*After Midnight Ends
What has it been?
Weeks?
No - more like months.
However long it had been since you and Matt first met on that fateful night at the docks, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you were here with him now, in the rain, finally having kissed him the way both of you had wanted for so very long.
All you could think of was kissing him again.
Among other things.
His forehead had pressed to yours, and you’d let your eyes briefly close. A million visions passed over your darkened lids. Sights of the past, ghosts that still haunted you, blood that had spilled across your fingertips in too vivid a scarlet color to ever truly wash off.
When your eyes flicked back open, though, you saw a different red. It was scarlet, sure - and in the proper lighting, it matched the very shade of this blood rushing thick and sticky through your memory.
But this was the red of the Devil you knew. This was the red of Matt’s glasses, the window through which you watched his eyelids lift. This shade, haunting as it was, wasn’t so scary when he wore it.
In fact, on him, it ignited you - and your eyes shut closed again as you pressed your lips back into his.
Matt obliged eagerly, and even more visions passed over your closed eyes, working in tandem with his soft hold on you, the stroke of his hands across your wet skin, the gentle pressure of his lips against yours.
God, his lips.
Why didn’t we do this sooner?
You tugged your mouth off Matt’s and eyed him intensely, tasting your lips just as his tongue had. He did the same.
“I…” you began, quickly trailing off as you realized how out of breath you were. That failing attempt at a conversation led both you and Matt to smile, and he chuckled, his hand between your shoulders tapping you gently. That hand at your hip lifted up through the rain to land at your jaw, where his thumb swiped water off your cheek in slow, soft strokes.
“You…?” He hummed, jokingly wary. Your laugh was light, lighter than the rainfall. Tangling your fingers further back into Matt’s hair made his eyes flutter, his jaw clench, and, in turn, caused your brows to lift.
“I… was wondering if you like the rain,” you tried again. “I know you said you don’t mind it, but,” you breathed, gaze falling to Matt’s lips as you bit at your own, “do you like it when it rains?”
Another stroke at your cheek threatened to destroy the little focus you’d managed to gather.
“Sometimes it messes with my senses,” Matt mused softly, his hand at your back sliding down your spine in time with the raindrops - maybe slower, but in just as much of a cling to your skin, to your silk. “Sometimes, though, I can use it to my advantage. But, yes,” he smiled. “I do like the rain.”
You nodded. One of your hands slipped down to Matt’s neck, your open-mouthed, glazed-eyes expression in a daze, and you traced the edge of his sharply stubbled jaw with your fingertips.
“And right now?” You managed, eyes dead set on Matt’s lips. “Is the rain an advantage to you now?”
“Yes and no.”
“How so?”
That sliding hand finally landed at your waist, and he pressed it into you firmly. Your breath caught, and Matt’s smile remained, scarlet lenses flickering.
“You want an honest answer?”
Your brows twisted. “Always.”
Matt tilted his head just slightly.
“Well,” he drawled, “in a way, the rain helps me better make you out. I can hear every raindrop land on you, where it lands, how it flows down your arm, or your back, or whatever part of you, really.”
You grinned. “I didn’t mean specifically where I’m concerned, but go on.”
Matt grinned back. “As great as that is, though, I’d prefer for my focus on you to be… only focused on you. Not rain, or how it hits you,” he stated, “but you, as you are.”
He licked over his lips before speaking once more, his eyes softening.
“And I can certainly focus. I’ve learned to. But, even so… I don’t want any chance for distraction.” Matt shook his head gently, that thumb on your cheek pulling over your skin in a drift unimaginably light. “Not when I’m with you.”
Your eyes cracked through with light. Matt’s smile had grown quieter, and with a swirl of flame lighting you up from the inside, you glanced toward the door to his apartment. As you turned your head back to Matt, you leaned closer to him, voice low, soft, and wanting as ever where your lips floated half an inch from his.
“Well, it must be your lucky night,” you breathed, “because I think we have an escape from distractions waiting just a few feet away.”
Matt’s brows raised, and he grinned into your lips, kissing you again. You grinned back, gripping Matt’s head, his neck, his shoulders, and his hands moved to grab your hips. Grasping firmly onto his shoulders, you pushed Matt into a turn, and he went with it, letting you walk him back toward his apartment door.
Your fancy gala shoes dragged through dust, dirt, gravel, and rainwater with every step, but neither you nor Matt could have cared less. His tongue worked gently against yours as he let you walk him back, striding with all the assurance of a man with eyes at the back of his head.
What was it he called it, once or twice?
Radar sense?
Definitely an asset.
As you met the door, Matt’s hand reached behind him to fumble with the knob, twisting it and pulling just enough to get it open. Your brows furrowed.
“Do you always leave that unlocked?” You breathed. He chuckled, shifting you around to press you past the doorway, past the threshold, away from the rain, and into the shadows.
“I’m the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, sweetheart,” Matt crooned, neck craning to keep his lips brushing yours, even as that free hand reached back to grasp the inner doorknob. “And I have another vigilante sleeping in my bed for the foreseeable future.”
You smiled, though you knew a constantly unlocked door was a conversation that must be had. A morning conversation, perhaps, but an important one nonetheless.
Matt noticed your pause and stilled, the door ajar as his other hand traced a wide swirl up your torso.
“It’s just when I go out, or so you can get back in when you need to - and no one goes up there but me, anyway,” Matt assured. “You have nothing to worry about.”
For now, that was more than enough - and you tugged Matt closer, pulling his lips again to yours. His arm pulled that door finally shut in a dull thud and a metallic click, echoing through the space, and the two of you were entirely out of the rain at last.
It was just you and Matt alone in his apartment, dripping rainwater onto the wood floor of his landing as you tried - and failed - to catch your racing breaths.
Without missing a beat, you reached down and hooked your heels off, tossing them aside and managing to hold Matt’s lips against yours the entire time. He chuckled into your kiss and kicked his shoes off as well, tugging off his socks and tossing them to the side. Matt then pulled back, parting from your lips, and you nearly frowned in protest - until his hands lifted to the front of his blazer, held together by one singular button.
The world around you slowed, and your hands stilled at Matt’s shoulders. It seemed as though he was deliberately slowing his movements; he could feel you watching his hands intently, after all. Knowing Matt’s propensity for teasing, the man would drag this moment on for as long as he could manage.
Bastard.
You watched one hand tug lightly on that smooth, perfect, soaked fabric, the thumb of the other hand pressing against the edge of the black button, round and shiny as it was. The button slipped through its hole at a painstakingly slow pace, and you found yourself releasing a deep breath when it finally popped out.
Matt smirked at your reaction to such a small movement, and you did mildly roll your eyes - but you didn’t so much as truly shift your attention from his hands for a second. Strong, large, and set with a few veins here and there, those hands nimbly pulled to the edges of the now-open blazer, curling half-fists around each side. You found yourself stepping back to watch in jaw-dropped awe as he tugged the jacket slowly open.
