too many older siblings out here relating to declan’s darkest childhood traumas, not enough younger siblings who relate to matthew because i too just pick the first clothes i see in my wardrobe and put them on so i walk around looking like a unicorn farted. yes, i also like being driven around places. i am him. but with internal organs
I love knowing that Matthew wears the most outrageous outfits. Not even in eccentric way like Blue . But in a way where he grabs the first things he sees in his closet even if it’s two different shoes and jeans and a skirt.
my 2nd mattsey fic yaaaay wooooo hurrayyyy!!! i am giving YOU a present for MY birthday 😂😂😂 my present is the validation of my peers (aka the 5 whole people maybe that i've convinced to care about this ship)(love y'all lmao)
| Gansey/Matthew | 2.2k | Explicit | Secret Relationship | Best Friend's Brother | Wake Up Blowjob | Fluff |
(also on AO3)
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Gansey was not always a heavy sleeper—in fact, typically, quite the opposite was true—but occasionally, the stars aligned in such a way that all his missed and disturbed sleep was allowed to coalesce into one, long, thorough, proper sleep. Times such as these were to be cherished for their rarity and their miraculous restorative properties. Nothing short of a nuclear bomb could wake Gansey when his body had finally decided that tonight was the night.
Except, apparently, for one thing.
Gansey wasn't sure what it was at first. He wasn't sure of anything except that he was, now, at least a tiny bit, conscious.
Then he thought perhaps he was still dreaming. Something warm, something pleasant. It pulled at him, and pulled, and pulled.
Not dreaming, he decided, but feeling. Wet? No. Well—
Heat, pressure, pulling, pulling, pulling.
Yes wet, but not everywhere. Not like a drowning dream or rain. Wet heat tugging him out of the dark, up to the surface of himself, filling him up with a buzzing, burning, building feeling that his still-muddled mind could only place as—
Gansey gasped into full wakefulness. There was light streaming in through Monmouth's wide bank of windows, wrinkled sheets tangled up around him on all sides, and a mop of blond curls between his legs.
“Matthew!”
The youngest Lynch brother pulled off of Gansey's cock with a slick noise. His reddened lips spread into a bright grin. He said, “Morning!”
Gansey meant to ask what the hell he was doing, although even as he thought to ask, it occurred to him that the answer was self-evident. He didn't get the chance. Matthew was quick to reapply himself to the task at hand, which was apparently sucking Gansey's entire brain out through his dick before he'd even had a chance to boot it up.
The wet and the heat and the pressure were tenfold while actually conscious. Gansey pressed his head back into the pillow, back arching, a moan torn from his bared throat. Matthew moaned back in a most self-satisfied fashion. The vibration was excruciatingly exquisite. Gansey's fingers tangled themselves in the sheets until Matthew untangled them and led them to his hair instead.
“Go ahead,” he surfaced long enough to say. “I know how much you like that. And you gotta come quick, okay?”
Any inquiry as to why that might be was lost to Matthew's talented mouth. Gansey gripped his curls as instructed and bucked. The obscene, gurgled sound of his cockhead hitting the back of Matthew's throat, gagging him, sent heat crashing through Gansey.
Under normal circumstances, shame would accompany this—an instinct to pull back and apologize for being rough, inconsiderate, selfish in his pleasure. But it seemed that instinct hadn't woken up yet. Gansey's arousal was a raw thing now, dragged naked and new into wakefulness with no higher thought to clothe it. His hips moved of their own accord. Matthew's throat spasmed around him again. He didn’t need Gansey’s grasping hand to keep him in place, though. He just took it. Saliva dripped down Gansey’s shaft and over Matthew’s fingers, messy and eager and so good that Gansey considered, again, the possibility that he was still dreaming. It was hard to believe pleasure like this could exist in the real world.
But the bruising grip Matthew had on his ass was definitely real, and so was Gansey's quickly approaching orgasm. It grew in him like a sunrise as he fucked up helplessly into the clutch of Matthew's throat. He did not pull Matthew off like he usually would. He didn't even warn him. One, two, three more thrusts, and he found himself yanking hard on the curls in his hand, shoving Matthew further down onto his cock as he came and came and came.
