#postmatty asks

your breath catches halfway up your throat but you don’t waste one more single second running over, barefoot, heartbeat sprinting to match your manic pace, nothing on but matty’s shirt. the oversized button down he wore last night and was left on your bedroom floor. smells a bit like cigarettes but mostly him, which you will always love. you didn’t plan for it to be sexy at all. maybe just... convenient… to make him lose his mind the second he walked in.

kevin beats you to the door, tail a speedy blur as he knows exactly who’s on the other side, barking like he’s been waiting even longer than you have. which, honestly, fair, given all the attention your boyfriend gives him. you scoop him up and plant a kiss on that tiny head of his before twisting the knob.

“hi, lo–” and you don’t even finish the word. his mouth is on yours with a desperate, delicious kind of kiss with messy wet lips and fingers tangled in your hair. the kind of kiss that says fuck, i missed you and i haven’t stopped thinking about you all day and you’re mine. and all you can do is melt into him as your knees nearly give out.

“you don’t know–,” he barely breaks the kiss, “how badly i needed this, darling.”

but you more than do. and you’ve been waiting for this moment to arrive since you got high a few days ago and decided to do some bit of shopping which led to you ordering a sex toy. not shying away from sending a separate email asking the shoppe to please make the packaging as indiscreet as humanly possible to drive your significant other a little bit crazy. which seemingly may have worked.

the only reason why matty stops is due to kev’s insistent wriggling between the two of you, wanting his fair share of attention from your curly haired mailman. but much to your darling pup’s dismay, matty is lost, eyes locked on your bare legs which are on full display right here on your front door where every single one of your nosy neighbours could possibly watch.

“eager much?”

his hand slides around to your ass, fingers spreading and squeezing around your flesh. only to pause once he realizes there’s no lace or cotton underneath. just your warm skin now covered in one million goosebumps. he growls out a breath that sounds an awful lot like fuck, pressing a grateful kiss to your cheek.

“fucking love you,” he mutters, right before sweetly spanking you, just hard enough for it to echo.

you half laugh, half moan and for sure get impossibly soaked. “you don’t have much time so, um…” you take a step back to put kevin down and do a quick spin at the front of your door, “thought this would make it easier for you.”

"that’s my girl,” he mumbles against your cheek, before curling his fingers around your wrist and tugging you gently through the doorway. “c’mon then.”

the door clicks shut behind you with the nudge of his foot. his bag hits the floor, shoes kicked off without a second thought and then he’s dropping to his knees, already searching for what you assume is the box that’s seemingly been burning a hole in his mind.

he finds it and holds it up, squinting at you not even pretending to hide the smirk growing across his face. “and what exactly,” he starts, voice already way too smug, “do you think you were doing with this?”

you blink. once. twice. giving him that faux innocent look you know makes him lose his mind. “not much really,” you drag out, shoulders rising in a playful shrug. “just looking for something new.”

“rmmhmm.” he nods, “just looking.”

matty doesn’t waste any more time to stand and kiss you again. one hand curling around the back of your neck, tugging you right into his mouth. it’s a searing kiss that’s fast and deep until your mind goes fuzzy and your balance grows unsteady.

“c’mon, sweet.” what you think is the last kiss ends up not being one at all. because his lips don’t leave yours for a single second, devouring you as he walks you backward toward your room. you trip over your own feet once, him laughing quietly asking if you’re alright.

you close the door to your room as he takes a seat on your bed, his keys jangling in one hand as he lifts them wordlessly asking for permission. you nod and watch as his fingers make quick work of the tape on the box, tongue between his teeth until the cardboard opens under his grip.

“well, then…” he raises his eyebrows and grins, holding up the smaller box that has your new vibrator inside.

“what? my other one broke last week.” you embarrassingly admit, grabbing it from him so you can quickly unwrap it yourself.

“so…” his expression’s far way too amused, “guess my dick’s not enough anymore?”

you immediately kick gently at his shin. “you’re not always here, smartass,” you shoot back, your own fluster making it sound more defensive than playful but he doesn’t take it the wrong way.

“oh?” he leans forward to grab the toy from your hands so he can inspect it more closely, before looking up to meet your eyes again. “so this is what you get up to when i’m gone?”

“jesus christ, matty.” you press your palms over your face, but you still smile.

“no, no, don’t hide.” he’s laughing now, grabbing your hand to pull you close until you’re sitting besides him. “this is cute. honestly, ‘m flattered.”