And you were more than correct earlier about the shirt. Damp and thin, the silky white fabric held tight to Matt’s skin, outlining every shift in his muscled front as though he was some Greek god, carved of pearl-white marble and a powerfully artistic eye - only interrupted by the thin black strip of his tie. Clamping your jaw shut stopped you from drooling, sure, but you might as well have been some sort of hypnotized, half-awake follower of the entrancing figure before you as your mouth quickly went slack once more.
His focus sharply on you, Matt tugged the blazer back and over his shoulders, their broad strength stretching through both layers of fabric; you were surprised he could even get the blazer off his upper body, what with all the muscle straining it. You watched as he moved his hands behind his back to pull the jacket down further, revealing those miraculously carved arms, strong enough to hold you close on some nights and to fight at your side on others. The blazer then dropped to the floor behind him, and he drew his hands back to his sides, straightening his posture to its usual, impeccable standard.
Fizzing with need, your core burned, and you didn’t blush until your gaze moved from the dips and divots of Matt’s abs to his powerful chest, to his eyes behind the glasses. The only reason you blushed, really, was the expression on his face, mildly smug at how much you were evidently enraptured by him just taking off a damn blazer.
Seriously?
Like a few little sprays of perfume didn’t just drive you wild.
“What?” Matt asked, cocking his head to the side. You ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek and stepped back into Matt’s immediate air, your hands lifting toward his upper body.
“What do you think?” You huffed through a scoffing smile, brows knit together. He grinned, and you grasped at the slick strength of his arms, sliding up to his shoulders as his hands slid onto your waist again. “So cocky,” you breathed.
Smirking, Matt turned you both so that he stood at the top of the staircase, his back toward its descent. If not for that radar sense, you’d have certainly made him turn around.
Again.
Quite the asset.
He began leading you down, one step at a time. The floor felt dry on your damp feet, and every step grew easier, steadier, with Matt there to lead you down. With your hands slipping down his slickly soaked arms, Matt’s hands moved off your waist to meet your grasp. His hands clasped through yours and you smiled down at him, wet silk swishing around your ankles with every step.
“That dress,” Matt whispered, shaking his head. “That dress is stunning on you, sweetheart.”
Warm from the compliment but far from done with the game, you opened your mouth to speak - but Matt interrupted you, his hands pulsing strength around yours.
“And I don’t need to see you to know how good you look in it.”
You blushed, but your eyes caught on that still-broken last step of his staircase, your final obstacle before his main floor was reached. Matt thought nothing of it. He simply released his hands from yours and moved them into a tight clamp around either side of your ribcage, stepped one leg down to brace on the main floor, and gripped your body tight, lifting you up and over the step. He lowered you onto the floor with unimaginable grace. Your breath had paused, caught unaware by his abrupt lift of you into the air, and you stilled for a moment - just standing there, hot and bothered in the dark with your hands on Matt’s shoulders.
“Woah.”
“Woah?”
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
He chuckled. “Didn’t I lift you before? Like, tonight?”
You shifted your jaw, shook your head, and leaned in close.
“I don’t remember now. Thinking of other things.”
His brow furrowed, hands sliding tight into your waist like some sort of hot, more-than-comfortable corset. “Other things?”
You tilted your head with a shrug, the lilt of your voice tightly wound with want.
“Just other contexts where you might need to lift me.”
Matt’s brow raised high onto his forehead, and you would have taken a moment to admire the reaction more if he hadn’t pressed his smiling mouth into yours again.
Not that I’m complaining.
At all.
“Someone’s eager,” you hummed against his lips. Hands sliding up your torso, Matt groaned, the low growl of it making you shudder.
“Can you blame me?”
Matt began to walk you back toward his windowed wall, where the light of the night was a deep purple, interspersed with white and blue glow. A few steps were driven by him, sure - but as you slipped your tongue past his lips, as your mouths glided together in every level of sin, your hands pulled down the hard, wet curve of his chest to wrap tightly around his tie. You tugged him across the floor as you strode back, just as you had that night in the office, where you’d come ever so close to leaving your professional behavior behind. He moved with you eagerly, happy to let you lead.
Brain hazy, it was drowning in syrup, almost as slick as your wet skin, nearly as drenched as Matt’s - not even close to the throbbing drip between your legs. As you tugged Matt back, he sighed into the kiss, the spill of his tongue over your lower lip a slick, indulgent plea for you. In a real plea, he purred your name against your lips, the sound of it entirely desirous, melting, carnally rough. Electric shivers pulsed through every inch of you at the sound, and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh, higher than you’d meant and quieter than you truly wanted it to be. You stilled just in front of his bedroom door, your hands climbing the length of his tie as the warmth within you only continued to surge hot and high.
Matt paused, parting his lips from yours. His hands relaxed at your torso just as yours reached the collar of his shirt, and you stopped, not wanting to cross any boundary that he might not be ready for. Wordlessly, Matt jumped his touch to your elbows - gentle, as if his hot fingers were tiptoeing across your cool, damp skin - and let his hands drift up to land over yours.
“You know,” Matt whispered, light and low, tugging his fingers beneath the tight curl of his tie. “If you ever need a lawyer and you’re worried about a conflict of interest,” he offered, your hands shifting down his tie as he tugged it to grow looser at his neck, “you always have Foggy.”
You laughed. Obliging to your unspoken request, Matt pulled the tie all the way through, the smooth fabric gliding past your fingertips until it slipped all the way through, rushing out of his collar. It swung down, and he let it drop to the floor.
“Thought you guys were both desperate for new clients,” you crooned. Your voice hitched, though, at the last word, since Matt’s hands had decided to slink back onto your bare arms, drifting their heat in a half-supple, half-rough drag up toward your shoulders. With one hand slipping up to cup your jaw, the other hand landed at your collarbone, thumb toying with the strap of your dress.
“I mean, yes, but a client for the firm helps everyone, regardless of whether said client is specifically mine or Foggy’s.”
Mouth ajar at his touch, you nodded - feeling his thumb and forefinger trace the lacy, embroidered strap of your dress. You couldn’t help but partly wish he’d just tear it off of you already.
“And, besides, if I have to choose between being your lawyer and getting to do this,” he breathed, leaning in to plant a slow kiss on your heated, flushed lips. You kissed him back, lifting your hands to his chest. Matt pulled away just enough to whisper against your mouth, the heat of each word igniting your skin.
“God, I would give up being a lawyer at all, if choosing you meant I got to do that just one more time.”
Your lips curved up.
“And you don’t even have to choose. Look how lucky you are.”
Matt chuckled, his nose brushing yours.
Your hands slid up to each side of his jaw and you sucked in a slow breath, tilting his head slightly back from yours. His glasses glinted in artificial light, flickering with the glow behind you. It was all you could do not to chew through the inside of your cheek as you slipped your hands up further, the edges of your fingertips tracing the arms of his glasses.
