summary: matty and george live together, which means they share everything. and i mean everything.
tags: 18+ SMUT! THIS IS DIS-GUS-TING! dom!matty, dom!george, sub!reader. threesome. eiffel tower, so unprotected p in v sex and blowjobs/deepthroating. spitting. gagging. fingers in mouths. rough sex. SO much dirty talk. a lot of degradation. a little bit of praise. dumbification. very light impact play. like two seconds of choking. also cumplay. also crying. smoking. MASSIVE warning for general meanness tbh... there is aftercare to make up for it tho <3 also the boys are a little gay (if you squint)
word count: 6410
It’s hot, London's midsummer sun spilling in through the windows and blanketing the bedroom in a gentle afternoon glow. The light would be almost dreamy if it weren’t for the fact that the room smelled absolutely filthy.
Well, maybe filthy wasn’t the right word. It smelled like sex and sweat and salt and the heady scent of wet pussy. But that’s an unavoidable reality when Matty’s been fucking you for so long that your brain has grown hazy and you’ve lost track of time.
You hardly remember how it started, but you do know that it ended with the two of you in his bed, with him buried deep inside of you, setting a punishing pace as he fucks you like he hates you.
Matty has you exactly where he wants you — his hands grip your waist tight enough to bruise as he savagely rolls his hips forward again and again and again. His pace is rough and mean and unforgiving, practically knocking the breath out of you with each thrust.
Your knees buckle, and you fall forward, face-planting into the mattress. Your entire body is boneless, twitching, too weak to support yourself. You feel Matty slip out of you, cock dragging along your sensitive walls, and you wince weakly at the sensation.
“Uh uh.” Matty’s voice is condescending, almost cruel. “We’re not done, baby.”
A single strong hand closes around your wrist, wrenching your arm behind your back and holding it there as Matty pulls you back. The uncomfortable angle makes you arch your back, forcing your ass up as your face is shoved even deeper into the bed. You let out a pathetic little cry at the change of position, which quickly morphs into a sob as you feel Matty thrust into you once more, burying himself in you fully. Your pussy flutters helplessly around him.
“That’s it,” Matty groans from behind you, pulling your ass flush with his hips. “Isn’t this better? Don’t gotta do anything, just lay there and let me use you.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he starts fucking you earnestly again, fast and hard and deep. You can’t even moan anymore — your throat’s become too raw. All you can do is let out little whimpers every time Matty buries himself to the hilt, balls slapping against your clit and somehow making you even more overstimulated than you already are. The way he’s fucking you is filthy — wet, squelching noises echo through the space whenever he bottoms out, skin slapping against skin and creating an x-rated symphony for your ears.
“So goddamn wet,” Matty says. “Drippin’ all over me like a needy little slut.”
You whine in response, noise slightly muffled by the thick duvet that’s actively getting ruined by a mixture of your drool and spit and tears. If you had any brainpower left, you’d feel ashamed of the mess you’re making, but you lost all ability to think about five minutes ago, and now you can only do exactly what Matty wants you to do, which is lie there and take it.
Despite the way your cunt is pathetically spasming around the length of him, you’re painfully aware of the fact that you’re not going to cum like this. Matty isn’t paying any mind to your pleasure — if he was, he’d be gentler, slower, not fucking you like he’s trying to break you. You suppose it’s a small mercy — if Matty really wanted to, he could fuck you like he’s trying to break you and rub your clit. That would make you cry for real, with how sensitive you’ve become.
But Matty doesn’t have to do that, because he’s relentless either way. And after a while, everything fades away, and you’re left lying there, eyes closed, lips parted, crying into the sheets as it becomes impossible to focus on anything but the way Matty is using your body.
You’re so out of it, in fact, that you don’t even hear the sound of the door to the house creak open, and then latch with a little click, and you certainly don’t hear the sound of sneaker-clad feet padding across the length of the entryway, then to the kitchen, and then back to the bedroom.
