yours to break - part five
warnings : smut, fingering (f receiving), kissing, mentions of cheating
after the party, they decided to come back to sheffield. they were getting enough success to earn their money even in this little city, and they wanted to represent the place they were born in, not a capital that already had hundreds of known artists.
so matt moved in with you, because he didn’t want to go back to your parents. and alex was just about to move in with johanna when they broke up.
the breakup was not loud, he told her he felt like all this time apart had changed something, and that he didn’t love her as she deserved. he wished her to find a boy that could love her more than he could, and then they parted ways, while she was still crying.
so of course, as the bestest friend he is, matt told alex to move in with you both. you should have said no, you wanted to say no. and yet here you were, helping them both set up their room. since you obviously didn’t have a ton of money, they had to share one. but they were happy with that, like kids doing an endless sleepover. plus, they promised that they would help with rent and everything else.
and just like that, the next year started with you three watching fireworks from your tiny balcony, because you were all too tired to go out after the move.
the second album launched in april, and they were fucking excited about it. at only twenty-one, they were already accomplished rockstars, and at twenty-five, you were still happily working at your music shop. after some years here, you were now manager, and you couldn’t be happier with your daily life.
every evening, you came back home to alex and matt writing together, playing around with instruments, or listening to things on their own. every evening, you ignored the visible tension between you and alex, hoping matt wouldn’t notice.
a few weeks later, matt came into your room - and as every self-respecting little brother, without knocking - and proudly told you, “i have a date”.
you whistled jokingly and clapped, “woah, tonight?”.
“obviously tonight”, he answered, arranging his tie in front of your big mirror, “can’t you see how i’m dressed?”.
“oh yeah, i can very well see. you look absolutely ridiculous”.
“ridiculous, indeed”, said a third voice from the living room.
“you look like mom dressed you up for a wedding”, you added.
alex laughed at that, and matt frowned, throwing you a shoe that was on your floor.
“hey! get out of my fucking room, helders!”.
“i’ll let you know, helders, that the girl i’m going out with loves men that wear suits. she told me. so keep your remarks…”, he took the second shoe, aimed it at you, “...to yourself!”, and throwed it.
“asshole!”, you screamed, right before he left your room, running. because some things never change.
later that night, when matt leaves for the restaurant, you’re left alone with alex, something that has never happened since that night. cause matt is always home, and when he is outside, alex is with him, as the good best friends they are.
you try not to show you’re stressed, but this situation, in fact, worries you. so you go take a cold shower and take the time to thoroughly wash your hair, to try to soothe your nerves. when you come out, in your pajamas and hair still wet, alex calls your name.
“i’m making pastas, you fancy some?”.
“plain pastas?”, you ask.
“uh… yeah? you got something else in mind?”.
you join him in the kitchen and sit on the counter, watching him. he has a packet of pastas in each hand, like he is debating on which ones to cook. “dunno, we could make carbonaras”.
“sounds good, but i don’t think we have any crème left”.
after a few minutes of debating, you finally both settle on plain butter pastas, much to your dismay. while alex prepares the dish, you pour yourself a glass of wine. “want something to drink?”.
“a beer, please”, he answers.
you bring the bottle to him, and when he takes it, your fingers brush softly. “thanks”.
when the pastas are ready, you sit together on the couch, and put on a shitty movie on a shitty unknown channel. he brings his beer close to your drink and says, “cheers, love”.
“cheers. to your fabulous second album”.
after taking a sip and putting his drink down, he laughs softly. “did you listen to it fully this time?”.
this immediately sends you back to the night you two almost kissed.
“yeah, had no choice, matt was blowing my head off”, you snicker gently.
“what’s your favourite?”.
“it’s hard to chose. i’d probably say old yellow bricks, though. i like the beat”.
“it’s funny how you always make sure to not compliment my voice”.
you laugh loudly, surprised, “i do not! i like your singing too!”.
“nah, it’s fine. i grieved the fact that you hate my voice a long time ago”, he says, placing his hand over his heart to feign he’s offended.
you both laugh softly together, and after a few minutes of eating your delicious pastas in silence, you say, “i like do me a favour, too. but it feels personal, y’know. almost too intimate”.
“yeah, probably cause it is. i wrote it right after i broke up with jo”.
you eat more of your plate, and say, “you never told me why you guys broke up”.
he eats more, too, maybe because he thinks about how he is going to answer that. “s’nothing crazy. i just realized i didn’t love her that much. distance and allat… ‘t was complicated”.
“i get that. well… at least that made a good song. very raw and all”.
“mh mh”, he hums absentmindedly.
“that still hurt you? the break up, i mean. you guys looked like you were really in love with each other”.
“s’fine, just a bit weird. i always feel a bit guilty, y’know. she loved me more than i did, that’s all. i didn’t want to hurt her more”.
“well that was very mature from you, really. most people don’t do that”.
he hums again, and the conversation ends. but it’s not awkward, just comfortable and quiet. after a few moments, you take the plates to clear the table, and alex follows you with the drinks. you start washing the dishes when alex speaks again.
“you know, there’s another song that was inspired by something”.
“by your break up with jo?”.