Pulse on high alert, you watched Matt’s lips part, watched his eyes flit over you through the glasses - though, with the shades in the way, you couldn’t make his eyes out as much as you wanted to. Another breath did little to calm your nerves, and you spoke in spite of them.
“Can we take these off?” You whispered, butterflies sputtering through your chest. “I just- you have such pretty eyes.”
Though something softer flashed over Matt’s face, a low grin curled his mouth out to the side. “I have pretty eyes?”
You bit your lip. “Yeah.”
While the window light behind you kept up its glow, Matt lifted his arms, his slick white shirt reflecting the faintest hues of purple and blue billboard light. His hands slid up overtop of yours, and with a gentle grasp and a gentler tug, he helped you tug the glasses off.
You watched on as the red disappeared from his eyes. His skin was smiling, crinkled faintly at the edges, and every fiber of his richly brown irises glittered in light. Dark lashes littered every edge, and the sight of his eyes - so vulnerable, so purely Matt - set your lungs alight, your gaze hazy for everything but him.
Pretty.
So, so pretty.
Matt folded up the glasses and pulled away to set them on the floor - and the second his glasses were safely placed, you grabbed onto his forearm to tug him impatiently up.
“Woah,” Matt chuckled, his hands landing on your waist. You blushed.
“Sorry, I just- I don’t want to miss a second.”
He shook his head. As you found yourself lost again in the impeccable swirl of his glittering eyes, their drift in your direction more intimate than eye contact from anyone else you’d ever known, Matt leaned in closer to you.
“We have all the time in the world, sweetheart.”
That fiddling thumb returned to your shoulder. As Matt’s breath mingled with yours in the dark, you watched flickers of tension run over his face - as if he was unsure, as if a part of him was blocked by some invisible wall. His thumb, though, tucking under the strap of your dress and tugging at it with tender hesitation, didn’t still for a second.
You breathed out a gentle sigh and placed your hands over his.
“It’s okay, Matt,” you whispered. You pulled Matt’s other hand off your waist and up to your opposite shoulder, now cradling both his hands as they gingerly traced the straps of your dress in all their silky blue glory. His nose brushed yours again, and he clenched his jaw, pressing his eyes shut, his parted lips reaching for yours. You didn’t lean into another kiss - as much as you wanted to.
Matt’s eyes blinked open, soft and wanting in the dark. You simply eyed him with conviction and patience and curled his fingers tighter around the lacy fabric they seemed to be so fond of.
“If you want to pull them off, you can,” you breathed. “I want you to.”
Swirls of red-hot need pulled taut in your core as Matt pressed his still-wet forehead against yours. He breathed a heated sigh against your lips, open-mouthed and desperate, as the two of you pulled the straps of your dress off together.
The fabric fell limply against your arms - although, still tight around your torso and zippered, the dress stayed up. Matt’s hands abandoned the silk altogether and opted to drift over your shoulders, your neck, your collarbone, tasting your skin with no interruptions. You smiled into him, your hands lifting to his chest.
“Now, was that so difficult?”
Matt chuckled, though its tone was a shade lower than you’d expected.
“Are you teasing me?”
You shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
Matt tipped his head down, drawing your focus to where your hands lay upon his chest - that trail of small white buttons running between your thumbs. He tilted his head back up to face you with a look of pure provocation, amusement glinting in his eyes.
“Your turn,” he purred, his hands snaking back down your slick, silk torso to your waist. Your brow raised - but your stomach swirled with nervous anticipation.
He wants me to unbutton his shirt.
Other than that brief morning view of his incredibly sculpted back, you hadn’t yet seen Matt with his shirt off. And sure, you’d thought about it more than was probably appropriate - but the idea, the mere possibility that it could really be happening, set every inch of your skin on fire.
“My turn,” you managed, cool and smug as ever - though there was a light shiver in your voice that you knew Matt caught. The second the last word left your lips, his eyes narrowed, challenging your nonchalant mask.
Disregarding Matt’s reaction - and attempting to disregard the new stroke of his fingertips along your back, the slow rush of his thumbs up and down your abdomen - you slid your hands to the base of his throat. Matt swallowed at the brush of your hands at his stubbled neck, and you smirked to yourself. The first button came off relatively easily, the pressure of your fingers against Matt’s skin sending ripples of tension through him that you thoroughly enjoyed.
And you would have been fine unbuttoning his shirt. Absolutely fine.
You still thought this as your fingers slipped to the next button. You even thought this as Matt slid his head to the side of yours, dipping it low, digging his grip tighter into your torso.
But, fuck, the second he pressed his lips into your neck, you were lost.
Your hands froze, breath stilling tight and fuming in your chest, as Matt drove a long, taunting kiss into your skin. He moved his lips with cutting precision, hands dragging headily over your waist. Electricity pulsed over and within you - and the pressure of his tongue at perfect, adoring intervals caused you to tip your head to the side, your body bearing more of your neck to him before your mind knew what you were doing.
Matt swiftly obliged to your unspoken, instinctual request, his teeth tugging at your skin. The sharp nip at your neck made you clench your jaw. A choked, soft sound left you, and you blushed hard at this other reaction Matt was able to draw from your body, your control in his capable, earnest hands - though you weren’t complaining. He only licked over the doubtlessly reddened patch of skin and, tapping his fingers along your hips, kissed it with care.
Abruptly, though, Matt pulled his head up from your neck, his brows knit together. Your own brows connected in near protest, and your neck felt noticeably colder. One of Matt’s hands parted from your waist to land at your wrist - the wrist of a hand left entirely still at his chest by the utter demolition of your composure by his lips.
“Don’t stop,” Matt huffed, stroking his thumb along the sensitive inside of your wrist. You swallowed. You hadn’t realized how out of breath he’d become. You hadn’t realized, either, how pleasant he sounded, all worked up and wanting.
Needing.
Needing you.
Without waiting for whatever sarcastic response you might manage, Matt’s lips floated back down to the other side of your neck, hands gripping your waist again. His head hovered there for a moment, and you licked your lips, finally composed enough to return to work on his buttons - but the second you pressed the next button free, Matt’s lips attached fiercely to your skin once more.
You tried, you tried so very hard to keep your focus, to keep working at his shirt. Every shift of his hot, slick, heavenly mouth along your rain-cooled skin, though - it just sent you further and further into oblivion, shaking hands unable to handle any conscious movement as your mind drifted deeper into his touch.
“What?” Matt purred lowly against your neck in between hard, gritty kisses. “Distracted?”
It took every working muscle in your body not to roll your eyes at his arrogance - as much as it, admittedly, stirred you. You felt the shape of his grin, as haughty as ever.
“You can do it, sweetheart. Just focus.”
Ass.
You ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, but Matt caught you in the middle of the movement with another wanting nip at your skin, glazed over by an open-mouthed, lapping kiss, wet and tingling.
And, as you moved to the next button, he did it again.
And again.
Matt, taunting you with your own pleasure, with the control he had over it, with all the awareness you knew he had - knowing what would turn you on before you knew it yourself.
“Go,” you managed, struggling to shape your words. Matt was devouring your skin with his lips, his tongue, a spare scrape of his teeth; it was all you could do to breathe, let alone speak. “Go fuck yourself, Matt.”
Unrelentingly indulgent to your struggle, Matt purred a slinky rumble into your neck, the low grit of it vibrating through you with all the pounding intensity of a bass drum.
“Only if you join me.”
Jesus.
All you could manage was a breath, a sigh, in spite of yourself. After another grin at your neck, Matt went back to work - though he did make his kisses softer, the grazes of his teeth less sharp, less frequent.
It still messed with your mind, your focus, your control. Somehow, though, you managed to make your way through the rest of the buttons. Once you got to the last one, Matt’s hands left your waist to help untuck the wet shirt from the waistband of his pants. His lips, however, remained close and feathery against your neck.
With your fingers curled lightly against the wet fabric, you popped the last button of Matt’s shirt through its hole. At this, Matt finally pulled back, and you paused with the edges of his shirt in your hands. His lips twitched at their corners but remained parted, plush and dewy in the low light. Then, wordlessly, without shifting his focus off of you for a second - Matt lifted his hands to the top of his soaked shirt and began to peel it, inch by inch, away from his skin.
Your eyes fell to his chest, wide and searching as your lips parted. It really was trancelike, the state he had you in; with every new section of his skin you were seeing, you just seemed to fall deeper and deeper. Matt’s hands tugged the shirt open to reveal the hard lines of his abs, shadowed over by way of the window light. The shirt fell out of your frozen hands as you stood there, stilled into silent awe at the sight of him on display for you.
All curves and corners of your mind and body wanted to feel him, to taste him. Still, though, you didn’t move. It was another boundary, another line, and you’d crossed so many already tonight - you couldn’t just dive past another without being sure it was what he wanted.
As if he could read your mind, one of Matt’s hands floated to your cheek, cupping it softly. You met his eyes. They were glowingly sincere, though tainted with a reddened shade of want.
“You can touch me,” he breathed, careful and quiet. “I want you to.”
You nodded, breathed, bit at your lip. Cautiously, your hands lifted, the tips of your fingers just daring to reach across open air toward Matt’s bare skin.
The first section you traced was the upper line of his abs. He felt soft against you, though tensing where you touched him, his damp skin hot despite the cool he’d been encased in. Matt clenched his jaw, holding back a flutter of his eyes as you trailed your fingertips lower. His abdomen jumped at your touch, and you stopped shy of his belt, not wanting to push too far.
After all, you had all the time in the world.
Recalling a buzz of confidence, you slid your hands up and over the peaks and valleys of his abs, slipping them onto his broad chest again. You swore you could feel his heart pounding through the skin - particularly as your hands moved in a tight drag higher, wrapping around his neck to tug him back to you, all too needy.
Matt helped you pull his shirt all the way off as you kissed him - though this time, the feeling of it was different. It was almost impatient. He tugged his hands behind his back to pull the fabric off his arms; you ran your hands beneath it at the same time, pushing the shirt off his shoulders. It fell to the floor behind him, and you immediately pressed him backward. Matt moved in time with your wanting motion, stepping over his shirt before you did, your eager, driving steps moving him closer to the open door of his bedroom.
“That perfume,” Matt breathed, his hands sliding up your waist and ribs to drift over your spine. “That perfume - fuck,” he choked out, trying again - and failing again - to get out any cohesive thought as your lips moved in sinful tandem. The only thing he could manage, then, was your name, low and heated with everything else he couldn’t manage to say - strangled by his need for you.
You would have smirked at Matt, teased him, taunted him for being so weak around you, but you weren’t any better. The slide of your hands proved just that.
You felt down his shoulders as the two of you moved, their broad strength hotly all-embracing. Sliding your hands further gave you the swell of his upper arms, and you savored every inch of that taut muscle, fingertips tracing the sparing lines of veins until you covered their length and simply gripped his arms entirely. Your voice was gone, a thing of the past - but somehow, you did manage a whisper.
“What about the perfume?”
Matt shook his head with a dark chuckle. You smiled into his lips and slipped your hands down to his waist, down to the waistband of his pants. His lips split from yours, and you watched them twitch as you hooked your fingers into his belt loops, pulling him tighter to you.
One look into Matt’s eyes showed you enough fire to last a lifetime. Some sharper, spinning heat burned between your hips, a melting sensation familiarly burning in your core. Matt’s hands moved to your hips, and he gripped them tight before pressing his lips back into yours.
He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently - and pulled you by your hips all the way into his bedroom.
In here, it was darker. Felt more like the day had truly been left behind in favor of the night. And Matt - Matt made that feel all the more true.
The second you and Matt passed through his bedroom door, his grip on you grew rougher with want. One of his hands flew off your dress and up to your shoulder, pulling hard and coarse over your skin to land at the crook of your neck. You let out a sharp breath at the tight pressure of his desperate touch - and Matt pulled back, his eyes softening.
“Too much?” he breathed, earnest and almost apologetic. You immediately shook your head.
“Not at all,” you reassured him. Matt’s mouth shifted in a ghost of a smile, and his lips were back on yours, hardy and slick in an open-mouthed kiss that left you aching, unbelievably blazing in the space between your legs.
That hand at your neck gripped you roughly, with no lack of strength - though you could feel a taste of tenderness in Matt’s grasp. You felt it in the drift of his thumb along the front of your throat, a movement full of pure power, teasing at how much control he could have if he so chose to take it. But it wasn’t quite that. It was a drift of assurance - assurance that, although his grip was rough, his hold on you brimming with want, that want could only live so long as you were there to meet it, all the way.
And you certainly, certainly were.
In an effort to show Matt you were comfortable, that you wanted him as much as he seemed to want you, you parted your lips further, sliding your tongue in an indulgent drag against his - before tugging his lower lip between your teeth. He groaned into you at your gentle bite and breathed harder at how you lightly lapped your tongue over the damage. You drove your hands up his neck and into his wet hair, tugging at the strands, scraping hard into his scalp - and Matt groaned louder, his voice reaching the pitch of a hazy, craving whine.
You barely registered the loss of Matt’s touch from your hip, barely heard the clicks and pulls of him undoing his belt with one hand and tossing it to the floor.
In fact, you didn’t register anything but Matt’s touch and his breathing and his scent and his voice oh-my-fucking-God-his-voice, until he turned you so his back was to the bed, and pulled his body - and his lips - away from yours.