Your only tip off to the fact that you and Matty are no longer alone is the sound of his sharp laughter above you.
“Oh shit,” Matty chuckles, and you assume he’s referring to you, mocking you for how tight and wet and pathetic you are, so you don’t have any reaction.
Then: “Hiya, G.”
Your eyes fly open at the sound of the nickname, but with the way Matty has your body trapped beneath him, your gaze lands on an empty wall of the bedroom. Still, now that you’ve been made aware of it, you can feel George’s presence, looming and domineering at the foot of the bed, just a couple of strides away from you.
You hear Matty’s palm cracking against your ass a split second before you feel it, pain radiating across the surface of your skin. You gasp and twist instinctively, trying to squirm away from him, but Matty’s iron grip on your arm stays firm, keeping you pinned to the spot.
“Say hi t’George,” Matty says, still not slowing his pace even though his friend is now standing right there. “Don’t want him feelin’ left out.”
You do your best, trying to prop yourself up on the one useless elbow you have and lift your head up enough to look at the other man. Unfortunately for you, George is tall, really fucking tall, so even your best effort ends with you staring at his legs as you mumble weakly.
“Hi.”
Your voice is quiet, raw, and barely audible over the wet sounds of getting fucked. As if on cue, Matty whines in a disheartening display of mock sympathy, but he does finally let up as he stills inside of you.
“It’s okay, baby, words are hard,” Matty chides, letting go of your wrist. The loss of support sends you tumbling back down onto the mattress, and you hear the laughter of the two men blend together as they watch you feebly grab at the sheets in an effort to hold yourself up.
You feel a hand reach out and thick, calloused fingers wrap around your throat, as George forces your head up. When you finally meet his gaze, you watch as his lips curl into a smirk, something dark twinkling behind his eyes. He brings his other hand up to your forehead, smoothing your hair back with a broad palm so he can see your face.
“Fuck, what did you do t’her?” he asks, and you hear Matty laugh breathlessly in reply.
You can only imagine what you look like — bruised, swollen lips, glazed eyes, hair a mess from where Matty grabbed a fistful of it earlier and made you arch your back so much it ached. You’re sure you’d be horrified if you could see just how undone you look, but George doesn’t sound horrified. He sounds almost impressed, which means only bad things for you.
“Nothin’ she can’t handle,” Matty replies, tone dripping with arrogance. “Shame she’s gone all dumb on me, though. Can’t think when she’s got a dick inside her.”
Heat rises to your cheeks as the two of them discuss you like you’re not even there. George may be looking at you, but he’s not talking to you, and it’s fucking degrading. You feel the bed dip beneath George’s weight as he lowers himself onto it, kneeling on the edge as his eyes shamelessly rove over your naked body.
“‘S’not all bad,” George mumbles. His hand moves away from your throat to your cheek, caressing it. It’s gentle, almost romantic, which is exactly why you don’t trust it.
You know exactly what you’re signing up for whenever Matty fucks you — a douchebag, who knows exactly how to make you cum but won’t let you until you’re crying for it. But George… George is a lot more unpredictable. When he wants to be nice, he’s so doting, so lovely. But when he wants to be a dick…
“Might as well use that mouth for something else.”
Matty seems to understand what George means before you do, because you feel him lean forward and grab your hips, fully pulling your ass back against him. The change in position notches him impossibly deeper inside of you, and you are unable to stop the whine that escapes your lips. Your noises are more creature than human, wounded and submissive, and pathetically needy.
“Ah,” Matty mocks, voice high-pitched and wanton, like he’s imitating a pornstar. Something between shame and red-hot desire pierces through you. “Listen t’her. Fuckin’ useless.”
You watch as George nonchalantly pulls his t-shirt over his head, paying little mind to you or Matty as he does so. The shirt is dropped somewhere at his feet as he inches forward, closing the distance between the two of you.