“flattered?” you stare at him confused.

“yeah. means you’re thinking of me when you use it, right?” he cocks his head. “you’re not imagining some other guy when you’re getting off, are you?”

“oh my god.” you go to stand but he grabs your arm just as you turn and pulls you back into his lap, dragging you down to straddle one of his thighs. back to his chest, your spine pressed against his sternum, holding you with both arms wrapped securely around your waist. then his mouth finds your neck and you fully forget what words and embarrassment are.

agonizing, open mouthed kisses cover your skin, dragging his tongue across that one sensitive spot below your jaw that makes your cunt clench instantly around nothing. which is exactly what happens. your whole body tense in his hold as you start to rock, hips gently shifting against the muscle of his thigh. searching for friction and any kind of relief.

his mouth curves into a grin against your skin.

“that’s something i’d love to see, y’know,” the words brush your ear, making your breath hitch. “you… using it to please yourself exactly how you want.” then he nips your earlobe. and you squirm eagerly in his grip. grinding more deliberately in his lap. your hands fly to his arms. not to stop him but to keep yourself from falling apart.

he holds you tighter, one across your chest as the other undos the buttons of your shirt. one by one until he finally slides the fabric off your shoulders and lands in a messy heap somewhere you can’t be bothered to check.

calloused fingers brush up and down the soft flesh of your stomach. “look at you, my darling.”

your eyes flick up and you catch his gaze in the mirror straight ahead.

his chin rests snug in the crook of your neck, that mess of curls pressing against your cheek. hands trail up your abdomen until he cups and squeezes your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they harden beneath the pressure.

“fucking beautiful.”

and you’d be lying if you said he doesn’t make you feel like the most gorgeous creature in the fucking world. always so attentive and desperate to please you. making you ridiculously drenched in a matter of minutes that you’re already soaking through the material of his uniform.

your eyes stay locked on the mirror, watching as one hand continues to knead at your breast while the other one slithers down, parting your folds and spreading you open to shamelessly admire you, using his middle finger to trail and up and down, slowly collecting your slick to rub tight, messy swirls around your clit.

the combination of everything going on–his palm squeezing your chest, his hand between your legs, his teeth on the side of your neck–is almost enough to make you come at that second but you know you can’t. not when you know what happens if you wait.

“hold still, baby,” he gives you a wet kiss on the cheek, “gonna make it feel so fucking good.”

so you nod, eyes focused on his fingertips flicking your clit in fast little circles that send short bursts of electricity straight through your gut. you’re dizzy already, head tipping forward until your chin grazes your chest, mouth falling open with a quiet gasp, turning into a full on moan as he picks up your toy. and you swear you might actually black out as he lifts it to his face to spit on it, completely entranced by his saliva dripping down the matte silicon.

you glance back at the mirror just in time to catch his eyes tracking your hand, watching you drag your fingers along the toy’s length, spreading his spit until it’s glistening. the sight is so fucked it makes you moan again. but this time around the tip as you slide it between your lips, letting him guide it in and out, matty murmuring steady praises while he carefully fucks your mouth.

“‘atta girl,” he breathes into your cheek, as he ruts his clothed cock into your ass, desperate for a little friction of his own.

only when spit spills from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin, does he finally pull the toy out. and before you can even complain, he’s already guiding you to fully sit on his lap, until your legs are spread wide over his. he keeps you there and turns your face with one hand, kissing you desperately until you both run out of breath.

then you eagerly observe as he lowers the vibrator to your cunt, instantly gasping as you feel it press at your entrance.

“let me know if it’s too much, baby, yeah?” he mouths into your neck. but you can’t even think straight enough to respond. already too busy trembling under his fingers between your thighs.

the toy stretches you careful and sweet, and once all the way in, he pauses. “you alright?” you nod too fast before the word even forms. and he smiles, setting it to its lowest setting. the gentle buzz starts, pulsing deep as his other hand finds your clit, rubbing lazy circles while your body adjusts. it’s not long before you’re already grinding into his palm, seeking much more relief.

