#vent lmao

This…thing…you and Matthew have got going on, it’s not serious. It’s not tangible. It’s not even all that real. Okay, yes, when he’s not around, you remember the color of his eyes and how the center of his chest smells, but that doesn’t mean that this is a…thing. This is about convenience. This is about comfortability. Matthew slipped into your life pretty easily and he, himself, is pretty easy. He’s low maintenance. For the most part, he’s cool. He’s okay. He’s nice when you’re not arguing for fun. When you want food delivered at midnight, he sends you money. He’s a nice kisser and he can pretty much have sex with you when he wants. It’s quite mutualistic. Everybody wins, but it’s not a thing. He’s not something you have to worry about, and frankly, you don’t. But when you’re in that bubble, with him, with dim lighting and low inhibitions, you tend to say things you don’t mean.

And he knows that. He’s low maintenance and compliant, but he’s still a man and he’s still annoying and just a tad bit manipulative. He knows that, too. He wears those shirts with the open collars and always puts his sweaty hands on your thighs. He never asks for sex but his voice changes in pitch when he’s horny and you often end up kissing him just to shut him up. This opens the door. His hands go higher on your thighs and under your shirt, your brain starts shutting down because suddenly he’s crawling on top of you and all you can smell is the center of his chest. His breathing is heavy between kisses and he plants these soft pecks along your cheekbones, his nails digging into your waist.

He lifts up your shirt and says, “Let’s take this off, hm?” and he doesn’t pull it over your head until you nod. Then he’s tossing your shirt on the floor and kissing your neck. Your body starts to melt and your hands find their way under his shirt, on his waist, pulling him closer. His mouth is hot on your shoulder and then your sternum and then your breasts and he sinks his teeth into you real fast.

“Ah, ow,” you wince.

“You’re fine,” Matthew says, and you’re caught between his teeth and there’s not much you can do.

He undoes your pants and pulls them down your legs and as he leans back in, you stop him, with your hands flat against his chest. You push his shirt up his stomach, help him get it over his head. You like having your legs hooked over his bare shoulders and you’d never say it, but there’s something about the skin on skin. The way you can feel his arms wrapped around your thighs. The way he eats your pussy so gently, rubbing his thumb on your hip bone, his palm on your stomach. It’s overstimulating, but in a really nice way. Like your brain can’t comprehend all the different places you’re being touched, like it’s just being flooded with hundreds of thousands of billions of major feel good chemicals. But this is not a thing.

Everything feels kind of hazy. You twirl his hair around your finger and move your hips just a little bit, pushing his face between your thighs. He loves that. He hums against you and his eyes roll back and he laps at you like a dog. He slides his fingers into you and you gasp, groan, pull at his hair. He kisses the inside of your thighs, bites the thin skin, bruises it, with his fingers knuckle deep inside of you. His other hand is holding yours and for some reason, your brain just keeps going: Oh, he loves me, he loves me, he loooooooves me. But this is not a thing.

He sucks on your clit and your body twitches. You try not to pull on him too hard. He keeps your legs open for you because you’re getting tense and it’s getting hard for you to do on your own. His face is getting soaked but it doesn’t seem to bother him, he just wants to make you come and you don’t think you’re making it easy for him but he’s a very determined man. He pushes his fingers a little harder, a little deeper. Spits on your pussy and works his tongue on it in just the right spot. You tighten around his fingers and your back lifts off the bed and you weren’t loud before, but you are now. You have to release all the air trapped inside of you and Matthew just keeps finger fucking you so your body doesn’t have much time to process and so you’re shaking and crumbling and moaning until you go limp on the bed.

Matthew puts himself between your legs and whispers in your ear, “You’ve gotta stop holding it in like that.” Then he puts his fingers in your mouth and you lick them clean and then you do the same thing to his mouth. The smell of you is all over his face and you felt like you just marked your territory. Yours. But this is not a thing.

You unbutton his pants and he kicks them off and you grumble, “Mm, these too,” and push his underwear down. You’re basking in the skin on skin contact, but this is not a thing. You feel warm and safe and very sheltered and you just keep kissing him. Open mouth, heavy breathing, loud, smacky kissing. But this is not a thing.

