#ms23

hughes!sister x tz: fluffy lazy night in after Frozen Frenzy (blurb req. by 1,000th follower)

mattias samuelsson 18♦️

trezor zegras 1♣️

luke hughes 10♣️

cole caufield 13❤

cole caufield 22♠️

luke hughes 8♣️

luke hughes 25♦️

mattias samuelsson 21♠️

jack hughes 5♣️

trevor zegras 8♣️

jack hughes 15♠️

quinn hughes 14❤

quinn hughes 9♦️

jack hughes 18❤

jack hughes 24♣️

luke hughes 25❤

quinn hughes 6♣️

trevor zegras 7❤

jack hughes 26♣️

cole caufield 11♠️

quinn hughes 26♦️

luke hughes 1❤

jack hughes 21♣️

quinn hughes 7❤

matt rempe 7♦️

quinn hughes 23♣️

trevor zegras 4♣️

luke hughes 11♠️

mattias samuelsson 23❤

jack hughes 25♣️

jack hughes 21♠️

quinn hughes 24♦️

mattias samuelsson 9♣️

quinn hughes 16♦️

trevor zegras 4❤

luke hughes 26♠️

luke hughes 13♣️

jack hughes 26❤

jack hughes 12♣️

nico hischier 16❤

cole caufield 5♣️

jack hughes 17♣️

cole caufield 24 ♣️

quinn hughes 18♦️

The first time you met Mattias, it was the third day of classes of your sophomore year and your best friend from freshman year, one Mr. Jack Quinn, had invited you to his new house for a housewarming dinner. You had gotten yourself dolled up– jeans rather than your normal sweats– and driven to the parking lot closest to their place before walking the rest of the way.

Mattias had swung the door open and looked you up and down, making you do a double take at his large frame filling the doorway. 

“Hi,” he greeted, his Joker-ish smile crossing his face.

“Hi,” you replied. “Is Jack here?”

Mattias took you in again, then stepped aside so that you could enter the house. “He’s in the kitchen,” Mattias told you. He closed the door behind you, then collapsed on the couch in the living room like he’d been through a very hard day’s work.

That was four months ago– and plenty has changed. 

Now, you’re a mainstay at the Quinn-Samuelsson house. You spend your evenings there, whether you’re studying, eating, or just hanging out. You often spend your nights and your mornings there, too– waking up in Mattias’ queen-sized bed, tangled up in his blankets because the boy is a restless sleeper and wrapped in his arms because, despite his restlessness, Mattias can barely stand when he’s not touching you.

It started out small– he would tease you for being smaller than him, comparing the size of your hands or sitting next to you on the couch during movie nights just close enough that your thigh was pressing against his. Then, he grew bolder– a hand on your knee when seated or at the small of your back when walking behind you. It all came to a head one night after a rowdy game of bar trivia, where you and Jack had stumbled back to the house arm-in-arm and laughing. Your laughter and ruckus had woken Mattias up and you were the bold one this time, wrapping your arms around his waist and smiling up at him.

“Hi, Tits,” you slurred kindly the first time you slept in his bed, using the nickname that you and Jack had concocted to talk about Mattias behind his back. It was all out in the open now– a side effect of your drunkenness. “You’re looking especially tall today.”

He had laughed out that breathless chuckle of his and hugged you back good-naturedly, then asked if you wanted to use his bed instead of the couch that night. You had agreed and after a copious amount of whining, Mattias had joined you instead of squeezing onto the couch in your place. Jack had long since gone to bed and you and Mattias had stayed up talking about nonsense. As the sun crested the horizon, his nose nudged against yours and you realized how close you were. There was still a little liquid courage left coursing through your veins and you blame that for the way you tipped your chin up and brushed against his lips. 

It had been lazy and casual, a barely-friends with benefits situation that became more and more frequent until you were practically dependent on your dose of Mattias to get through the day.

The problem with your new relationship with Mattias is that Jack is starting to feel plenty neglected. You understand it and he doesn’t have to tell you that he’s missing you for you to notice– it’s all in his recent distance from you, how he sits across the room in the chair rather than on the couch with you and Mattias and how he keeps his hands securely in his pockets when you walk back from class or the library.

It’s really starting to bother you, but you can’t talk to Jack about it. He’ll just brush you off and say nothing is wrong, even though it so clearly is. Instead, you’re watching Mattias and Jack play a video game that doesn’t capture your interest– that, despite knowing that you came over today to hang out with Jack, is focused on Mattias’ long fingers, the ones that you’ve become well acquainted with since the first time you kissed him. 

You have tried to tear your eyes away from the digits and even succeeded a few times, but your vision keeps wandering back. You blame the smooth, deep tone of Mattias’ voice, laughing at Jack each time his character gets killed or teasing him whenever he gets close to winning, but not close enough. Mattias has a habit of using the same tone to tease you, especially when his fingers are prodding at your insides or your lips are wrapped around his cock.

Tonight is about your friendship with Jack, you remind yourself again. He’s the whole reason you even know Mattias and even more than that, he’s your best friend. You adore Jack, even when he’s bitching and whining and moaning about something petulant or putting off his homework until you relent and shove yours across the table for him to copy. He’s the best person you’ve met since starting college and you never thought that you’d be one of those girls that abandons their friends as soon as they find a boy to fuck, but you’ve been acting that way lately. You feel guilty. 

Even Mattias’ unimpressed eyes and quirked lips when you refuse to sit next to him can’t convince you to budge. You’re borderline ignoring the boy that has learned just how to push your buttons and make you scream, and he’s getting a kick out of it.

Jack is locked in on the game now, trying to capitalize on Mattias’ wandering eyes. He’s biting his bottom lip and evaluating the screen with unblinking eyes. 

You’re so fond of him– he’s competitive, like you. He’s eager to prove himself and anxious to shine, which doesn’t manifest in your classes so much as when you’re around the house. He cooks and it’s always delicious. He doesn’t even mind doing the dishes afterward. What you know started as a class crush– and nothing more– has bloomed into a strong friendship that you wouldn’t trade for anything, not even Mattias. 

Regardless of how Mattias drives you crazy, in the best way. 

Despite his focus, Jack loses by a margin. Mattias’ bragging smile causes a flutter of butterflies to erupt in your stomach even if you’re shaking your head. 

“It’s too easy,” Mattias says with a shrug. He tosses his controller onto the table in front of him and kicks his feet up, crossing his ankles and threading his fingers behind his head. The motion broadens his chest and accentuates his thighs, but once again, you refuse to be distracted.

“That’s okay, Jack.” You comfort him with a pat on his knee. 

“He wins every time,” Jack complains, tossing his own controller onto the table and adjusting his hat on his head. He does it like a tic, you’ve noticed, when he’s frustrated. “He doesn’t even have to try.”

“Not just when it comes to games, eh?” Mattias teases the boy with a wink, knocking his shoulder against Jack’s before standing. He winks at you, too, then bids you both goodnight. He walks past you, stepping over Jack’s legs rather than taking the easy route, and ruffles your hair annoyingly when he does so.

You pout and try to fix your hair when he’s done, but you’re secretly pleased– you love how Mattias shows affection. He’s so loose with it, not generic at all, and it always makes you smile.

The tall, broad boy disappears up to his bedroom, leaving you with Jack. You turn towards him and throw your legs over his lap, the arm of the couch pressed against your middle back. Jack’s hand falls on your shin, his thumb rubbing over the skin. 

“What was that about?” You ask. Mattias’ final gloat seemed pointed and specific, but you didn’t know that there was tension between the boys. Surely one of them would have told you.

“Dunno,” Jack replies. “He’s so fucking cryptic.”

“We can definitely agree on that,” you say with a laugh. 

Jack smiles and you sit in silence for a minute. Jack’s touching you comfortably, but the motion makes your skin tickle a bit, sending a shiver up your body. You blame it on the residual butterflies that Mattias left behind, still fluttering in your stomach. 

“Hey,” you say, breaking the silence.

Jack fixes you with a quizzical look. “Hey.” He raises an eyebrow, but he’s still smiling a bit. His thumb has stilled.

“I know you’ve told me a million times, but are you sure you’re okay with me and Mattias hooking up?” You ask with a self-deprecating tilt of your head, making sure you don’t break eye contact with the boy, even as he starts to duck his head.

“Everything’s fine, I swear,” Jack assures you. He holds out his pinky and you hook your pinky to it, kissing the tip of your thumb. He’s got a soft smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and once again, you know that he’s not quite telling the truth.

You don’t want to push. You don’t want to force him to tell you something he’s not ready to say, but something about the Mattias situation is bothering him. 

“Okay,” you relent, matching his smile. “You’ll tell me if it starts bothering you, right? I’ll kick him to the curb. Girl code?”

Jack scoffs, rolling his eyes at your insinuation. “I’m not one of the girls,” he grumbles.

“You like drama more than I do,” you point out.

Jack doesn’t have a smart reply for that, so he just stays silent. You laugh, then the air between you fades to silence again. This time, Jack moves your legs and stands.

“I’m gonna go to bed, too,” he says. “I bet Titty is waiting for you.”

“Yeah, probably.” You take Jack’s outstretched hand and he pulls you up. “He needs to wait sometimes. It keeps him humble.”

You’re walking towards the stairs and Jack gestures for you to go ahead. “You know, if you don’t hurry, he might fall asleep without you.” He follows you up the steps, footsteps quiet and sneaky like every other day. 

“Always looking out for me,” you praise at the top of the stairs, at the fork in the road. Jack’s bedroom is to the left, near the shared bathroom, and Mattias’ is on the right. “See you in the morning, J.”

“Not if I see you first.”

You split up and you lightly knock on Mattias’ bedroom door before slipping through the crack he left open for you. You shed your sweats and pull on one of Mattias’ t-shirts, the one he wore earlier today. You crawl under the covers next to his warm body and he slings an arm over your waist to pull you closer. 

“Good talk with Twos?” Mattias murmurs, his eyes closed and voice already drowsy. You hate how he can fall asleep so easily, but you love the scratchy quality his voice adopts late at night. It’s the best when his mouth is positioned right next to your ear and he’s telling you how tight you feel.

You have to shake the thought away. “Do you think Jack’s acting weird?” You ask, drawing an invisible line up his sternum, between his fleshy pecs that you love to poke until he flexes them and takes all his softness away.

Mattias snorts, laughing. “Of course he is,” he tells you. “He’s jealous.”

You lurch back, curling your lip and frowning up at Mattias. He blinks his eyes open to look down at you, mostly because of your movement and not because of what he said. He spoke like it was a known fact, that Jack was jealous.

“Of what?” You wonder.