“yeah, that’s it,” he whispers, and starts moving the toy. slow thrusts at first, just enough to make you tremble. you reach back, clutching at his thighs to hold yourself up as your head drops against his shoulder, eyes already fluttering shut. when your hips start chasing every motion, he turns the speed up and fucks you faster, deeper, wet sticky sounds echoing off the walls as he continues to work you oh so damn relentlessly.

your face is slick with sweat, strands of hair sticking to your cheeks and the corner of your mouth as your body starts giving out faster than you'd hoped. but how could you possibly hold back when the love of your life is so determined to please you, fucking you so good all you see is the static behind your lids?

and when he hits your sweet spot, you collapse forward but he’s there instantly. catching you, holding you tight. kissing your temple and brushing your damp hair back.

“you okay, sweet?”

you somehow manage to respond with a measly yes, tangled in the mess of breathless, broken moans pouring from your mouth as you cling to him. doing everything you can just to hold on a little longer, because it feels too fucking good. borderline divine. every thrust sends pleasure curling down your spine, every slow circle of his fingers against your clit making your body spark and shake and ache.

your heart stammers when the man staring back at you through the mirror is similarly far gone. lips parted, eyes heavy and glassy as they flick from your face to where his hand holds the vibrator in place. his own hips still mindlessly grinding into yours, chasing his own release. and when he catches you admiring him, he holds you that much tighter to his chest.

“hey,” he nips at your ear again, “will you kiss me?”

you reach back blindly, hand finding the nape of his neck, dragging him in until his mouth finds yours. he exhales a thank you against your lips and kisses you all hungry and so full of love, that you can help but rapidly come undone. body spasming from head to toe as he continues to kiss you until you’re gasping and he’s swallowed every last piece of you breaking apart.

you’re barely holding yourself up. legs still trembling across his lap, chest sticky with sweat, heartbeat pounding in your ears as he slides the vibrator out with an obscene sound, your cum dripping down the side. matty’s gaze fixated on it, as his chest is still heaving under you until he breathes out a choked laugh.

“look at this,” he murmurs. “all you, darling.”

and you nearly scream when he leans over to lick it. one single, painfully slow drag of his tongue along the silicone as if he was indulging in the most delicious taste known to man.

your stomach clenches. heat rushes back through your body and straight to your core. you can’t move. can barely breathe. just sit there, limp in his lap, staring as he tilts the toy again and this time he opens his lips and he sinks it between his lips.

oh my god.

he groans as it fills his mouth, sucking until the part that was just inside you is resting on his tongue. then he pulls it out, your slick coating his lips now, and does it over. and over. all while his hips are desperately rutting into you again.

“matty,” you’re utterly stunned. “what–“

he hums around the vibrator, eyes fluttering back open as your hand touches his face, noticing as he smirks around the mouthful, because he of course knows you’re going insane watching him suck your cum off the toy like it’s dessert.

your whole body reacts. your cunt throbs again. your chest tightens. your head’s spinning. and you don’t know if you want to cry or come again when he finally pulls the toy out of his mouth once it’s clean from your slick.

your hand stays on his cheek, thumb brushing his bottom lip as his mouth goes slack from lack of air, panting harder each time he rolls his hips into you. another thrust, then another until his head falls back.

“shit. fuck. i’m gonna–”

matty’s been gone on a four week tour, and when you first found out, you didn’t think much of it. that’s ages away. you figured it would be fine, you like your space. and you told yourself you’d use the time to do things you might not with him around (cough developing risqué photos for him cough). totally fiiiiine. no big deal. after all, you’ve done the whole “boyfriend away on tour” thing before.

except that was with your lame ass ex.

not with your current boyfriend. not with the curly haired mailman AND musician you’re completely, stupidly in love with. not with the man who somehow lives in every crevice of your mind, body and soul. the one whose name suddenly lights up your screen.

matty: you awake, sweet?

there's no fucking point in even pretending to wait to answer.

you: yeah, just in bed. where are you right now? matty: in the van. almost to the hotel matty: missing you xxxx

every single day he tells you that. and still every single time your heart beats double time when he admits you aren't the only lonely one.

you: miss you too baby :( you: how was the show? matty: pretty great tbh. loud. sweaty. ross hooked up with someone. good night overall matty: not the same without you tho matty: can't fucking wait to kiss your pretty face again <3

that one make your press your phone against your chest, squeezing your eyes shut so tight trying to picture the way he’ll look at you when he finally walks back through your door.

matty: cannot stop thinking about you tonight matty: not that i ever can, really matty: but you know what i mean matty: need you xxxx

is it silly that you're smiling so big just from reading his texts on your phone? probably. but that doesn't stop you from snapping a photo of yourself and pressing 'send' just seconds after.