“no, no. by something else”.
you keep cleaning, and ask, “well, which one?”.
you try to contain a smile, but then realize he can’t see you, since he is facing your back. “who’s it written about, then?”.
“someone i always come back to, no matter what. someone that makes me feel nostalgic, that i can’t forget”.
“a pretty girl?”, you ask, almost teasingly.
“very pretty, indeed. super cool, too”.
you feel him before you even hear him. he steps forward and is right behind your back.
“a girl that i can’t predict. that i never know what to do when i’m around”, he admits.
“aw, that’s such a shame, alex”.
he puts a hand on your waist, and maybe he acts confident, but you feel it tremble against your body.
“i think you don’t understand how many days i’ve waited to be alone with you”.
you dry your hands on a towel and turn around, but his hand stays on your waist. “and why’s that?”.
“because i needed to talk to you. really bad. especially after that night. i can’t act like it didn’t happen anymore”.
he looks up from his hand on you, and looks straight into your eyes.
“i’m sorry for doing that. i shouldn’t have tried anything with you when i was in a relationship”.
he takes a deep breath to ground himself, and his fingers trace little circles on your hip.
“i thought about it a lot, y’know. i wish i hadn’t done what i did, cause i’m not that guy, yeah? i’m not a cheater”.
he places his second hand on your hip and steps a bit closer.
“i don’t want you to see me like that”, he pauses a second, and says, “but i still really want to kiss you”.
your heartbeat races up instantly, and you feel yourself getting hotter at his words. and you’re touched by the fact that he is still the insecure little alex you knew, despite all his efforts to prove that he is not. lost in thoughts, you don’t answer right away, and he keeps going.
“please, can i kiss you?”.
maybe you both grew up, yet you know this is still a fucking mistake. he is still your brother’s best friend, still four years younger than you, and most of all, he lives with you now. this is an enormous error, this is something you shouldn’t do.
but the part of you that had always felt something for alex doesn’t care about what is right. the part that was so jealous of johanna without understanding why know that it’s not wrong, it’s just something you never accepted about yourself. alex was a part of your life since you were ten, and he had taken a place in your heart almost at the same time.
so you tilt your head up, and nod. but this is not enough for him, and he asks,
“please, say it. i can’t take it anymore”.
“i want you to kiss me, alex”.
and his lips crash against yours the second these words leave you. both his hands come up to cup your face, and he passes his tongue on your lower lip slowly. that’s when you part them, and alex kisses you like he is trying to forget he wanted that since he was a teenager.
he kisses you softly at first, and then deeper, harder.
his hands slide from your face to your back, and he pulls you closer, just because he can’t help it. your fingers make their way to his hair, and he moans in your mouth when they do.
after a few more kisses, you part yourself, and he chases your lips before stopping to look at you. your faces are still so close, and he can’t help but kiss the corner of your lips, your jaw and down to your neck.
“i’ve been wanting this”, he kisses your neck again, “for so long”.
“alex”, you whine, and it sounds like music to his ears.
“let me touch you, please”.
fuck logic right now. fuck what’s wrong, fuck what’s right. you want him, and you want him now.
“say my name again”, he demands, while his hand slips into your oversized pajama sweatpants.
and when you whimper “alex” again, and he finds your underwear already wet, he is the one who lets out a shaky moan.
“you’re… oh my god”, he breathes out, still touching you over your panties, “you want this”.
you scoff, “fucking hell, of course i want this”.
“you’re so pretty like this”, he confesses.
except you’ve never been a very patient girl. so, you grab alex’s hair to kiss him again, and when you part ways, you order right against his lips, “touch. me”.
and who is he to not listen to your desperate little voice, asking him to do something he’s been fantasizing about for years now? so he pulls your underwear to the side, and slips one finger inside.
your gasp makes his heart beat faster, and he can’t stop watching you. while he moves slowly, and adds a second one, he kisses you again.
he keeps moving his fingers inside of you, and puts his thumb on your clit when he feels your legs start to tremble.
“are you close?”, he whispers.
“don’t stop alex. i swear- fuck, don’t fucking stop”.
he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t want this moment to ever fucking stop. you’re dripping down his hand, but he doesn’t let on, keeps on pleasuring you until your orgasm crashes over you, and you moan out his name. you grab his shoulders when your legs shake, and he encircles your waist with his arms so you don’t fall.
he wipes his hand against his shirt and kisses you again, very softly, just a quick peck on the lips.
the moment alex opens his mouth to talk, you hear the front door opening. you don’t even have the time to recover fully from your climax, so you push alex away and turn around, pretending to do the dishes again.
matt’s “i’m home!” resonates through the flat, and the reality of what you just did crashes over you.
alex, the little boy you learnt how to tie his shoes to, just touched you. and you liked it. and you don’t think you will ever be able to forget the way he looked at you. like you were heaven on earth.
but this shouldn’t have happened.
“welcome home, matt”, alex says, voice low, like he is disappointed, but he was expecting your silence at the same time. you don’t look back when he leaves the kitchen to join his friend in the living room.
and yet, you know it will happen again.
a/n: gulp... i feel like every time i write smut it's awkward... but yeah. anyways, i don't have the next parts written, so it's prolly going to be in a few days (weeks if i don't find the motivation to write soon), but yeah. they're coming.
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