and your heart flutters. He looks so painfully domestic like this, in his comfy clothes and making sure you feel okay. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as you recall the care he took -always takes- to get you home safely.

“Good. You were...pretty blasted." You cringe, placing your head in your hands. The heat of your cheeks is strong and burning into the palms of your hands. Fear strikes down your spine, a fuzzy feeling of panic filling your mind. The question dances on the tip of your tongue.

"Hey." His fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging gently at it until you relent. The warmth of his touch lulls you a bit, but you can still feel the tears rimming your eyes. He coos, the sound a soothing balm on your heart.

"What's got you so upset? You're more than allowed to get drunk from time to time, love. I'm no saint myself." The pad of his thumb swipes gently over the vein in your arm.

"I-" one hot tear escapes you, rolling down the side of your nose. "How much did you see?" Your voice barely holds: wobbly and unsure yet you somehow find the courage to look at him: staring deep into his eyes. He looks back just as unflinchingly, studying your eyes as if he was trying to memorize their exact curvature.

His mouth opens, then closes into a frown, and a dark wave of anxiety creeps through your chest. He knows. He saw it all, and you know Matty well enough to know that he only hesitates with you when he's trying to find the right words to soften the blow. Like the time you had made horrendous tasting pasta and he pushed it around the plate until you finally asked for his honesty. He releases his hold on your wrist as you tug it away harshly, scooting further up your bed until you hit the headboard with your back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry about- if you think I'm weird and you want to leave or not live here anymore, or you don't want me to ever talk to you again-" your voice wavers and a rush of tears spill forth despite how hard you will them to stop. The idea of him never speaking to you again you makes you choke on a sob, but you can't dull the voices in your mind.

"Now why the fuck would you think that?" His voice snaps you out of your blubbering. His pretty features are marred into a scowl so deep that you gasp.

"Tell me, Y/N, why would you think that? I would never, ever-" his features shift, eyes softening. "Who made you think that way about yourself?" You try to ignore the undercurrent of anger in the question but it oddly sets you alight to hear how much he cares about this. That maybe even if he doesn't agree with your desires, he's not going to alienate you because of them.

Your tears have dried onto your cheeks, and you can feel the uneven breaths of anxiety begin to wash away as he shuffles closer until your knees touch. It still feels as if your brain is full of cotton, unable to process or produce anything meaningful to the conversation.

"I don't mind if you don't tell me who made you feel that way, but I'll be damned if I let you go on feeling' weird about it. Or alone about it. Cause you're not." You nod along listlessly as you often do when he rambles on, and with the mix of emotions rushing through you it takes you a moment to understand him. Matty traces a lazy pattern over your knee cap, eyes glued to your face as you catch up.

"Oh," it stumbles out of you before you can check yourself. "So you, like," your brain short circuits as he flashes you a dazzling smile.

"I do."

"You don't think I'm gross?" A spark of hope settles in your stomach, whether from the knowledge, or Matty's proximity, or both you aren't sure.

He licks his lips, runs his tongue over his teeth in a way that makes your heart lurch. His curls shimmy around his face as he shakes his head no, hand stilling on your knee.

"Actually quite the opposite." His lopsided grin makes you gasp, and his hand slides up the length of your leg until it's resting on the top of your thigh. He sits up onto his knees, imposing over you even on with his pajamas still on. "More surprised..." his eyes search your face, finding only awe, "happy, thrilled, elated...who would have thought my sweet little angel would be so..." he clicks his tongue, mocking as he pretends to think. Your heart rate quickens as arousal shoots through you. "Fucking dirty." He tilts his head as if speaking to a child, eyes sparkling with what you can only assume is lust.

Your mouth feels dry as your entire face and neck flush red.

"I-I, well, uhm." You gulp and he places a hand delicately on your face. You lean into the touch, no longer finding it in you to be ashamed in front of him.

"You what? Are a dirty little thing who gets off on being choked and spit on?" You nod fervently and he chuckles, winding his fingers into the hair at the base of your neck. "Gonna need some words from this pretty mouth or we aren't doing anything."

"Yes, yes! I am, Matty. C-can you please?" He tugs at your hair, sending your line of sight upwards until all you can see are his eyes and mop of curls.

"Please ruin you? Make you forget about whatever fucker shamed you for what gets you off?" All thoughts outside of Matty leave you as you whine your affirmation. The anticipation is enough to make you squirm against his hold, hot pin pricks of pleasure sparking as he pulls against your hair.

"No running now that I've got you." He smiles sinfully before pushing forward for a kiss, molding his lips against your own with ferocity that you had only imagined he would use. No matter how many times you had fantasized about kissing him you never would have expected it to feel this perfect.

He tastes like coffee and the faint staleness of his last cigarette; something so iconically Matty that it makes you want to cry. He devours you, thrusting his tongue into your mouth and holding steady on your hair to keep you exactly in place for him. Arousal roars inside of you, underwear already slicking at the show of dominance just the kiss has given you.

"Need you." You mumble it into the kiss, unable to push down your thoughts any longer. Matty relents, chest heaving just as much as your own.

"Need you," you try again, clearer this time, tugging at the strings of his hoodie. It's gone in an instant, his lean tattooed torso exposed for your viewing pleasure. Matty's hands are instantly fisting into the fabric of your old sleep shirt, stripping it as soon as you gasp out a yes. He eyeballs your tits and immediately groans, deep and guttural in a way you've never heard before. "Prettiest fuckin' girl. Look at you." The tenderness makes your heart swell as he tenderly cups your breasts in both hands, pinching at your nipples just enough to make you breathless. He places a line of kisses down your sternum and then follows the same path with a swipe of his tongue.

Shuddering, you latch onto his back and dig in with your nails, hoping to leave him with a little gift of his own. The movement presses him against you, his face buried in your stomach as he continues the sinful path of his tongue down to the elastic band of your shorts. He licks under it, being careful not to actually touch you anywhere you truly wanted him.

"Mmph, Matty, please-please please!" You moan and shiver, wriggling under his weight as he keeps you pinned down with one arm over your mid section.

He nips playfully at the skin of your stomach, "Impatient little slut, huh? Just got started on you and you're already lookin' for more." He abandons your skin completely, taking his warmth with you. A whine grumbles in your chest at the loss, but it dies in the air as you watch him shuck off his sweatpants and underwear in one go.

You can't tear your eyes away from the sight of his cock: something you'd imagined but never figured you would be lucky enough to see in person. Desire strikes through you as he settles against the bed, his lean thighs on display as he kneels on the bed.

"Can I suck your cock?" The question jumps out of you and Matty stills, seemingly shocked at your boldness. He cocks his head, biceps flexing when he wraps a hand around himself. Your mouth practically waters as he pumps himself slowly.

"Of course you can," he licks his lips as he settles into your crumpled bedsheets, spreading his legs to give you ample room to work. You spring into action, eager to repay all of the attention he's given you.

There's no time to waste once his cock is in your mouth. Your eyes water at the intrusion but you can't deny the way it makes your pussy flutter to feel so full of him. Matty gasps, lacing his fingers back through your sweaty hair and leading you further down, pressing your face into the skin of his pelvis.

A gag ripples through you and Matty groans, loosening his grip just enough that it's clear you could escape if you wished. But you don't, and you won't, as you work through the reflex with hot tears streaking down your face. Matty's breathy gasps only encourage you as you wiggle your tongue along the bottom of his cock as you suck: saliva gathering at the corners of your mouth and dripping into a sticky mess at the base of him.

"So fuckin' messy and hot, spitting all over me cause you're so desperate, is that it? Can't do anything but be stupid and drool all over my cock?" You moan at his words, bobbing your head vigorously both to show you agree with him and encourage him to say more, the nasty words flipping all the right switches in your brain.

His hips stutter up into your mouth and he huffs, pulling you off of him in painfully slow increments. You whine at the loss: throat raw and scratchy as you watch his cock shine under the light.

"Lay down," his voice is clipped and you're silently thrilled to note the shake as evidence that he was feeling just as fucked out as you.