matty: fuck you're pretty matty: the most beautiful girl

matty: MY beautiful girl

you’re still typing a response when the three dots pop up again.

matty: and you're wearing my shirt matty: absolutely not fair </3 matty: wish i could take it off you :(

okay... maybe that wasn’t your original intention, but who are you to ignore sexy texts from him? so you send another photo. this time your legs stretched across the sheets, a hint of panties peeking from beneath his t-shirt.

matty: not great timing to get a boner, is it?

he follows it with a dark, grainy shot of his crossed legs which you only assume is to hide the effect you have on him. to which you respond by sending a photo of your fingers slipping just under the hem of your cotton underwear. the word 'delivered' switches to 'read' and you bite your lip, eagerly waiting for his reply. it’s new territory for you, sending something like this, because since that first night back in march you’ve barely spent a moment apart so there hasn't been a need for it yet.

but two minutes pass. then three. then four. by ten you’re staring at the screen with no new messages and your chest starts to tighten. what if one of the other guys saw? or worse... what if you’d crossed some invisible line and gone too far?

except this is matty.

the same chronically horny for you man who’s currently driving hann insane, begging him not to go sixty in an eighty and whining about needing a smoke. which, to be fair, he does need; his nicotine tolerance has been stretched thin these past weeks. but mostly, it’s just an excuse. an excuse to get out, breathe and finally have you to himself, even if it’s only in his head.

so when the van finally pulls to a stop–thank fucking god–he’s out the door in record time, shouting a quick be right back over his shoulder as he cuts across the lot, heading toward the shadowy stretch of what looks like an empty park. fingers unlocking his phone and blindly tapping the sequence he's now memorized by heart.

“hi, matty,” and he finally exhales when your voice melts into his ear, sweet as ever.

"this is so much better," he can't help but grin when he hears you laugh, "hello, my darling. how are you?"

“i’m okay. good. just… miss you.”

“i miss you more,” your boyfriend admits without hesitation. “walking through some shitty park in the middle of–” he names the city, "and still all i can think about is you. i love you, sweet. y'know that, right?"

“hmmm… you’ve maybe mentioned it once or twice before…”

“you’re such a fucking jerk,” he mutters but the smile in his tone gives him away. “been dying to hear your voice, though.”

“well, i’m here now. what do you want to hear?”

“an i love you would be pretty nice right about now.”

and who are you to deprive him of that when it’s the one thing you want to say the most? the one phrase you always want to scream at the top of your lungs since the first time you confessed it out loud.

“i love you, matty.” you drop back into your pillow and stare at the hollow of the bed where he should be. “so fucking much.”

"that's my good girl." you bite the side of your cheek to stop yourself from squealing because, christ, you do adore him and he makes you impossibly crazy.

"but you're actually evil."

um... okay... you're not entirely sure how to respond to that one.

“you don’t just send me a photo of you nearly touching yourself while i’m in the middle of a fucking road trip and not expect me not to want more details.”

right. you did that and now you have to pay the consequences. and of course, right on cue, you hear him take a long drag of a cigarette, the soft crackle through the line absolutely not helping your situation.

“so… did you do it?”

“matty…”

“yes or no? it’s an easy question.”

“no.”

“liar.”

“i didn’t! you didn’t say anything back, so i… i thought i made you upset or something, that i perhaps–”

“darling,” he interrupts, “what made me upset was being in a fucking van with my three annoying friends, a hardon and not being able to do anything about it.”

you cannot help but laugh at that, pressing your face into the pillow to muffle the sound. “poor you.”

an overdramatic groan fills the line which only makes you grin harder. you chew on your bottom lip, hesitating just long enough for him to notice before you murmur, “need a hand with that?”

“preferably yours, yes,” he fires back without missing a beat. “i’ll take it anytime. think you know exactly what i like by now.”

instantly, your brain supplies an image of your fingers wrapped around him: firm yet not too tight, the way he always moans when you’ve got him right where you want him. the way his lashes flutter when you twist your wrist just a tad.

you shift on top of your sheets, thighs pressing together, because suddenly there’s a different kind of tension buzzing between your legs.

“matty…”

your boyfriend hums on the other side, sending a thrill down every vertebrate of your spine. “what’s the matter, sweet? getting worked up on me already?”

the next thirty second silence is the only confirmation he needs. he chuckles, smug and proud in your ear and you can practically see the way his mouth quirks up. “knew it.”

