#gmam asks

one of those nights you loved and despised all the same.

one of the nights where brown eyes unashamedly gazed over you every second, while cracked-polished fingertips held on to your wrist. him giving you just enough attention to make you act so needy and desperate for someone you know could so very easily break you apart.

but instead of listening to that bit of reason left inside your head, you’re now trying not to trip as you run down the hotel hallway, both of you a little tipsy, both of you trying and failing miserably to be quiet.

“slow down.” he sounds amused as he trails close behind you, his body accidentally bumping into yours as you manage to find the door, your hand immediately digging through your purse for the keycard.

it should be easy. it’s just a bag. a card. a door.

instead you can barely get your fingers to work because he’s pushing your hair over one shoulder, you freezing as his lips graze the back of your neck.

“matty—”

“what?” he murmurs against your skin, kissing just below your ear.

“i’m trying to open the door.”

“are you?”

his hands travel to your waist, thumbs digging in as he kisses lower, then back up again, his teeth scraping at the side of your neck before he sucks hard enough to make your breath falter.

“stop,” you say, though he knows you don’t mean it.

“don’t think so.”

you turn your head enough to glare at him, but he’s already kissing the hinge of your jaw now, smiling against the spot he’s just licked.

“maybe you just need help.”

“i do not.”

it’s a miracle you manage to find the piece of plastic but every thought leaves your mind when his teeth find your earlobe to suck at the tender flesh, the card slipping through your fingers, both of you looking at it on carpet.

“well, that’s a shame.”

“fuck you,” you groan and turn around so fast your purse bangs against the wall. he catches your waist automatically and you grab onto his shirt to crash your mouth against his before he can say anything else, swallowing the pleased sounds forming at the back of his throat. his hand slides down over your hip and under your dress immediately, pressing you back against the door.

“there she is,” he murmurs.

“shut up.”

“make me.”

so you do by kissing him harder, and he laughs into your mouth, then kisses you back with enough force to wipe the smile off both of you. his hand crawls up your thigh, fingers dragging higher and higher until he stops, pulling just enough to glance down.

“what?” you whine breathlessly at the loss of his lips.

“you’ve got a rip in these.”

you blink at him. “where?”

instead of answering, he hooks two fingers into the torn bit of your tights high on your leg.

your eyes widen in surprise. “do not.”

“don’t what?”

“matthew.”

he tugs anyway.

the fabric gives with a sharp, ripping sound as you stare at him with disbelief.

“you absolute dick.”

but you still laugh, breathless and helpless, which is apparently all the encouragement he needs to kiss you again, hearing the nylon tear a second time. he widens the rip enough to get his fingers through so his hand is touching bare skin.

he drags his palm upward until he’s cupping your hip, then farther back, squeezing your ass hard enough to pull a gasp straight into his mouth. he grins against your lips and it only gets worse when you feel how hard he is against your thigh.

his forehead drops to yours for a second, both of you breathing too fast now.

“yeah,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “that’s kind of your fault.”

you shove lightly at his chest so you can bend down for the keycard. he lets you go, but the second your fingers brush it, he manages to pick it up first.

you straighten and stare at him. “oh, come on.”

he holds it just out of reach, leaning one shoulder into the wall. shirt disheveled and untucked. dark trousers doing nothing to hide his erection. pink lips glossy from your doing. that mouth. that filthy, heavenly mouth that knows how to make you cum undone in mere minutes. the same mouth that praises you when you’re stroking him so he can cum all over your fingers.

“matty—”

“what?”

“give it.”

“ask nicely.”

you laugh. “you can’t be fucking serious.”

“does it look like i’m joking?”

you step forward, reaching for it. he lifts it higher.

“you’re actually the worst.”

“that’s not asking nicely.”

you drop your arms. “i hate you.”

he grins. “no, you don’t.”

“right now, i fucking do.”

“that’s still not please.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me.” you take another step toward him, close enough now that your hand flattens against his chest. “give me that.”

“say please.”

“asshole.”

“darling.”

you exhale through your nose. “please.”

he looks at you with his mouth slowly curving up.

you narrow your eyes. “don’t push it.”

he fully smiles this time. “that was a little evil.”

“because you’re being a fucking pain in the ass.”

“again. hostile.”

you look at him for another second, then, because you are weak and so far gone, you soften your voice at the same time you roll your eyes.