One strong hand rests on the back of your head as George pulls your face into the seam of his jeans. The denim is rough against your skin, and you can feel his hard-on, hot and heavy, straining against the zipper. No matter how degrading the action is, it’s far more gentle than what Matty has been putting you through, and your lips part involuntarily, mouthing at his hardened cock through the fabric. George hums, a low rumble vibrating through his body as he watches you with a darkened expression.
“You ruined her,” George murmurs, fingers tightening imperceptibly in your hair as you continue to cover his bulge with open-mouthed kisses.
“Yeah, but she’s still so tight, G,” Matty counters. “Wouldn’t even know she’s a slut.”
You wish badly for the bed to transform into a black hole and swallow you so you don’t have to keep listening to them talk about you like this.
“Wanna swap?”
Matty laughs mirthlessly. “Not a chance, mate.”
You watch George fidget with the button, then the zipper of his jeans, before sliding the material off of his body entirely, along with his boxers. He’s just as hard as you expected, cock throbbing against his toned stomach. Despite yourself, you feel your mouth water at the sight of him, hard and heavy and wanting.
George taps his cock against your pursed lips, once, twice, smearing salty precum along your lips like gloss. His tip is red and weeping, already worked up from watching Matty fuck you.
“You want this?” he asks, giving you a chance to tap out. You don’t respond to him, unsure if you can muster the mental energy to form words right now. Instead, your mouth falls open even further, a silent invitation for him to use you just like Matty.
When George finally presses his cock past your lips, he’s not kind. He slides in as far as he can until he hits the back of your throat, then stays there, as though he’s testing how much you can take. It doesn’t take long for him to get his answer. You gag almost instantly, coughing and spluttering around the length of him, and George is more than happy to watch you struggle for a couple more seconds before he releases his grip on your hair, allowing you to draw back and greedily suck air into your lungs. Still, you can’t back away too much – Matty’s bruising grip on your hips guarantees that.
George gives you a chance to catch your breath before filling your mouth once more, placing his hand on the back of your head so you’re stuck there. Even like this, with his cock shoved as far down your throat as it can go, you still can’t take all of him. It’s too much, and he’s too thick, and your eyes flutter shut as you try to focus on the task at hand.
The sensation of a palm lightly tapping against the side of your cheek causes your eyes to snap back open. It’s not painful, but it does get your attention.
“Look at me,” George murmurs, warning. “Wanna see you choke on it.”
His words make you shudder, and you part your lips a little more, force yourself to take him deeper, too deep to be truly comfortable. But you do as he says, bobbing your head up and down his length as you look up at him, shamelessly. George wipes the corner of your eye with his thumb, brushing away the tears that threaten to fall as you gag on him.
“Aw.” His voice is soft, but it’s not genuine. “She’s cryin’ already.”
“C’mon, G, make it easier for her,” Matty replies, sounding the most wrecked he has all afternoon. The sound makes you clench around his cock helplessly. “Get her nice and wet.”
You’re confused by his words — you’re already wet. You’re practically dripping. You can feel your own slickness coating the inside of your thighs. You’re sure Matty’s pelvis is covered in your arousal, too — that’s why every stroke of his cock sounds so fucking obscene.
George takes a half step back, cock falling from between your lips with a soft ‘pop.’ He firmly grips your jaw in one large hand. His thumb digs into one side of your cheek, forcing your lips apart, bearing your open mouth to him. Before you have a chance to realize what he’s doing, he leans down and spits. A thick glob of saliva escapes his lips, landing on your tongue, and you recoil in disgust — or at least, you try to, but his hold on your face is too strong, too unforgiving to really squirm away.
“Fuck,” George breathes, before shoving two thick fingers past your lips, gathering the spit on his fingertips before pressing even further back. Your eyes water as you try to focus on your breathing, try your hardest to will yourself not to gag. But George doesn’t make it easy for you, fingers thrusting into your mouth as if he’s fingering your cunt, and within moments, you find yourself coughing on him.