“You okay?” You asked, fighting to catch your breath, your eyes darting over Matt’s shadowed face. He nodded, a half-smile lacing his lips.
“I’m okay,” he breathed, lifting his hands to yours, where they rested on his shoulders. “I’m much better than okay.”
He pulled those hands between the two of you, lacing your fingers together. Your heart pounded at the feeling of such a tender movement amid something so much more physical.
“Good,” you attested softly.
Matt dipped his head, touched his forehead to yours, and let his eyes flutter shut. You closed yours as well for a moment. It was peaceful, perfect, to soak in a second of breath together, your hands intertwined.
Then, the moment passed - and Matt pulled back from you, your hands falling out of his grasp.
“Do you have any idea,” Matt crooned, his voice buzzing with grit, “of the effect you have on me?”
Matt stepped back further, something more vulnerable tracing over his expression. Your heart stuttered as you spoke through a smile.
“No.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”
A light chuckle fluttered through your lungs. “Well, maybe I have an idea,” you offered, “but I think showing me the full extent of that effect would be up to you.”
Matt’s open-mouthed, grinning smirk was an aphrodisiac all on its own.
“Ah,” he nodded, turning to step around the corner of the bed. You remained where you were, watching his muscles shift through the shadows. “Getting me on a technicality, huh?”
“That’s what happens when you surround yourself with lawyers.”
Matt’s laugh carried light and low across the room to you. You smiled, tugging at your lower lip as he turned to face you from the other side of the bed.
“I have another question,” Matt asserted, that familiar, dragging rasp returning to his voice. With your lips split, you worked up a slow nod.
“Go ahead.”
Matt tilted his head, swallowed, a measure of nerve hiding behind his eyes.
“How long?”
You blinked. “How long?”
Matt drew in a quiet breath and let it out in silence.
“It’s been months since we met,” he whispered. “And there’s a difference between flirting for flirting’s sake and…” he trailed off, his plush lips left parted. Your brows drew together as Matt regained the composure of his question and asked it once more.
“How long? Because, I mean, from that first night in your apartment-“ Matt paused, shaking his head, “call it intuition, but I knew I wanted to be much more for you than just a friend.”
A million rushes of light beamed through your chest. You felt your face gleaming, felt the strings of your heart strum full and warm.
Still, though, your voice came out soft.
“I fought it off for so long,” you began. “I just- I couldn’t bring someone else into my life, just to lose them.”
Matt nodded solemnly. You continued.
“But - but I couldn’t fight the pull I feel to you.” You blinked, tongue darting over your lips in memory of Matt’s kiss. “God, if you knew the effect you have on me,” you sighed. Your breath hitched at the admission, heart twitching in your chest.
Matt’s face was soft, but his eyes sparkled, a glitter of tease dancing across them.
“I mean, I do have an idea,” he crooned. Your brows shot up as Matt’s expression twisted into amused mischief.
“Oh, really?”
“I mean, there are some tells - you know my senses-“
You shook your head, face hot as you grinned. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Matt asked incredulously. Then, his voice lowered, rough and knowing. “Am I wrong?”
All you could manage to do was shift your jaw, tap your fingers against the sides of your dress. Matt grinned - but your eyes fell once more to his chest, his abs, all on open display. Noticing your distraction, Matt’s smile faded into something darker, and your eyes shot back to his.
You watched Matt’s eyes with careful admiration. They were dark, wickedly wanting and yet hearteningly warm. You watched his eyes still as his hands fell to the front of his pants, undoing the top button and zipping the fly down before sliding them over his hips and letting them fall to the floor.
Admittedly, you were no longer watching his eyes, pretty as they were.
Even from across the bed, you could make out the bulging, thickly lifted outline of Matt’s hard cock, pressing up headily against his black boxers.
Your jaw went slack as though it was its job to do so. Breath quickening, your focus was entirely captured by the strain of him, engorged and swollen toward you, thin fabric doing nothing to hide how much his body craved the feel of yours. He shifted in the dark, and the material caught the subtlest hint of a shine.
Must be silk.
You were possessed, still, unable to move a muscle, finding the prospect of closing your parted lips an unimaginable thing, a total impossibility. Matt, with his head tilting to the side as his attention remained fixated on you, lifted a knee to the bed. He leaned his body just forward enough to place the opposite hand further down the sheets, and every line in his arm tensed as his weight dipped the mattress. Your gaze caught on the width of his thigh, powerfully thick and sparingly grazed with tendrils of fuzzy hair. Matt’s other arm came next, tensing in the same manner - particularly where he lifted his other knee, his entire body now on the bed.
That is, Matt, on his hands beneath your height, shifting over the sheets in your direction. He pulled himself into the center of the bed and, slicking over his lower lip, let his weight settle back so that he was on his knees before you. Matt’s hands then slid over his thighs to rest there, and he cocked his head to the side, offering you a gentle nod that mingled deliciously with the quiet curve of his lips, the flicker of light in his shadowed eyes.
“Your turn,” he intimated softly.
With the hairs on the back of your neck at rapt attention, you swallowed.
The world turned on its head, heaven and hell spilling otherworldly through your mind as your hands lifted gingerly to the back of your dress. Matt had zipped it up for you just hours earlier, his touch careful, kind. Just hours earlier, he’d secured you tightly in this silk - and now he knelt before you as your nimble fingers gripped the zipper and tugged it slowly down. The sound of the dress parting along your back was the loudest in the room, save for your heart, you were sure. And, sooner than you’d expected, you felt silken lace at your knuckles, the zipper having hit its inevitable end.
Your pulse beat hard in your mind, in your chest, beneath your hips, as you slowly let the dress slide down your body. It wasn’t something Matt could see, of course, but he could undoubtedly hear the wet silk glide against your skin, against the fabric of your bra, of your underwear. With every new inch you revealed, Matt’s jaw seemed to twitch, and you caught a hint of stress across his knuckles as he gripped at his thighs. Your eyes remained half-wide with innocence, half-narrowed with an impure understanding of the moment and the effect it truly did have on the man before you, and you eyed him sharply, purposefully.
In other words, you knew exactly what you were doing.
The tease of it dragged out for an impossible moment. Every piece of the air was filthily hot, dripping in the ache of need you felt within yourself - the ache of need you noticed in the subtle upward twitch of Matt’s cock. With a final grip at deep blue silk, you let the rain-wet dress fall from your body in a swishing crumple to the floor.
Matt tasted at his lips, the tiny movement brimming with tension. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was missing the taste of you.
“Come here,” he breathed, the words swirled with smoke. You shuddered and lifted your knee onto the edge of the bed.
