Work Text:
You pushed into Matt’s apartment lobby and texted him you’d be up in a minute. Then you shoved your phone back into your crossbody purse and glanced up — only to do a double-take. Because you were getting some weird looks from other tenants . . . and you knew why.
Because you looked like fucking hell.
After you’d only gotten three hours of sleep last night, you’d then had the worst day at work. And your mascara was smudged because you’d forgotten you’d had it on and had rubbed your eyes on the subway ride over. Basically, you were hanging on by a single fucking thread.
So when you got to the only elevator and saw that it was “out of order,” you burst out crying.
Fat, ugly, mascara-blackened tears.
You should’ve cared that Matt’s neighbors were watching you, a fully grown woman, cry over a broken elevator, but you were just so. Fucking. Tired.
When your phone started ringing, you knew who it was. Sniffling, you fished it back out of your purse.
Matt
iPhone
Decline Accept
You hiccuped through a couple more sobs before answering. “What?” You moved slowly to the stairwell.
“What’s . . . wrong?”
You heard the apprehension in his voice — and him moving around. “Don’t come down. I’m fine. I — I’m coming up right now.” Lying liar that lies. And then when you pushed into the stairwell and looked up at the flights and flights of stairs . . . you cried even harder. As if to prove yourself even more wrong. Matt said something, but you didn’t hear it. “Sorry. I just — work was hard — and now my mascara — I’m hungry — God, I’m so hungry—”
You stopped short when you heard someone coming down. It sounded like the person was rushing, so you panicked. You swallowed your sobs, wanting to at least act normal, but when said person rounded the corner and started toward you, you realized it was—
“Matt!” You almost dropped your phone but caught it at the last second. To everyone else (and a few others), he was blind, but you knew he could “see” in a different sense, so you tried to make yourself look less like a wreck . . . and then remembered you’d told him you were coming up and that he didn’t need to come down. “Hey. I said I was—”
Matt gave you a teasing but lighthearted look as he passed you. Then he stopped on the step below you . . . and backed up into you.
“Matt, what’re you — whoa!” You gasped as he grabbed your thighs and wrapped them around his waist.
He adjusted you on his back once before just . . . walking upstairs. Like he carried women around on his back all the time. No biggie.
“You didn’t have to come down,” you muttered. And yet you wrapped your arms around Matt’s neck. He must’ve gotten out of work early because his hair was damp — and he smelled so clean. And he was wearing a sweatshirt you could cuddle up in for days.
Matt laughed, but there was something worried about it. “I don’t think I’ve ever . . . heard you cry before.”
Huh. You’d been dating for . . . how long? Six months? “No” —you buried your face in his hood— “I guess you haven’t.”
Matt hummed thoughtfully, and you felt it in his back. “You scared me. I thought something bad happened.”
You laughed wetly. “Um, excuse you, something bad did happen. The elevator’s broken.”
Matt sighed melodramatically. “I guess I’ll just have to carry you up and down until it’s fixed. Woe is me.”
You flicked his head, making him chuckle. “Yeah, woe is you.” And then you found yourself smiling. “You know, I’m glad you can’t see the finer details right now. I look like a fucking mess.”
Matt squeezed your thighs. “Probably no different than when I make you cry for all the right reasons.”
You croaked in disbelief. “Matt—”
“Like a few nights ago—”
“Matthew.”
He just snickered.
You bonked the top of his head but then held on tighter. You knew he could sense your temperature spike and increased heart rate — but didn’t care. You didn’t have anything to hide when it came to Matt. He was polite, classy, witty. And so, so good in bed.
God, was he good in bed.
The night Matt had mentioned returned to you in a dizzy rush, making you swallow hard. He’d stayed the night at your apartment simply because, and, while getting ready for bed, he’d found your new favorite “toy” — your vibrator. You’d been with guys who’d felt threatened by said toys, so you weren’t sure how he’d react.
You definitely hadn’t expected him to want to use it on you.
He’d had you whining and moaning into a pillow from the start, his smug-ass face between your shaking thighs, your hips thrusting involuntarily against his face and slick tongue and the vibrator he’d held so diligently to your clit. And he’d kept going and going, even after you’d come.
Your lashes fluttered at the memory. Christ, you’d barely been able to speak after that, and you’d slept so well—
Your eyes widened, and your heart skipped a beat. “Hey,” you said as Matt got to his floor. He started down the hall to his place. “You know how I don’t like taking melatonin?”