Through the shame of what you’re allowing George to do to you, you swear you feel Matty’s cock jump inside of you, and you think you may have imagined it until you hear him groan brokenly. His hold on your hips suddenly grows even tighter, almost possessive.
“Shit, she gets so tight when she gags,” Matty drawls sinfully. “Dirty girl. Fuckin’ loves this.”
Even then, George doesn’t give your mouth a break. He keeps his fingers pressed against your tongue, gathering the drool, coating his digits in the mess. Somehow, this feels even more pornographic than when you had his dick in your mouth just a few moments ago. He’s staring at you with clinical interest, like you’re his experiment to push and tease and toy with and fuck.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally withdraws his fingers from your mouth, wrapping his hand around his cock and using the spit to slick the length of it. You watch him pump himself with shameless interest, forgetting about Matty altogether for a brief moment. No wonder you struggled to take all of him down your throat – even in his large hand and thick fingers, his dick seems massive.
George notices your focus and grins, glancing over your shoulder to where you assume Matty is resting back on his knees, enjoying a much-needed break before he goes back to ruining you.
“She likes watching,” George muses.
“Course she does,” Matty replies. “Have you seen yourself?”
That pries a laugh from George, deep and rumbly. He turns his attention back to you, dragging his cock along your lower lip before resting the tip there.
“Spit.”
You do as you’re told, spitting a generous amount of saliva over the length of his cock, saliva that he just created by making you choke on his fingers. Predictably, the noise you make is filthy, and George visibly lights up at the sound of it, before he wraps one hand around himself and presses his cock past your lips once more.
He’s gentler this time, giving you a chance to take him slowly, swallow him down inch by devastating inch. It’s still not an easy task – he’s just thick enough that he makes your jaw ache ever so slightly, but somehow, it’s easier than it was the first time. George, ever so helpful, braces one hand at the back of your head and the other at your throat, holding you perfectly still for him as he presses his cock deeper and deeper.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” George coos. “Just like that.”
The sound of the praise goes straight between your legs, and you find yourself clenching around Matty’s cock before you can stop yourself, pulling a bitten off groan from the other man’s lips. You feel Matty’s body grow taut as he fights the urge to fuck forward into you.
“Make her gag on it,” Matty says, sounding like he’s about three seconds away from blowing his load.
Those words are the last bit of incentive you need as you force yourself to swallow the rest of him down. Your nose brushes against the dusting of light hair at the base of George’s cock as you finally manage to take him all the way, lips stretched wide around him. And finally, you hear George groan, see his jaw go slack.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Look at you.”
His fingers tighten in your hair, almost painfully, and you whimper. That’s a mistake. George selfishly shifts his hips forward, pressing just a little further down your throat, and you panic, coughing and trying to pull off of him. He loosens his grip just enough to allow you to breathe in, without his dick ever fully leaving your mouth.
“Breathe,” he orders, and you do your best to comply, before he’s pulling you back down, forcing you to deepthroat him again.
The two of you do that dance a couple more times, with George pushing you to take more than you can comfortably hold in your mouth, pulling you off when your throat inevitably clenches and chokes around him, and then putting you through the same thing, again, and again, and again, all while filth oozes from Matty’s lips like it's second nature to him.
And just when you think you’ve maybe gotten accustomed to the size of him, you feel Matty’s hips cant forward, and you let out a broken groan as he begins to fuck you in earnest once more. Every thrust pushes you forward, forcing you to swallow George’s cock just a little more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, burning as two pairs of hands selfishly wander your body – Matty holds your hips in place as he fucks you like a madman, and George keeps his fingers twined through your hair. You’re pinned between an immovable object and an unstoppable force, and you have no choice but to take.
“She’s made for this,” Matty gasps as his hips slam home. “Gonna feel us for days.”