You follow his instruction, flipping easily onto your back. He stills at the foot of your bed as you sprawl in front of him, legs parted in invitation. His chest heaves as he crowds overtop of you, heated skin against skin as he presses the length of his body onto your own. The fullness of his weight against you makes you feel fuzzy and you go lax under him, bucking your hips upwards in seek of friction over your clit.

Matty hums, his reddened lips forming into a mocking pout. "Prettiest baby ever but just so desperate," he places a kiss on your forehead and your heart flutters: eyes watering at the sweet gesture.

He catches your gaze, carefully inspecting the shine in your eyes.

"I'm okay," you voice before he can even ask, running your fingers over his jaw as you grin up at him. "Just happy." A little sly grin spreads on his lips and you can't help but return one, a giddy feeling of happiness spreading through your bones. It only makes you more ravenous for him and you whine, pushing your hips up against his own again as you attach yourself to his neck, biting a hickey into the skin just under his ear. A long moan falls from him as you work your mouth against him and your mind short circuits, in disbelief that you finally had him like this.

"Fucking quit with the hips before I explode," Matty growls, pulling away from the stimulation of your movement. You still immediately, the steel in his voice making you pliant. Apparently pleased with your behavior, Matty simply sits back, trailing his sinfully long fingers between your legs. You gasp at finally being touched, head pushing back into your pillows as Matty circles a finger around your hole, pushing in slowly as you widen your legs to allow him more access.

"Pretty little pussy, think you can handle another one?" You know he's teasing you, as he was already working another finger in alongside the first, stretching you open. The burn is deeply satisfying, liquid pleasure seeping through you as he works you open, thrumming his thumb against your clit.

"Matty, please?" You tug at the hand unoccupied with fingering you. His eyes squint in confusion at your request and you sigh, pulling his hand toward the base of your neck. His hand on your pussy stills as his mind finally catches up.

"Fuck, Y/N. You're fuckin' perfect, want me to choke you? Wanna have my hand around your neck while I fuck you stupid?." You nod dumbly, already feeling like you're on cloud nine. He moves the fastest you'd ever seen him, abandoning his work on your pussy for a threatening grip on one hip. You watch hungrily as he lines himself up with your pussy, eyes locked onto the image of his intrusion. The fullness of his cock inside of you made you keen, chest heaving as he pushes fully inside of you.

It had been a very long time since you'd been this full, and the fact that Matty was the one filling you made it even more addicting. The sheer size of his cock was enough to make you dizzy, and even more so once he finally began to move. A stream of obscenities spill out of you and Matty tsks, falling back into this dominant persona as he narrows his eyes at you, fingers dancing at the base of your neck. You swallow with harsh anticipation.

"Do I need to shut you up?" You nod eagerly, desperate to feel the strength of his hand closing around your neck. "What a dirty little girl, wantin' me to choke you when I'm already buried inside of you." His voice deepens with a groan while you plead him with your eyes, pussy throbbing around his cock at his words. His thrusts falter for just a moment as he finally relents, tightening his hold on your neck until you feel the perfect level of pressure that makes you feel perfectly floaty, nodding at him to continue his thrusts against you.

Emblazoned by the sight of his hand around your neck, Matty's hips snap into you with renewed vigor that has you rocking against the pillow, legs locked around his back. The slick sound of your pussy around him fills the room, mingling with the strangled moans that slip from both of you.

Matty pants above you, the punishing pace making your eyes roll to the back of your head. It's almost embarrassing how easily he works you up, and almost even more embarrassing how quick you are to hang your mouth open, mind blanked by the pleasure as you take everything he has to give you. He loosens his grip on your neck slightly and you whine petulantly.

"Relax, pretty. Not done with ya, hold on." Thankfully the movement of his hips doesn't even stutter as he moves his hand upwards, over the cleft of your chin before tracing the pads of his first two fingers over your bottom lip, pulling on the flesh until you open your mouth again. He smiles and lust clouds your senses as you watch his eyes crinkle.

"There's something else you want, isn't there? Something else that makes this pretty pussy all wet?" Your eyes widen, heart jumping into your throat as one of your most common wet dreams comes to life right in front of you. You try to swallow but his fingers in your mouth impede you, the tip of your tongue running over the digits.

"Wan' you to spit in my mouth," you make the sentence out with impressive clarity, especially as Matty's thrusts speed up at the confession, a deep, sustained moan rumbling out of his chest.

He slips his fingers from your mouth and immediately puts them between your bodies to thrum over your clit, slick with your own spit as they make contact. A shock runs through you, exciting every vein in your body with the whisper of your oncoming release. Despite his renewed vigor, Matty's eyes remain glued to your own as you hang your mouth open. From this angle you can see all of his pretty curls framing his face and every eyelash around his deep brown eyes. Before you even have a moment to anticipate it, a thick translucent glob of spit descends from his perfect lips and onto your waiting tongue. You swallow it eagerly as his cock twitches inside of your walls, and before you can even thank him, his hand unoccupied hand latches back onto your neck.

"I'm going to fuckin' come, shit. You're so hot." Matty's praises send you to another plane of existence as he holds you by the neck, deft fingers curling around your clit in time with his thrusts. You're sure that the sounds you're making are pathetic and embarrassing but pleasure courses through you so quickly that you can barely make out your warning that you were going to come.

Matty growls as you finally let yourself go, giving up to the monsoon of pleasure that wipes through your entire body. Your toes curl, muscles strained with the force of your orgasm as you hold him as close as possible with your legs. Matty curses, plowing into as he nears his own end. Even though you feel out of this world, you are acutely aware of everything about him; the way he pants and the rivulets of sweat that are beading down his chest, the beautiful moans that come from his bitten-red lips.

"Gonna come, can I come inside?" His desperation is making him whiny, and if you were less fucked out you would poke fun at the tone you know he would hate, but all you can think about is having his hot come fill you up.

"Yes, please! Need it Matty." A sliver of overstimulation starts to overwhelm your easy pleasure but you endure through it as you feel his cock twitch heavily inside of you before he leans into you, face buried into your shoulder as he comes. Although you mourn the loss of the face he makes, you get a beautiful sample of the moans that overtake him when he comes. The sound takes your breath away alongside the feeling of him filling you to the brim, so forcefully that you feel yourself shudder with another small orgasm as he finishes with a few more tiny thrusts of his hips. You gasp for air, immediately grappling for him to wrap your arms fully around his back.

He falls into you easily, his own chest heaving as his cock softens inside of you. You hear rather than feel him kissing over the plane of your shoulder as you float in and out of focus, exhausted and most likely dehydrated from this and the night before. Unintelligible speech rumbles against your skin, and Matty must realize that your lack of response means you aren't quite there, as he leans up onto his elbows.

You smile when you see him, face flushed and eyes heavy with fatigue.

"Handsome," you finally speak the word you held back last night and he laughs heartily as he cups your jaw as if examining you to look for damages before placing a kiss onto your lips; short and sweet and grounding.

"Glad you finally caught up, love. It was getting exhausting being the only one in the house who thought so."

You roll your eyes, finally coming back to yourself and reality.

"Last time I'll ever compliment you." Giggles continue to wrack his body as he slowly pulls out of you. The gush of your mixed arousal coming out of you makes you whine, sure that you had just ruined your sheets.

Matty looks guilty as you finally make eye contact again and you just wave him off, sitting up slowly as he flops onto the bed beside you. He looks up at you, reverently, and you blush.

"Stop that, please. Stop." Your voice is still scratchy but you can't fight the smile on your face, the undeniable hope that this wasn't just a one time freak accident.

"Stop looking at how pretty you are? Especially with that just got choked and fucked within an inch of my life glow? Nah." He casually pushes his hair off of his forehead and your body betrays your rolling eyes with a new stir of arousal.

"Seriously, though. You're hot. And pretty, and gorgeous and so fucking dirty in all the best ways."

"Stop before I barf, Matthew." You try to be petulant but can't resist his cute grabby hands as he settles you down next to him, petting gently at your temple.

"But thanks," you finally squeak out, feeling tremendously tired and satisfied as you yawn. "For being cool and doing all that and, like, not running away from me after." You feel him stiffen slightly before he goes lax again.

your boyfriend sighs, hugging you tighter. “thirty seconds,” he murmurs into your hair. “less than a minute in the rain, and then we come back inside, and i'll warm you up and make you the best cup of tea you've ever had in your life. promise.”