“Of me, dude.” Mattias’ chest rumbles with the words and you tsk at the bro-y nickname. He continues on without acknowledging your distaste. “Jealous that I get to do this and he doesn’t.” He pushes your shirt up, cupping your breast and squeezing. 

“No, he’s not,” you deny. “He’s never acted like that. It can’t be jealousy.”

Mattias chuckles. “It can and it is,” he insists. “You wanna know how I know?”

You’re stunned for a second by the glint in his hooded eyes and the way his teeth are barely biting down on his lower lip. He raises his eyebrows when you don’t respond, just a quick quirk that draws your attention.

You shrug, letting your eyes drift back to his lips. Usually, by now, you’ve kissed them. It’s getting harder to resist, especially when Mattias leans forward until you’re going cross-eyed to get an actual look at him.

“The other day, I was going to get a towel from the bathroom to clean you up after–” he fully bites his lip and winks. “– and I overheard a little something from Jack’s room. It sounded… oddly like your name, so I asked him about it.”

“You did not.”

“And after some pressing, he told me that he’d had a little crush on you last semester, but you were soooo nice that he never found the right time to make a move.” Mattias’ voice is hushed and teasing, smug like he’s bragging over another win in their video games. “And then you found your way to me.”

It’s a lot to process, but Mattias is leaning in to press a chaste kiss against your lips. When he releases you and gets comfortable again, the cogs are still turning in your head. His eyes are closed when you speak.

“Possessive much?”

Mattias trembles with a laugh, pulling you closer and bringing your leg over his hip. “Don’t need to be possessive. He doesn’t stand a chance when I’m fucking you.”

“Maybe he does– maybe you need to learn how to share,” you say, your tone twisting with the implication. 

Mattias’ eyes flash open and his breath is no longer slow and consistent like it’s reaching for sleep. “What?”

“Maybe,” you repeat, touching your front teeth with the tip of your tongue for the added suspense. You cuddle into Mattias’ chest, your lips barely an inch from his, and continue. “You need to learn how to share.” You pull away and reveal your own smug, braggadocious smile, daring him.

Like you said– Jack had been your class crush first, way before you met Mattias. 

“Are you serious?” Mattias asks, incredulous. 

“Well, this is casual, isn’t it?” You tease. “It’s not like we’re exclusive. I’d love to see Jack’s face when I make a move on him if he’s so jealous of you, hm?”

Mattias frowns, about to say something, but you cut him off. 

You tilt your head coyly and bat your eyelashes at him. “Or… well, nevermind.” You turn over in his arms and press your hips back against his lap.

“Or… what?” Mattias probes, his fingertips dancing across your stomach and the waistband of your panties. “You started that sentence, now you have to finish it. Those are the rules.”

“If you can’t bear to share me with Jack, maybe you should join us,” you say, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. You’re faking the ease– the idea of having both Jack and Mattias in the same bed lights a fire between your legs unlike anything you’ve experienced before. “Make sure he’s doing it right…?”

You hoped that your words would set him off, knowing that despite his chill demeanor, Mattias is a perfectionist, a competitor, and a possessive partner. He’s bossy and dominant, positively eager to please and he loves to make sure that you’re feeling as content as possible in his bed. 

“You want… both of us?” Mattias asks. You can practically hear him narrowing his eyes as he speaks. “Really? Am I not good enough for you?” His question grows teasing at the end, which is how you know he’s considering it.

“You love to rag on him during games,” you drawl, wiggling your hips against him. Mattias releases a groan as you do so, rubbing his fingers over the skin just above your waistband. His other hand sneaks under your body and up your shirt. He tweaks your nipple as means of ‘teaching you a lesson’ for grinding against him, but it only increases your ministrations. “Imagine, Ti, how much fun you’d have, showing him how good you are at making me come.”

The praise always gets him– always. Today is no different. As you roll your behind against his length, you can feel him growing. So, you keep talking.

“At making me whimper, at making me beg…” You lick your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to see me squirm under him, even though I’m moaning your name?”

“Jesus, fuck,” Mattias groans, untangling his arms from your figure and rolling off the bed. You turn to face him, pulling the covers up to your chest and smiling from ear to ear. You can see the bulge in his pants now that your eyes are well-adjusted to the darkness. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, choking back a laugh. You’re delighted, but your stomach is rolling with the possibilities that the night holds. You know Mattias is going to get Jack, but you’re always a little bratty and sassy, so you can’t help yourself.

“Be right back,” Mattias promises before opening the bedroom door and slipping through it, disappearing down the hall and leaving you in the bed that smells like him. 

In the time he’s gone, you’re at war with yourself– do you take his shirt off and speed things along, playing with your tits to give them a show when they return, or do you leave Mattias’ shirt on and allow Jack to take it off of you?

You decide on a mixture of the two– you push your shirt up just enough that your stomach is exposed. You can get a hand on yourself and you knead one of your breasts, allowing your fingers to tease circles around your nipple but never pinching or twisting it the way Mattias does. 

You can hear him down the hall, rapping on Jack’s door and impatiently telling Jack to come to his bedroom. You can hear Jack, confused and frustrated that he has to get out of bed after getting comfortable. He follows Mattias’ directions– of course he does, he acts like Mattias hung the moon– and with each step closer to where you lay, you feel yourself growing damper and damper. 

Your legs are spread under the covers, just wide enough that Mattias could climb between them if he chose to do so. It’s the normal position you assume when he leaves you alone. There’s very little that Mattias likes more than seeing you ready for him, inviting him in with your stretched limbs. The edge of the sheet lays just over the expanse of your hips, leaving plenty to be revealed when the boys burst in.

Mattias, ever the gentleman, opens the door for Jack and holds it open for him.

“Why am I–” Jack starts to ask, but then his eyes lock on you. “Oh.” He gawks for a second, allowing himself to enjoy the view, then catches himself. “What– what?” When he repeats himself, he turns to face Mattias, and it makes the taller boy laugh.

“Come on, Twos,” Mattias persuades, stepping through the doorway and passing Jack, who is planted in one spot like he’s rooted in a stone. Mattias clambers onto the bed, uncoordinated because of his size but somehow graceful in the way he settles next to you. He places his hand on your abdomen, pinky and ring finger brushing over the little bow on the front of your panties. He traces it absent-mindedly, staring at the boy who’s surprised and backlit from the hall light. You wish you could see his face better, especially when Mattias continues. “Time to live up to your nickname.”

His words plant a spark inside of you, one that only grows as he dips his fingers even lower. He traces over the wet spot that’s growing between your legs. Jack watches on– you can see his eyes move although you can’t make out the look on his face, and his presence draws a noise out of you. Then, you find your words– even as Mattias makes it harder with more insistent presses.

“Mattias said you never knew when the right time was to make your move,” you announce. “Now’s the time, Jack.”

He’s still rooted there. He even turns toward the door for a second, looking out into the hall like you’re talking to some other Jack that snuck into the house and wanted a threesome.

If you weren’t so desperate, you’d laugh.

“You heard her,” Mattias reinforces, calling Jack’s attention back to the sight in front of him. “Look how wet she is, Jack. She’s wet because she was thinking of you– well, and me, and what we could do with her.”

He’s too proud to attribute your wetness completely to Jack. Whereas you won’t laugh at Jack’s hesitation, you do roll your eyes at Mattias, which is an action that earns you a pinch on your clit. It’s equally as jarring as it is pleasureful and you’re reeling.

Jack’s posture changes in a way that you can’t describe– it’s incredulous, maybe? A little bit like he’s not sure if he’s in a dream, where he’s not sure if he can move or if he’s being tormented by a complete inability to do anything but watch.

He still doesn’t make a move and it’s bothering you– you want to insist and call out his name to get his attention, to make sure he’s not in another realm entirely. You open your mouth, planning to sound sharp and pointed, and as you start to speak, Mattias pets his thumb over your clit. Your glare becomes relaxed and your indignant “Jack” transforms into a wanton-sounding moan of his name.

It’s the complete opposite of what you described to Mattias earlier, but he doesn’t seem to care. Or maybe he’s letting it slide just this once, just because it serves its purpose all too well.

Jack finally takes a step forward. He lifts his foot and tugs at his sock, throwing it across the room, then doing the same with the other. He kicks the door closed behind him, putting you back into darkness and you pray for your eyes to adjust to the change faster. You want to see him. You need to know how his eyes look when he’s inches away from something he hoped for, but never quite received. 

You want to see desperation on his face because you want to know that he feels the same way you do. With Mattias, you seldom see desperation. He’s all half-lidded eyes and gravelly words whispered as a means of caressing you further, overwhelming your senses in every way he can. You’re the one pulling at his clothes or scratching over his back, pleading for more. 

Lucky for you, once Jack makes it to the edge of the bed, he can’t seem to keep his hands away from you. His fingers circle your ankle over the covers, his other hand pulling his shorts down until he’s just left in his underwear. At that point, he starts to shuffle his way up your body, walking on his knees. He’s straddling you, legs on either side of yours, palms sliding across your thighs, then hips, then waist. 

You finally can see the look on his face. He’s memorizing you in a reverent way, like he can’t believe you’re real and he’s getting to touch you. His eyes search your skin for details that he can file away for later, his thumb brushing over a freckle that you had forgotten about as the breath leaves his lungs. He melts above you, the corners of his lips turning up in a giddy smile. He laughs for a moment to himself, barely expelling any air or sound when he does so. Then, his eyes finally meet yours. 

His pupils are swollen, bigger than you’ve ever seen them. You hold eye contact for only a moment before Jack’s gaze drifts to your lips, where they stay. Once again, he hesitates. Your own eyes find his lips, plush and parted, glistening like he just licked them. You’re certainly not going to make another first move, having already moaned out Jack’s name without him even touching you– it’s his turn, you stubbornly decide.

But Jack is stubborn too, or maybe just that unsure of himself, because his hands are still the only point of contact between your bodies after what feels like an eternity.

Even Mattias tires of waiting. “For fuck’s sake,” Mattias scoffs. He rolls his eyes and takes his hand away from your panties, touching your chin and turning your head towards his. He kisses you instead of Jack, stealing your lips from the other boy because he can’t be bothered to let them remain untouched. He’s kissed you many times before, so his lips are sure against your own, his confidence making you sigh out and close your eyes. 

You touch Mattias’ cheek with your fingertips, one hand still kneading your breast. As the feeling and sound of the kiss overwhelm your senses, Jack’s hands find your stomach. They run up to your ribs, then he nudges your hand aside. You don’t quite get it, lost in the way Mattias’ tongue feels against yours, so Jack covers your hand with his own. He traces the lines of your fingers with his, then settles his digits between the spaces of yours. With his other hand, he has free reign. He’s able to ghost over the smooth skin surrounding your pebbled nipple before touching the protrusion with a gentle flick of his index finger. You chase the motion, breaking away from Mattias’ mouth to look at the place where Jack’s hands lay.