You’re stuffed from both ends, filled to the brim, and it’s dizzying. You know you shouldn’t like it, know how degrading it is, know how fucked up it is that they’re acting like you’re barely even a person, just a tight set of holes for them to enjoy. It feels like they’re taking you apart, reducing you to your base instincts, base desires, remolding you into a perfect little toy for them. You’re gone, tears flowing freely as George uses your mouth, pussy leaking around Matty’s cock.
“Just like that,” George praises. “Takin’ us s’good.”
And you try. You try to be good, try to take what they’re giving you without complaint, but then Matty snaps his hips forward in just the right way, driving into you perfectly, and you moan around George’s cock, which he takes as an invitation to thrust even deeper. You must breathe wrong, because you suddenly find yourself coughing on him, disrupting the brutal but precise pace that the two men have set. Your eyes grow blurry as you try to push away, lungs burning. George pulls you off of him abruptly, a thin strand of saliva still connecting you to his cock.
“Don’t fight it,” George says. “You’re just gonna hurt yourself.”
You’re not sure if his words are for you or him – after all, he has a lot more at stake if you panic, if your teeth graze him in the wrong way. Still, the words calm you, reminding you that no matter how mean they are — and they’re really fucking mean — Matty and George aren’t going to hurt you, not really, not unless you ask them to.
“She can take it.” Matty’s voice is gravelly, rough from exertion. “Always does.”
And then, as if to prove his point, Matty pulls out nearly all the way before slamming back into you with a particularly savage thrust. Your arms shake, then buckle, and you fall forward. You watch as George maneuvers himself lower from kneeling to a sitting position, long legs stretched out across the mattress. Ever so slowly, almost gently, he eases your lips back around his cock. He doesn’t move his hips forward, doesn’t try to fuck your mouth, but the new position does leave you drooling around him, saliva pooling on your tongue. You whimper — it’s the only thing you can do.
“Poor thing.” In a moment of uncharacteristic gentleness, you feel something hot against your bare shoulder and realize it's Matty pressing a kiss to your skin. “We’re wearing you out, hm?”
You want to tell him that he already did a fine job of wearing you out before George ever walked into the fucking room, and that he wouldn’t be doing much better if he were in your position. Except, of course, there’s the small problem of your mouth being full, making it impossible for you to say much of anything without sounding like a complete idiot. So, you stay silent… only to fucking wail around George’s cock a couple of seconds later as you feel Matty land another smack against your ass. This time, you have nowhere to go, unable to squirm away, and you hear George grunt as your throat constricts around his cock.
“Oh, she liked that,” Matty comments, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as he continues. “I asked you a question, baby. Answer. Now.”
As it turns out, the threat of Matty’s hand against your ass is a very effective motivator. You’re honestly not fully sure what you're trying to say, but you also know it doesn’t matter because they wouldn’t be able to understand you anyway. Your words come out as a hurried, garbled mess, wet and disgusting, muffled by the length of George’s dick.
“D’ya hear something?” Matty asks, feigning ignorance. You want to cry.
George looks down at you, makes eye contact, and then shakes his head. “Nah.”
“Yeah,” Matty replies. “Me neither.”
And then a hand is pressing between your shoulder blades, pushing you down, down, down into the mattress. The pressure forces you to arch your back, baring yourself to him. You hear a low, smug chuckle from behind you as Matty drinks in the sight of you.
“Look at her, G,” Matty whistles, fingers flexing against your back, as though there’s any way he can possibly push you further down into the bed (which, there isn’t). “Just begging to be fucked.”
“Isn’t she always?”
George barely gets the words out before Matty’s moving again, snapping his hips forward with renewed vigor. He’s somehow even deeper in you this time, your body arched just perfectly for him to fuck you in long, relentless strokes. It’s the kind of rhythm that has your eyes rolling back into your skull and your hands scrabbling for purchase against the bed so he doesn’t knock you right off it.
You feel George shudder as your fingers close around one of his thighs, skin hot and firm under your touch. He takes it as an opportunity to wrap a hand around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly, keeping you pinned exactly where he needs you and making you somehow even more lightheaded than you already are. He’s not even moving at this point, instead allowing Matty to push you forward onto him with every thrust.