“but it's so cold out there.”

“babe,” matty rests his forehead on your shoulder. “come on. i fulfilled your romcom cliché dream.”

“technically, i didn't ask for that-”

“yes you did, darling, you just don't remember because you were half-asleep,” he kisses your cheek, pouting into your skin. “are you saying you don't wanna kiss me? is that it?”

“oh, you're so bloody sneaky,” you spin in his grasp, clasping your hands behind his neck and playfully pulling at his hair. “what are the chances of you shutting up unless you get your way?”

“hmmm, slim to none.”

you exhale slowly. “you promise it'll only be thirty seconds?”

“yeah, thirty… ish.”

“matthew!”

“not my fault your kisses are so addictive, is it?” matty giggles; his face softens, and he tenderly rests his forehead on yours. “it'll be as quick as i can make it, darling. you won't get a cold, though, i guarantee that.”

“good. you're looking after me if i do, though,” you kiss his nose, smirking as you pull back. “and i'm gonna be so annoying if i get ill.”

“is this an agreement, then? you'll come out and kiss me in the rain?”

fuck it. you might as well. “i mean, you're kissing me. but yeah.”

matty cheers, pressing little kisses over your face; your smile widens with each one. “thank you, my darling,” his hands trail down your arms to grab your own, before tugging you into the hallway. “come on, get your shoes on.”

“i can't get changed?”

“the sooner we go, the sooner we're back in the warmth.”

“but i'm wearing shorts!”

“trust me, i've noticed,” matty kneels, tying his own shoelaces before holding one of your trainers out. “come on, cinderella.”

you smile as he helps you into your shoes, tying the laces into bows and pressing kisses to your thighs before he stands and kisses your head. “you're very cute, healy.”

“i try. you ready?”

“yeah.”

your boyfriend presses a final kiss to your head, grabbing a set of house keys from the guitar-head hook and gently tugging you out the front door of the flat. the cold from outside is apparent even in the stairwell, growing stronger and rain growing louder as you get closer to the external door, and if not for matty's warm hand fully clutching your own you'd definitely be running back up to the warmth of the flat and the blankets on the sofa.

you almost do, actually, when matty opens the door and you're properly face to face with the downpour; the rain hits the pavement at a diagonal, and the cold hits you so strongly you genuinely feel nauseous for a moment. matty seemingly has no such qualms, dropping your hand and stepping onto the (deserted, because everyone else is sane and indoors) road; he turns to you, arms open and face gleeful. “come on, sweetheart,” he shouts, baggy t-shirt beginning to stick to his lean body. “it's lovely out here!”

sucking air in through your teeth, you dart out onto the road after him, shrieking as the icy water hits you. “jesus christ!”

matty only laughs, pulling you into his arms for a hug. any and all body heat he had seems to have evaporated in the autumn air, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless. “hey,” he tilts your chin up so he can look at you, and your heart skips several beats at just how beautiful he is right now, droplets of water on his eyelashes and hair practically plastered to his head and eyes shining with total adoration as they look into your own. “i love you.”

“i love you,” you tenderly brush a raindrop from his cheekbone with your thumb; it's immediately replaced by another, but you don't care. you don't care about anything right now, actually, except the beautiful boy holding you in his arms and looking at you like you're the most beautiful thing in the world. logically, you mustn't be, soaked to the bone and shaking and probably lacking in pallor, but it's impossible not to feel like you are around matty. “kiss me?”

your boyfriend leans in, smiling the exact same smile that got you into this state in the first place. “magic word?”

his lips are mere millimetres - actually, more like nanometres - from your own; when you reply, he practically swallows the word. “please.”

“sweet girl.”

your boyfriend's lips meet yours, and you question why you haven't kissed him in the rain like this before now - matty's kisses are always head-spinning, sending a flush of heat through your body that culminates in both your heart and your underwear, and the cold water running down and between both of you only sharpens the sensations, has you melting into him and wishing you could stay like this forever. but your matthew is a man of his word, and retracts his tongue from your throat with disappointing urgency; he holds your face a millisecond longer, though, murmuring “my dream girl. thank you” before leading you back inside.

ironically, like earlier, it's only in the stairwell that you properly comprehend the cold of the afternoon - your teeth begin to chatter as the door closes behind you and the draught follows, and matty’s sweet enough to speed up his leading you back into the flat in response. it's mercifully toasty in there, heating on full blast, and the rain doesn't seem half as bad when it's only hitting off the windowsills and not you. still, the way it lingers in your clothes and weighs them down is not a nice feeling at all; you're unaware that you've automatically started to take them off until you hear a choked gasp from your boyfriend's lips. you turn to him, smirking as you pull your sodden t-shirt over your head and dropping it on the hardwood floors. “what?”

“you…” matty's eyes are glued to your bare chest. “aren't you cold?”

“not after getting out of these wet clothes, no,” you hook your thumbs in the waistband of your underwear, still looking at your boyfriend. “wanna come and feel how warm i am?”

he blinks, huffing out a laugh and wandering slowly over to you. “still need me to warm you up?”

“always,” your fingers tease the hem of matty's t-shirt. “can we do it in the shower?”

“fuck,” matty nods, pulling the t-shirt over his head before pulling you into a bruising kiss. “if i ever refuse a shower with you, darling, get me to the gp, yeah? obviously it means i've gone insane.”

“you're so weird,” you giggle, trailing your lips down his neck; you pause to whisper in his ear. “but i still want your fingers inside me.”

he doesn't reply. instead, he scoops you up and carries you into the bathroom, sitting you on the counter before reaching in to turn the shower on; his lips find yours while he scrambles to undress, and you can't help but smile against him as he almost trips over himself in haste to get ready for you. presumably, he reaches back to test the water at some point, because you soon find yourself under the warm stream, your back pressed against matty's front. it's a perfect scenario - well, almost. “could do with the water being a bit hotter, baby.”

“absolutely not, you lunatic. it's fucking scalding!” matty sighs into your neck. his right hand creeps across your thigh to the honey between them, calloused fingertips brushing almost non-existently light across your clit and making your breath hitch. “besides, you'll be feeling the heat soon enough.”

“that's maybe the worst thing you've ever sai- oh,” you moan softly as matty's fingers brush through your slit, catching the wetness pooling there and teasing your hole. “inside me, baby,” your voice cracks. “please.”

he smiles against you. “whatever my sweet girl wants.”

angel boy that he is, matty obliges, slowly sliding two fingers into you while he coos soft praises into your ear; almost instinctively, they hook upwards to meet your g-spot, and the combo of that with the heel of his hand against your clit has you whining into thin air. he repeats the motion, over and over and over, and with every movement of his hand you fall deeper and deeper into bliss. your brain is turning more to mush with every passing second, but somewhere in its recesses you think about how you used to touch yourself the way matty's touching you now, imagining the way those fingers of his would feel inside you - both of those things pale in comparison to the real thing, without a doubt. after all, there's no way you could get yourself to that peak of pleasure as quickly as he has, vision blurring and legs shaking and moans falling from your lips just as the warm water falls from the showerhead onto you and the love of your life. 

who, coincidentally, you don't even need to tell that you're about to cum. his free arm tightens around your waist, teeth grazing a hickey into the back of your shoulder. “that's it, sweetheart,” matty whispers, voice barely audible over the shower and you (moans and wetness alike). “cum for me, my girl. give in.”

your mind is too hazy to think straight, but your body obeys him - something inside your stomach tenses, then just shatters, sending pleasure rocketing through your vascular and nervous and whatever other systems control the various functions of your body. crying matty's name in broken sobs, you sink back into him as he holds you through your orgasm, groaning “oh, baby, my perfect girl, i love you so much" into you. when the aftershocks subside and your legs aren't quite so shaky, he turns you around, coaxes you into a hug far more tender than one might expect from the guy who's just finger-fucked them, and speaks into your hair. “you feeling a bit warmer now?”

“yeah. thanks,” you smile into his chest. “i love you, matty.”

“i love you, gorgeous.”

you hum happily. “can i return the favour?”

