on the phone—m.s.
✧ dom!matt, degradation, sex while he's on the phone, unprotected sex
✧ authors note: quick little something idk 😓 i wanna start a series but im having intense writers block ughh
the headboard was a steady, rhythmic knock against the wall.
each time matt bottomed out, he let out a punched-out little grunt, hot against the sweat on your neck.
you were gone. completely fucking gone.
"fuck," he bit out, his voice ragged.
his hand was splayed across the back of your thigh, pushing your leg higher, opening you up so he could get deeper. "look at you. can't even talk, can you?"
you couldn't. your mouth was open, but only these breathy, desperate little sounds were coming out, timed perfectly with his thrusts.
he was so deep it was almost painful, a thick, unrelenting pressure.
"that's it," he praised, his voice dropping to that low, possessive rumble that made your stomach clench. "just take it. knew you could. knew you'd look so good fucked dumb on my cock."
his phone started buzzing on the nightstand.
it was a frantic, angry buzz against the wood. you both ignored it.
his rhythm didn't break, just kept that punishing, deep grind that was making your eyes roll back in your head. but it kept buzzing. again. and again. a persistent, demanding little vibration.
"matt," you managed to whine, your voice cracking. "don't stop."
"i'm not," he grunted, but his hips faltered for a second.
he swore under his breath, a string of curses that were lost in the sound of your own heartbeat thundering in your ears. "fuck. i have to. it's chris."
you whimpered, a pathetic, needy sound that you were too far gone to be embarrassed about. he shushed you, his thumb coming up to brush over your bottom lip.
"just be quiet," he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. "can you do that for me?"
you nodded, your head lolling against the pillow. you'd do anything he asked right now.
"atta girl..."
he grabbed the phone, his chest still pressed flush against yours, his cock still buried deep inside you. he swiped to answer, his voice strained.
"hey,"
the voice was a tiny, distant buzz. you couldn't make out the words
matt's eyes were on you, pupils blown out and dark.
he started to move again.
it was slow. agonizingly slow. a deep, deliberate roll of his hips that had you seeing stars.
you bit down hard on your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to rip from your throat.
his thumb was still on your lip, and he pulled it away, only to replace it with his entire palm, pressing down hard, smothering your sounds completely.
"no, i'm fine," he said. "just... tired."
he was lying.
his hand slid down your body, his fingers finding your clit, and you jolted, a choked gasp escaping your lips.
he immediately pulled back, his eyes wide with warning, his fingers stilling.
"what was that?" chris’ voice crackled through the phone.
"nothing," matt said, his voice tight. "just... the cat."
you didn't have a cat.
chris said something else, and matt took the opportunity to start moving again, his hips picking up a little speed, his fingers starting to circle your clit again.
"fuck," you try to say against his palm, the word muffled and pathetic.
it was too much. it was sensory overload. the feeling of him inside you, the pressure on your clit, the sound of his voice, the risk of getting caught.
"matt," you whispered his name a desperately.
"i gotta go," he said into the phone, his voice rough. "i'll call you back."
he hung up, tossing the phone onto the floor without a second glance.
"you just couldn't be quiet, could you?" he growled, his hips snapping forward, hard and fast, the rhythm from before returning with a vengeance.
you couldn't answer. you just cried out, your back arching off the bed, your hands fisting in the sheets. he was fucking you with a new urgency, a desperate, frantic energy. you could feel the pressure building again.
"look at you," he breathed, his hips snapping forward, hard and fast. "so fucking desperate for it you almost got us caught. what a greedy little thing."
you could only moan in response, your body writhing beneath him, your hands fisting in the sheets.
he was everywhere, his mouth on your neck, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you, filling you up, stretching you wide.
"come on," he urged, his voice a low, desperate whisper. "come for me."
that was all it took. you could feel yourself clamping down around him, a pulsing grip that pushed him over the edge right along with you.
he groaned, long and low, his hips stuttering as he spilled into you, hot and thick.
he collapsed on top of you, his full weight crushing you, but you didn't care.
you could feel his heart hammering against your chest, a frantic, wild rhythm that slowly, slowly began to even out.
he pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your temple, a stark contrast to the brutal way he'd just been fucking you.
"you okay?" he murmured, his voice thick and sated.
you just hummed in response, too exhausted to form words. you felt boneless, used, and completely, utterly satisfied.
"good," he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "because we have to get up in like, ten minutes if we don't want chris to come looking for us."
coming from someone with a fat degradation kink, i love this what