He has exposed your chest now, pushed Mattias’ shirt up so far that it’s bunched up near your collarbones. He’s staring at your breasts like they’re the best thing he’s ever seen, like he’s never seen anything like them before and never will again. He takes your wrist and moves your hand so that it covers your belly button, sufficiently out of the way. 

Mattias is still crowding your face with light kisses on your cheek and jaw, index finger tapping at the other side of your chin to call your lips back to his, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Jack’s hands and his mouth as it comes lower, sealing over the peak from which he just removed your fingers. His tongue flicks against the nipple the same way that his finger moves on your opposite side, creating competing sensations that work better together than they ever would apart. 

Jack’s movements have you arching into him, your back leaving the bed enough for Mattias’ arm to weasel under you and tug you closer. He’s abandoned your chin, evidently giving up on getting your attention from his simple nudges. 

Your usual partner is getting greedy and it shows– he’s petting over your core again with his long, delectable fingers. He shifts the crotch of your panties to the side just a bit, just enough that he can collect a bit of your slick on his middle two fingers. He returns his hand to your face, touching your lips with the wetness before you drop your jaw and he presses down on your tongue. 

You suck his fingers greedily, knowing that this is just the first step to having him inside of you. You look to him for a moment, taking in the smile that barely clings to his face. He’s proud of you, praising you with just the glint in his eyes. It’s enough for you in that moment, so you look away– making the mistake of looking down at Jack.

His eyes are wide and piercing, staring up at you as he sucks on your tits. You release a soft moan, spurring him on. He pulls off of you and blows cool air against the wet patch of skin gracing your nipple, making it grow impossibly harder. You shudder as he switches to your other side. He focuses all his attention on drawing another noise out of you, hair falling over his forehead and tickling the skin of your chest where it lays. His eyes are closed, but his hair blocks your view. 

Mattias seems to notice the same thing, pulling his fingers from your mouth and threading them through the strands dangling in front of Jack’s forehead to move them out of the way. He grips the hair tightly before he lets go, making Jack’s eyes open and look to him. A beat passes between the men, a look that makes you feel like, for a moment, you cease to exist underneath or beside them.

Then, Jack’s eyes flutter closed again and Mattias’ hand falls. He finds the waistband of your underwear, now soaked to the point that you’re sure they’re clinging to your folds. From this angle, with Jack on top of you, Mattias can’t get a good grip on the band to push the fabric down. You can feel his face contort with his thoughts and Jack is none the wiser, just enjoying his time attached to your nipples. 

Mattias taps his shoulder, brows furrowed like he knows what he wants but he’s not sure if he’s overstepping. Jack’s eyes open and find the other man again, completely neutral. There’s an edge of expectancy in his movements with the way his tongue pauses its movements as he stares up at Mattias.

For someone so sure of himself in bed, Mattias sounds apprehensive when he speaks. He’s so used to ordering you around, bossing you because he knows that you’ll do whatever he asks, but Jack is new territory. 

“If you like how her nipples taste, you should get your mouth on her cunt,” Mattias seems to suggest, even though you know that he’s not asking Jack to do so. He’s telling him to eat you out, to take your panties off and start to pleasure you.

Ripping a whine from you as he goes, Jack drops your nipple from his mouth and wipes along his bottom lip to break the line of spit connecting you. “You’d let me?” He asks, open-mouthed and breathing like he’s recovering from a run. His eyes are trained on Mattias and a thrill runs up your spine as soon as you realize that he’s asking the other boy for permission. You and Jack are more alike than you knew before.

It seems to click in the same moment for Mattias, who you’ve turned to face. His expression grows grave, even though he’s starting to smirk. “Yeah, I’d let you,” he says.

Jack’s fingers leave your torso and dig under the sides of your underwear, ready to tear them off of you with the fervor of a depraved man. 

“But you have to beg,” Mattias adds, just before Jack can drag the fabric low enough to reveal your clit. The words rush out of him and Jack halts. 

“Beg?” He asks. 

Mattias lets out a little scoff. Your eyes bounce between them, back and forth as they bicker like you’re down in the kitchen making dinner and Jack wants chicken but Mattias wants steak. It’s perfect how easily you three fall into your roles, how simple it is to let your normal behavior leak into your bedroom.

“Yeah, beg,” Mattias affirms. He tilts his head to the side and mocks Jack, sticking his bottom lip out. “Come on, Twosey. You’re such a whiny bitch all the time, why should now be any different? You need to prove to us that you want it.”

“I want it,” Jack insists, pulling back with a knitted, offended brow. “You know I want it.”

“Oh, I know you want it,” Mattias says. “But she only just found out and I think you need to tell her how much you’re dying to be with her.” 

As if he needs to remind Jack that you’re there, Mattias shifts on the bed so that you’re on display. His arm, which had been trapped under your waist once Jack’s mouth left your chest and you stopped arching into the smaller boy, pushes you up until you’re sitting. Mattias then sits behind you, his back against the headboard and your back against his bare, warm chest. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder comfortably, your temple meeting his cheek in this motion.

His cock, neglected for minutes upon minutes is achingly hard against your tailbone. You press back even further so the contact is snug– so that Mattias can have a little relief. No ulterior motive… despite the fact that you love to feel him straining against you.

Jack is still straddling your legs, your knees underneath him. He’s hovering above them and you can’t spread your legs to draw him in, a fact that leaves you frowning and humming to yourself. It makes his eyebrows quirk and causes Mattias to splay his hand over your stomach again, rubbing a soft circle on the skin and cooing in your ear. 

“Don’t be impatient, baby, he’s still learning,” Mattias says, letting his eyes float back to Jack at the end of his sentence. You know the look that he’s giving Jack, even without seeing it: an impatient cut of the eyes, one raised eyebrow as if it’s a challenge, and he’s pressing his tongue against his teeth to signal that it’s time for Jack to relent or Mattias will have to do something about it himself. “It’s time, Quinn.”

Using his last name– things are getting serious. 

Mattias pulls your shirt up, dragging it over your head. The loss of it means a few things– one, that Mattias’ scent is no longer covering you completely. He’s behind you, pressing against you, and you can smell him, but it’s not the same. Two, that you’re naked except for your sopping panties and Jack can see almost everything. 

“I wanted him to do that,” you whine, pouting at Mattias. Your head is resting on his shoulder again, farther away this time so that you can look up at him from the side. You’ve got a great view of his nose and the curve of his lips, the curve that only tilts up more as he turns to face you. 

Mattias presses a kiss to the corner of your pout and speaks like Jack isn’t there, like he’s not hovering inches from where you want him to be. “He hasn’t earned it, has he?”

The question is rhetorical and it spurs Jack into action. He pulls your panties down and slides off the bed so that he can remove them completely from your body. He holds them between his fingers like they’re a sacred object for which he should use gloves, standing at the edge of the bed. One of his knees rests on the mattress and you get an eyeful of his erection, covered by his underwear, but prominent nonetheless. Having seen it, and having been freed, you’re ready to kick your legs apart and beg him to come back.

Mattias, however, brackets your legs instead and uses his strong thighs to keep yours shut. You make an indignant groan, frowning at the man with a sharp look and he pinches your nipple, tweaking it slightly to put you in your place. You’re his, after all. Jack is just visiting. You’re only a slut for Mattias– Jack has to earn it. 

“Go put those and her shirt in the laundry bin in my closet,” Mattias instructs. “Then, Jack, I believe you have some begging to do.”

The boy stands, lost and torn between wanting to preserve his dignity by fighting back against Mattias and wanting to succumb to his dominant commands so that he can get his mouth on you more quickly.

Mattias allows him to think it over for only a moment. “Go on,” he prods, encouraging the boy with a nod.

Jack takes a tentative step toward the closet, then another. He's just far enough away when Mattias returns to you. 

He loosens his grip on your legs just slightly, enough that he can dip his hand into the space between your legs and offer you some much needed reprieve. “Look how well he listens with a little nudge,” Mattias murmurs before kissing your temple. “Now you have to be good for me, yeah? When he comes back, don't let him take your pussy so easily. Make him work for it. He’ll like that.”

“How do you know?” You question, looking up at him. 

Mattias shrugs, jostling your head with the movement. He skims your entrance with the pad of one of his thick fingers, teasing you. “I just know,” he replies. He pushes his fingertip inside of you, starting to work it in and out but not opening you up– that privilege is something he’s awarding to Jack. “Just like how I know you.”

“Took you a while to get to know me,” you shoot back.

Across the room, Jack is looking in Mattias’ closet and trying to find his hamper. It’s in the back corner, hidden by some of his longer pants, so you’re not surprised that Jack is having trouble. It allows time for Mattias to focus on you, like a normal night, and you like that you get to have a moment alone with him. At the same time, it feels almost unfair that Jack is so far away.

Mattias chuckles at your attitude, his finger curling deep inside of you. You can feel the digit deftly rubbing against your insides, making you squirm. Mattias stills you by bringing his other hand up your body and lightly circling the base of your throat, squeezing it just slightly. “Know how much you like this,” Mattias tells you, whispering in your ear in a way that has goosebumps rising along your neck. “Didn’t take me too long to figure that out.”

Your eyes are forward, so you catch the moment that Jack finally turns around, having completed his task, and catches sight of Mattias’ hand around your throat and fingers between your legs. His mouth opens and his eyes widen, cheeks blushing into a flaming red. 

“Good, Jack, c’mere,” Mattias says after a moment, finally lifting his eyes once he notices your distant stare. “Come lay down.”

Jack comes much easier this time, approaching the bed looking befuddled but eager. Mattias continues to pump his finger inside of you, although his hand drops from your throat. It finds your inner thigh and he spreads your legs for you, creating a space for Jack to lay. With one final parting thrust of his finger, Mattias pulls away and spreads your other leg even wider. 

You’re fully on display now, folds parted from when Mattias spread them for his own greedy finger. You’re pristinely wet, barely needing Jack’s spit to mix with your own slick. Either of them could slide into you, fill you, without trouble. You almost want Jack to bypass Mattias’ plan and fuck you now, but there’s something about the way that Jack follows Mattias’ orders that makes you want to see how far things can go.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” Mattias goads, as if Jack’s eyes aren’t locked on your vagina already. “You’re so close to tasting it, Jack. All you have to do is convince her that you deserve it.”