Matt remained where he was as you approached him, slow and steady, as if in a dance between a predator and its prey, where both of you played each role all too well. His chest rose and fell, head tilting light and focused with every movement you made further along the bed. You were on your knees in front of him, and he, on his knees in front of you - and the second you were close enough, Matt lifted his hands to the outer skin of your thighs. The graze was electric for the both of you, two sighs escaping in tandem, and you slipped your hands onto his shoulders, dipping your head to meet his lips. Matt’s mouth parted immediately, and he slid his tongue headily against yours as he pulled you into his lap.
The pressure of his cock against your swollen, throbbing clit was almost too much, and you gasped into his lips but only pulled him closer. Matt sucked in a heated breath through his teeth at the contact, too, and his hands slid up your thighs. You were so soaked, you could feel it yourself, and you couldn’t help but grind yourself down against Matt, the size of him not so much an intimidating thing as it was so, so gratifying. You shifted your hips again and saw sparks sputter at the edges of your shut eyes, felt those same sparks split your body straight down the middle. Matt’s hands dragged further up in response, gripping at your hips - grinding you down, once more, against him. You groaned at the pleasure of it, as did he, low and throaty and needy as you could ever imagine.
His fingertips toyed with the edges of your underwear, gripping tight into your flesh. He splayed his hands over the curve of your ass and ground your body down against his again - but, somehow, in the exact manner for his cock to rub perfectly against the nub of your clit. You fought to find your control, fought to regain your voice.
“How do you,” you asked breathily against his lips, interrupted by another gripping grind that had your core sparking closer to wildfire. “How-“
“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” Matt slinked out low. “But, just say the word, and I’ll do something different. Anything. Whatever you need, however you need it - you just say the word. And, besides,” he smiled, “I’m really enjoying the sound of your voice, all worked up like this - so I’m more than happy to hear any requests you might have.”
You only managed about three-quarters of a lilting laugh before Matt ground you down against him once more. That laugh quickly faded up into something closer to a whine, and your nails dug just beneath Matt’s neck, a part of you in disbelief at these sounds, these reactions, that Matt was effortlessly drawing from you.
“No, no,” you choked out, pleasure wrapping like a noose around your strained vocal cords. “This is- this is good, Matt. This is good.”
Matt brushed his forehead against yours with a slow, sweet smile. “Good.”
Just like that, your lips were back on Matt’s. His searching hands slid everywhere over you - thighs, hips, ass, back, the tangles of your damp hair, darting up in tender moments to cup your cheek, trace the edge of your jaw. Your hands searched him just as fervently. You explored the ridges of his rippled back, the power of his chest and shoulders, his flexing abdomen, his large arms - pausing at times to trace the raised edges of scars he’d sustained. Your fingertips darted even to the lower curve of his core, gracing over that dark trail of hair that led down toward everything your body was crying out for. Matt whined into your mouth as his skin there, sensitive and supple, jumped beneath your touch. You grazed your nails over the spot in response - and Matt’s hands gripped at you tighter, one at your waist and one at the back of your neck, his harder kiss swallowing down the sound of another desperate, whimpering moan.
Smug at your power, you grinned - but Matt jerked his hips up, pressing his cock hard and hot at that one perfect spot between your legs. Needless to say, that wiped any and all smugness from your face, replaced by the open-mouthed carnality of a whimper of your own.
“Watch that ego, sweetheart,” he purred. You only drew a hand down his neck, trailing the graze of your nail slow and tempting across his skin.
“Right. Like you didn’t just crawl onto your knees for me.”
“Says the woman who then crawled into my lap with no hesitation.”
You shook your head, smirking as your eyebrows shot up. Eyes blinking open, you narrowed your gaze down at Matt, lips brushing his as you spoke - your voice low, calculated, hotly controlled with the rasp of your arousal.
“Well, with your cock that hard for me, how could I leave you there, kneeling all alone?”
Matt’s jaw popped lightly open, and you held a haughty laugh tight in your lungs. But, the second he spoke, your skin fizzed, flushing hot.
“You’re soaking me through your underwear, through mine. I can feel how wet you are on the skin of my cock, even with two layers of fabric between us. So, tell me,” Matt crooned with grit, his open eyes glinting toward you in the dark, “what exactly makes you think you’ve got me any more worked up than I’ve got you?”
He ground his cock up into your cunt again, and you groaned, the pleasure radiating up through your hips and all the way into the raspy thrum of your shaking voice.
“Let’s call it even, then,” you breathed. Matt smiled.
“For now.”
Matt didn’t give you half a second to process the statement. As his lips pressed to yours, he slid a hand up to palm at the center of your back, slid another beneath your hips, and lifted himself up entirely onto his knees - carrying you effortlessly with him. You sucked in a breath and instinctively curled your legs around Matt’s waist, especially as he turned, shifting up the mattress with you in his arms. Matt then stopped and touched his sweat-slicked forehead to yours as he lowered you slowly back onto the bed, your head hitting pillows as he cased himself above you. The silk, cold and smooth against your bare skin, was no match for Matt’s all-consuming, burning heat, searing you with every inch of his want for you.
You only watched with bated breath as Matt dipped his head to kiss at your neck. He placed one slow, gentle peck at where he’d nipped you earlier - and then placed the same sort of kiss on another light bite he’d left at the other side, beneath your jaw. You shivered beneath him, and he only moved further, trailing kisses along your collarbone, atop the center of your chest. Then, his head lifted for a moment. You blinked, biting at your lip in a slow nod down to him - and Matt dipped his head again to place a hot, open kiss, decadent and indulging, against the soft skin of your breast.
He moved a hand up to cup your flesh tenderly, and with the shift, his lower body moved down to rest atop yours, pressing low and hard against your core. Blazing red pooled at the back of your vision as Matt tasted your skin. His other hand slipped up to grip at your other breast, which he kissed with just as much tease - a flick of his tongue, a nip of his teeth. You saw stars, galaxies, the entire universe, as your back bowed to press your chest further into his offering lips.
Matt, though, was on his own sort of mission. He didn’t take your bra off - though he did place one more kiss just between your breasts, one more pulsing press at their swell, before shifting himself further down your body. Your breathing kept up as you watched his fluffy hair descend, watched his flushed, bitten lips kiss a tingling trail down the center of your core. He moved his ripplingly muscled body further down the bed as he went, hands drifting over your waist, your hips - cupping beneath your ass.
With Matt’s shoulders between your legs, he tipped his head up to you, eyes shining something sinful before he pressed his lips slow and sure against the front of your underwear - against the mound of flesh just above your clit. Any lower and his lips would be on your cunt, his tongue so close to feeling you fully, tasting everything your body offered him.
Sweat beaded over your hairline, heat surging under your skin.
The kiss was tender, yet so far from it, your need mingling with Matt's until you couldn’t tell whose desire was whose anymore. It felt like an eternity before Matt lifted his lips off of you. You watched him lick over them, draw in a breath, and sigh as his hands slid out from under you to wrap tight at your hips. He then kissed himself back up your body, following that same line he’d drawn down your core - kissed you slowly and passionately in a trail of need before his head hovered over yours, his hips slotting between your legs.