“please, matty.”

that does it.

he leans in, gives you one quick peck with a sickly sweet “good girl” to top it off.

those two words dripping straight down your spine, making you go still, unable to move as he reaches around, managing to slide the card into the lock himself. the light clicks green.

“oh, fuck off,” you mutter.

“you were taking forever.”

you open the door and look back, matty still smiling as he follows you to the room. you barely make it two steps before your bag slips from your shoulder and hits the floor. his coat landing beside it. yours following a second later, neither of you bothering to wait any longer. the door shuts and he’s got you against it seconds after.

“matty—”

“yeah?”

your chest rises too fast. his gaze drops to it, unashamed. hungry. he hooks one finger beneath a strap and lets it slide all the way down. then the other. the top of your dress loosens enough to expose more skin, the cool air of the room brushing over places his mouth should be instead.

he looks at you for a moment like that, pupils blown, breathing heavier now.

then he drops to his knees. it happens so fast it steals the breath right out of you.

“what are you doing?” you ask, though it comes out quieter than intended.

he looks up at you as he lifts your dress up, one hand over the destroyed thights. “you liked these, right?”

“i did, actually.”

“shame.”

his mouth brushes the bare skin through the tear. then he licks a slow stripe over it and whatever clever thing you were about to say disappears in a single instant as the warmth of his tongue slides up your leg.

“you’re a dick,” you whisper, but your tone’s so weak now you might as well have been begging for him to take you then and there.

he presses one more kiss to your thigh as he looks up at you through those dark lashes, fingers holding on to you with no intention of letting go.

“tell me to stop, then,” he murmurs.

you stare down at him, chest heaving, legs already trembling from the way he’s touched you.

then you slide your fingers into his hair and shake your head.

you watch as his eyes darken immediately and he grins once more.

you roll your eyes and shut him down immediately. there’s no way you’re doing that on a vehicle full of others. then another text comes through. wanna go down on you

your stomach twists itself into one million knots because it’s always been you on your knees, your hands doing the work, your mouth on him. 

bet you'd be so soft, so sweet for me wanna make you cum on my tongue, baby

but now he’s saying that he wants to taste you, and it doesn’t take long at all for every nerve in your body to come alive.

imagine that pretty little pussy’s soaked for me already

your thighs press together in a futile, sad attempt at relief. you don’t reply. you really fucking want to, but you can’t. not here, not with the rest of the band and crew just feet away. you fumble with your phone, locking it away and shoving it under your pillow and rolling over as you fight to steady your breath.

you shut your eyes so tight that those tiny white specks appear behind your lids, but they don’t last long because you start to picture what it could be like. would he take his time? would he make it hurt? would he make you come?

obviously you can’t help but run through every possible scenario that could take place, so lost inside your head that you almost miss the quiet shuffle of footsteps making their way towards you. then a soft drag of fingers along your bunk curtain makes your chest jump.

of course it’s him. who else would it fucking be?

and for the final fucking time: you know you should not. but it is matty and you honestly cannot help but give in. so you slip out of your tiny space with care, trying not to make a sound or panic, even though your body is already going haywire as you make your way down the aisle. and you find him there in the lounge. sitting on the couch just feet away from you, legs crossed and fingers drumming against his thigh, probably counting down the seconds until you arrived.

“that took longer than expected.”    

"was trying to sleep."

"yeah? and how did that go for you?"

he gives you that infuriating grin, patting his lap like it's the warmest of invitations but your legs refuse to cooperate which makes him impatient, matty reaching over so his fingers hook on your waistband, drawing you in. next thing you know, you're on his lap, his hand already around your throat, his thumb pressing just enough to make you catch your breath.

“tell me no,” mouth ghosting over your jaw, your ear. “and i’ll stop.”

but not a single word comes out.

his lips crash into yours, hands running under your shirt, rolling your nipples between his fingers until you squirm and forget where you are.

“been thinking about you all fucking night.”    

you hate just how much you crave that, how it makes you feel undeniably special, even when you know there's always another damn girl waiting for him come tomorrow.

but right now? none of that matters.

it doesn't take long for him to slip his hands beneath your shorts, fingers gliding through your slick, and exhaling sharply when he feels just how wet you already are. "and you were gonna make me wait?" you hear the smirk tugging at his lips as you whimper and grip his hoodie, your hips shifting in a desperate little dance against his hand. he just shakes his head, "s’mean."

it’s embarrassing how quickly he makes you moan. “shhh, gotta be quiet, remember sweetheart?” and before you can respond, he slips his palm over your mouth, muffling anything you might’ve wanted to say, while his other hand pushes inside you, two fingers deep, curling just right as his thumb drags over your clit.  

you don’t even attempt to hold on. it feels too damn good to finally have him inside you after weeks of hoping he’d pay more attention to you. and now that he is? you cum within minutes of his fingers filling you up so perfectly right.

but he doesn’t stop.

you barely have time to catch a breath before matty rolls you onto your back, feeling as he slides down and drags your shorts off in one slow pull, palms smoothing over your legs to spread you open. 