“Jesus, Matty –” George gasps, cracks in his composure finally beginning to form. If you had any sense left, you’d feel almost proud. “Her throat’s so tight.”
“So’s her pussy,” Matty replies through his teeth. “Doesn’t matter what I give her – she always wants more. Fuckin’ greedy.”
You feel Matty shift, then, the change so small it's almost imperceptible. But within seconds, he has you gasping. At the new angle, each drag of Matty’s cock rubs right against that sensitive, spongy spot inside of you, and you realize with a start that he’s finally decided it's time for you to cum.
Lucky you.
Your body’s reaction to the new stimulation is immediate, familiar tension beginning to pool in your gut, coiling tighter and tighter. Your breathing — at least, what resembles breathing with your mouth stuffed full — grows quicker, more desperate. He’s bringing you to the edge embarrassingly quickly, and he knows it, too.
“Are you gonna cum from this, baby?” Matty asks, saccharine. “Getting fucked by two cocks at the same time?”
This time, you know to reply, and you let out a choked-off cry, eyes glassy with dizzying pleasure. You’re rewarded for your efforts almost immediately, as Matty removes his hand from your back and snakes it beneath your body, to where the two of you are joined. You jolt like you’ve been shocked when he finds your clit, rough fingertips rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves. You sob at the feeling, clenching down on him as the stimulation that he had been so cruelly depriving you of is finally given to you.
You half expect Matty to make you beg for it, as you know he loves to do. But George beats him to it, verbally giving you the permission you had been waiting for.
“Cum for us, pretty girl.”
And then, it’s over for you.
Matty’s skilled fingers pass over your clit only a couple more times before the world falls away. You hear a choked-off groan as your core tightens, but it sounds far away, and you couldn’t guess it was Matty or George or both, even if you tried. You’re pretty sure you wail – or at least, make a noise that resembles one – as stars explode behind your eyes and every muscle in your body grows taut. You’re distantly aware of how you’re twitching, legs shaking violently against the mattress as your pussy spasms. You desperately claw at the sheets, searching for something, anything to ground yourself, cosmic pleasure coursing through your veins. Through the thick, mind-melting haze, you feel something wet on your cheek, and you realize that it’s probably a tear.
They fucked you so good they made you cry.
It feels like you’re cumming for ages, every drag of Matty’s cock against your sensitive walls sending you spiraling once more as your hole greedily clenches down on him with each thrust. And then, you hear it, the blood pumping in your ears growing quiet enough for you to make out the sound of Matty babbling nonsensically, rambling as he fucks you like his life depends on it.
“Oh – oh fuck, that’s it, that’s fuckin’ it, good girl, good –”
You feel Matty’s hips stutter, and then he’s driving into you once, twice, before spilling inside of you, groaning loudly. He leans forward, covering your still shaking body with his own, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you as tight to him as possible as he cums inside of you. You feel his warm face on your back, sweat-slicked curls brushing against your skin as he rides out his high, gasping every time his cock pulses inside of you, filling you to the brim.
“Jesus.” The word comes from above you, slipping past George’s lips, breathless. The fingers in your hair twitch, antsy, tense. The sight of you and Matty falling apart in front of him was too much.
Matty slips out of you with a groan. His weight vanishes from your back instantly, and you can’t help but feel like it’s a loss. You hadn’t realized how grounding his presence was until it was so rudely taken away from you.
But he doesn’t leave you alone for long. Two fingers prod at your sensitive cunt, and you instinctively know it’s Matty pushing his cum back in you, making sure none of it goes to waste. Your eyes flutter shut, a soft groan escaping you, only to get choked off by the tip of George’s cock as his fingers tighten in your hair even more. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, sense the way he’s barely holding on by a thread.
“Shit — m’close,” he manages to spit out, hips shifting forward ever so slightly, chasing his own release. You run your tongue along the sensitive underside of him, feel as every muscle in his body grows tight, tense with anticipation.