“can do anything you want to me, to be honest.”

“oh, i intend to,” your face is smug. “but first… i think someone mentioned something earlier about making the other the best cup of tea they've ever had in their life?”

he doesn't give a shit about description right now, though. or responsibility, or even time itself. all matty cares about is kissing you, softly moving his hands to rest in previously uncharted places on your body, and getting you to make those little whimpers that draw all the blood from his brain and redirect it to his dick. your hands weave into each other's hair, and an instinctive tug from matty has you pulling back and whining his name. he goes to pout at the removal of your lips from his own, but then you grind down harder onto him and drop your head into the crook of his neck; your lips meet the soft skin of matty's neck, and he can't stop the gasp that rips from his throat (or the hardening in his sweatpants).

holy fuck. in the many (many) dreams matty’s had about your lips, not once has he ever dreamt about them in this location. 

what a twat he is.

another choked noise leaves his mouth as your tongue joins the party, and yet another follows when you moan into his skin at the way he clutches desperately at your hips. before he knows it, you're kissing him again, licking into his mouth with such intensity he's half-convinced you're trying to eat him. and he'd let you - his brain and heart have already been consumed by you, after all. why not let you devour him completely?

your teeth sink into matty's lower lip as if you might, and he whines; you giggle against him, and switch your lips back to his neck before repeating the bite, albeit softer on the delicate skin, pulling another wanton moan from him. the pain turns to pleasure in his nerves and ricochets throughout his body so hard that he feels his dick jump, despite the haze of pleasure clouding his senses and brain capacity.

judging by the way you gasp and grind down impossibly further onto your boyfriend, you feel it too. he's aware of your lips peeling from him, and then suddenly your beautiful face appears in his eyeline - your eyes and hair are wild, your lips are swollen from, well, use, and you've never looked more enticing than now. then you smile, and matty has to retract his previous statement. “i didn't know you were so into neck kissing, matthew.”

he's not sure if it's the use of his full name (chiding, teasing, patronising) or the glint in your eye (seldom seen, slightly manic, so fucking flirty) that does it, but matty feels his cheeks flood with colour and heat. you lightly run your thumb across one with a satisfied hum, and matty momentarily forgets how to breathe; when the palm of your hand brushes his throat on its way down to rest on his chest, he almost shuts down completely. but he quickly recovers enough to speak shyly. “isn’t everyone?”

“yeah, but, baby,” you roll your hips slowly against his, groaning quietly as you do, and whisper directly in his ear. “it just got you so fucking hard.”

christ.

matty says as much as he throws his head back against the sofa, and you giggle. he cracks one eye open to look at you, all happiness-glowy and dishevelled in his t-shirt, and he can't help but smile bashfully. “don’t take the piss, sweetheart.”

“i'm not!” you laugh, then smirk. “well, maybe a little bit.”

“fucking knew it,” matty lightly smacks your ass, grabbing the soft flesh and using it as leverage to rock your hips against his. “mocking me for a normal reaction to a kiss in an erogenous zone, you minx.”

“ooh, big word.”

“i’ll smack you again, i mean it.”

“do your worst,” you grin, circling your hips. “although i'll be surprised if you can focus with that - oh, fuck,” your voice trails off into a moan as matty grins and latches his lips onto your neck, sucking a bruise into the lightly-perfumed skin and soothing it with his tongue.

he smirks as he pulls back to admire his work; for all he's dreamed about marking you up as his like this, nothing comes even remotely close to the real thing. “seems to me like someone can't take it as well as she can give it,” matty coos, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your pouty lips. “that right, baby?”

without breaking eye contact, you flick your tongue against the pad of his thumb - when you hear matty's breath hitch, you slowly slide your lips onto the digit, down to the knuckle, tongue still flicking around it. he swears under his breath, dick harder than he thinks it's ever been, other hand clutching so hard at your ass that he wouldn't be surprised if it bruised. somewhere deep in matty’s mind, there's a little part of him wracked with guilt at the thought of hurting you, sweet, beautiful you, but that part is far overshadowed by just how badly he wants to be inside you right now.

thankfully, you seem to want that too; you release his thumb with a pop and a connecting string of spit, and look doe-eyed at him. he’s not sure if he's ever seen anything so erotic on his life.“no. i can take it, matty.”

something shifts in the air when you say that - it's as if the molecules have gotten heavier, dropping a delicious tension into the atmosphere and knocking all flirty banter to the ground. you're so close he can see himself reflected amidst the desire in your eyes. so close that your breath mingles with his own, hot in the crisp autumn air. so close, and, for the first time, so available for him to touch.

and, god, does he want to touch you.

“you can take it?” matty asks, caressing your cheek and smiling when you nod. “now?”

“please.”

matty groans. “you'll kill me, sweetheart,” he quickly kisses you, smiling into your lips when you moan. “let me take you to bed and you can show me how well you take it, yeah?”

you pout. “wanna stay here.”

“so do i. but we need to go and get a condom, darlin.”

“don't worry,” you lean back slightly and pull the t-shirt over your head in a way matty can only liken to unwrapping a present; he swears when he sees the lacy black bra you're wearing, your tits threatening to spill over its scalloped trim. when you see him looking at your chest, you grin. “like my bra?”

“very much.”

“good. been saving it for you - you know, in case we ever… got to this stage in our relationship.”

matty blinks as the realisation settles in his mind and body. he's so turned on it's almost painful. “really? fuck, baby, that's so hot.”

you shrug bashfully. “got a whole drawer full of pretty underwear i only want you to see. been thinking about this for a while. which reminds me,” you reach into your bra and pull out a small foil square, and hold it up triumphantly. “no need to go to bed!”

matty laughs slightly deliriously. “you had a condom down your bra the whole time? fuck, you really want me, don't you?”

“on this couch, specifically,” you lean in to softly kiss his neck again, then drag your tongue up to whisper in his ear. “dreamt about riding you on it since the day i moved in.”

shit.

his hips buck up at the mere thought, eliciting whines from both of you. “wanna make your dream come true - need it, darlin, need you.”

“fuck,” your hands scramble to pull matty's t-shirt over his head, then pull his face to your own for a searing kiss. it doesn't last long, though, with you soon pulling back to guide matty's hands to the clasp of your bra; he catches on to your ideas quickly, undoing the thing with ease and sliding the bra from your body, while you clumsily balance on one knee at a time to get your panties off. matty huffs out a laugh when you roll your eyes and leave the underwear to dangle on your left calf, and you smile and wrap your arms around his neck. “what?”

“nothing, you're just cute - sit up for me, darlin, so i can lift my hips, thanks,” he replies, shimmying his sweatpants down with a shit-eating grin. “so impatient to fuck me that you can't even properly take your underwear off.”

you raise your eyebrows and tear the condom packet open with your teeth. matty feels his eyes roll back into his head when you finally touch him, pumping his dick three times before rolling the condom onto him - you hum happily at the weight of him in your soft hand. “i don't think i'm the impatient one here, babe.”

you're not wrong. still, disagreeing gives him a perfect excuse to rile you up with a touch, too. “no?” matty tilts his head, sliding a hand across your thigh and between your legs; before you can react, he slides a finger along your slit, catching the sticky arousal and dipping into your dripping cunt. your reaction - a shaky whimper - is incredible, almost as incredible as matty's realisation that it’s him who got you into this state. “oh, baby.”

he smiles when you whine his name, but it drops in favour of a gasp when you replace his finger in your folds with the head of his dick. without breaking eye contact, you gasp too. “matty, can i…?”

“please, angel,” matty moans, hands trailing up to squeeze your tits before returning home to your hips. “put me inside.”

“okay,” you all but whisper. a beautiful smile crosses your face, the sun breaking through clouds. “i love you.”

the way you say that, so giddy… matty thinks his heart could honestly burst. he gently cups your jaw with both hands. “i love you too.”

you giggle, and matty feels your cheeks heat up. “i'm glad i get to love you openly now.”

“me too, darlin,” matty kisses you slowly, passionately, but so sweetly; he wants you to be able to feel how much he loves you through his lips. he pulls back just enough to speak clearly, foreheads still touching. “wanna be even closer to you.”