“matty—”

a pathetic, little whimper falls off your lips as he kisses your hip.

“relax. i’ve got you, okay?”

and your spine arches as he eagerly licks into you, groaning softly and hands gripping your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wants you.    

“knew you’d be so good.”    

your hand flies to your mouth, so desperate to keep quiet while everything is still around. you hope to dear god no one can hear the filthy sounds of his tongue lapping you up. nor your barely stifled moans as his fingers slide back inside you, hitting that spot that left you seeing stars moments prior. you should’ve known he’d make an utter mess out of you. perhaps you were even hoping for it.

“gonna cum for me, yeah, pretty girl?” 

you nod desperately even though you know he’s not really watching. he’s completely lost sucking on your bud to notice the prickling at the corner of your eyes because it’s all almost too much. and then, without warning, you feel a sharp slap against your cunt and that’s when you finally let the tears fall down your face. but that pain is quickly gone as he presses his tongue on your clit, drawing slow, soothing strokes over the sting.  

“too much?” he teases as he wipes his chin on your thigh.    

now you barely manage to whisper “no” before he’s back fucking you with his tongue, moving his head side to side, dragging you through it until you’re too far gone to think.   

“be a good girl and cum all over my face.”    

so you do. legs trembling, body arching, pleasure spilling all over him just like he asked. you’re pretty sure you moan loud enough for everyone around to hear but at this point, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

his mouth now works carefully, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your cunt until every inch of you has been savoured, all while you lie there shaking, utterly overwhelmed and lost in the moment. when the trembling finally starts to fade, he slides back up to trace slow, almost absent circles on your cheek, as if trying to remind you that you exist.

“you okay?”

you exhale something close to a laugh, not really able to form any words as exhaustion takes over both your body and mind. not made any better as he nuzzles into you, his lips now trailing up your neck until he gazes straight into your soul again.

“didn’t hear a thank you.”

you roll your eyes, but you say it anyway.

and then she moans. high pitched and obnoxiously theatrical, perhaps wanting to be heard.

you step closer, even though you know you shouldn’t. know you should turn around and leave. but you don’t.

you hear her laugh. then–

"god, you feel so fucking good."

your stomach twists itself into one million knots. because you know that voice. you’d know it anywhere.

matty moans once more and sadly you see it all too clearly inside your mind: his head in the crook of her neck, hair a complete mess, hand holding up her leg so he can fuck her against the wall separating you from them.

and then you hear him again: "fuck, you’re a dream."

words he’s said to you before. murmured against your lips. more than once, while you’re both tangled in his bed.

you don’t even realize you’re crying. not at first. not until you feel it drip onto your shirt. your hands are clenched into fists, nails digging crescent moons into your palms. you’re not moving. just standing there, stuck behind the wall like a ghost. 

you don’t even mean to stay. let alone listen. but you’re numb. and maybe you’ve been numb for a while. maybe this is just the first time it’s been quiet enough to notice.

you don’t know how long you stand there. seconds. minutes. some stretch of time where you lose yourself, pressing your back to the wall and trying to breathe while that girl keeps making those stupid sounds and all you want to do is scream just to drown it out.

but then it stops. knowing well that he just came because of the laughing you hear falling from his lips.

and that’s more than enough. you can’t stay another second because there’s only so much more torture you can inflict upon yourself after all that’s happened in the past months. 

you stumble back to your bag, keep your head down, hands fumbling as you try to pack everything fast enough to leave. your vision’s still blurry. your chest so tight. you’re stuffing things in blindly, one of his old button ups balled up near the top. the one you always borrowed when it got too cold in the bus.

yet you don’t even get to finish before the door swings open behind you.

and you freeze. but you don’t turn around. don’t need to. you feel both of their eyes on you. you smell the scent of her perfume mixed with sex. and you just stare down at your hands while another tear slips and falls directly onto the wrinkled red shirt.