Gansey collapsed, gasping for breath. Everything spun. His whole body throbbed and sparked and tingled more than it ever had before, the sudden overwhelm of sensation contrasting sharply with the nothingness of the sleep he'd been pulled out of. This was not how he had expected to wake up today.
Because he had been spending far too much time with various Lynches, what came out of his mouth was a slurred, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…”
Matthew laughed and patted Gansey on the knee. “Good! You're already in the mood. Keep that up and get dressed, we gotta go.”
The words did not register in Gansey's sluggish, pleasure-riddled brain. “Go?”
A heap of fabric landed on Gansey's chest with a startling flump. “Yeah!” Matthew said cheerfully. “You said you'd come to mass with us today. Why else did you think I was here?”
Gansey hadn't had time to think of anything other than the mouth on his cock, not even how the mouth had gotten there. A not insignificant portion of his brain still felt half asleep. Matthew's words finally sunk in, though, and all those sleepy parts of him snapped awake at once. He let out a string of elaborate and much less theologically-influenced curses.
“What time is it?” he demanded as he flung himself out of bed, stumbling half-into the underwear Matthew had provided him and then promptly stumbling back out of them upon realizing how sticky he was. There would be no putting on of anything until the mess was taken care of, unless—
“8:43.”
Gansey swore some more and pivoted so fast he nearly knocked himself over. “Jesus, Matthew.” He snatched a corner of the bed sheet, hastily wiped himself off as best he could, and yanked his underwear on with a grimace. “The service starts in less than fifteen minutes and you thought this was the best way to wake me?”
Matthew, who Gansey could now see was in the smart suit and tie that comprised his Sunday best, shrugged. He was grimacing a little bit too, even as he smiled, and one hand ruffled through his hair. “I thought it might, you know, chill you out a little. Help you be cool.”
Gansey emerged from the collar of his dress shirt, haphazardly dragged on, and leveled Matthew with an affronted look. “Why would I need that? I'm always cool!”
Matthew made a face. Gansey wanted to protest again, but the fact of the matter was that his trousers were still around his ankles and he had already missed a button in his haste and he couldn't imagine what his hair looked like right now. He hadn't even put his contacts in yet—he might have to venture forth in his glasses, if he hadn't lost them forever to the mess he'd made of his bed. He couldn't remember taking them off last night.
“You know I love you super much,” Matthew said, “but dude, you're a really bad liar.”
Gansey pulled his pants up with a huff. “And you thought a blow job would make me a better one?”
“I thought it might help you relax! Get you out of your head, make you stop thinking so much.”
“Well, now I have to share a pew with your overprotective brothers for an hour while I think about the fact that I just had my dick in your mouth!”
Gansey finally got his shirt properly fastened and tucked in and cast around for the tie. There had to be a tie here somewhere. He could not go to a Catholic mass without a tie. Declan would kill him with the sheer force of his disdain if he tried, and then Declan would kill him with his bare hands for defiling his baby brother, and Ronan would probably help.
With a desperation born of pure survival instinct, Gansey turned toward his bureau to look for a fucking tie only to find Matthew in his path, tie in one hand and Gansey's wayward glasses in the other. He offered them up with an air of apology.
Gansey deflated all at once. He took the glasses. “We're going to have to tell them,” he said bleakly.
“Yeah. Probably soon.” Matthew looped the tie around Gansey's neck and tied it for him with unexpected dexterity and confidence. When it was neatly settled in place, he patted Gansey's chest and unearthed his smile again. “Not today, though! And we really do gotta go. You know how Declan is about his schedule.”
Gansey scrambled for his shoes. “Oh God, please tell me he would not come up here to fetch me himself.”
“No,” Matthew laughed. “He thinks this place is super grody. He'll probably send Ronan!”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Gansey stuffed his feet into shoes, pulled them back out, made a wild grab for the nearest available pair of socks, pulled those on, and reapplied the shoes. His groin still felt damp and tacky, but he definitely did not have time to rectify that situation. He was just going to have to be uncomfortable. Call it penance—Catholics were big on that, right? Doing penance for their sins? This was what he deserved for the sin of fucking his best friend's little brother behind his back. Good God, why had he agreed to attend this service?