“hold my hips, then, please,” you murmur against him, smiling and kissing him again when he obliges. shuffling around on your knees for a second, you line matty up with yourself, and slowly begin to sink down onto him. the feeling is mind-blowing for both of you, it seems - matty makes a choked groan at how tight you are, and you whimper as he stretches you further with every bit of him you slowly take. “matty.”

he responds with a moan of your name, rubbing soothing circles into your hips while you take him to the hilt with a series of dazed blinks. despite the pleasure already clouding his brain, matty touches your face in concern. “you feeling alright, darlin?”

“yeah. just full.”

“need a second?”

you nod. “sorry, baby.”

“no, not at all. feels amazing like this, anyway,” he strokes your cheek, relishing the way you melt into his touch. “knew you'd look fucking gorgeous on top.”

at that, you clench around him - he's not even sure you're aware of it, but he has to focus very hard on keeping himself from moving inside you - and speak again. “have you thought about this a lot?”

matty nods, trailing his hand down to your chest. “oh yeah.”

“so have i,” you smile, humming contentedly when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger - when he leans forward to take the bud into his mouth, you whine. “fuck, can i move now?”

“yeah,” matty moans around your tit, before pulling away and leaning back against the sofa. “ride me, angel.”

the sentence hasn't even fully left his mouth before you're obliging; the words trail into a raspy groan as you slowly pull yourself up and sink back down. his eyes want to close from the overwhelming pleasure of you fucking him, but he keeps them open because the sight of you like this is too incredible to miss even a second of. matty has no idea how many times he's dreamt of you doing exactly this to him, alone in his bedroom or hotel or tour bus bathroom, but every single fantasy pales in comparison to the real thing. after all, he couldn't have imagined the way your jaw trembles and your eyelids flutter every time he bottoms out inside you, sending an accomplishment high through his body that makes him feel better than any substance he's ever tried.

he has imagined the way your tits would bounce as you speed up your own bouncing on him. again, though, reality is so much better - not once in his dreams did you whine a plea while he tentatively touched them, or cry his name and clench around him in response to him pinching your nipples. the slight pain spurs you on, makes your hips move faster and wilder and matty's contract in pleasure, and he makes a mental note to remember the effect it has on you for future reference. 

like he'd ever forget any of this. matty’s never felt so good in his fucking life.

when he tells you as much, you beam, and speed up yet again. oh. matty smirks as best he can through the intense pleasure. “you like it when i tell you how good you are, darlin?”

“mhmm,” you nod shyly, adorably incongruous with the way you're slamming your hips down to meet matty's. “wanna be perfect for you.”

fuck. “you are, sweetheart. my perfect girl,” matty sits up to kiss you, and you whimper into his mouth at the slight change in angle of him inside you. he smiles, switching his lips to your neck. “what else do you want, gorgeous?”

“want - oh, fuck - want you to touch me,” before matty even has the chance to respond, you suck his right thumb into your mouth again and lead it to your clit. “wanna cum.”

and who the fuck is he to deny you what you want, especially after seven years of also wanting to make you do just that?

“alright, darlin,” matty smiles, jaw dropping at the way you tighten impossibly further around him as he starts working little circles into your clit. “shit, that feels good.”

“yeah?”

he nods. “keep going, angel. actually, just use me to get yourself off. whatever you need to do.”

your eyes widen. “really?”

“really. wanna see you cum for me,” matty lightly bites the inside of your tit. “used to make myself cum thinking about you falling apart on top of me like this.”

a glint of something flickers in your eyes, something matty can't quite name. “so, if i cum,” you breathily begin, still rocking your hips. “you'll cum too?”

“pretty much, yeah.”

you smirk. “alright.”

with that, you brace your arms behind you on matty's thighs, using them as leverage to fuck him as hard as you possibly can. he gasps, nerves beginning to tingle with the orgasm he's been both holding off and craving for a while now, climax creeping closer with every bounce of your hips and tits; he's mesmerised by you, your beautiful body practically shaking above him as you ride your way to ecstasy, and whines of his name and various swear words and “don't stop touching me, please” pouring from your perfect lips.

matty does as he's told, thumb staying put on the bundle of nerves between your thighs. remembering his mental note from earlier, he brings his free hand down on your ass and kisses away the cry you let out on impact. “come on, sweetheart,” he coos against your mouth. “give in. cum for me, my love, let go for me. make me feel good.”

he leans back to look at you - you look utterly fucked, eyes heavy and teary, jaw slack and lips swollen, but you're so beautiful. when you look at him (probably just as fucked-looking, to be honest), you smile sweetly, but it soon drops off your face as you rush ever closer to the precipice of orgasm. “matty,” you whimper, voice cracking from overuse. “i'm gonna cum.”

no four words have ever sounded better to him. matty holds your face with his free hand; you nuzzle into it, and a wave of love washes over him. “do it, angel.”

your head drops onto his shoulder as your hips fall out of rhythm, and you cry into his neck as your body jerks in ecstasy. matty cries, grabbing your ass and leaning back so he can fuck up into your pulsing cunt as his own orgasm hits. he holds you flush against him as he cums into the condom, then lets you gently flop down as you both recover with panting breaths.

matty's so hazy from pleasure that it takes him a minute to register the chaste kisses you're planting on his neck - you lift your head when he giggles breathily, smiling so widely he's sure your face must hurt. “hi matty.”

“hi, baby,” he kisses your nose. “i love you.”

“love you too,” you give him a little smooch. “loved that.”

“fuck, so did i,” matty sighs, grinning at you. “you're really fucking good at that.”

“only cos it's you i was fucking,” you giggle. “my need to make you feel good outweighed the burning in my thighs. would've tapped out, otherwise.”

matty rubs the offending body part. “will you let me take care of you in return, then? after you've endured the pain and climbed off me so i can get rid of the condom, that is.”

you nod, hissing as you pull yourself off matty's dick and flop onto the couch beside him. he kisses you quickly before he stands, slightly shakily, and removes and ties off the condom; you protest when he places it on the coffee table. “matthew!”

“what? i put it on a coaster. and i'm not leaving it there!”

“still! i don't want used condoms on my good coffee table, even if it's us that's used them,” you stare at him for a second, and then collapse into giggles. “new flat rule?”

matty cackles. “all condoms put in the bin immediately after use. right, hold it for a second, then - and don't give me that face, it was inside you!” he sighs as he bends down and scoops you - holding the condom between your thumb and index finger, mildly disgusted - up bridal-style into his arms. your face softens when he kisses your head as he carries you down the hall. “fancy a bath? it'll help your legs.”

“only if you come in with me.”

he hums, nudging the bathroom door open and setting you down on your shaky legs; you chuck the condom in the bin. “i like the sound of that.”

“good,” you lean up to kiss him. “now please leave the room.”

“what? why?”

“because,” you say, turning the bath's hot tap on. “i need to piss. in peace.”

matty pouts overdramatically. “but i don't want to leave you.”

“out, healy,” you point at the door as matty giggles; you kiss his cheek as he leaves, though. “bring a bottle of wine in when you come back?”

“glasses, too? or just share the bottle?”

you scoff. “you were just inside me, and now you're worried i have germs?”

he laughs. “i love you.”