“don’t sound so proud of yourself,” yet your fingers are already drifting down your torso, brushing over the hem of your cotton underwear.

“can’t help it, my love. i’ve got you squirming miles away just from my voice. makes a lonely man feel powerful.” he pauses, taking another drag, exhaling it out slow. you hear the faint scratch of his lighter snapping shut. “so tell me... what you doing right now?”

you hesitate. “not–nothing.”

“liar, liar” he singsongs.

“i’m not...”

“sweet, i can hear it. your voice goes all jittery when you’re flustered. you’ve got that shirt riding up, haven’t you? maybe your hand slipping a little lower?”

your breath catches and that’s all it takes for him to laugh again, a bit softer this time though. “fuck, you’re killing me. wish i could see you right now.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, fighting the urge to just give in, to let your hand slide down the way he’s painting it in your head. “wish you were here.”

“soon, darling. not soon enough, but soon.” he sighs with so much want tangled up in his voice that makes you clench. “til then… let me pretend, yeah? tell me what you’d let me do if i was there.”

you swallow, nerves fizzing as your fingertips dip just beneath the waistband, barely brushing between your cunt. “if you were here,” you whisper, “i'd want you to run your fingers... up and down. tease me like you always do.”

he whistles through his teeth. “gotta get you ready. always need you nice and wet… but go on, sweetheart. tell me more.”

your breath hitches as your fingers press just a little deeper, grazing yourself the way you know he would. “you’d slide them inside me,” you murmur, cheeks hot even though no one can see you. “slow at first… curling up the way that makes me–” you cut yourself off with a shaky sigh.

"moan?"

and that's exactly what you do when you finally push your index and middle fingers inside, scissoring in and out at a gentle pace, stretching yourself open the way you know he loves, another shaky little moan slipping by.

“there she is,” you can hear the smile in his tone. “knew you couldn’t keep quiet for me.” there’s a rustle on his end, perhaps him pacing over fallen leaves. “god, i’d give anything to see you right now… hear those lovely sounds in person. i miss them so much.”

your wrist twists just slightly and your back arches. “matty…”

“mm, that’s my girl,” he praises gently. "what do you need?"

"you... to touch me."

he stays quiet, listening to you working yourself up for a minute or so. "i fucking wish," he hums. "i’d take my fingers out after they’re covered with your cum, then trace little circles around your clit… can you do that for me?"

you nod your head as your heart races faster. "y–yes."

"such a good girl."

usually, getting yourself off like this takes time. but with him listening to you masturbate, it makes it that much more wonderful and amazing that you already feel your orgasm building up.

you keep rubbing your bundle of nerves, the heavenly sensation traveling down your body until your toes curl. you don't even know if you're breathing because you're too lost in the rhythm and the effort to stay aware enough to still to hear him, to let his voice push you closer and closer, even from hundreds of miles away.

"keep going, yeah? make yourself feel good for me."

with eyes squeezed shut, you imagine the way he’d stare up at you, tongue tracing those tight, devastating spirals that always make you bury your hands in his curls to keep yourself tethered while you lose your mind.

“miss your taste so much… you’ve got no idea,” he admits at the same time you catch a faint rustle from the other end.

“matty…?”

"hmm... yes, lo–love?

you catch the barely there hitch in his breath, the extra little noises in the background and instantly the wicked part of your brain realizes exactly what he’s doing.

“babe… are you–?”

you boyfriend half laughs, half moans and he doesn't even have to say another word to know his hand is wrapped around himself while thinking about you.

“but… aren’t you still outside?” you whisper, breath shaky.

“don’t worry, sweet,” there's a bit of teasing there but now more ragged and lustful than before. “it’s just you and i tonight, ‘kay? plus… i’ll be lucky if i last.”

you wish more than anything that you could see him like this. watching him work himself over might just be your favourite sight in this world. his hand around his cock, fingers slowly slick with his own cum… your literal definition of heaven.

"i miss you, matty."

his laugh is so utterly comforting. "miss you too, my sweet girl," he whispers those words into the phone and you swear you can feel his breath brushing against your ear. "so fucking much."

you’re so damn close now, hand moving frantically, because those tiny white specks are starting to bloom behind your pleasure ridden lids.

"matty?"

"yes darling?"