"you gonna text me later?" the girl asks.

"uh, yeah," he mutters. “sure.”

you hear as she gives him a kiss and walks away, fury starting to build behind your eyelids because how the fuck are you still so infatuated with him when he puts you through this almost every night?

and that’s when you hear him. his voice behind you.

"hey. you okay?" you rip your arm out of his grip the second he touches your elbow.

"am i okay?" you spin around, chest tight and full of fire as a bitter laugh falls from your lips. "am i fucking okay, matty?"

then you finally look at him. shirt wrinkled. belt still loose. lip stick that isn’t yours smeared along his jaw that makes you ill.

"don’t tell me you’re so dense that you don’t fucking know."

he exhales dramatically, eyes rolling as his hand rakes through his hair. "you knew what this was. you knew what you were signing up for."

“and i hate myself for it.” you’re practically shaking. "i hate that you make me feel so fucking special just to remind me i’m not."

"i never promised you anything," he fires back. "you had every chance to walk away–"

"yeah, but i fucking didn’t, did i?” you scream now, a diabolical tone pouring from your mouth that you don’t recognize as your own. “because i’m a fucking idiot, matty! because i kept thinking maybe, just maybe, if i stayed long enough, if i was good enough, if i said nothing, you’d choose me."

he flinches. then steps forward, only to spit back. "why the fuck do you keep coming back, then?!"

which stops you for a second. it hurts and you do your best to breathe. "because you ask me to stay, matty. because you always fucking ask me to come back!"

"because when you’re with me…” you look him in the eye, “sometimes it feels like i’m the only one."

the most pathetic truth. bare and stupid, now out in the open. but he doesn’t speak. doesn’t even blink.

you want a response, anything from him, so you push him. flat palm to his chest. "but i’m not, am i?" another shove. "i never fucking have been."

still there’s only tightness in his jaw and that same blank look he gives when he just wants to hide away.

"i hate whatever,” you gesture between you both, ”whatever the hell this is, matty. i hate that you make me feel so fucking special just to remind me i’m not."

you push him again, as hard as you can. and this time he stumbles half a step but doesn’t retaliate. "you make me feel wanted. you kiss me so deeply i crave more. and then the second i start to believe something might just happen, you go stick your dick in some woman you’ll never see again."

"don’t you dare make this about them.”

"oh, do they know, matty? do they know you hum when you’re anxious? or that you like your hair pulled when you’re about to come? do they know you like to be held when you’re tired out of your mind?"

you’re crying again. you hate it. but it doesn’t stop you. "do they know you the way i do?"

"it’s not that simple!" he spits back.

"it is that simple. you don’t want me. not really. you just don’t want to be alone."

you see his fists clench. nostrils flare. "fuck’s sake, it was just sex!"

"then what the fuck am i, huh!?" you shove him again, voice breaking, hands trembling. "what the fuck am i to you?"

he doesn’t speak this time. just swallows and looks away like a coward.

"you don’t even like most of these girls, matty. you don’t talk to them. but you come to me. you come to me when you’re tired, when you don’t want to be alone with your thoughts. i’m the only one who fucking listens to you. and you still treat me like your emotional support whore."

he opens his mouth to argue yet nothing comes out. just that nervous, breathy half laugh he does when he knows he’s fucked up but doesn’t know how to act.

"you don’t get it!" you only want to keep screaming. tear something off the walls. "you don’t fucking get it. i–" then your voice catches. you blink, suddenly breathless. "i lo–"

but you stop yourself before it’s too late. swallowing back those three words to let them rot in your throat, and turn that endless ache into rage instead.

“i hate you.”

you mean it. at least for now.

“i fucking hate you, matty.” you say it slowly so every word sinks in.

his eyes are already glassy. his voice dropping, full of venom as he points at you. "fuck you." 

"no," you’re already walking backwards. “fuck you, matty. for making me feel like i was different when i was just convenient. fuck you for dragging me back into your bed every time you get bored or sad or afraid to sleep alone."

"fucking stop," he tries to reach for you, to get you to stay once again. "just stop!"

but you’re already halfway to the door. and this time it’s only his voice that chases after you.