When he finds his way inside of you, he’s gasping like you’re sucking the life out of him. You hold onto his biceps really tight and he nuzzles his nose against yours. He started moving his hips in this steady rhythm, moaning in your ear and kissing your jaw. You can feel the muscle flex and relax under his skin. He gives you a sloppy kiss and not much time before he starts pounding into you, moaning in your ear, his hands all over your face, tangling up in the hair on top of your head. Your voice explodes into this jumbled mess of loud whimpers and incoherent words and Matthew’s smirking, whispering, “Yeah? Hm?” and it’s taunting because air gets trapped in your throat.

You rake your nails down his back and he pushes into you harder, his breath shaky and unhinged. He catches your mouth on his, pushes his tongue past your lips until you can taste his spit in your mouth. His thumbs brush against your cheekbones and your eyes flutter open. He smiles at you and kisses your nose, but this is not a thing. He kisses your jaw and whispers, “Tell me you belong to me,” and he punctuates it with a roll of his hips to make you cry out. “Say it.”

And as you stare into his eyes, you tremble, “I-I belong to you,” but this is not a thing.

“Again.”

“I belong to you.”

Matthew runs his finger along your bottom lip and grins and says, “Yes you do,” and suddenly he’s fucking you harder and faster and he’s trying to scramble your brain. It’s working.

Your arms are wrapped around his waist and you’re whining into his neck and listening to him drone on and on about your body and things it does for him. “God, you make me feel so good, baby. You’re perfect, just so perfect.”

He nibbles on your ear and kisses your lips and says, “Now tell me you love me.” And now his hand is around your throat and his dick is in your guts and he’s staring at you so you can’t get away. “Say it.”

This is not a thing. This is not a thing. “I love you,” comes out in the tiniest, smallest whisper. Matthew pounds his hips against yours and commands, “Louder.” Your breath catches in your throat and you just want to come, but he’s a man of trade and you don’t have much dignity left.

“I-I love you, fuck,” you grab a fistful of his hair, holding him close as he kisses your neck. You reach down to touch yourself and your eyes cross over one another. He’s not asking anymore but he’s pinning your legs back, pushing your knees into your chest and saying your name and you mumble under your breath, “Oh, I love you, I love you, I love you,” and he’s laughing. He thinks it’s funny.

He takes your jaw in his hand and gives you a kiss and your groan is muffled by his mouth. The sweat on his chest is sticking to yours and your moans pick up in volume and pace, constant gasps to take in air just to spit it back out in some inhuman noise. And eventually he becomes this blur of weight and deep groans and a force between your legs that radiates through your entire body. You’re so focused, eyes screwed shut, and catering to that little bubble in your stomach that is bound to destroy you at any given moment.

Your nails break the skin on his back and he grunts, kisses you, holds your face and says, “Let me see your eyes.” And though your eyelids are heavy, you can see him in a fuzzy glow.

And as your moans get chopped up into shuddering outbursts, your thighs tighten around his body, and your hand gets slippery and quick against your clit, you cannot stop looking at him. He cannot stop looking at you. He feels all the power seeping out of you and absorbs it through his skin, like it’s charging him, building this intense momentum in his hips. “You’re so pretty,” he says. “Why are you so pretty?” And in a sudden and impulsive movement, you clasp your hand over his mouth and out of you comes this long, loud, earth quaking groan. He opens his mouth to laugh, take two of your fingers between his lips and bites down on them. You look him in the eyes while you come, but this is not a thing.

You try to sit yourself up, try to give yourself a break, a moment, and Matthew collapses on top of you. He has you pinned down underneath his body, his elbows on either side of your head and his hands resting on the top of your skull. “You can take it,” he says. “Don’t act like you can’t.” Your body will not stop shaking, but it’s an ego boost for him, and it only provokes him to keep fucking you.

“S-so close,” he stutters. His voice is soft against your ear, “So, so close.”

The bass in his throat rattles around in your head and your arms are locked around him and you don’t want to let him go. “Oh, fuck, yes, baby. Yes, yes, yes,” he moans. He gives you a quick kisses and pulls out of you so he can jerk himself off all over your stomach. Some of it gets in your hair and you drop your jaw in shock just to feel some of it land on your bottom lip. Matthew laughs, the sweet sound mixed in with dirty noises and weezy breathing.

When he crashes down beside you, you won’t make eye contact and you wipe yourself off with the blanket. You pull it over your body and he looks over at you, “You okay?”

“I didn’t mean any of that,” you tell him.

And he kind of smiles and pulls you close, letting your head rest on his chest. He gives you a kiss on top of your head, “I know.”

You trace your fingertips over his ribcage, watch his stomach twitch from the stimulation. You sigh, “Can you say it back?”