“baby?” you shout down the hall, dropping your bag and kicking your shoes off. he's in the flat somewhere, because his car and house keys are still hanging from the tuning pegs on the old guitar head you stuck to the wall for that very purpose, but he doesn't reply. brow furrowed, you wander past the bathroom, knocking the door and opening it to find the room empty. “matty, where are you?”

your next port of call is the kitchen, which you do linger in despite its matty-less-ness, just long enough to down some of the apple juice stashed in the fridge. once the heat in your body is alleviated somewhat, you continue on into the living room, where it becomes immediately apparent that said alleviation was futile; matty's there, stretched out asleep on the sofa, softly-heaving chest illuminated by the sun.

and he's stark fucking naked.

heat floods your cheeks, slightly embarrassed to have stumbled upon him so exposed like this - when your brain remembers he's your boyfriend, though, the heat floods… elsewhere on your body, and before you know it your legs are carrying you towards the couch and settling in a kneeling position beside it. you rest your head on matty's thigh, as slowly as possible so you don't wake him, and look up towards his face. as he is in every facet of life, he's a pretty sleeper, long eyelashes lightly brushing his cheekbones and those beautiful lips open in a slight pout, and you're content to just adoringly watch him dream, heart fit to burst with how sweet he is and how much you love him.

and then he moves, shifting more onto his side towards the sun, and sweetness is the last thing on your mind.

whatever he's dreaming about - you hope it's you - has him half-hard, and it honest to god has your mouth watering. muscle memory, you think; one of your personal favourite mutual discoveries about matty in bed is how much he enjoys getting fully hard in your mouth before he fucks it, weaving his hands into your hair and groaning about how pretty you look sucking his dick, and looking at him right now is upping your desperation to recreate it all to an insane level.

yeah, you need to wake him up right now.

still on your knees, you shuffle up further towards that pretty face; one hand comes up to caress it, the side of your index finger satin-soft against matty's slightly stubbled cheek, while the other is poised right over his dick, ready to stroke when your boyfriend starts to stir. voice singsongy and little more than a whisper, you speak. “matty, baby, wake up.”

matty sniffs, eyebrows raising while his lids stay firmly closed. a noise of vague recognition rumbles in his chest, turning into a light moan when you tentatively drag your nails up the length of his cock - when you circle the tip with the pad of your index finger, smiling as you spread the pre-cum all over his head, matty's eyes flutter open with a satisfied hum. “hi, darling,” his voice is scratchy with sleep, and it's really fucking doing it for you. in contrast to the sexiness of his voice, though, his brow furrows cutely. “am i still dreaming?”

“no, sweetheart,” you giggle, leaning in to kiss him softly. “i'm real, see?”

he huffs out a laugh. “feels familiar,” he kisses you, groaning into your lips when you start to slowly wank him off properly. “fuck, feels good.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. thank you,” he beams, and your heart flutters. “what brought this treat on?”

you shrug. “came home to my incredibly hot, incredibly naked boyfriend, and i wanted to make him feel good. why are you naked, by the way, baby?”

“was - fuck, babe, just like that, yeah - was sunbathing, and i didn't want any tan lines,” matty blushes, smiling bashfully while you laugh. “s'pose i was just so content that i fell asleep.”

“and here was me thinking you were doing some new free-use sex thing for me.”

he groans. “don't give me any ideas, sweetheart, especially when you're dressed like that.”

“you like my work outfit?”

“you know i do.”

speeding your hand movement up the tiniest bit, you smile as sweetly as you can muster. “you wanna fuck me in it?”

“christ, you can't just say things like that to me, darling,” matty's hands come up to his face; he shakes his head before dragging them downwards, smiling exhaustedly at you. “s'like you want me to cum immediately.”

“i wouldn't be opposed,” to prove your point, you speed your hand up again, beaming at the whine that leaves matty's lips and the way his hips jerk up into your grasp. “but you have to answer my question first, sweet boy.”

he sighs, gulping before he talks. “wanna go down on you in it more than anything else right now.”

oh.

you hum happily. “shuffle down the couch a bit for me, then, please, sweetheart.”

matty looks confused, but does as you ask. “what for, babe?”

caressing his cheek again, you beam. “so i can sit on your face. if that's alright with you, of course, my love.”

he blinks repeatedly while you keep on beaming at him, trying to compute your words in his groggy brain; suddenly, his lips are on yours, kissing you with the same desperation he's always kissed you with, as if you're on the edge of slipping through his calloused figures like the sand in his sleepy eyes. “underwear off. now,” he mutters into you - then, a somewhat less gruff afterthought. “please, darling.”

“okay,” you oblige as you stand, leaving your (damp) thong in a puddle on the floor as you climb onto your boyfriend and the sofa. “fuck, this is tight.”

“oi, s’my line,” the smile is audible in matty's voice as he tugs you back towards his face.

you sigh, leaning down to take his dick in your hand again. “shut up, babe.”

“gladly.”

before you even have time to sarcastically thank him, your boyfriend's tongue slices through your soaked core. you gasp out some sort of shocked moan, a wanton sound that mutates into a whimper when his mouth finds your clit and sucks on the bundle of nerves; when you take his dick into your mouth, it's as much an act of keeping yourself grounded as it is an act of getting matty off. he groans into your cunt when you deepthroat him, and the sound makes you simultaneously hurtle towards your own climax and diligently focus on getting matty to his. unlike other times you've found yourself in this position with your boyfriend, though, there's no competition - just two people working as best they can to make their lover feel good.

however, if it was a contest, you would doubtless win; matty's hips are already jerking up sporadically, a primal instinct for friction so he can finish. despite the pleasure clouding your own brain, you focus enough to dig your manicured nails into his thigh to subdue him, and he obeys with a whimper directly on your clit. you have to hand it to him, though - even on the very precipice of orgasm, he's dead-set on getting you off, eating you like he hasn't had a meal in weeks and sending shockwaves of ecstasy through you. he pulls back, very briefly, just enough to warn you of what you already know is imminent. “babe, baby, fuck, m'gonna cum, m'gonna cum.”

you stay silent, diligent, aside from a soft hum around his dick and a slight smile; the vibrations from the noise are enough to set matty off, and he spurts into your mouth with a series of whimpers, hips continuing to fuck your throat as he rides out the last of the orgasm. eyes watering and mouth full of your boyfriend, you slide off him with a pop, swallowing his cum and gasping - half for air, half from the pleasure he's giving you now that his sole focus is to make you cum.

and he does just that, embarrassingly quickly for you, that fucking tongue of his making you shake and cry and see stars and soak his face with your release. actually, the orgasm is so strong that you honestly black out for a second - at least, you think you did, because how else would you have ended up curled into matty's chest so soon after cumming, his lips on your forehead and a hand in your hair?

adam stares him down, swigging from the glass of... whatever that is in his hand. "you wouldn't let us put it on last time you hosted new year's eve..."

"yeah, well, that was a while ago."

"... because it would make you seem cringe in front of," the guitarist nods at you, collapsing into giggles when he takes you in properly. "her."

"shut up, hann," matty rubs his temples, a telltale sign of exasperation; his eyes flick to you, the slight panic tinting them obvious even in your tipsy state. "ignore him, sweetheart, he's drunk."

your gaze shifts to your friend beside him, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "but he's right, isn't he?"

"well," she pats matty on the arm sympathetically, but her pretty face lifts into a smirk. "yeah, he is. your boyfriend here didn't want anything making him seem uncool to you," grinning, she leans in and tugs matty's cheeks, shouting over his protests. "he looooooooooooved you."

"i miss when you were halfway across europe," matty grumbles, swatting her away.

"no you don't."

"in this instant, i do."

"love you too, bff. mwah!" she messily kisses matty's cheek - he's quick to hide it, but you don't miss his smile at the sweet gesture - before teetering over to you, fawn-like as a result of drunkenness and high heels, and planting a sloppy kiss on your nose. "love you even more, though. missed you a lot."

you wrap your arms around her, tears pricking at your eyes. christ, maybe you should slow down on the drinks. "love you so much. you're never allowed to leave me ever again."

"as if i'd do that. we're gonna have a double wedding like in barbie princess and the pauper and everything."

matty cuts in. "do george and i get a say in this, or... ?"

you and your friend both turn to look at him, still clutching each other like life rafts - you shake your head, and she scoffs. "absolutely not. speaking of george, though," she kisses your nose again, stumbling as she lets go of you. "m'gonna find him. and then i'm gonna put the hootenanny on the telly. and then i'm gonna sort champagne for the bells. come on, adam, you can help me."

"love you, darling!" you call after her as she wobbles her way out of the room, dragging an equally wobbly adam behind her. alone with your boyfriend, you slide off your windowsill perch and make your way onto his lap. "you're alright too, i s'pose."

"cheeky," matty pinches your thigh, kissing away the little yelp you let out in response - you deepen it, slipping your tongue into his mouth with a moan, and he smiles against your lips before pulling away. "jesus, save some for the bells, babe."

you pout, tangling your fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck. "you're turning down kisses?"