“Found something you like?” you teased. Matt smirked down at you, grinning as he ground his cock up against your painfully throbbing cunt. Your lips parted in a moan, and Matt kissed over it, swallowing the sound with a slip of his tongue. He made that same motion again, his swollen, hardened cock sawing up against you through what little clothing remained. Matt let out a low moan of his own - one which you eagerly accepted from the throb of your clit to the hitch in your breath.
“You have no idea,” he groaned against your mouth.
Matt resumed his grind against you, his searching hands searing your skin at every section they so tenderly, roughly touched. You kissed him back with the same indulgent heat he offered you, your hands pressing up into his back, nails dragging hard over scars and shifting muscle as your pleasure rose.
It felt incredible. It was everything you’d been wanting, everything you’d been needing, everything you’d been forcing yourself to ignore. Everything you couldn’t bear to ignore for a single second longer.
And it would have been perfect. Your gaze hazy where it darted over Matt between kisses, catching his chiseled, kind face flushed with need and desire - it would have been perfect to have him tonight, as you’d dreamed, as your slickened cunt so wanted.
But, even as Matt ground up against you perfectly, his grip on you perfectly placed, as though he could sense exactly what you needed at the exact moment you needed it, you felt the tiniest pit of cold seed itself into your gut.
You didn’t stop kissing him, touching him, didn’t change a single conscious thing. That tiny flutter of anxiety, though, became a cool wash, the type of shiver you hadn’t quite been expecting. Your mind, haunted as it still unavoidably was, fell through the floor.
Fell to Jessica and her fate, to Stick and that poor child, to your family and all its broken pieces.
Your mind fell, still, to moments you’d had like these - moments and midnights of pleasure, marred with the knowledge that such pleasure was all you would get.
Not care. Not concern, nor affection. Certainly not love.
Pleasure, to get yourself through without feeling so totally alone. To be wanted, to be needed, just for what you could offer and take in a heated, heartless night; aside from a few fleeting phases of moments more meaningful, this was what you knew.
And you weren’t one for casual sex, not really, but you’d learned to make do with what you could reasonably manage. Care and connection didn’t really fit onto that list.
So, though your movements and kisses hardly changed, that cold settling inside you seemed to root itself tight into the core of your body, the depths of your mind.
And no one else in the world would have ever noticed the shift. No one.
But Matt - Matt noticed.
He paused above you, hips entirely still, and you froze. You felt caught in some sort of act, a criminal red-handed, and your eyes fluttered a flash wider before snapping back like nothing at all was wrong, nothing Matt, this is nothing, I’m fine.
Matt’s eyes flashed deep into concern. He dipped his head and brushed his lips over yours in a kiss softer than you thought possible.
“Hey,” he whispered kindly, quietly. “Are you okay?”
You nodded - a bit harder than was entirely believable.
“Yeah, I- yeah,” you stammered. Matt tilted his head, his brows tugging together.
“Do you want to stop?”
“…I-“ you began, biting at your lip as you trailed off. You wanted Matt - God, of course, you wanted him - but something wasn’t quite right. Something was off, whether it was your body, mind, or something else entirely, and although you could lie to yourself, you couldn’t lie to him.
Matt only shook his head, parted his hips from your body, and drifted a slow, soothing hand along your cheek.
“It’s okay,” he assured you, patient in the slope of his soft smile - though a hint of worry did sparkle across his eyes. “Let’s stop here.”
You smiled up at Matt, the motion of it somewhat sad.
Why the fuck did that happen?
I mean, I’ve wanted him for so long-
What is wrong with me?
As your worries threatened to consume you, Matt pulled himself up and off your body. You sat up as he moved, and the two of you shifted to sit, wordless and still, at the side of his bed, your legs dangling along the edge. Your bare thigh pressed against the open skin of his, and you bit your lip, swallowing down a crack in your quiet voice as you turned to face him.
“I’m sorry.”
Instantly, Matt partly frowned before turning to you, his drifting eyes full of comfort.
“Why would you be sorry?”
Your gaze was searching - darting over the lines of light concern across his forehead, the honest kindness in his rich eyes. The shake of your sigh was anything from dejection to simple embarrassment, and with your hands atop your thighs, you tapped your fingers anxiously against your skin.
“I just - I don’t know.”
“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.” Matt’s voice was insistent, softly low with promising rasp, offering the earliest hint of a melt toward that cold sensation within you. “I mean, we just got started - we don’t have to go all the way, right away. In fact,” he kept on, shifting his hand to place it gently atop yours, “I would love to take my time with you.”
Your heart fluttered as Matt took your hand in his. He shifted it carefully as if to ensure he didn’t touch you too much, too harshly. Something in your chest cracked, and you turned your hand to press your palm against his.
“Okay,” you breathed. Matt’s lips quirked up in a caring smile, and yours did the same - but you couldn’t leave the conversation there. “I just… I think I’m scared, I guess.” Matt’s brows twitched together, and you quickly clarified. “Not of you. I just don’t usually end up… here.”
“You mean, going this far?”
“No, no - well, sort of. Going this far with someone I… care about.”
Matt’s eyes flicked up before falling back to their usual position. He breathed out thoughtfully as he ran his thumb in a soothing wave along your skin, his fingers sliding between yours. “I can kind of relate to that, believe it or not.”
“Really?”
He nodded, lips pressed together. “Not my proudest trait, I will admit.”
“What? Hooking up?” You half-laughed, letting your own thumb drag against his skin. “Nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve all been there.”
Matt shook his head grimly. “More like rushing into things and subsequently decimating them.”
Your sigh reverberated from the core of your being. “This is far from rushing, Matt.”
“I know, I know - but I can’t help that voice in the back of my head, telling me I need to do better, in whatever sense.” Your brows pulled close as you listened to him - and a part of you was surprised at how his feelings, in some subtle respects, seemed to echo yours.
“And, in any case, I really like… what we have,” Matt continued, tipping his head affectionately toward you with a soft smile, his voice still low, still tender in the dark. “I do want to do better, whatever that might mean for you. Whatever you deserve. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“You couldn’t possibly ruin it,” you breathed, shaking your head, “but I know the feeling. Usually, all I’ve had time for with respect to… this sort of thing - all I’ve had time for was pretty much care-free.” You tipped your head to the side, eyes sharpening in sincerity as you found them lost in Matt’s. “But I care about you.”
“And I care about you.”
You pressed your lips together. “And I don’t want to mess it up, either.”
He shook his head fervently. “You wouldn’t-“
“But, Matt, I just mean- I’ve almost exclusively used this as stress relief, a dopamine rush, whatever you want to call it,” you explained, your voice pitched up with the ghosts of your past, “and then I run away, either because I get scared, or I remember there’s no way that I could have something more with someone and still keep them safe.”