“That’s it.” Matty sounds wrecked. “Make him cum.”
George fucks into your mouth a couple more times with sloppy, deep thrusts. You feel his cock twitch, and that’s all the warning you get before he’s cumming in your mouth, painting your tongue with his load. He makes a punch-drunk sound as he spills into you, whiny and keening and just pornographic enough to remind you that you’re not the only one who’s been thoroughly ruined.
His cock falls from your lips as he finally shifts, chest rising and falling as he struggles to catch his breath. George’s hand closes around your chin. It’s gentler this time — he’s no longer holding you in place, but the angle does force you to maintain eye contact with him.
“Swallow,” George orders, and you can tell by his tone that it's the last thing he’s going to ask of you today.
So you oblige him, greedily drinking down his cum like it's water, being sure not to spill a drop. He groans, low and breathy, like the sight alone is almost too much for him to bear.
Maybe they were right.
Maybe you were made for this.
Your legs twitch, and you flutter around nothing as Matty pulls his fingers out of your dripping cunt. You feel him smear the remaining wetness on your ass, staining your skin with his cum. The mattress bows beneath his weight as he shifts forward, closing the short distance between you and George. He settles on his knees beside you, staring at you with a voyeuristic intensity that makes your stomach flip.
It’s the first time you’ve seen him properly since he bent you over, and he looks just as fucked out as you. Every inch of his body is shiny with sweat – even his curls are damp, clinging to his forehead. And he’s flushed, redness creeping up his neck, branding his pale skin like a tattoo.
“Show us,” Matty requests, shameless.
You know exactly what he means.
Obediently, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue, displaying your empty mouth. You watch as George grins, proud. But something hungry settles across Matty’s face as he looks at you, and he seals his lips over yours without any warning, paying no mind to the drool staining your chin. He presses his tongue past your lips, kissing you deeply, like he’s trying to savor you and claim you all at once. There’s no mercy in it — he kisses like he fucks, all brutal and selfish and breathtakingly hot.
Matty kisses you until you feel like your lungs are on fire. And when he finally pulls away, the look in his eyes has faded, replaced by a hazy softness.
A stillness passes between the three of you, then. George removes his hand from your jaw, but not before stroking your cheek with his thumb, so delicately and quickly you almost miss it. Matty stays glued to his spot on the bed, still staring at you with that same softness. And as for you… You’re exhausted, dazed, spent, suddenly unsure what to do in the absence of everything.
George is the first to break the silence.
“Holy shit,” he says, laughing softly, hand going back to smooth some of your messy hair away from your face. That simple gesture is enough to break your composure, and a weak smile splits across your lips, eyes watering for an entirely different reason now. You feel a pair of hands wrap around your waist, pulling you up and back, and you collapse into the warmth of Matty’s body, the tightness of his embrace. Your head rolls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you let out an exhausted sigh.
“Fuck, angel.” His lips are at the shell of your ear, then your neck, pressing featherlight kisses into your skin. “Did s’good. Feel s’good. So fuckin’ proud of you.”
You feel another hand on you, this time resting against your flushed cheek, and you don’t need to open your eyes to know it's George.
“You alright?” he asks, concern tangible.
“Mhm,” you mumble weakly.
“Words, baby.”
You crack your eyes open at Matty’s request. In your current state, that’s a big ask. So instead, you form a thumbs up with your hand, holding it up as high as you can muster (which, to be perfectly honest, isn’t very high). Matty presses his tongue against his teeth, grinning.
“Yeah, okay.” He presses one more kiss to the side of your cheek. It makes your skin prickle. “I have to wash off. You good lookin’ after her for a bit?”
“You have to wash off?” George asks.
“Piss off,” Matty says. “I did most of the work.”