"just delaying them, darling," matty coos. his hands trail up and down the sides of your body, across the skintight red dress you strategically picked for tonight's celebrations; his eyes follow the trail, desire in them as clear as day. "you're making it really fucking difficult in this outfit, though, i must say."

"give in, then!"

matty smiles, shaking his head. "five more minutes, baby. five minutes, and the first thing i'll be doing in the new year is snogging the face off you - which, if you ask me, is the ideal way to kick off 2015. to do that, though, i need to conserve my energy," he leans forward, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and you can't help smiling. "will you let me do that, sweetheart?"

you sigh. "this better be the best kiss of all time, healy."

"trust me, babe, it will be," matty kisses softly up your neck to whisper in your ear. "and after the kiss, i'm gonna kick everybody out, and take that dress of yours off with my teeth. deal?"

matty scoffs. “you're not intruding, mate. we missed you! why wouldn't we wanna spend time with you? right, darlin?”

he nudges his girlfriend, who nods enthusiastically. “of course. i’m so glad you agreed to eat with us tonight,” she nudges matty in return, grinning, and you watch, also grinning, as he kisses her nose. “i've missed flatmate friday dinners. they're so special to me.”

“i did quite like when it was just the two of us, though,” matty caresses her face; a beat later, he sits bolt upright and looks at you, panic-stricken, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the familiarity of the expression. “i didn't mean it like that, by the way, i just meant that-”

“you liked pretending that you were having date night before you were actually together?” you nod sympathetically as matty goes scarlet. “oh, you've not changed a bit, matty, you lovelorn little sap.”

he hides his face in his hands, voice muffled. “shut up.”

“no, keep going,” his girlfriend laughs, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a kiss to his head. “i like hearing about how much you fancied me before you finally cracked and admitted it. after, y'know, seven fucking years, baby.”

“oh, babe, it was serious,” you dramatically take a sip of your wine, gazing off into the distance as you recount one of your many memories of matty being hopelessly in love with her, while the boy in question groans. “the time he broke into george's at half six in the morning and quite literally wriggled between us in bed so he could analyse the ten-minute phone call you'd had the night before is a personal favourite of mine.”

your friend throws her head back, cackling, while matty sits up just to scowl at you. “i didn't break in - i used the spare key.”

his girlfriend snorts. “but you did wriggle between them? in bed?”

“well, yeah.”

“cockblocked us and all,” you pipe up.

“you were literally fully clothed and dead asleep. both of you.”

“george was fully clothed?” your friend's brow furrows. “was he ill?”

“dunno. i didn't talk to him, really, in that instance,” matty nods at you. “she was the only one who knew everything about how i felt. even when she moved away.”

“really?”

you nod. “really. so, y'know, getting to see the two of you together like this… it's really special,” you take another drink of wine, sighing contentedly. “i love love.”

matty laughs, reaching across to squeeze your hand. “how's your love life going, by the way? any developments to share?”

you sigh, taking a long drink of wine as you ponder your response; you could be honest, and say really bloody good. george and i are back together. but no - better to discuss that with him first. “it's… promising, i think. that guy i've been seeing, well, he and i are exclusive, now.”

“oh, amazing!” your friend claps excitedly. “i want to meet him. oh!” her face lights up, and it becomes glaringly obvious both why matty fell in love with her and just how much you missed her when you were away. “he should come to friday dinner next week. or the week after. just so he can meet us properly, you know?”

matty laughs. “alright, emily gilmore.”

“fuck off, matthew,” she rolls her eyes while you and matty giggle, smiling at you once the glee subsides. “seriously, though, you should bring him. we don't bite.”

her boyfriend raises a brow. “the marks on my collarbone would like a word.”

“matthew, for fuck's sake,” she shakes her head, as you do your best not to spit out your wine laughing. “sorry, babe. promise i'll have him housebroken soon, and you can invite your man over.”

“oh, he won't mind,” because he's known matty longer than either of us have. “i'll text him now and ask, yeah?”

“please do.”

you nod, sliding your phone out of your pocket and tapping onto your text thread with george. you've been formally invited for dinner at the flat next friday btw. well, the mysterious person i've just gone exclusive with has lol

he replies almost instantly, cry-laughing emojis preceding have i to dress up?

you: suit. tie is optional xxx

george: oh you'd love that wouldn't you, i remember you after prom 😈

fr tho have i to dress up

you: nah

you DO have to be on time tho. 6pm on the dot

george: sweet

can i stay over lol

you: if you're good x

george: what you talking about i'm always good for you

but yeah i'll be there

phone me later?

you: defo. ly <3

george: ly2 <3

you giggle as you lay your phone down; matty notices, and smirks. “good news?”

“he'll be here at 6 next week,” you can't help smiling when they cheer, but you shush them so you can keep talking. “and you both better be nice to him. like, normal-nice.”

your friend nods. “of course.”

“s'not you i'm worried about, babe,” you turn to her boyfriend, looking him dead in the eye. “please, matty, don't be fucking weird next week. i don't wanna fuck this up,” you catch yourself before again slips out. “i really like this one.”

“all the more reason to ask him what his intentions are with you, then,” matty shrugs - his face softens when he sees your fraught expression, and he reaches across to hold your hand again. “i am joking, by the way, darling. i'll be nice. you know i just want you to be happy, yeah? we both do.”

“yeah, i know,” you squeeze his hand. “i hope next week goes well.”

“it will. here, let me get you more wine.”

the rest of the meal passes without further mention of next week, save your friend asking what sort of food your new partner likes. given that she and matty are too busy gazing lovingly at each other to think logically, neither of them seem to realise you're rhyming off george's favourites and least favourites in your reply, which is common knowledge to everyone who's ever spent five minutes trying to decide on a takeaway to order from with him; in fact, you think you've managed to completely dispel any connections between the upcoming dinner and george at all, until you're settled in your room an hour and a half later and your tv watching is interrupted by a knock at the door.

at your word, your friend inches round the doorframe, ring binder in hand. “hey. d'you have a minute?”

“course,” you mute the tv, pulling yourself out of your blanket tangle. “what's up?”

she sighs, waving the folder. “work stuff. how good's your latin?”

“shite. you used to help me, remember?”

“fuck, you're right,” she laughs, dragging her free hand down her face. “work's melting my head, honestly.”

you pat the space on the bed beside you. “can take your mind off of it by watching this with me, if you like.”

she steps further into the room, brow furrowing. “what even are you… oh my god,” the folder thwacks against the mattress, forgotten as she clambers onto the bed beside you and sighs at the screen; the déja vu of the moment is so strong you have to blink a few times to remember what year you're actually in. “i haven't watched the o.c. in so long.”

“really? you were obsessed.”

“shut up, you were worse than i was,” she lightly smacks you on the shoulder, then rests her head on it. you don't have to look at her to know that she's smiling when she next speaks. “reckon we used to drive the boys mental with this, you know.”

“we did. george actually banned me from saying the words ‘seth cohen’ at one point.”

“fuck off,” she giggles, the sound fading into a hum. “i think matty preferred him in gilmore girls, to be honest.”

you roll your eyes. “of course he fucking did. being in a band and making a girlfriend out of a friend because of it? that was, like, his biggest dream,” your voice softens, and you nudge her. “he's loved you a really fucking long time, you know.”

“yeah. me too, you know, with him.”

the confirmation makes your heart glow - still, you can't resist poking fun. “and yet you told me fuck all.”

“i was worried you'd tell george! and he'd tell matty! and… well, we might've ended up like this a lot sooner, actually,” she huffs out a laugh, while you giggle at the way her defensiveness faded to acceptance in the span of about a second. suddenly, though, she turns to look at you properly, face serious. “speaking of him, by the way - does he actually know you're seeing someone?”

you chew the inside of your cheek as you deliberate on the best answer, teeth finding the scar tissue left over from the wire of the braces you had at thirteen as they've always done since then; the irony of returning to an imprint from your teenage years in this moment isn't lost on you. with as casual a shrug as you can muster, you reply. “i've brought it up to him.”

“how'd he take it?”

this one is easier to answer. “well, you know george, he keeps things close to his chest. but,” you shuffle position slightly, a means of distracting your friend from the grin you know you're doing a dreadful job of biting back. “he seemed happy. for me, you know,” you tag that on as an afterthought. and, because you can't resist - “he told me he's seeing someone, too, actually. early days, i think.”