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking you could maybe, I don’t know—”
“—fuck you until you pass out?” Matt squeezed your thighs again, and you thought of him holding you against his face, using teeth, nipping, and tongue, groaning. You swallowed hard again. “Your train of thought’s obvious. But aren’t you already tired?”
“You know me . . . ever the insomniac.”
“Right.” Chuckling, he adjusted you on his back, let go of one thigh, then unlocked his door. You pushed it open with your foot, and he crossed the threshold. “I mean . . . I have no objection. Well, no. I have one.”
You raised a brow. “What?”
“I want to make sure you’re all right first.”
And then you made a face. “What do you mean?”
Matt let you down, shut the door, and then turned to you. Cupping your face, he thumbed your mascara streaks. “Shower first . . . And I’ll cook you something to eat.”
You rolled your eyes and pressed your lips together . . . but eventually mumbled, “Fine. I’ll go shower.”
Matt smirked lopsidedly and leaned in, kissing your pursed lips. “Great.”
He started to pull away, but you caught his face and kissed him harder, longer. His hands froze in the air but then fell to your hips and the small of your back, pulling you close, adjusting his grip again and again as if he couldn’t hold you close enough. Against his front, your breasts tightened, and your nipples hardened, sensitive, stealing your breath away. He sucked on your tongue once, but you went weak in the knees when the sensation echoed elsewhere. And then he pulled away.
You started to protest, fisting your hands in his sweatshirt, but Matt slapped your ass. You grunted, and the sting had you throbbing.
“Shower,” he said, smirking again. “Go on.”
You let go of him and wiped your mouth. “You’re such a fucking tease.”
His lips parted in a grin as he pushed you to his room. “Come on, you can do it. You’re a big girl.”
You shivered. Then you tried to elbow Matt, but he jumped away with a boyish giggle. “Whatever.”
Matt hummed as you parted ways.
You flipped him off over your shoulder.
Thirty minutes later, you were showered, in one of Matt’s robes, and sitting between his legs on the living room couch, eating his stir fry. When you finished, he put your bowl on the coffee table. He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed affectionately.
“That was . . . really good,” you said through a yawn. “Thank you.”
He only hummed in response as he unfolded one of his arms to play with something to his right, probably the remote or his phone. You weren’t paying attention because you kept nodding off.
And then you felt Matt’s hand on your thigh, gliding up and down, soothing you . . . until it finally parted your robe.
Your breath caught, and the corners of your lips twitched up. “Finally making good on our deal now?”
Matt moved your hair to the side and brushed his lips against your neck. You arched into the light kiss, your own mouth parting. You wanted that mouth everywhere, goddamnit.
“Is it so bad” —he started sucking your skin, bruising it, and you tingled all over— “that I want to take care of you first? Before I fuck you into a coma?”
You started to laugh, but it ended in a gasp when Matt used two fingers to part your folds. You knew you weren’t as wet as he would’ve liked you to be, so he moved slowly, carefully, and each touch twisted something low in your belly. You whimpered and squirmed back against him, holding his wrist reflexively, needily.
“Answer me.”
You mewled when he used the pads of his fingers to rub you at a leisurely pace. Even then, you felt yourself clenching around nothing. You braced yourself against him and tried to roll your hips into the sensation, but it was difficult in this position.
Matt told you to put your legs over his knees, so you did.
And then, suddenly remembering he wanted an answer, you choked out, “No, it’s not bad. Thank you.”
Matt rubbed his fingers down through your folds and then curled them inside you to wet them. You dug your fingers into his wrist with a small cry.
“You’re welcome.”
You laughed weakly at his haughty tone. “You’re impossible.”
He shrugged. “Maybe so.”
Matt pulled his now-wet fingers out to rub your clit slightly faster, making you tense and moan breathily. Your chest heaved, and you vaguely wondered why he wasn’t touching you there with his free hand. You blindly reached for his right hand and pulled it to your chest, but he moved it to your pussy.
You cracked open an eye. “What’re you . . ?”
A buzzing filled the air a split second before your whole body reacted, arching into the fucking vibrator he was now holding against your entrance.
“Oh, fuck!” Your toes curled, and liquid fire bled through every inch of your body. Sounds (you weren’t sure what they were) fell out of you in disbelief and ecstasy. “M—M—” He rubbed the toy back and forth, up and down, until it circled around your clit. You sank into him, moaning and trembling.
Matt shushed you, still sucking your neck. Every draw of your skin and nip of his teeth had your belly fluttering. “You didn’t think I’d get one? After what we did?”