Jack’s eyes snap to your face and you can tell that his desire has won out. He has no problem opening his mouth and starting to beg.

“Please,” he pleads. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

He’s dead-set on you now, crawling between your legs and tentatively touching your thigh. His hair is still messy, but it’s charming and out of his face and you kind of like that he’s a mess over how badly he wants to be with you. 

“Tell me,” you reply, which earns you a hum of approval from Mattias and a soft pat to your hip. It’s not anything like his pointed spanks and swats, but you treasure it nonetheless. “Tell me what you’ve thought about.”

“It was like torture, having to listen to you down the hall. You sounded so pretty and I wanted to know what Sammy was doing to you to make you so loud. I wanted– I wanted to see,” Jack admits, losing his footing at the end of his sentence. His eyes flicker to Mattias’, then back to your face. “I never thought–”

“Now that you’re here, what are you going to do?” Mattias asks, interrupting the boy. “Tell her what you want to do to her. Tell her the things that you fucked your fist to, Twos.”

“This,” Jack groans, his eyes dropping to your core before coming back to your face. “Every time you moaned for him, I wondered if he was eating you out.”

Truth be told, eating you out wasn’t Mattias’ favorite thing to do. It came with the territory of his dominance– he much preferred to receive than to give, but it was never out of the realm of possibility. It was just a special treat, like when you looked especially beautiful one day or you had done something worth rewarding.

But hearing that it was the first thing on Jack’s mind whenever he overheard you– that has you running through endless scenarios and positions in your mind. With both of them, you’d be able to have everything, sometimes all at once.

Jack talks on. “Know you’d taste so good– wanted to taste you for myself. Practically came in my pants the first time I imagined you sitting on my face, Y/N. Being surrounded by you like that, having your thighs pressed over my ears because it was so good that you couldn’t help it… fuck, I need it. Please, I need it.”

“Not today,” Mattias says before you can nod. “Today, you have to do the work, buddy.”

Jack nods at that anyway, eyes gleaming and wild. “Anything– I just want a taste.”

Mattias nudges you, tapping your cheek with his nose. “Well?” He asks. “Can Jack have a taste?”

“Yeah,” you agree, eager and willing but unable to form any other words.

Like a stopwatch just began and Jack is finally on the clock, he jumps in. He’s laying flat on the bed between your legs, fingers already prodding at your hole while Mattias holds your legs apart for him. 

Mattias is kissing over your neck, sucking over the pulse point on your left side when Jack’s lips close around your clit and mirror the sensation.

You’re not sure who to press into, who to arch against– you’re at war with your own mind and the sensations overtaking you, the ones overtaking you and controlling your movements like a puppeteer tied strings to your body.

Jack has his first two fingers inside of you, thrusting forward quickly like he can’t help himself. Mattias prefers to savor the moment when he’s fingering you, teasing you until you’re grinding against his digits and disobeying his orders to stay still because it’s just that good. While Mattias delays your orgasms in order to make the ultimate one more intense, Jack seems like he wants to bully your erogenous zones until you’re coming, and coming, and coming again. He wants you to come fast and he wants it often. 

It’s a mindfuck, leaving you shaking underneath him as he flicks his tongue against your clit like a doorstopper pulled all the way to one side then released, vibrating back and forth like a metronome set to a rapid pace. You feel like you’re in a scene in a movie where you’re falling down a black hole and all you can hear is the pounding of your heart, growing more and more rapid. 

Breaking the spiral is Mattias’ voice.

“No, Jack,” he says with a frown. One of his hands leaves your tits, the cool air hitting your sensitive nipples like a flinch. He grabs Jack’s hair, grips it so tightly that his knuckles seem to turn white– or maybe you’re just imagining things in your lustful haze– and he drags the boy’s mouth to a stop. “Slower. Don’t waste your only chance.”

You blink, clearing your clouded eyes to protest the “only chance” thing, but you lose your breath when you catch sight of the way Jack’s mouth hangs open with each tug of Mattias’ hand. Mattias practically shoves Jack’s face against your cunt, his tongue sliding over your folds and entrance like he’s lost control of the muscle. You wonder for a second if he’s hurting, but then Jack moans as Mattias positions his mouth over your clit and he latches on like the bud is the tip of a straw and he’s dying of thirst. 

His eyes flutter, as do yours, and you know Mattias is grinning. Jack is like putty in his hands, moving wherever Mattias wants him to go. You’re suddenly aware that your hands are at your sides lamely, doing nothing at all, and you reach for Jack’s hair too like a natural instinct. 

“Ah,” Mattias reprimands, dropping his grasp on your other tit and catching your wrists. “No touching, baby. Just sit back and relax and take what we’re giving you.” He holds both your wrists securely in his hands, keeping them still against your ribcage. He’s still pulling Jack’s hair, grinding his face against your slit, and it’s really Jack’s willingness to move wherever Mattias wants him that has you moaning.

It’s impossible not to grind against Jack’s face, though Mattias makes it hard for you to take charge of your own pleasure.

Nonetheless, you persist. The sounds that emit from Jack spur you on. They’re messy and pornographic, all kinds of sucking and groaning and slurping that would normally turn you off, but his desperation drives you crazy.

It doesn’t take long for you to reach that point, jaw dropping at the penultimate moment. Your head tips back on Mattias’ shoulder, eyes seeking his and finding them already fixed on your face, monitoring you.

“Gonna come,” you choke out, staring at the boy. “Ti–”

“You can,” he says. “He’s been waiting for you to come all over his tongue for months. Go ahead and give him his reward for being so patient, yeah?”

You feel shaky and spent as your first orgasm washes over you, noting in a passing moment that there’s so much more in store for you. There’s at least two or three more coming because Mattias seems to have endless faith in you and infinite ideas, able to do much more now that he has a partner to assist him in his ministrations.

Rather, he has someone else to boss around.

You collapse against Mattias’ strong chest, heaving out heavy breaths as Jack laps up your cum like it’s the best delicacy in the world. He’s languid, conscious of your recovery, and Mattias loosens his grip on the boy’s hair to soothe you as you come down. He pulls your hair out of your face, twisting the strands between his fingers. He speaks softly into your ear, murmuring things that you can’t really decipher because of the force of your climax, but his soothing tone calms you nonetheless.

Once your breath is steady, Mattias beckons Jack up from his place on the bed. 

“Think you’ve earned a kiss,” Mattias says to Jack with a small shrug. He taps your shoulder with his thumb. “What do you say? Wanna give Twos a little kiss for all his hard work?”

You’re nodding, eyes lidded. Jack’s face is flushed and his lips are covered in clear, liquidy mess that drips down onto his chin. He’s absolutely gorgeous and you just want to pull him in and snuggle him forever, putting him in your pocket and carrying him around so that you don’t have to part with him. 

He’s got that stupid look on his face still, but it’s different this time, like he’s growing cloudy in the head because he’s drunk off of the taste of your pussy and Mattias’ direction. He doesn’t hesitate anymore, but he moves slowly, as if time is passing differently for him.

Your first kiss with Jack is sweet, a joining of lips where you place a hand on Jack’s cheek and feel him underneath your palm. He’s hot and a little sweaty from the heat of the moment. The room is stifling with the smell of your arousal, but it could just be like that because you can taste yourself on Jack’s skin. You’re drinking him in all the same, keeping him close even as your lips part for a breath and come back together.

Mattias grinds his clothed cock against your backside while Jack kisses you, making you part from the smaller boy with a small gasp. Mattias turns your head to his, capturing your tingling lips in a more heated exchange, making all of your neurons fire in the best way. He slides his tongue into your mouth, then pulls back, leaving you boneless against him. 

You watch as Mattias and Jack look at each other for a moment too long. Mattias lets his signature smile overtake his face, then he winks at the smaller boy. Jack turns red and looks away.

The hard length against your tailbone catches your attention. You grind back against him, capturing Mattias’ attention.

“Aww, baby,” Mattias mutters softly. “Did you think I was feeling left out?”

“Can feel how hard you are,” you reply. “Wanna make you come.”

“You wanna make me come,” Mattias repeats, lips quirked. “How about I give you something to occupy your mouth with, huh?”

You’re nodding, already shifting on his lap to turn your back to Jack and bend down to mouth over Mattias’ boxers. His big paw covers your hair, bundling your locks on the back of your head in a messy knot. 

“So needy,” he berates, sounding like he’s scolding you although you know he’s pleased. “Can’t even give me time to take my pants off?”

Your knees are bent underneath you, spread wide enough that you can rock forwards and backwards easily. You’re conscious of Jack behind you, especially when you look up at Mattias and find that he’s staring past you.

“You can touch her,” Mattias says to the other boy. “Look how she’s presented right in front of you. Touch her, Jack. Give her another one.”

You’re still mouthing over Mattias’ clothed cock, sucking at the tip through the fabric and soaking it with your spit. He’s guiding you with his hand, pushing you lower until you’re licking over the curve of his balls, your nose tucked into the space where his thigh meets his groin. It should feel humiliating, to be forced to stay here and bring him pleasure, but you’re still reeling from the high of your orgasm and you’re unabashed knowing that your only audience is Mattias– who is a nonissue given how many times he’s fucked your face– and Jack, who is currently tracing his tongue over your slit from behind.

“Okay,” Mattias relents, patting the top of your head until you pull away. He draws his boxers down his legs and you moan, sagging back down when Jack’s finger finds your hole and starts to press into you again. 

He’s bare beneath you now, the only scrap of clothing shared between the three of you being Jack’s boxers. It’s another reason why he’s the third wheel, the odd one out, even though you’d rather die than have him feel that way. You hope that he’s not thinking that, that he’s too preoccupied with your pussy and how the wetness drips down his wrist to wonder about the dynamic of this relationship.

“Twos,” Mattias calls, earning a hum from the other boy. Mattias occupies you with his cock, bringing your mouth to his tip and fitting your lips over it. You’re lax beneath him, allowing him to move your head up and down for his own pleasure. You let him use you as a toy, almost, unwilling to draw attention to yourself when Mattias is speaking with Jack. 

“What?” Jack asks, his tone not as respectful as you’re accustomed to speaking with when it comes to Mattias. You make a noise of discontent around Mattias’ cock at Jack’s question, but Mattias pets over your cheek to quiet you.

“If you make her come before I do, I’ll let you fuck her,” Mattias says. “But you ought to know– she’s good with her mouth.”

As soon as he finishes his sentence, he sets off, fisting your hair and using it like reins to guide your bobbing. He tilts his hips forward even as he lifts and lowers your head, battering and abusing the back of your throat once he thrusts deep enough. 