"can i... can i come?"

and this is your time to chuckle (well, as much as you can given your situation) when you hear him swear perhaps more loudly that he should have given his current location.

"you're such a good fucking girl," the way his voice sounds now, you know he's also close himself. "'course you can, sweet."

and you let yourself go, loud moans spilling from your wide open lips as that all-too-familiar warmth courses through every nerve in your body, leaving you trembling and completely undone. and not even thirty seconds pass before you hear him gasp desperately for air, your name spilling from his mouth again and again. you picture his fingers slick with his cum, stroking himself a few more times until he’s completely spent.

you keep your eyes closed as your breath slowly evens out, somehow falling into the same rhythm as his. not surprising, really. you’re so completely, utterly in love with him that it’s hard to take one without the other.

“you okay, sweetheart?”

his voice is so loving and gentle that it somehow fills that void where his arms would be wrapping around you right about now, holding you so damn close and making everything feel safe, cozy and warm.

"mmhmm."

there’s more silence filling the distance between you two, but it’s the comforting kind. you’d much rather this than him being somewhere else right now.

“i love you, matty.”

“i know, sweet,” and he tells you those same words which you’ll never grow tired of hearing. “don’t think i’d be standing in the middle of some park with cum all over myself for anyone else.”

your heart swells and your breath picks up all over again.

then he just pauses and stares. his lips part slightly, gaze flicking between the incriminating evidence in his hands and your frozen, guilty ass standing there, completely speechless.

“what…?” his voice is so slow and quiet, and, oh god, is that dread on his face?

he shoves everything back into your bag and stands up way too fast, wiping his palms on his cargo pants. you watch the shift happen in real-time: his shoulders going tense, jaw tightening, that little flicker of something possessive in his eyes. you know his brain is going full worst-case scenario, and if you don’t say something right now, he’s about to spiral into some completely unhinged conclusion that is so not the truth.

so you panic. obviously.

words just start spilling out, way too fast, way too loud, an uncontrollable disaster that you can’t stop even if you tried.

you haven’t been going to writing classes. miranda convinced you to pick up pole and lap dancing with her as a winter workout. your best friend didn’t want to go alone, needed a partner. you’ve always been curious but never actually tried it. you didn’t tell him because you weren’t sure what he’d think. you take props because you and mandy like to really, really get into it. how you’re so fucking sorry...

you’re barely breathing between words, your hands are all over, and you’re so deep in your frantic, guilt-ridden monologue that you don’t even notice the exact moment his whole body relaxes. don’t notice the tension bleeding from his shoulders. don’t catch the slow tilt of his head, the way his lips twitch at the corners.

"so this is what you’ve been hiding from me, huh?"

his voice is way too amused for the absolute state you’re in, and that’s when you finally clock the look on his face.

oh, fuck him.

matthew, the smuggest bastard alive, is thrilled, arms crossed over his chest, watching you flail with that stupid, lopsided grin getting wider by the second.

your words finally give out before you do, breath catching somewhere in your chest as you realize you’re about two seconds away from full-blown hyperventilation. so instead of making it worse, you just stop. grab your glass. and down the rest of your wine in one desperate, dignity-saving gulp.

matty’s still watching you. like, really watching you. eyes twinkling with something you can’t quite place but definitely don’t trust. you exhale shakily, set your glass down, and finally force yourself to talk.

“are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t answer right away, just lets the silence linger, enjoying the way you’re practically squirming under the weight of it.

“i’ll only be sad if i don’t get to see it one day.”

your whole body locks up.

you choke on absolutely nothing, your breath stalling in your throat, and it’s humiliating, really, how fast the heat rushes to your face. because, for some idiotic reason, it hadn’t occurred to you until right this second that, yeah... if your chronically horny boyfriend found out you’ve been taking lap dancing classes, there was exactly zero chance he wouldn’t want a front-row seat.

he clocks your reaction immediately, and you bet your ass he’s absolutely thrilled. his smirk stretches wider, eyes flicking down your body in a slow, deliberate sweep that makes your stomach tighten. he shifts his weight and leans in just a fraction.