The answer to that question caught hold of him as he tried to buzz past. Gansey had been heading for the bathroom and its mirror to verify that he at least didn't look like he'd been woken up with sinful and forbidden fellatio, but then Matthew's lips were on his and there was nothing to do but kiss him back. It was like every synapse in his brain misfired at once. He'd been worrying about something important, he could've sworn he had. He grasped at Matthew's broad shoulders and sent up something akin to a prayer; it wasn't fair that Matthew could disarm him so easily, but damned if he didn't crave this.
Matthew held Gansey's face in his hands when he pulled back. He said, “Take a deep breath.”
Gansey obliged.
“Let out it.”
Gansey did.
“Good! Now let's—”
The loud clomp of heavy boots on metal echoed up through the stairwell. Ronan's dulcet tones accompanied it: “The fuck is taking you so long, man? Come on, we're gonna be late and Declan's being a huge bitch about it!”
“Don't panic,” Matthew said, right as Gansey was planning to panic. He pressed a firm kiss to Gansey's lips, then said solemnly, “Remember: you are chill, you are cool, you are super relaxed.”
Gansey nodded dumbly. “I am chill, I am cool, I am super relaxed.”
Ronan's footsteps were clanging closer but Matthew just kissed him again, unhurried. “You are a very capable liar and you had a very pleasant morning.”
Gansey made a slightly strangled noise. “Very pleasant.” His whole body tingled with the remembrance of exactly how pleasant.
“And?”
“And I am a capable liar. Mostly.”
Matthew beamed. “Good enough for me.”
He swooped in to kiss Gansey one more time. Their lips had barely parted when the heavy metal door screeched open. Gansey quickly rearranged his limbs to be no longer in contact with Matthew’s, which was galling when all he really wanted to do was pull Matthew back down onto his bed and get them both out of these suits immediately. He was absolutely certain that his face telegraphed this desire. If it did, however, Ronan didn't seem to notice. He leaned insouciantly in the doorway and sneered at them both.
“Let's fucking go already. Shit on a stick, Gansey, did Matthew have to drag you out of bed by your fucking ankles?”
Gansey could not think of a single response that was not No, but he did give me the best blow job I've ever experienced, thank you for asking. Luckily, Matthew laughed before that could come tumbling disastrously out of his mouth.
“We're coming, we're coming!” Matthew promised. “Gansey's just a really heavy sleeper is all. Took some doing for me to wake him up.”
He turned his back to Ronan, hands in his pockets as he ambled backwards toward the door, and winked. Gansey flushed. And to think, he'd once assumed he would be the bad influence in this relationship.
“Whatever,” Ronan groaned. He threw an arm around Matthew as soon as he was within range, the force of which nearly knocked him over. “Just get the fucking lead out before Declan goes bald from stress.”
Matthew only laughed again, big and bright and easy, and swatted at his brother until he was released. His lips were very pink. Gansey forced himself to look away from them before he reacted in such a way that would be outside the bounds of his ability to convincingly deny. He was cool, he told himself with mild desperation. He was chill. He was super relaxed. Matthew had made sure of that. Ronan could probably smell the evidence of his relaxation on Matthew’s breath if he got any closer. Gansey cursed again because that was the closest he’d ever gotten to knowing how to pray.
He turned back to the door to see that Ronan had already disappeared, stomping back down the stairs with great prejudice—they had nine minutes left to get to St Agnes. Matthew lingered in the doorway, though, those pink lips of his pulled up into a smile both mischievous and soft. He said, “Soon. Promise.”
Matthew held out his hand. And even with eight minutes left, and sticky underwear, and an hour of guilty squirming on the horizon, there was nothing Gansey could do but take it.
if my velocity starts to make you sweat | CZATTY | explicit | 1/? | 3k
"Look, everytime I get my t-shot I get like really horny the days after and I can't stop thinking about Thanksgiving, and..."
"Oh, I see!" At least, Matthew didn't sound angry, he thought as he allowed himself to breathe once. Noah felt fully disconnected from the earlier bravado that had pushed him to call, fully ready to apologize now, but Matty talked again, voice deep and too similar to their last encounter: "Did you want me to talk you through it?"
noah hardly thinks of anyone sexually, yet he can't stop thinking of matty
link -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/88941336