Jack has pushed a second finger into your heat, pushing you closer to your second orgasm of the night. He’s desperate to make you come a second time, to drag another climax from your writhing body, just so that he can get some release on his cock. You know that it’s aching, that he’s pulsing in his shorts and dripping everywhere, so turned on that he can only just stave off his own orgasm.

His fingers flex inside of you, curling and plunging inside of you with emphatic zeal. Mattias fills you from the front, your spit pooling around the base of his cock. He shoves you down, making you gag around him, your throat constricting in a satisfactory way around his thick shaft. He shakes your head, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his pubic bone as you deepthroat him. 

“You close?” Mattias asks, pointedly looking down at you. He waits until you meet his eyes to draw out and thrust into your mouth again, harsh and delectable. A batch of tears start to appear on your waterline from the effort and they spill over as you stare up at Mattias, his glowering eyes locked on the way you’re dripping around him. If it’s not your spit leaking from your mouth, it’s the drops leaking from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks– and Mattias finds it impossible not to fuck into you harder seeing both of your reactions to his dick. 

You hum around him, trying to nod to answer him, but the hand on the back of your head will not allow it. The added vibrations on his dick have him chasing the pleasure.

“Keep doing that,” Mattias groans. “Let me feel you moan, baby.”

The floodgates open, Mattias’ permission and Jack’s talented fingers pulling noise after noise from your body. You grip Jack’s fingers, rolling your hips as best you can while struggling to fit Mattias’ length in your mouth. You’re gagging as you breathe, which leaves your noises choked and beautiful when they fall on Mattias’ ears.

You’re just about to come, just about to wash Jack’s fingers with your slick, when Mattias’ seed spills down the back of your throat and all your focus shifts to lapping it up and swallowing it. Irrationally, you can feel his hot cum sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach, filling you up in your second-favorite way.

“Pull out,” Mattias commands, grinding his teeth as you continue to worship his cock. You ignore him because you know his words aren’t directed at you. “Jack. Pull out. You lost.”

“I want to make her come,” Jack insists, talking back to Mattias in a tone that has you writhing with discomfort. 

“Pull out,” Mattias repeats, voice dark. “Or you’re never touching her again.”

Jack stills inside you.

“I mean it,” Mattias continues. “Pull out or I will make sure that you never touch her again.”

Jack draws his fingers out, speechless as Mattias monitors his movements. You watch as Mattias nods, the only sign of his approval, expression stony. He draws you up, kissing your forehead with his eyes still fixed on Jack’s. It’s a fuck you, once again flaunting his dominance over Jack. Mattias makes his way out from behind you, standing from the bed and grabbing you by your ankles to tug you to the edge of the bed. 

He bends you over, glowering at the smaller boy who is watching his every move. He pushes your face into the mattress roughly, then releases you. You clench at the bedsheets. Mattias kicks your legs apart, dropping a loud slap onto the globes of your ass as he glares at Jack. 

Then, he points to the headboard, far away from where you lay. You can just barely see his finger when you look up, eyes straining to catch him in your peripheral vision. “You, there,” Mattias orders. To you, he says, “You. Stay.”

You wouldn’t even dare disobey him as his warmth leaves the area behind you. Your skin still stings from his spank, your legs a little shaky from being so close to orgasm and having it ripped away. You feel like you could set off at any moment, only seconds from bursting. 

You can hear Mattias moving, opening his closet and rifling through something. A thrill shoots up your spine, praying that he’s searching for what you think he’s searching for– a shoebox filled with condoms, ones that you stopped using ages ago, and your spare vibrator that Mattias took as his own.

It won’t be the first time he’s used it on you, but the fact that Jack will be watching– oh, this will be quick. 

Mattias returns, silently, and you feel a bit like prey drinking from a watering hole with a lion stalking you. His hand finds you, smoothing over your skin. The other holds the silicon toy against your skin, tapping you. He slides his fingers down to dip into your cunt, testing how open you are. He hums and you can’t see him, but you can see Jack. 

You can see how Jack pales, how his dick twitches in his underwear when Mattias draws his fingers out and hums as he slurps at the slick gathered on his digits.

“Mm,” Mattias says. “So sweet.”

Jack rolls his head to the side with a slight frown on his face, pleading with his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Mattias chastises. “Take your punishment like a good boy.”

That makes you moan, hearing Mattias speak to Jack the same way that he speaks to you. It makes him chuckle and tap your hip. You lift up, baring yourself, and Mattias fills you with the toy before he turns it on. It buzzes to life and prompts a quiet yelp before you bury your face into the mattress. 

Mattias places his hand on the edge of the toy and starts to move it inside of you. The vibrating tip buzzes in increments inside of you, out of time with Mattias’ manual thrusts in another sensation that has you unsure if you should lean into it or try to escape it. The small ridge that slides over your clit buzzes constantly– inclining you to lean into the toy. 

Your hips rise and fall in wonky little circles, trying to meet Mattias’ movements as they go, but you’re always half a second behind. 

“Ti,” You plead, begging for more contact. 

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes flicker between your hole and Jack’s frozen expression. He licks his lips as the bright toy disappears into you as you writhe. He tilts his head when he catches Jack’s hand palming his own cock.

Mattias considers it, then speaks. “Wanna hear me talk Twosey off, baby?” He asks you. “Will that get you far enough?”

“Ti,” you repeat, shaking underneath him. Your voice breaks a little as your body jerks.

“One more, Y/N,” Mattias encourages, his hand pumping between your legs consistently. “One more, he repeats, drawing the word out like the words can draw the orgasm out of you on their own. “Need you to give me something pretty for Jack to look at while he milks himself dry.”

Mattias smiles at the boy, devilish. Jack gulps, swallowing hard. 

“Let me see it,” Mattias urges. “Show me how hard my girl makes you. Show me how bad you wanted this, even though it’s mine.”

You cry out under Mattias, stomping against the ground. You need him to stop talking like this because you swear you could die right in this moment. 

Jack feels similarly, whimpering and inching his underpants down his thighs. He’s got a hand on his cock, squeezing the base to hold off. He can’t seem to decide where to look– at you or at Mattias– at the way Mattias’ hands flex when he pushes the toy into you or at the way your eyes gaze at Jack with pure admiration.

“Maybe give my girl something pretty to look at, Jack,” Mattias suggests. “Maybe that’s what’ll send her over the edge.”

“Fuck–” Jack curses, his head falling back when he slides his thumb over his tip.

The dynamic seems to fit into place immediately. Whereas Jack assumed it would be like a love triangle, with him and Mattias vying for your attention, he realizes now that you’re all vying for each others’ attention. 

He looks at Mattias, Mattias looks at you, and you look at Jack. It reverses and turns on its head and pulses like a 3D movie without glasses. He’s so overwhelmed that he feels like he’s seeing shapes as he comes all over his hand, unable to handle the stimulation.

Mattias chuckles, proud of himself, and refocuses on your body and the toy inside you. He switches to the next setting, a quick and never ending buzz inside of you. You fuck back on the toy desperately, finally catching his rhythm. You can’t take any more denial and you stammer out a high-pitched warning to Mattias. 

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder.

You come, hard. Your vision goes white and starry with the orgasm.

Mattias walks you through it, murmuring softly as he grounds you with his sweet kisses on your skin. “Go get a towel, Jack,” Mattias mutters, reaching up to pat the boy’s ankle in a sign of invitation. “Come help me clean her up. Then we can go to bed, and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“We– we don’t have to talk about it,” Jack stammers, afraid of what that means. He can’t risk not being invited back into this bed now that he’s had a taste. 

“Don’t worry.” Mattias reaches over and squeezes Jack’s cheeks between his fingers, giving his head a little shake. “We’re going to do this again, Twos. You did really good.”

Jack lets out a sigh of relief and goes to grab a towel from down the hall, leaving you and Mattias alone. 

He kisses your eyelids, which are drifting closed as you come back completely. “So good, Ti,” you echo. “Perfect.”

Mattias chuckles, kissing your lips sweetly. “Anything for my girl.”

Mattias slipped the keycard to his hotel room into the weird plant near the door, just like he told you he would. It was a really good hiding spot actually, even though you had to wait for your brother to go to the bathroom before you could pick up the tiny card and hide it in the band of your strapless bra for safekeeping. This was definitely the right dress for the charity event tonight– Mattias’s eyes had gone round when you walked in with Jack and he’d had to act normal all night. He’s not very good at acting normal, but Jack isn’t very good at noticing when Mattias is staring at you and drooling over you. He thinks you’re nothing more than friends.

Because this is what friends do, right?

Friends fall into bed together after a long night of pretending that you don’t know how the other person feels inside of you, or around you. Friends spread their legs and beg to be filled. Friends cover your neck in kisses and hold your hips so tight that they leave fingertip-sized bruises behind. 

Jack doesn’t need to know that Mattias manhandles you with ease once the sun goes down. Jack also doesn’t need to know that Mattias brushes your hair out of your face with clumsy yet careful fingers when he’s done and offers you his goofy smile. It might be the part of this arrangement that you enjoy the most– when Mattias’s face appears in your eyeline after he’s just rocked your world and he just smiles at you. It’s the same feeling you get when you’re deep in it and Mattias croons out a “good girl” in his rumbly voice.

The pressed white sheets of Mattias’s hotel room have been thrown askew and ruined by the fluids flying between your bodies. There’s spit and cum drying on your chest, on your stomach, and on the small of your back. Mattias really loved your dress, loved it so much that he had to tear it from your body and get his hands on the curves that it hugged so well. 

Mattias has calmed down considerably, now that he’s gotten his feral caveman horniness out of his system. He massages your thighs and hips with his big hands, opening them back up after they’d been locked in position for so long. You’re already sore, but you can’t say that you mind when Mattias is doting on you so much. You’re gazing at him with admiration and carding your fingers through his hair, mirroring the sweet caretaking that Mattias has shown you. 

He’s lost in his own world for a minute, quiet comfortability filling the room. You break it shortly, just to make a comment.

“You’re sweet, Ti,” you tell him softly. 

Mattias brightens and leans down to kiss your cheek. “There’s my girl,” he says. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Of course I’m okay,” you reply. You laugh a little, Mattias’s stubble tickling your skin as he continues to kiss down your body. “I feel great. Why?”

“Fucked you so good you went quiet again,” Mattias explains. He touches your belly and maneuvers you over to your side, sliding into the spot behind you and wrapping his arms around your middle. His nose skims the back of your neck. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me.”

“Mm, I’m sorry,” you say. You press back into his touch, feeling his soft, spent cock nestle between your cheeks. You want him to plug you with his long fingers and bring you to orgasm again, just to feel even closer to him.