“actually,” he hums, “how’s your balance?”

turns out it’s non-existent because you have to grip the kitchen counter just to stay upright. your mouth opens. closes. absolutely nothing comes out. no words. no thoughts. just—

fuuuuuuuuuuck.

it’s the only thing rattling around in your head, stuck on a loop like a broken record. fuck. fuck. fuck.

so, naturally, the best course of action? more wine. immediately.

you pour yourself another glass, bring it to your lips, and take a long, desperate sip, praying it’ll somehow settle the absolute mess of nerves currently wreaking havoc inside you. when you finally dare to glance back at matty, he’s still watching you with that look: eyebrow raised, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to physically hold back a grin.

you exhale sharply, shake your head, and attempt to laugh. just a quiet, breathy thing, but it breaks the tension enough that you can at least string together a coherent thought.

“fucking stop it, okay?” you mutter, pressing the cool rim of the glass against your burning cheek for a second. “i didn’t want you to find out. let alone this way.”

“why didn’t you want to tell me?”

you shift your weight, playing with the stem of your wine glass. “dunno. guess i was embarrassed? figured you’d laugh or make fun of me.”

matty gives you a look. “babe. if i ever, in my life, complain about my ridiculously hot girlfriend doing something that’s sexy as fuck, just end me, ‘kay?”

that gets another laugh out of you, the pressure finally loosening in your chest. “so you’re not upset?”

he shakes his head, motions you over with a lazy little c’mere gesture. and you don’t even think. just step forward, let him pull you in, arms snug around your waist, chin resting easy on the top of your head. and that’s all it takes. your whole body unwinds against him, breath slowing, muscles unclenching. he presses a quick kiss to your hair, lingers there for a second, and just when you think all is fine again…

“so, can i see?”

you groan, shoving him back, which only makes his wicked smile stretch wider. he catches your wrist before you can escape, laughing as you down the rest of your wine and flip him off for good measure. he mumbles a few half-hearted apologies, not that he means a single one, and then his hands are on your face, pulling you in.

and the second his lips meet yours, it’s over. whatever half-assed protest you had dissolves between you, his body pressing forward until your back finds the wall, pinning you there, making damn sure you feel everything. and perhaps it’s the mix of the two glasses of wine you downed in record time and the way he’s shoving his tongue down your throat, but suddenly, you’re thinking that maybe having a little fun with him wouldn’t be the worst thing.

so you indulge, let him devour you for another mind-bending kiss before pulling back just enough to give his cheek a playful slap.

“but just s’ you know, i’m not cheap.”

“hmmm. wouldn’t expect anything less from my girl.”

you walk into the living room, biting down a smirk, trying to ignore the way your heart is rattling against your ribs. because what exactly are you about to do? there’s no routine mapped out, no carefully rehearsed steps, and absolutely no floor-to-ceiling metal pole to fall back on. but, well, guess you’ve gotta start somewhere.

and that somewhere begins with you dragging a chair to the center of the room and motioning for matty to sit because a lap dance is obviously the answer. he doesn’t hesitate for a single second, making a show out of pulling out his wallet and flashing it at you before he drops into the seat. which, for the record, is the same damn dining chair he’s absolutely fucked you over more times than you can count.

he’s such a fucking boy, but you love him more than anything, and honestly? there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

so you take off your clothes.

your shirt and jeans first. then your socks. now you’re just standing there in your bra and panties, pointedly not looking at him in case the weight of his stare makes you change your mind. instead, you focus. grab your stockings, garter, and heels from your bag, stretching the sheer fabric up your legs, making sure the belt sits snug around your thighs. for class, you’d usually wear something a short skirt or an oversized tee, but given that matty is your only audience tonight, lingerie feels like the only right call.

while you’re busy adjusting straps and fastening clips, you completely miss the way matty’s staring. borderline hypnotized, pupils flickering darker every single time another piece of clothing hits the floor. the way his breath slows, chest rising and falling. the way his jaw clenches when he finally registers what you’re wearing.

because he knows this set. remembers telling you, offhandedly, that it’d look so fucking good on you. hadn’t expected you to actually go out and buy it, but now that you have? now that he’s seeing it on you, in real time, fitting like it was made for you?

yeah. he’s so fucking glad you did.

and then you bend down, ass in the air as you slide into your stilettos, and that’s when he knows he’s fucked. his head drops back, hands dragging down his face, breath catching somewhere between a curse and a groan because, jesus christ, he’s about to lose his goddamn mind. he shifts in his seat and crosses his legs so you can’t see how hard he already is.

meanwhile, you’re completely oblivious, too focused to care where your clothes and bag land as you shove them aside and decide which record to pick. something smooth, something slow. something with a rhythm you can move to. and as soon as the needle drops, the warm crackle fills the room. okay. you whisper it just for yourself, shake out your arms, roll your shoulders back, try to settle the nerves buzzing under your skin.