Matt’s silence - along with a soft pulse of his hand against yours - was confirmation that he understood. Confirmation of what was likely an obvious thing you shared - that with the lives you led, the danger you dove into head-first, dawn through to dusk and back again, it was such a risk to let yourself care.
Such a risk to let yourself love.
“I know we’re already… where we are,” you managed, your voice tilting on the edge of a shake. “We’ve come this far, but - the fear is still there.” You squeezed his hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Matt - I’m just afraid that if I go too far, too fast, I’ll get scared and pull away from you. Not because of you, just because…” you trailed off, eyes flashing cold and glazed as your vision softened. Matt nodded at your side.
“I get it,” he assured you. “Believe me, I get it. And, believe it or not, I have a tendency to do somewhat of the same thing. Make a mess of what good I have.” You turned to see him clench his jaw, see his head dip lower as he shook it with slow determination. “I don’t want to mess this up with you.”
“You won’t. If anyone will, it’s me.”
“Trust me,” Matt almost pleaded, turning his head to face you, “there’s nothing you could do to mess this up.”
Your eyes twitched softer, full of light, as you took in the genuine care in Matt’s expression.
“No exceptions?” You managed quietly through a sad half-smile. Matt smiled back, lifting a hand to cup your jaw, stroke his thumb along your cheek as his other hand squeezed yours.
“No exceptions,” he affirmed. “But- maybe, if we’re both feeling this way, we should take it slow.”
“Okay,” you nodded. Matt smiled, voice purely breath, purely rasp.
“Okay.”
Watching Matt’s sightless gaze drift over you, you tugged your lip between your teeth.
“I… I want you to hold me to that, though.”
“What?”
You pressed your lips together. “I need you to make sure we do take it slow.”
Matt tipped his head to the side, a flutter of tease creeping back into the narrow of his twinkling eyes.
“Am I that tempting?”
Your brows shot up, though you couldn’t fight the smirk on your face, the blush over your cheeks. Still, though - Matt squeezed your hand.
“I’m kidding.”
You nodded at him, squeezing his hand back.
“I know.”
He stroked his thumb across your cheek again, offering a sincere nod as he leaned closer, slow and sure. “I can do that, sweetheart.”
Remaining flickers burned at the base of your spine, licking out toward your hips - but still, you eyed him gratefully in the dark. “Thank you.”
Matt tipped your head a touch lower and moved his face toward yours, brushing his lips soft and warm against the center of your forehead. Then, with a half-curving smile, he gave your hand one more pulse and stood up, letting your fingers fall from his as he walked toward his dresser.
“Do you want something to sleep in?” Matt asked, pulling open one of his drawers. You wrapped your arms around yourself - not necessarily uncomfortable, but suddenly very much aware of how little you were wearing.
“A T-shirt’s fine.”
Matt nodded, and you watched him pull out that same shirt you’d worn the first time you borrowed his clothes. “Sweatpants?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” you nodded, pushing yourself up and off the bed. With a bashful twist of your hands together, you made another request. “Can I wear the bigger ones? They're just... really soft.”
“Already acting like they’re yours,” he chuckled. “Yes, of course, you can.”
Your lips twisted into a grin as Matt tossed the clothes your way and you caught them effortlessly. He made sure to face toward the dresser, his back to you as you changed. Sure, it wasn’t exactly necessary, but the principle of the thing, the respect - it warmed you.
“Would you, uh…” Matt began as you tied his soft, plush sweatpants around your waist, your bra and underwear left on the floor as his shirt fell loose along your upper body. “…Would you care if I left my shirt off?”
He turned around to meet your highly raised brows, a twitch in your jaw.
“Can I give you a very blunt response to that?”
Matt tipped his head warily, brows furrowed, though his mouth quirked up. “…Yes.”
“I would love it if you left your shirt off.”
He laughed. “Noted.”
The two of you moved in comfortable silence as you crawled beneath Matt’s covers. With him and you on your sides, facing each other in darkness, though - you couldn’t help but feel that flicker of cold return to your chest.
“Matt?” You whispered. His eyes blinked open.
“Mhm?”
You sucked in a breath and blew it out low and controlled, even as nerves twitched through each cell of your body, every fiber of your being.
“I want you to know I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings tonight. I’m not afraid of you, and you didn’t do anything wrong. I just-“ Your breath hitched. “I think I’m waiting for the moment that I fuck up, the moment the other shoe drops. The moment you’ve had what you want from me.”
Matt’s eyes flashed blue, a sad shade of sorrow. Still, you kept on.
“And- and I understand I’m far from perfect. I just need you to know that I really, really-” you insisted, a plead within your throat choking you up, choking the damp sensation you observed over your dry-feeling eyes. “I really do understand if- if what you want is something… easier than this.” A tug at your lip, a hard blink, and you forced out a low breath. “Easier than me.”
Matt observed you for a second. A quiet breath left his parted lips, and your heartbeat sputtered with nerves, with that desperate sense that yes, this is that moment, this is the end, I’ve hurt someone into moving on from me yet-a-fucking-gain.
Then, though, you felt Matt’s hand clasp around yours beneath the sheets. With your brows curving up, you merely watched as he drew that hand to the center of his chest. He pressed your palm and willing fingers flat against his skin and shifted his free hand to place it with the other, encasing your hand entirely in his larger, sure grasp. Matt’s heat consumed your attention, and as he spoke in tender, rasping sincerity, you felt your soul flutter.
“Can you feel it? My heart?”
A second of focus drew you to press your hand lightly against his chest until you could just barely make out the thumping echo of his heart, beating strong and full toward your touch.
“Yes.”
Matt nodded.
“Then you can feel how steadily it beats when I tell you it’s yours.”
Your lips parted. The thump inside your chest was so hard you could nearly hear it - and Matt moved a hand up to brush your hair behind your ear, drifting his fingertips down over your cheek with a graze gentler than anything you’d felt before.
Those fears weren’t gone. You thought it’d be a lifetime before you could scrub them clean from your mind, burn their roots until they died off into ashes of the past. But, with simple words, a voice kinder than life, and a touch of pure gold, Matt brought you just enough peace to let yourself relax - to give yourself the space to be cared for through whatever choices you might have made, whatever feelings consumed your tired, ragged mind.
The two of you fell asleep like that, your hand on his chest and his hands over it fondly, reaching for each other as you did through the daylight. Regardless of inhibitions, of fears, of all the dreams and nightmares clawing at your minds, though - you and Matt ended up tangled together in the night: chest to chest, heart to heart, soul to soul as you slept.
It was far from nothing, how you held each other close. Far from casual, and not something you dared to call love - but not something you could reasonably say was very far from it, either.
No, you and Matt: this was, without a doubt, something real - as real as the way you lay together, peacefully close and entirely intertwined, in the hazy afterglow of midnight’s dark.