“Don’t apologize,” Mattias replies. He kisses behind your earlobe and breathes in deeply, letting the smell of your shampoo fill his nostrils. “I like that you’re comfortable enough with me that you can do that. Makes me feel good. Doing something right, you know?”

“You’re good,” you praise in a sleepy voice. Mattias’s heartbeat is lulling you to sleep. “I have my gold stars in my purse. You can have three.”

“Yes,” Mattias hisses with a fist pump. He nibbles over your neck. “Why not four?”

“‘Cause you’re lazy and you haven’t wiped me down yet,” you tease. “You’ve left me all gross. I’m telling Jack.”

Mattias lifts his hand holding the maroon tie and wiggles it. “This one?”

You shake your head coyly. 

Mattias turns his head slightly, lifting the polka-dotted tie higher. “This one,” he tries again.

“Don’t you think it’ll look good?” You blink up at him, eyes wide. 

His gaze washes over you, lingering near your middle.

You lift your hands like an offering.

Mattias starts to smirk. Within minutes, he has the tie looped around your wrists and knotted around the headpost of your bed. You were already naked, waiting for this ritual to begin, so there was nothing stopping Mattias from sliding into you and taking what he wants.

You’ve been doing this all season, since Mattias scored a goal in one of the early games this season after tying you up with his gameday tie and railing you within an inch of your life.

You’re perfectly fine with the superstition. You welcome it, even. You love the feeling of your 6’4” boyfriend on top of you, holding your wrists down like they’re not already restrained by the fabric that will circle his neck in the coming hours. You’ve even offered for Mattias to tie your ankles with his spare ties for roadies, but he hasn’t taken you up on that yet. You can’t wait for when he does.

It’ll be so nice– your legs spread, unable to close around Mattias’s thick body. Sometimes he fucks you so hard that the pure force has your ankles crossing over each other at the small of his back. In the past, he’s wrapped his fingers around the meat of your inner thighs and held those apart, hammering his cock into you so deep that it pounds against your cervix. 

“It looks great, baby,” Mattias grunts, his jaw taut. “Can’t wait to wear it, look in the mirror once I get to the rink and remember how pretty you looked breaking it in for me.”

You arch your back and hear a high-pitched moan leave your mouth. One of Mattias’s hands falls to your tit and he pinches your nipple, the vice grip sending sparks through your body and lighting a fire in your belly. 

“Gonna wrap you up afterward, too,” Mattias growls before he nips at your neck and your earlobe. “They say sex is good for you before and after the game.”

“Who says that?” you ask between gasps, but just because you’re asking doesn’t mean that you don’t agree with them.

“Ovi,” Mattias replies through gritted teeth. He leaves your wrists completely and wets his thumb with the slick dripping down from your cunt to his base before rubbing your clit in quick circles. 

“How could I disagree with O– oh,” you break off into a silent shriek as Mattias pistons into your spot, throbbing inside of you and sending you off the edge.

“Yeah, baby? Is that right?” Mattias’s voice washed over your body like warm honey. His voice was teasing, his fingers tapping at your sides. “Feels so good you just can’t keep quiet, huh?”

Until about five minutes ago, he was playing his stupid video game, the one that made him bite his tongue in concentration. You hadn’t been too upset by his lack of attention on you, at first, but when his shorts started riding up and revealed the hemline of his briefs, you felt like you would start salivating any second lest your boyfriend get his big hands on you.

“Ti,” You whined, your hands gripping his t-shirt as you continued to grind down on his lap. 

You could feel his cock through his clothes, practically bursting through the fabric with how hard he was, but he was a tease. He acted unaffected, shushing you and brushing your hair out of your face.

“Pathetic, aren’t you? Wiggling on top of me, distracting me from my game, just because you need a release? You could’ve asked me, baby. I would’ve helped you out.” Mattias smiled at you, goofy and wide. He wasn’t lifting a finger from your waist now, staying still underneath you.

“Need it, Mattias. Give me something,” You begged.

Mattias shook his head. “No. You started this, you have to finish it.” 

You let out a groan that’s more akin to a sob as you continue to rub your core against his positively straining cock. “Couldn’t help it,” You said to him, pouting in his face.

All the pout did was make Mattias smile wider. 

“Just… seeing you,” You pant out, “Like that. Made me think of all the times you made me feel so good, Ti.”

His smile started to fade and his fingers squeezed your sides.

“Your fingers– oh– they moved so fast on the controller, baby, and it made me think of all the times they’ve been inside me–”

Mattias’s eyes started to rake over your figure, fixating on your chest.

“And fuck, Ti, your tongue– I couldn’t stop thinking about how it moves against my clit. God, Ti, you always make me come so hard I see stars.” You ground down against him more frantically, feeling his cock twitch as you continued to speak.

He was silent, but his eyes stayed on your chest, watching your breasts bounce with each grind. His right hand drifted up to thumb over the spot where your nipple was pressing against your shirt, creating a pronounced bump under the soft cotton of the tee. 

“Mattias,” You moaned, feeling the fabric of his member catch against your entrance in a long, drawn out drag. “Your cock, baby, your cock.”

Your breaths came out like a chant, like a cheer, and it was not lost on Mattias. For someone who seemed so aloof, so sarcastic, so “I don’t care what you think of me as long as I can make you laugh,” he was struck with the amount of love that dripped from your voice, even when he wasn’t giving you anything.

You fucked down on his cock, feeling it press against you but never enter you, and his eyes grew lidded as you let out your little whines and moans. His hands splayed out over your ass, covering the cheeks completely with how big they were, and his eyes drifted up from your chest to your lips.

“Think you can bait me into fucking into you?” Mattias asked, sounding unimpressed with your words. “Baby, you want me so bad, but you can’t make me do anything about it.”

You rolled your eyes, let down, but your mouth dropped open with a satisfying roll of your hips. Your clit caught against the fabric of his shorts, bunched up around his tip. You aimed to roll your hips in the same way, in the same spot, hoping the friction would bring you to the edge.

Mattias’s hands found your hips, grasping your hipbones and guiding you along his lap, even though he told you he wouldn’t help you get off. His controller lay long forgotten on his thigh, rocking precariously with each move of your hips. 

Your pussy was dripping, soaking through your panties and shorts enough that the fabric was caught between your lips. If Mattias looked down to where you connected, he’d see a cameltoe and a wet spot along his shorts that showed just how badly you needed him, how badly you wanted him, and how badly you loved him.

“Come,” Mattias commanded, his voice low and soothing. “I know you can, baby, come.”

And, honestly, his words might have been the reason you tensed against his lap and felt yourself clench around nothing as the warmth spread to your fingertips. It was likely, even, that his deep voice and sureness, pure need, caused you to come just from a word. 

It was then, during the aftershocks, that Mattias fucked up against you, prolonging the release for which you had worked and pleaded. His length dragged against you, causing you to flinch and cry out with each thrust. He fucked against you until his own release, his lips capturing yours as you felt the wet spot of his pants grow damper with his own come. 

“Fuck,” Mattias said, pressing hard kiss after hard kiss against your mouth. “So good, aren’t you? Fucking yourself ‘til you come, letting me fuck up against you ‘til I come. My girl, so pretty, so good.”

The compliments falling from his lips made you whine, clenching against him and grinding down just enough to feel him growing softer after his release.

“Ti,” You whimpered. “Need you again.”

Mattias’s forehead made contact with yours and he chuckled, staring into your eyes with something that looked like disbelief. You nodded. This night wouldn’t end until you were both naked and satiated– and round two needed to start right now.

Can I come over? the text reads.

You stare at the message, thinking about the possibilities for a moment. You toy with it for a second like a proud cat who finally caught her nemesis of a mouse, letting it go just to step on its tail and capture it again. The possibility that you’re playing with is, of course, that you’ll tell Mattias ‘No.’

As much as saying no would bring you power, it’ll never work. Mattias will come over anyway. He’s probably already on the way, knowing that you’ll say yes because you always say yes to him. You always say yes and you always regret it the morning after.

You say yes. Mattias comes over. He pretends to watch the show that you’d thrown on while eating dinner, then he makes his move and you fuck. He comes, you come, he leaves. You have to change your sheets at 2am because they’re covered in sweat, cum, and spit. You forgot to lay down a towel, which is what you promised yourself you would do last time. It’s 3am by the time you go to bed and Mattias, once again, forgot to text you that he got home safe.

The cycle repeats.

Your friends have been here since the beginning of this relationship– relationship, as if you can even call it that…– and they’re getting tired of it. You can’t count the times they’ve said, “Y/N, he’s not good for you” or “Y/N, you deserve better than him.” From them, the sentiment comes so often that the truth of it has worn off. You’ve taken to responding with a groaned “I know” or an unsubstantiated “he’s been better lately!” or even a vague lie about how Mattias told you that he wants this to be more.

You’ve been able to believe your own lies, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions, until you couldn’t anymore. Just last week, after Mattias came to visit you over your fall break from grad school and you hooked up in the backseat of his car after dinner with your parents, your mom spoke up. 

“It really seems like you like him, Y/N,” she said while drying the last of the dishes. 

You were sat at the kitchen counter, fiddling with the tab of the seltzer you’ve been nursing since dessert. “Yeah, I like him, Mom.”

“Have you been seeing him long?”

“We met last year. We started hanging out in the spring.”

Your mother nodded slowly. 

“What?” You asked. 

“One of your friends talked to me at the football game a few weeks ago.”

Oh, God. “Which friend? What did she say?”

Your mother waved you off. “It doesn’t matter. She mentioned something about how you’ve changed since meeting the boy you’re dating, and now that I’ve met him, I have to say that I agree.”

It was a gut punch. You scoffed. “I can’t believe you’ve been talking about me behind my back.”

“Honey, we were barely talking about it. She just said she was worried that you’re caught up in something that won’t benefit you.”

“Well, Mom, you’ve only met him once,” you replied coldly. “You don’t even know him.”

“I know you,” your mother had said to your response. “I don’t like seeing you jump on your phone whenever you get a text.”

Mattias only sends you Snapchat messages, but that’s neither here nor there. Your mother wouldn’t understand, even if you tried to justify it.

“You just don’t seem the same, sweetheart,” she continued. “You seem quieter. I wasn’t sure what it was, but now that I know you started seeing him in the spring…” She shrugs. “It’s starting to make sense.”

You stormed out in a huff after that, venting in long texts to Mattias over Snapchat and barely receiving any sympathy. In fact, he was slightly more defensive than you: ‘I don’t think you’ve changed,’ ‘Sometimes I feel like your friends hate me just to hate me and it’s weird that they’re getting your mom involved,’ and the most telling, ‘I knew I shouldn’t have come to dinner.’ At the time, the messages seemed normal.