because ready or not, you’re doing this.

then, finally, you turn toward him, trying your best not to overthink it, just placing one foot in front of the other, letting the music guide you.

matty doesn’t stop looking or smirking for a single moment, his gaze dark as it drags down your body. you step closer, both of you letting out a breathy laugh, because is this actually happening right now? because never in a million years did you think you’d be here, standing in front of him like this. and as for matty? he looks way too eager, fingers already reaching for your hips, pulling himself forward to press slow, teasing kisses to your stomach. you swat his hands away before you can fully melt, pushing him back into the chair, tugging at his hair just enough to make him look at you.

“i’ll talk you through it, okay?”

his breath shudders, eyes flickering shut as he mutters a curse under his breath. but you know he’s enjoying this. you know it the second he uncrosses his legs, the outline in his pants impossible to ignore. your mouth goes dry at the sight, but you have to stay focused.

“all yours, darling.” and you have to bite your lip at the double meaning of it.

before your brain completely short-circuits, you position yourself between his legs, lean forward and give him a peck on the nose, nodding toward the wallet on the floor and letting him know that he better be nice to you. then you turn around, drop down just enough so your ass is barely brushing against his crotch, and oh-so-slowly roll yourself up, making sure your body never loses contact with his. you do it again, this time with intent, pressing down just a little harder over his cock on the way down, rolling your hips with deliberate slowness on the way up, arms stretching high above your head, moving like you’ve done this for him a hundred times before.

somehow, somehow, you manage to stay composed as the minutes pass, keeping your movements fluid, sensual, just for him. yeah, there are still some nerves there, but you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t exhilarating. it’s not perfect—far from it—but you’d never know that by looking at him.

because matty is done for. completely entranced, watching the way you sway, the way your fingers drag slow and teasing over your skin. so hypnotized that he hasn’t said a single word, unless you ask him something. and even then, he mostly just stares, mouth agape because the sheer act of forming words longer than four letters is beyond him right now.

and you can’t help but giggle, shaking your head, because of course it takes a lap dance and you touching yourself for matty healy to finally keep quiet for once.

you move with the music, letting the rhythm guide you instead of overthinking what comes next. just feeling it, letting yourself sink into the moment, into the way his eyes track your every movement. because you totally have this. and him under your control.

at some point, and this was never part of class, you push your tits together, just inches from his face, and oh my god. you actually have to bite your lip to keep from screaming when, without even looking away, he blindly reaches for his wallet and tucks some money between your breasts, fingers lingering on you to savor every single moment. and then he leans in, presses a kiss right against your chest, and your heart is about to explode when he rests his head on that same spot.

you’re sure you feel some of your slick drip down your leg, but there is no way in hell you’re stopping now. not when he’s completely at your mercy. so you slide your fingers into his hair, grip just enough to make him look at you and make him focus.

"i fucking love you, baby."

oh. you’ve heard it a million times before, but something about the way he says it now makes it hit differently. settles somewhere deep in your chest, makes your breath catch, makes your pulse quicken. because it doesn’t just make you feel wanted. it makes you feel his. entirely, unquestionably his.

and god, you want him. want him more.

so you push him back into the chair again, hands firm against his chest, because you’re not done with him yet.

you step back just enough to make him wait, before slowly raising your leg and dragging the sharp tip of your heel oh so lightly along his length. you’ve never been so proud of yourself. his head tips back, eyes rolling up like he’s seeing heaven, body melting into the chair, legs spreading wider, offering himself up completely.

“does this feel good?”

he nods mindlessly, too far gone in pleasure while you take your time, relishing the sight of your boyfriend falling apart right in front of you. you drag your stiletto on him again. and again. until you’re feeling him twitch and he’s actually whining, the sound catching high in his throat, desperate and so, so pretty. and then, just to be mean, you press down just a little, the tiniest bit of pressure, he chokes, cursing loudly, running shaky hands through his curls trying to pull himself back to reality.

but you don’t let him. because you lean forward, wrap your fingers around the cool metal of his chains and tug just enough to make him obey. his dazed eyes snap open and he immediately straightens up, sitting taller, waiting. and that’s when you finally straddle him, slot your body against his, press down and grind against his hips, rolling slow and deep, giving him just enough pressure to completely come undone.