"fuck, i didn’t mean to hurt you, alright?! i didn’t–i don’t know how to fucking–"

you don’t stay to listen. you run. out the room. down the hall. away from him.

and he doesn’t follow.

and whatever meaningless apology he was trying to scream after you?

and he’s here. matty, doing exactly what you knew he’d be doing. he’s surrounded, practically mobbed by girls who seem to have decided their night depends on being as close to him as humanly possible. you’re trying not to care, but it’s hard to ignore when they’re obnouxioulsy laughing at everything he says, standing just a little too close, their perfectly manicured hands brushing against his arm.

you’ve been glancing over, hoping for some kind of acknowledgment. a quick look, a smile, something. but so far, nothing. he’s too busy being, well, him, and you’re left standing there with an empty glass and a growing annoying ache in your chest. fine. if he’s too busy to notice you, you’ll just help yourself to another martini and forget about it.

but then it happens. you’re halfway through turning to the bar when you feel it—his eyes on you. you glance up, and there he is, standing across the room, watching you with this look that makes your legs shake a little. and this time, matty smiles. it’s subtle, just the faintest curve of his lips, but it’s there, and it’s enough to make everything else in the room fade into background noise. no wave, no grand gesture, just the faintest tilt of his head and two fingers lifting in a small, familiar motion: wanna smoke?

you pause, just long enough to let him know you’ve seen it, then nod, trying to play it cool as you weave your way toward the door. the cold hits you the second you step outside and you’re already cursing yourself for not bringing a coat when the door swings open behind you.

“didn’t think this one through, did you, darling?” his amused voice cuts through the quiet. he’s grinning as he steps closer, already shrugging off his coat before you can think of a response. the weight of the fabric settles over your shoulders, the warmth sinking into your skin instantly. “you’re freezing. what were you thinking?”

“gotta suffer for fashion. or whatever they say,” you mumble, barely able to roll your eyes before his hands are on your arms, rubbing through the fabric, and somehow making you feel warmer than the coat itself.

he laughs under his breath while shaking his head. “yeah?” he says, then his voice softens, dropping an octave. “well, you do look incredible, so i guess it’s worth it.”

you open your mouth to call him out, but before you can get a word in, his arms are around you, pulling you in close. his chin rests lightly against the top of your head for just a second before he presses a soft kiss there.

he pulls back, his hands still warm on your arms, and tilts his head toward the side of the building. “come on,” he says, his smirk turning mischievous. “let’s disappear before anyone realizes the party just got boring.”

the cold is biting at your legs, but matty’s hand is warm as he drags you around the corner of the balcony, out of view of the glass doors and windows. it’s quieter here, the buzz of the party fading into the background. he doesn’t say anything at first, just turns to you, and before you know it, he’s leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. smooth. easy.

you watch as he draws out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter, but you stop him, holding up a finger. “wait.” you fumble with your tiny purse, the one that barely fits your phone and keys, let alone anything practical. matty raises an eyebrow, his smile already tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watches you. finally, you pull out a sleek metal case and flip it open, revealing a couple of perfectly rolled joints nestled inside. because, obviously, priorities.

he lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “course you do. you’d even bring a fancy little case for your weed.”

“what?” you shrug, plucking one out and holding it between your fingers. “it’s called being prepared.”

his grin widens as he nods toward you. “go on, then.”

you slip the joint between your lips, and even though you’re trying to play it cool, you know he’s watching you, really watching you. then he’s stepping closer, flicking his lighter open and cupping the flame. “here, let me,” you watch as the lighter sparks. “a pretty lady like you doesn’t ever need to light their own.”

the flame grows as he cups his hand around it, his fingers brushing yours just enough to make your breath catch. you inhale, the smoke curling warm in your lungs. when you exhale, it spirals into the cold, dissipating as quickly as it came.

“that’s my girl,” he states as a fact and you can’t help but grin back, your cheeks burning even as the night air turns your breath into mist.

you take another quick drag and pass the joint to him, already feeling the buzz creeping in. you’re definitely a lightweight, but honestly, who gives a fuck? not when matty looks like that—too damn pretty and all sharp cheekbones as he inhales. you’re watching too closely, maybe, but it’s impossible not to, especially when he tilts his head back to exhale, the smoke disappearing into the stars.

“you good?” his voice is teasing because you know he’s caught you looking.

“so good,” you say, a little bolder now as the buzz kicks in. your hands slide up to the back of his neck, pulling him close until your lips meet his. the kiss is warm and leaves you a little breathless, the haze wrapping around you both.

when you pull back, giggling softly, he just shakes his head, his grip steady on your waist. “you’re high.”