You shook your head frantically, looking down, and his left hand came to your breast. It sat in the palm of his calloused, scarred hand until he ran his fingers over your nipple, twisting it gently between his forefinger and thumb. A groan got stuck in your throat. You almost came out of your skin, trying to curl into the sensation, but he pressed his palm against your sternum, holding you back.
“Are you gonna come?” Matt murmured in your ear, his voice frustratingly calm. “I just started.”
You sucked in a few deep breaths so you could speak. “Yeah,” you whined, your hands scrambling for purchase. One latched onto Matt’s wrist between your legs. “Yeah, yes” —he turned up the vibrator— “yes! Matt, please!”
He groaned and hooked an arm around your waist. You hugged it as your breathing stuttered. Everything inside you felt messy, about to burst at the seams.
“Can’t wait to be inside you,” he rasped in your ear, making you shiver all over. You reached up to play with your own nipples and then stiffened and groaned as you started coming undone. You squeezed your eyes shut, your fingers shook, and pleasure whipped out from your belly, making your pussy flutter. You wailed, bucking against his hand.
You keened his name as your belly warmed and heated and — your eyes flew open. “Matt!” You tried to shut your legs, but he wouldn’t let you, pulling one to the side and — was he laughing? “Matt, please, I’m gonna — gonna—”
“Squirt all over my living room?” He let go of your leg and started curling his fingers inside you. “Keep your fucking legs open and do it.”
Your eyes rolled back, and the heat in your belly turned into pressure, and that pressure moved down—
You inhaled shallowly, and Matt sensed it before you, angling his fingers up, and then you were coming again, your neck straining and your blood pounding in your ears. The pressure in your belly burst, and then so did you. Matt’s fingers made the most pornographic sucking sounds in your squelching pussy. You mewled as you felt your cum all over your thighs.
Matt turned the vibrator off and put it down somewhere. “There we go,” he murmured. “That’s my girl.”
Your thighs twitched. “That thing was inside me,” you whined. “You better not have put that on the coffee table.”
“I think you’ll live,” Matt said, his composed voice husky. He stood and then picked you up, walking to his room. “You’re gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”
You smiled, rubbing your thighs together. “Good.”
When Matt got to his bed, he lay you on your stomach, and you were too tired to move. You heard him getting undressed, and then he was spreading your deadweight thighs.
“Move over me,” you whispered, somehow aching anew. “Love it when you’re over me.”
Matt murmured something, and then he was between your thighs and draping himself over your body. He pulled your hair back and kissed your temple, lining himself up. The small of your back prickled under his weight, his presence, and everything felt so right. He brushed his lips against your ear. “I’m starting.”
You hummed and arched your hips. Matt chuckled, rubbing his cock against your entrance, and then lowered his hips, pushing in. You moaned softly at the careful stretch.
“Want it hard,” you reminded him.
He bottomed out, his balls pressing against your ass. “How could I forget?” His hips moved away, dragging with them his cock, and then he slammed back in.
You grunted shrilly, your core tingling. “Oh, fuck, fuck, please, Matt—”
“I got you.” He wrapped an arm around you to pull you back against him. And then fucked you in earnest.
“Fff—” You moaned sharply on each thrust. Every inch of your body burned, and everywhere he touched felt like a brand. Your chest crowded with sounds, each one escaping. And part of you hated you weren’t in control, but that was the point with Matt. For a few minutes, you were allowed to not give a fuck, to hand yourself over to him.
He groaned long and low, his hips and balls slapping your ass. One of his hands cupped your throat, his fingers digging in. “You always sound so pretty for me,” he said, changing his angle. He was hitting you so right your eyes stung with overwhelmed tears. “I think you can come again.”
You nodded — because it was true. Squirting always made you sensitive, so you were already close again.
“And then I want you to sleep like a good girl,” he rasped, slipping a hand under your sweaty front. The pads of his fingers rolled over your swollen clit, making your back arch. “Can you do that for me?”
“Yes!” you sobbed. “Yes! Matt!”
Matt made a strangled sound, and then his thrusts turned erratic, shoving you both up the bed, and then your pussy fluttered with another orgasm, albeit weaker than the last two. You cried his name over and over again into the duvet.
A beat later, Matt came on your back with a shout, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.
The last thing you mumbled before passing out was: “You better fucking clean me up. And the living room too. Or you’ll never get the smell out.”
Matt blurted out a tired, half-hysterical laugh. “Of course.” He leaned over you again and kissed your cheek. “Sweet dreams.”
And you really did sleep like the dead.