When you go back to your town, the place where you’ve spent the past few years with your friends and your independence and with Mattias, he invites you over to his house. You go, walking the distance between your place and his because you thought the fresh air would help clear your hear. Today, you’re a bit more tentative about letting anything happen.

“Don’t let their words get to you, babe,” Mattias murmurs, kissing the skin behind the shell of your ear. “You know what we have.”

“I know, but it’s different coming from my mom,” you complain, shrugging him off.

Mattias only doubles down on his kissing and his touching. “Let me make it up to you. Gonna give you a great night so that you forget all about that bad one.”

And he does. Despite all of his “noncommittal behavior”– your best friend’s exact words, when it comes to the things Mattias does– he is very committed to making you moan out his name. He fucks you bare, well into the night. You actually knock the sheets off the bed with all of your wiggling and repositioning, going from missionary to cowgirl within mere minutes because Mattias doesn’t like missionary, then to doggy to broken eagle to a weird position where Mattias has you on your side and your ankle rests on his shoulder. You’re perpendicular from him, staring towards the mirror in the corner of his room, and you come with Mattias’s hand around your neck. He kisses you after, just once.

Then– and get a load of this– you ask him to take you home and he says no. He says he has an early morning, with practice and all. He has to be at the rink practically before the sun rises and he doesn’t want to wake you when he gets up. It’s considerate enough, but when you sarcastically say “I guess I’ll just walk home in the dark, then,” Mattias replies, “Text me when you get home so I know you got back safe.”

For the first time since this started, you think to yourself: What if you just walked me home? Then you’d be absolutely sure that I got home safe…

In the weeks since, your mother’s words have struck you. They’ve given you pause. They’ve thrown you for a loop– or one of the many other synonyms that you could use for your new perspective. If the people around you are saying Mattias has changed you, maybe they’re right. Your mother met him once and thought that she should say something. That has to mean something.

You’ve noticed the pattern: that Mattias rarely ever texts you first, and when he does, he wants to see you. What started as sweet, cute meet ups last spring for coffee or a movie or dinner have devolved into hurried hookups in your bed, rarely ever Mattias’s. He never sleeps over and he always makes an excuse when you try to sleep at his place. When he turns you down, it’s because he has film to watch, or practice to attend, or plans with his friends. When you turn him down in order to study or do homework, he persuades you that he can relieve your stress with school or that you’d have more fun in his company.

You’ve been a negligent friend and an even worse person because of Mattias. Yet– you just keep going back.

Maybe it’s because of the potential he has. You know he can be affectionate and kind and perfect. You feel it in the reverent touches to your skin when he undresses you. You see it in his eyes when he stares up at you, perched on his lap and grinding against him. You hear it when he calls you ‘babe’ and tosses a wink at you when he’s too far away to swat at your ass. He lets you hang out with his friends– only with his friends, he won’t hang out with yours– and claims you by holding you on his thigh and wrapping his strong arms around your waist. He shares drinks with you, he always comes when you call, and he always is by your side when you’re stressed or upset. Even when you say you want to be alone, Mattias knows that you don’t really. He knows that you want someone there, seeing through all your feeble lies, and he is.

Your friends say that it’s making you codependent on him. You think that he’s really just trying to help you.

Tomato, tomato.

So, you stop talking about him. You start seeing him in secret. Everyone knows– of course they do– but you pretend like there’s nothing happening anymore. You’re tired of people saying that he’s bad for you, especially when Mattias makes you feel so good.

You’re able to keep up the facade for a few months. Your roommate ignores the beeping of the alarm and the creak of the door from your late night departures and early, early morning arrivals. Your friends stop asking about Mattias because you stop telling them about what you did with him last weekend– you went down to Nashville in Tennessee for his team’s game on Friday night, then spent Saturday night on Broadway with Ti, a name that he hates but you insist on using. He wishes you would call him Sammy, like his ‘bros’ do, but you can’t stand the idea of being on the same level as them. You’re not his friend or his teammate. You’re seeing him, consistently, and isn’t that enough to consider your ‘thing’ a relationship? Not to Mattias.

He has changed you. He’s given you every reason to move on– a lack of a label, which you’ve asked for. A lack of consistency, which you’ve begged for. You’re tired of him requiring you to say hello to him whenever you see him around, but he’ll never do the same if he sees you. You can’t count the times that he’s offhandedly mentioned “Oh, yeah, I saw you in the park last week” or “Did you go to that coffee shop on Fifth the other day? I think I saw you when I drove by” or “Got you a ticket for the game. You’re still coming right?” (No, you weren’t planning on it, but his pouty lip in one of the rare pictures he sends through Snap goes right to your heart.)

It’s exhausting.

And yet, he’s at the end of every road that you try to forge for yourself. You tell him no– he comes over. You ask for space– he convinces you that you don’t need it. You get stressed about grad school and try to pawn him off– he tells you that he’ll quiz you, then reward you for every answer you get right.

You’re tired. Your grades are being affected. You’ve even called out of work for him, multiple times, something your manager isn’t happy about. Yet– you keep going back. You keep finding him at the end of the path.

There he is: Mattias Samuelsson, in all of his 6-foot-4-inch, 235-pound, goofy smile glory. One look into his smug eyes, insisting that he knows you even without saying it aloud, and you’re done for. You fall right back into bed. 

It has to stop, you decide. You’re set on ignoring Mattias for as long as it takes for him to get the hint. You’re upset about the decision, yes– but you’re tired of looking at yourself in the mirror and wondering if you even recognize the girl staring back at you. You try to convince yourself and say that you never left, you never changed, but you know that deep down, things are different. Maybe you and Mattias decided to be together in another life. In a third, perhaps you never met. You wonder which outcome would make you happiest and you aren’t able to make a real decision, but you do know that the current situation is making you miserable. You can’t keep doing this. 

Two weeks pass where you don’t text first. It’s the easiest way to start– letting Mattias come to you. He texts you a couple of times, but you tell him that you have plans with your friends that are unavoidable. 

Surprisingly, you’re able to make those plans happen. Now that you’re not hanging out with Mattias all the time anymore, they’re happy to see you and catch up. You don’t have much to say since the last few months of your life have revolved around a boy that they don’t like, but at least you’re there. At least you’re seeing them.

It’s the first time in a long time that you’ve gotten the breath of fresh air that you were looking for.

Everything is fine– improving, even. One of your friends says that she saw Mattias on Tinder the day prior and you can’t find it in yourself to care. You just shrug and say that you wish him the best. It gets you a few perturbed looks, but you couldn’t care less. You’re no longer under his thumb.

The itch is still there. If he called, you’d come.

And when he does, you do.

It’s more of a text message than a phone call. It’s through Snapchat, like always, but you’re used to that. Mattias’s tone, however, is different. 

You’ve gotten to know him like the back of your hand over the past year. He’s had you bare and laid out beneath him, ugly crying over school, and unable to stop laughing because of something he said that wasn’t funny at 4am. Come to think of it– the thing that wasn’t funny was that he had a tee time at 8am and he had still chosen to stay up with you.

Chosen to stay up with you. You’re not sure that’s true anymore. Maybe he had just waited it out, until you gave in and caved to his advances, and it happened to be in the early hours of the morning.

It doesn’t matter.

Can I come over?, his text says. 

You’re right back where you started.

His little Bitmoji pops into the chat as you stare at the message, debating your answer. He starts to type and you feel caught out, wanting to swipe away and ignore the message. You know you can’t.

I just wanna talk :/

Mattias rarely uses emojis, at least not the ones that look like actual facial expressions (he loves the poop-face emoji and the 100 and the t-rex). He uses manually typed emojis even less, only replying to you once with a “:)” after you sent a “:(” when he stole your water bottle and refused to return it unless you came over to get it yourself.

Because of that, you believe him. You call him– through Snapchat, by the way. It’s never any less humiliating.

“So?” Mattias asks, instead of a hello.

“Are you already on your way?” You ask.

His low laugh rumbles through the phone. “Babe, I’m already outside.”

“Of course you are. I’ll come get you in a minute.” You hang up, untucking yourself from underneath your comfy bedsheets and sliding on your slippers. You’re wearing your most homely pajamas, but the weather is starting to get cold, so you wrap yourself up in your bathrobe and go to greet him. 

Mattias is at the door when you open it. You’re not sure how he got into the apartment complex, but he must have snuck in behind someone else. He probably found a guest spot and parked there, or he stole an open spot in the lot that belongs to someone else… hopefully, he’ll leave before he gets towed. Your talk shouldn’t last too long– all you have to say is that this is over. 

“Hey, gorgeous. I was wondering when I’d see you next.” Mattias steps across the threshold and dips his head to try and give you a kiss. ‘Try’ is the key word, considering you turn your head to the side and he catches your cheekbone. 

“What’s up, Mattias?” You ask.

He’s taken slightly aback by your response. You know that from the way his hand drops from your waist and finds his pockets. “Are we jumping right into this?” He sounds a bit forlorn as he questions you. 

You sigh a bit, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have that much to say, Ti.”

He goes to correct you, like he always does when you call him ‘Ti,’ but he seems to change his mind. He looks you up and down, lifting a hand up to scrub over the scruffy shadow lining his face. “Is this over?” He asks.

Tentatively, you nod. “I think so,” you confirm quietly.

Mattias looks down at you, always towering above you in a once-sexy way, but now it’s just upsetting. You liked him. He didn’t treat you right. Yet– you still want him.

“So this is it?”

He sounds just as dejected as you. Although– he seems like he was quicker to acceptance. Probably because he’s got another girl lined up already, having met her on his secret Tinder that you shouldn’t know about. Who knows how long he’s had it– maybe he’s been on there since even before you stopped talking to him.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah, Mattias. This is it.”

He stares at you for a minute. With hesitation written all throughout his movements, he brings a hand up and caresses your shoulder. 

“Shit,” Mattias mumbles. He sounds genuinely regretful and it’s working. You want to wrap your arms around his waist and press your face into his chest and hold him while he hugs you, but you fight to stay still. “I wish I had known…” he trails off, then bows his head. His fingers find the neckline of your robe, toying with the plush fabric. “If I had known that last time was the last time, I would’ve made it better for you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you reply, your voice somewhere between a tease, a whisper, and a scoff. 

Mattias lets a little smile grace his face. “Just gonna miss you, that’s all.”

“Are you?”

He’s taken aback again by how brash you are, how disbelieving of his sweet words. It’s a stark contrast from who you were for the past year– the girl who was willing to go back to Mattias with just a slight nudge.