“maybe.” your grin gives you away completely.

he leans in again, his lips brushing against your ear. “bet you don’t even realize how much you’re staring at me,” he murmurs, and you can hear the teasing in his words.

“shut up.”

“nah, i don’t think i will.” his tone is playful but there’s a low edge to it that makes your pulse quicken. his free hand slides to your waist, while the hand holding the joint comes up to cup your jaw. “you’re cute like this, y’know?” he tilts your face up slightly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “all flustered and giggly.”

you’re about to fire back, something sharp and clever to cut through his smugness, but he doesn’t give you the chance. his hand, the one still holding the blunt, slides up to cup your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone in a way that feels too soft for someone as cocky as him. before you can process it, he’s kissing you again, the taste of smoke and him filling your senses.

his other hand finds your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath hitch, and when the kiss deepens, his touch drifts lower. you’re too lost in the press of his mouth to notice at first, but then his hand is under your skirt, slipping past the waistband of your underwear to grab a handful of your ass.

the sound that escapes you is quiet, almost swallowed by the kiss, but it’s enough to make him pull back, lips twitching into a grin. “thought you said you were good,” his voice is full of mock concern. “this doesn’t seem very good to me, darling.”

you glare at him, or try to, but the heat pooling in your stomach ruins the effect. “you’re a dick.”

“what?” he murmurs, leaning in close again. “didn’t realize you’d like that so much.” he taps his thumb gently against the corner of your mouth. “open up, darling.”

your lips part instinctively, and you watch as he takes another slow drag, holding it in before leaning forward to press his lips to yours again. the smoke flows between you, warm and dizzying, and your eyes roll back as the sensation rushes through you. a quiet moan slips out and his hand on your ass pulls you closer.

“there she is,” he breathes against your lips, voice full of approval. your hands slide up to his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as your hips press against him, rolling instinctively.

he groans softly, the sound vibrating against your mouth as his hand on your ass tightens, guiding you into a slow, steady rhythm, his tone laced with amusement as he murmurs, “just like that. that’s a good girl.” you don’t hesitate, grinding your hips into him, the friction pulling a gasp from your lips as his hand stays firm, steering you with maddening precision. the pace picks up, his voice dropping to that teasing drawl that makes you want to either slap him or kiss him harder.

his hand shifts, sliding around to the front, fingers brushing against your thighs before slipping between your legs. “look at you,” he says, his tone caught somewhere between mocking and awe. his fingers run through your wetness, and when they find your clit, your head falls back, lips parting on a soundless gasp.

he doesn’t stop, watching you closely, his expression a mix of mischief and wonder. “you good, darling?” he asks softly, the words carrying a weight that grounds you even as your body feels like it’s floating.

you nod quickly, unable to form a proper response. his fingers keep moving before slipping inside, the stretch and warmth of them stealing your breath once more. he moves carefully, testing, watching for any sign of discomfort. “you’re okay?” he checks again, his voice polite even.

you nod, unable to form words, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as your legs threaten to give out.

“that good, huh?” he asks, and when you tug on his hair in response, he half-laughs, half-moans, the sound going straight to your core. he takes one last drag from the joint, holding in the smoke as he pumps his fingers into you, his pace building. when he exhales, his head tilts back, smoke curling into the cold night air, and then he flicks the rest of the joint away without a second thought.

his hand moves faster, his thumb finding your clit again, and you can’t help the way your hips jerk into him, chasing the friction. “that’s it, baby.”

it’s overwhelming, the way he’s working you, his fingers relentless as his other hand steadies you, keeping you from collapsing as your body trembles. your breath stutters into short, desperate gasps, and when you finally come undone, it’s with a muffled cry, your teeth sinking into his shoulder to stifle the sound. his fingers don’t stop immediately, coaxing out every last wave of pleasure, his hand firm on your waist, holding you upright as your knees threaten to give out. your breath shudders as he finally slows, his touch softening, easing you gently back to yourself.

he presses a quick kiss to your forehead, then lets his lips trail down your neck, lingering in a way that has your body melting against him. when his fingers slide out of you, you notice as he glances down, the dim light catching your cum on his hand. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, and without thinking, you part your mouth, sucking on it slowly. your grin comes back as you moan at the taste, heat creeping up your neck.

“you’re perfect, sweetheart,” he mutters as he leans in to kiss you again, deeper this time, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that leaves you dizzy. when he finally pulls back, his lips curve into that crooked smile that drives you insane. “and you taste so fucking good. you okay? still cold?”