#problematicworm

present day supermega (shocker considering i only ever write them in 2016 lol)

matt breaks his sobriety streak and impulsively decides to get plastered with ryan one night.

one thing leads to another and suddenly matt finds himself on his hands and knees, pinning ryan down, his knee pressed between ryan’s legs, pressing up against his dick. matt can’t believe what’s going on. his head is spinning. he can’t remember how they got here. the only thing he can focus on is the present—how incredible ryan looks, eyes unfocused as he gazes up at matt, his face flushed from the alcohol.

and ryan is so giggly. he’s so happy and eager, grinning as he rolls his hips against matt’s leg. and matt is perfectly content to watch ryan pleasure himself, that is, until ryan’s pulling matt down by his shirt, their faces inches apart when ryan whispers, “kiss me.”

matt’s immediately pulling away, face flushing as a wave of anxiety crashes over him. he tries to protest, to say that they can’t, but ryan doesn’t let him off that easily. ryan sounds almost smug as he reminds matt about all the times he’d cheated on zeph. and for some reason, that—plus ryan’s reassurances that everything that happened tonight would remain secret—was enough to convince matt to give in.

they make out fervently, hungrily, like they’re both so aware of how precious this moment is.

matt wonders if it’s as precious to ryan as it is to him.

ryan has a partner, of course. he’d been dating them for almost a year, now. but ryan didn’t exactly have a clean record, either. he had a history of being unfaithful.

it always made matt so happy when a girl would give him a second chance. unfortunately, he never changed. he figured ryan probably wouldn’t, either.

“god, ry, i wish i could fuck you…” matt moans out between open-mouthed kisses, hand threaded through the luscious hair growing from ryan’s scalp. “you’re so fucking hot..”

“you can, y’know,” ryan breathes out shakily, trembling slightly as matt dares to let his hand trace the line from ryan’s collarbone, down to his pecs, down to the bottom of his ribcage. ryan hesitates for a moment. matt thinks he’s probably the only human on earth who could notice such a minute pause. ryan gulps. “i’d let you…”

and matt has no idea why the prospect sends him reeling—why the idea of fucking ryan makes his brain absolutely scramble. he can’t figure out why it makes him so much harder imaging fucking ryan instead of fucking zeph. maybe it’s because ryan is less attainable. maybe it’s because ryan is a more difficult target to subdue.

and it is crazy, isn’t it, that somehow matt is getting turned on at the idea of fucking ryan. ryan is not matt’s type. matt likes pretty girls. matt likes women with slender waists and long legs and flowing hair. he’s not into big, hairy men. he’s not into his best friend.

he’s not into the way that ryan tilts his head back, eyebrows threaded up in pleasure when matt moves his thigh against ryan’s cock. he’s not into the way ryan’s muscles tense then yield beneath his touch when he presses ryan back down into the couch. none of it is doing anything for him, surely.

the booze is making it damn easy to go along with things, though. it’s making it way too easy for matt to ignore his rationality—to continue indulging himself. to continue indulging ryan.

if matt hadn’t already been put under ryan’s spell, he truly lost all hope of breaking free when ryan groped at his hard cock through his jeans. matt let out a noise almost like a yelp before trailing off into a whimper.

and even though the whole night matt was on top of ryan, sometimes he wasn’t quite sure who was in control of who. sometimes it was so obvious, like when matt had finally slicked up his cock and wrangled a mischievous and troublesome ryan down and into position—flat on his stomach, one arm pinned to the small of his back to keep him from wriggling. as soon as the head of matt’s cock was pressing into ryan, the man’s disposition was instantly switching.

ryan’s voice went up an octave, his little cry sounding broken as matt pushed past his rim, stretching him open. his body tensed up, the muscles in his shoulders and arms trembling with effort. in that moment, matt felt powerful. that was when he was for sure in-charge. when ryan was absolutely helpless beneath him.

there were other times where matt felt like he was the one left helpless, like when he’d finally buried himself down to the base inside ryan and was left trembling and gasping, beads of sweat dripping down his face. ryan had the gall to laugh at matt for having such a reaction. he’d been glancing over his shoulder at matt with that fucking sly grin, humming, “what’s the matter, matty? better than your girlfriend?”

that had made matt feel some kind of way. because, fuck, ryan did feel better than matt’s girlfriend. he was so hot and tight—matt could feel ryan’s fucking heartbeat around his cock.

“jesus—ryan, fuck, d-don’t…” matt shuddered, pressing his sweaty forehead against ryan’s damp back, muscles tense as he tried to resist the urge to cum. “don’t mess with me me, dude… j-just be quiet…”

“why should i?” ryan shot back, playful, but almost intentionally malicious. “you know it’s true. you want me more than you want her. why else would you be here with me when you could have her whenever?”

matt didn’t like that he couldn’t formulate a retort. instead, he resorted to shutting ryan up in the one way he knew how. he grabbed ryan by the long hair on the back of his head and pressed the man’s face into the pillows, muffling his snarky comments in the cushioning. matt began to thrust, and immediately he was in heaven. ryan was moaning and sobbing beneath him, hands clawing at the couch as matt’s cock slid deep into him over and over again, filling him up so incredibly.

it felt so good that matt couldn’t even attempt to form words. that didn’t matter much, though, because ryan couldn’t form words, either. the noises coming from ryan were incomprehensible, long, stressed, gravely groans forced their way out of his lips, muffled by the couch cushions. it almost sounds like he’s in pain with how strained his noises are, but matt knows better. ryan’s completely pliant beneath matt. he’s enjoying this. he’s drinking up every single second of matt pushing him down and filling him up.

even if he was in pain—which he surely had been at some point since matt wasn’t exactly being gentle—matt wouldn’t see any reason to stop. after all, ryan wasn’t a lady. he could take a beating and still be fine. it was the same reason matt didn’t bother to prep him. besides, it was kind of incredible to watch ryan cry and grit his teeth as his body stretched around the girth of matt’s cock.

it was even better seeing ryan’s reaction when matt finally pulled out his softening cock after finishing inside ryan. matt spread ryan’s cheeks as he pulled out, watching intently as ryan’s hole stayed gaped open, twitching slightly and starting to tense back up now that matt wasn’t keeping him open. he looked so used. cum dripped from ryan’s hole down his taint and balls. the man was incomprehensible, every breath coming out as a high-pitched almost trill-like noise. he was acting like a girl.

matt finally pulled away, collapsing onto the sofa behind him. they caught their breath together in silence, both wound up in the web of their own thoughts. matt’s vision was spinning with vertigo from all the booze. ryan hadn’t moved since matt had cum inside him. he just lay there, shuddering and whimpering, stretched open and fucked-out and filled with cum.

as matt watches ryan, who seems to be just drunk enough and just exhausted enough to be drifting in and out of a state of unconsciousness, he can feel something clawing at him from the inside out. that sour, nagging feeling reminding him that tomorrow he’s going to hate himself more than he ever has before.

but, right now?

right now, matt feels like he can do anything.