His lips part in surprise, pink and full and distracting. You won’t let his Cupid’s Bow shatter the guard that you worked so hard to put up. He’s so pretty. If things were different, you’d be happy staying with him forever. At one time, you thought that maybe you would.

“Of course I’m going to miss you,” Mattias says. “We were together for a year, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.” You turn your head to the side, biting the inside of your cheek. You shrug his heavy hand off your body. “You know we weren’t ‘together.’ You didn’t want to be.”

“It– didn’t make sense to me,” Mattias says, trying to salvage the situation. “You know that. With my job, I just don’t have time for a relationship.”

“So you decided to string me along for a year?” You ask. “You know I wanted something more.”

“I thought we agreed…” Mattias cuts himself off again. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry that you weren’t happy. I wish I could make it up to you, but… if this is it…”

“It is.”

Mattias looks at you for a little while longer. It’s absurd, how you’re still standing in the foyer of your apartment. Your roommate could be listening in. It’s not even that late. Part of you hopes that she is listening– so she can hear that you’re standing your ground and that it’s truly over. The rest of you hopes that she’s asleep and missing the whole thing. You feel too… vulnerable. This is a private conversation between you and Mattias. It’s the final bit that you can have, just between you and him.

“Can I kiss you?” Mattias asks.

It’s jarring and you go to say no, but he adds something before you can.

“Just– to say goodbye. I want to remember the last time I kissed you.”

He knows you just as well as you know him. He knows exactly how to break your resolve, exactly how to strike and when to get what he wants.

You fold. Unable to find your voice, you can only nod.

Relief spreads over Mattias’s face. His smile bares his top teeth slightly, just before he moves in. 

He touches you all over. One of his hands rises through your hair, fisting the strands and tugging slightly. He loosens the knot that you had tied your hair into while doing homework earlier, making the shorter face-framing strands escape and brush along your skin. His other hand encompasses the curve of your waist, then slides to the small of your back. He pulls you close, pressing you into his front and leaving no space between your bodies. You can feel his strong, warm figure fully encompassing your own.

You suddenly want to cry. This is the last time. You’re mourning Mattias already, knowing that you have to treasure the time you have left with him, to treasure this last kiss. 

You kiss him back, touching his scruff and fingering at the hair at the nape of his neck. You hear yourself whimper quietly against his lips, which makes Mattias pull you closer.

“Please,” he murmurs, sealing the plea with a lick into your mouth. “Fuck, baby, please.”

“Please what?” You say, lips still brushing his. That’s how close you are.

His hand brushes the globes of your ass, not quite cupping the covered skin, but definitely feeling you out. “One more time,” Mattias says. His tongue fills your mouth again, working against yours and distracting you. “Let me touch you one more time. It’ll be so good, please? I can’t let last time be our last time, not like that.”

You should say no and you know it. Then, his lips leave yours and he sucks a mark just past the curve of your jaw, at the sensitive spot below your earlobe. Heat pumps through your body and Mattias feels so strong and solid beneath your palms.

He’s working you, playing you like a fiddle. It’s so easy to fall back into your old routine, to let him have what he wants… what you want.

“One last time,” you concede, your voice still slightly unsure, and the relaxed sigh that eases Mattias’s posture is justification enough for your inability to hold strong.

He all but beelines for your room, intertwining his fingers with yours so that he can tug you along impatiently. 

His touches are just as sensual as always, but laced with an urgency that has your clothes falling away from your body in just a few moments.

He undresses himself much more slowly, teasing you until you’re complaining about how long it’s taking and how it wouldn’t kill him to just get on with it. Mattias reminds you that it’s the last time he gets to see you like this, and you with him, so he wants to take his time with it. That shuts you up.

You take in the soft skin of his chest and abdomen. He’s always been toned and muscular and broad, but the curves of his love handles and the fold of his tummy when he sits back juxtaposes the athletic body that you’ve come to adore. He’s long and broad and thick in the best places, although his body moves with the delicacy and grace of a much daintier person. That’s Mattias– a Russian nesting doll of surprises. You wish you could keep him.

“Open up for me, babe,” Mattias tells you gently, working his hand between your knees and nudging them apart. He kneels between your legs when they’re spread far enough, letting his hand slide along your skin and create ripples of goosebumps in its wake. He nears your core, his eyes growing focused on the skin between your legs. 

He always gets like this– hyper focused on the part of you that he likes most, the part of you that he’s claimed as his ‘home’ on multiple occasions. He gets so focused on the part of you that brings him the most pleasure. You’re finally seeing it for what it is: lust. Not love. Not a reciprocation of your feelings. Everyone tried to convince you of this for months, but you didn’t believe them then. You recognize it now… but you’re not willing to let him go without one last time in which you can fool yourself into believing it’s real?

So you let him in. You let him touch you. You let his fingers fill you the way that only they can, long and deft and agile. You let his mouth close over your clit, lathering spit into the bud until you’re dripping and writhing against him. 

“Ti,” you cry out when you get close, your nails digging into the muscle of his shoulder.

He grins up at you from between your legs. “Always liked it when you called me that,” Mattias says. “I don’t think I ever told you.”

Then, he increases his pace and he makes you come, flicking kitten licks over your clit like he didn’t just say something that changes your perception of the past and all the times he corrected you and asked you to call him ‘Sammy.’

You’re still thinking about it, his words running through your head like an endless loop, as he starts to work his cock into you.

“Say it again,” Mattias pleads, pressing kiss after kiss to your eager mouth. He makes sure he’s close to you, staying in just this one position: face to face, flush against each other, heart to heart. 

You repeat his little nickname breathlessly as many times as he asks. You watch the blush spread down his neck and his chest as he rolls his hips into you. He places his hand on your stomach, pressing down until he swears he can feel himself moving inside of you and you swear that it’s just making it harder to hold on. You don’t want him to make you come a second time, nor for him to finish inside of you– for the second time ever. The only other time was after your mother disapproved of him and he reassured you that she, and all of your other friends, were wrong. You don’t want this to end.

The room is hot and Mattias surrounds you. You’re expecting him to move you around like he always does, but it never comes. He lets you stare up at his face and kiss him as many times as you can and he does the exact same. It’s addicting and confusing and you want it to always be like this, but it can’t be.

He buries his face in your neck and kisses you, sucking hickey after hickey along your neck as he nears his peak. You can feel it in the way his fingertips clench on your skin, pressing tiny bruises along your hips, the back of your neck, and the soft skin where he sucked that first hickey– the one that broke your resolve.

Something to remember him by, you think briefly, although the thought only passes through your head and doesn’t stick until he’s long gone.

Mattias finishes inside of you, another thing to remember him by. He lets you grind into him until you come too, only subtly shifting his hips because he’s so sensitive. He lets his fingertips do most of the work, showering your clit in reverent touches that nearly bring tears to your eyes.

Conversation is stilted as you get dressed again. The weight of reality lies on you both like tons and tons of marble. It feels a little bit like being buried alive, you think.

You walk Mattias to the door. He kisses your forehead when he goes and wraps you in a big hug, holding you for a couple of minutes without saying a thing at all. He’s reluctant to let you go and you’re reluctant to let him leave. 

It’s for the best. This was the last time. It had to be.

In three weeks, you tell yourself the same thing as you drive to pick up a drunk Mattias from the bar. He called because it was close to your place and he couldn’t think of who else to call– said the bartender who talked to you on the phone. You may remember that it was the last time, but Mattias doesn’t seem to. 

His tender touches and babbled, drunken compliments reignite old feelings inside of you, ones that you’ve been hoping to quash for what feels like forever now. 

You’re starting to wonder if you’ll ever really be free of Mattias Samuelsson.

“Ti, if you can’t keep your hands where they’re allowed, then I’m going to have to pull out the handcuffs.”

If Mattias was told to make a list of things he’d expected you to say today, that sentence would not have made it onto the sheet of paper in a million years. He also can’t really decide how he feels about it– it’s jarring to hear you say such a thing, but… but. That’s where the sentence ends. Mattias’s mind goes blank after he reaches the conjunction. His mind is only able to think of a shrug. 

His hands return to your ass, the most scandalous place you’ll allow. Once they’re cemented on the globes of your cheeks, he’s determined to keep them there. It takes a lot of effort, but Mattias wants to be obedient.

You’re trying something new. Normally, Mattias takes charge in the bedroom. After all, he’s the bigger one. He’s stronger, partially because he’s a big dude and partially because he’s a professional athlete. One thing he rarely has, in the bedroom, is self-restraint. 

Your goal is to teach him.

It’s how you ended up on top of him. He’s not even inside of you– you’re just sitting with his cock nestled between your folds, rocking back and forth across his length. His hands are allowed to rest on your ass or your waist. The second he starts guiding you, you stop moving. It’s infuriating and, well, so sexy, so Mattias is ready to give you everything you’re asking for.

He stares up at you, head cushioned by the pillow below him. He’s got a nice view of your body, naked and undeniably yearning for contact the same way his is. Your nipples have peaked, there is a pretty flush coating your visage and creeping down your neck and chest, and your cunt is dripping. 

“Now you’re listening,” you tease, a fond quirk of your lips brightening your face. Your palms are flat against Mattias’s chest, which only aids you as you resume your grinding. You have leverage, an advantage over your big, strong boyfriend, and it’s exciting you both. 

You’d expected him to put up more of a fight. You’d expected him to take control of the encounter– flip you over like he normally does and pound into your cunt until you’re shaking beneath him. 

That’s not what’s happening. No, Mattias is behaving. He’s listening to your words and soaking them in with a dumfounded look on his face, blinking incomprehensively. 

Unconsciously, his fingers twitch. You’re looking down at his cock, where the tip lays against his abdomen. His hands flex as a drop of precum blurts out of his slit, settling against the soft skin of his stomach. 

Just as you prepare to stop your movements, Mattias’s eyes grow hooded and he relaxes his grip. His hands drift up, finding your waist, removing his biggest temptation completely. He’s no longer playing a dangerous game by touching your ass– he’s finally dropping one of the remaining shreds of his desire for control.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re being such a good boy,” you praise, working your hips faster. You bring one of your hands down to his tip and trace your fingers over the details of his skin that you’ve come to know over many intimate rendezvous. You find the line of his slit, the veins near the crown, and each patch of skin that seems to blush an angrier red or throb more noticeably. Your touch is featherlight and Mattias lets out an involuntary catch of his breath, just as more precum pools from his tip.

He’s really not sure, but this– having you on top, with your pussy so close but the hug of your walls seemingly lightyears away, and the softm kind words that he normally whispers in your ear parroted back at him– this has to happen again.