After a while, their conversation fades off into the background, becoming white noise to you. They must come to some sort of agreement, though, because you find yourself lying on one of George’s broad thighs, eyes shut, cheek pressed against bare skin. He didn’t bother putting his jeans back on, just his boxers, and you’re grateful for the decision because the warmth of his skin feels heavenly. He was also kind enough to wrap a blanket around your naked body, cocooning you in plush softness. You’re curled up underneath it, knees drawn up to your chest, because stretching out your limbs forces you to feel how sore they are. George’s arm rests along the length of your side, fingers absentmindedly circling a spot on your hip as you finally get to relax and just breathe.
One of his hands caresses your scalp, fingers carding through your hair in slow, rhythmic passes. He doesn’t speak, not really, but he doesn’t need to. His presence is grounding, and his undivided attention makes you feel safe and cared for, even if you were just crying around his cock five minutes ago.
“You’re perfect,” he mumbles, voice quiet, velvety.
The comment makes you giggle weakly, throat still raw from… well, everything. You turn your head slightly, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.
“Sure.”
“I mean it,” George says, a little more forceful this time. His thumb smooths over your cheekbone. “You’re perfect.”
The floorboard at the entryway of the bedroom creaks a few minutes later, and your eyes lazily flutter open. Matty’s back, with damp curls and a towel wrapped sinfully low around his hips. Clutched in one of his hands is a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
The bed dips beneath his weight as he shuffles onto it, crawling to sit beside you.
“How’s she?” Matty asks quietly, seemingly not wanting to disturb you. It’s sweet, in a strange way, considering what he just put your body through. George’s hand stills in your hair, instead ghosting down to caress your cheek.
“She’s right here,” George mutters. “Ask her yourself.”
You crack your eyes open, blinking at Matty. “Tired.”
“Yeah?” he smirks. “I bet.”
Matty leans back against the headboard, fishing one of the cigarettes out of the pack before placing it between his lips and lighting it. He lets out a low noise of relief, almost sexual in nature, as his lungs fill with smoke. He takes a few more puffs before passing it over your head to George, who eagerly accepts.
“Fuck, I’m hungry,” Matty groans.
“We don’t have any food.”
The other man frowns. “What do you mean, we don’t have any food?”
“I mean…” George breathes out a cloud of smoke before passing the cigarette back to Matty. “I checked the fridge, and it’s empty.”
“When did you check the fridge?”
“Before I walked back — fuck off,” George mutters with a sigh, no longer in the mood to deal with his friend’s antics. A smile splits across Matty’s face, amused and boyish, before turning back to you.
“You wanna go grab some food with us, lovely?” Matty asks. You let out a loud, miserable groan, tucking yourself into the comfort of George’s thigh even more, and you hear both boys laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“I’ll order something,” George finally volunteers. “If you wanna clean her up.”
Matty nods in agreement, cigarette dangling from between his lips, before he looks down at you. “Think you can move yet, love?”
“Fuck you, Matty.”
“Maybe someday,” he replies, smirking.
You see as Matty’s eyes meet George’s and he waggles his eyebrows at him, prompting a choked laugh to leave George’s lips. Even you laugh a little, amused, as you make a mental note to bring this up later.
“You sure you’re alright?” Matty asks after a couple beats of silence. Despite how pensive he looks leaned up against the bed, he’s feeling guilty – you can tell.
You give it a couple seconds of thought before responding. Somehow, despite everything, you are alright. You’re drained, and your throat is sore, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to walk for a couple of days, but you’re alright.
A half smile settles onto your features. You slowly reach up, grabbing his free hand, and you wrap your fingers around Matty’s. He lets you, becoming pliant as you pull his hand down to settle against George’s thigh.
“Yeah,” you say, eyes fluttering shut once more as you bask in the afterglow of them. “Yeah. I‘m alright.”
Matty was a cowboy. Like a legit cowboy. He had a ranch in Texas and I was there for some reason. He had one of those dramatic belt buckles on and it was so ✨Texas✨
I think maybe I had a fever or something because what a strange thing for my brain to come up with.
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