“oh,” she's taken aback, it’s clear, but she recovers quickly and gives you a small smile. “well, that's good.”

you raise a brow. you know her better than this. “but…”

she sighs. “but… alright, just hear me out, yeah? promise?”

“promise.”

“good,” she exhales, playing with her necklace the way she's always done when she's nervous. “you know i love you, and i am so glad you're back - we all are, we missed you so much - and i'm also really glad you're happy, and that you're seeing someone. it's just that, well,” she grimaces. “i'm worried about george.”

oh, bless her. “you are?”

“yeah. just, y'know, what with you back and dating and,” she cuts herself off, shaking her head. “you weren't the only friend i lost after you moved away, babe. not being with you… it fucked george up, really fucked him up. and of course i know it must've done the same to you, but…” she smiles sadly. “i didn't have to see that with you, but i did with him, and i truly, truly can't go through it again. basically,” she takes your hands in hers. “i want you to see this guy, and have fun, but to keep george in mind, yeah?”

a genuine smile finds its way onto your face. “i will, babe.”

“good. thank you,” her relief is palpable, even stronger in the way she squeezes your hand. “and i really am excited for next week, you know, dinner.”

“yeah, it'll be good.”

you're mentally repeating that to yourself with somewhat less optimism when friday night actually rolls around, though. matty's been on a mission to take the piss out of you the whole day, accompanying his frequent mentions of the dinner with a shit-eating grin and bursting into dramatic renditions of love is in the air at regular intervals, despite both you and his girlfriend yelling at him to “shut the fuck up, matthew”, and you're forced to retreat into your room just to escape him. of course, that means you're extra pernickety about your hair and outfit and makeup to the point of overdoing it, and it gets to a point where you have to sit on your hands until they go numb to stop yourself applying any more mascara.

at quarter to six, and after several texts from george telling you he's on his way and responding to your selfies with “beautiful”, you take a deep breath and shuffle out of your room towards the kitchen and your friends. matty smiles at you as you enter, which elicits a suspicious glare from you and a laugh from your friend. “relax, he's done taking the piss out of you,” she slides a glass of wine to you; you take a long, eager drink. “or at least he is if he actually wants to have sex any time in the next three weeks.”

matty rolls his eyes. “still think you're bluffing, baby, there's no way you can go without me that long.”

you grimace, and she smiles coolly at her boyfriend. “wanna risk it and find out?”

his cheeks go scarlet, voice going small. “no.”

“s'what i thought,” she ruffles his hair, turning to you and beaming. “you look hot, babe. really hot.”

“oh, thanks,” you tug awkwardly at the hem of your dress. “i hope he likes it.”

matty smiles, genuinely. “he will, darling.”

you smile, just as your phone buzzes - looking down, you see it's george, with an i'm outside. and really fucking nervous lol. buzz me up pls. “well, we're about to find out.”

“he's here?” matty bolts out of the room without waiting for a reply, and you hear the quick ring of the external door and the click-buzz of him responding. his girlfriend sighs, holding her arm out to you; wordlessly, you loop yours through it, and the two of you follow matty to the front door, a strange cocktail of excitement and apprehension mixing itself in the pit of your stomach.

and then the door goes. and then matty opens it. and then you see george, standing as bashfully as his height allows, and all the fear in your body dissipates completely.

you stay silent, biting back a grin. your friend sucks in an almost-inaudible shocked gasp, arm tensing in your own. matty's the one to greet his best friend, bewilderment tinting his otherwise cheerful voice. “oh, hi g. what are you doing here? just round to hang out?”

george grins. “sort of. i got a text last week inviting me over,” he nods at you. “it was 6 you said to be here for, yeah, angel?”

“on the dot. perfect timing, babe,” you wander down the hall towards him, tugging your seemingly-frozen-in-shock friend past her equally-shocked boyfriend, leaning up to kiss your own boyfriend's cheek. “bit disappointed you didn't wear a suit like i suggested, though. but you still look fit.”

“and you look beautiful,” he kisses your head, before turning to your friends with a smirk. “you guys look a bit weird, though. you alright?”

the two of them stare blankly at your smirking faces, matty's jaw dropping more and more as realisation presumably sinks in; it's his other half who speaks first, though, dropping your arm so she can slowly point between you and george. “this… is this… real?”

“you mean is george the person you're meeting as my date tonight? the person i just went exclusive with?” you smile so widely your cheeks ache, snuggling into him and practically fizzing with glee when his arm wraps around your waist. “who the fuck else would it be, really?”

a beat passes, then all hell breaks loose - matty actually bursts into tears, and his girlfriend slaps you on the arm. “you! you dickhead!”

“ow!” you rub your stinging arm. “what the fuck was that for?”

“for not fucking telling me!” she hits you again, softer this time, before tugging you and george into a hug, soundtracked by matty sniffling in the corner. “you fucking idiots. i love you,” she releases you both, tears filling her own eyes, and then pulls you into another hug, just the two of you. “m'sorry for hitting you, babe.”

“and for being a hypocrite?”

she laughs, watery. “that too,” keeping an arm around you, she wraps the other around her boyfriend. “why the tears, my darling?”

he sniffles, wiping his tears and looking between you and george; a weak gesture follows, as if emotion has completely overwhelmed him. “just… they're back.”

“and so are your nightmares?” george quips, resting his head atop yours.

matty shakes his head frantically, tears threatening to flood over his lashes again. “no, george, of course not. s'just,” he sniffles again, reaching for george's shoulder so the four of you are in a strange sort-of huddle. it's not unpleasant, though, far from it. “we all wanted this for ages, you know? the two of us together, the two of you together… and now it's real. and i'm just so happy.”

he collapses into sobs again, falling forward dramatically; given the geography of the huddle, it's up to you to catch him, so you hug him gently and pat him on the back. “you really are a sap, matty,” you huff out a laugh, half-formed because of the lump in your throat. “but we love you for it. and you're right, y'know - we really have all wanted this for a while,” you let go of your friend, steadying him before turning and wrapping your arms around george. “i love you. i'm so glad you agreed to come over.”

“you know i'd do anything for you,” he presses his lips to yours, and you melt; you're vaguely aware of your friends cheering in the background, but aside from that everything is just george, george, george. “i love you,” he pulls back. “and i love you two as well. slightly less than i do her, but…”

matty scoffs. “traitor. but whatever,” he sighs, face lifting into a smile as he turns towards the kitchen. “follow me, lovebirds. we've got some catching up to do.”

you wince. “please don't call it that.”

“what? why?”

“because that's what george and i have been calling our hookup sessions since i got back, that's why.”

your boyfriend and friend both giggle, while matty turns to look at you in affront. “wait a fucking minute. every time you went out and said you were catching up with people, you were just going to shag him?”

george smirks. “too fucking right she was.”

“christ alive,” matty shakes his head. “there had better be none of that tonight, you hear me? i'm not wearing earplugs to bed just to avoid listening to you guys fuck. heard enough of that in my life, thanks,” he reaches into the fridge for the champagne you stashed there earlier; when he returns, his face is bright in the way you've come to recognise as his i've got an idea that i think is great but is actually fucking awful mode. “actually…”

his girlfriend groans, the expression on her other half's face familiar to her too. “don't, matty.”

“no, let him talk,” george is perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, his best friend's face not a deterrent for him. the fucking pair of them, honestly. “tell us, mate.”

“well, how about a bet?” matty's eyes are locked onto george's; dread begins to build in your stomach out of sheer habit. “person who gets their girl off most times tonight gets free weed from the other. for a month.”

it's not the worst idea he's had, by any means - honestly, you'll take as many orgasms from george as you can get - but it still warrants a facepalm from both you and your friend. you sigh. “i don't think…”

“and how would we know the other isn't lying about the number?” george is incredibly still, hyper-focused; quite sexy, if you're being honest. “you thought about that?”

matty nods. “the girls write it on a bit of paper each and sign it, without conferring, and then we swap them and reveal.”

“for fuck's sake,” his girlfriend nudges him. “matty, don't be fucking stupid, there's no way…”