Diclaimer: 'Tis not mine. Work of f(r)iction
Mmk, I'm gonna try to get a hot chapter posted before Christmas. Sorry this took so long, people. I unexpectedly went home for a couple days.
He manages to make it up the stairs in quite a decent fashion; after all, it's not like his mobility is affected. Matt giggles slightly as he flings open his door, revealing a room I've entered many times, always fragrant with the amazing smell of him. I adore that scent; Matt's a pure intoxication. As I step in behind him, my hand lingers on his waist to keep him from doing something completely irrational, and my food lashes out and closes the door.
It retaliates with a loud crash, which causes me to wince. I hadn't intended for it to be a eruption of thunder. The sudden sound seems to bring Matt out of some sort of daze, and his eyes immediately jolt back to my place by the door, dawning with a new and enthusiastic quest. With a manipulatively slow fashion he turns to me, stopping half way into the middle of the room. There's a dark but seductive grin on his lips, and his body seems to be encased by the streetlight that's flooding through the window.
I'm suddenly aware and conscious of where I'm standing, realizing just exactly what I'm doing. Fidgeting my fingers fall to my sides, yet still tease the fabric of my shirt as a cause of nerves. I gulp. Shift. Breathe. Inhale, exhale. Stop. Swallow. Stare. Look up. Look down. Blush.
I hate having reactions like this.
Matt giggles a bit more, and begins to make his way over to me, taking his pleasant time. I swallow once again, shocked at the sensation of my dry mouth, which is somewhat gaping right now. I shut it and clear my throat daring my eyes to shift up to his line of sight. Matt's single eyebrow quirks up with an amused expression.
'Miaaaaahhhhh, I'm so glad you came over tonight....' he sings with a smile, lacing his arms around my neck and leaning his head back to throw out a hearty laugh. I shift somewhat as his stomach brushes up to mine, pelvis to pelvis.
'Ah-ah now. I don't want you accusing me of anything. After all, it's all good fun, right?'
He pauses, and brings his head back, his eyes gleefully examining mine.
'Are you sobbbber, Miah?' he says with a wink.
It seems to slow him down somewhat, but Matt by no means relents.
'Well then, so am I. Kiss me, Jeremiah?'
'You're not sober, Matt.'
'Yes I am!' the bassist pouts here, fake hurt erupting on his face, and I can't stand his innocent but naughty look. I want to rape his lips and tear his clothes off right fucking now. I somehow manage to choose the rational path.
'No, Matt, you really aren't.'
'And how do you know, Miah? Hmm? Are you one hundred percent sure?'
Matt never was really very good at manipulating people when he was on something. If they happened to be intoxicated along with him then it usually worked, but that's just based on the humans are all nympho-whores concept to begin with. Doesn't help that he's fucking gorgeous, either.
I raise my finger and tap the tip of his nose, a slight smile touching the edges of my lips.
'You're pupils are bigger than quarters, Matt. You're still going hard. '
Again Matt erupts in laughter, burrowing his face into the crook of my neck. It subsides and his voice sinks into a whisper that raises goose bumps on my skin.
'Ah, Jereeee, you know me much to well,' Matt hisses softly against my ear, his head ducking as he tugs skin between his teeth. I gasp, fingers raising to claw at Matt's back. I can feel him smile at my reactions alone, and he begins his next little tactical maneuver: nibbling. All down my neck he places a series of kisses and nips, tongue darting out to lap sensitively against my torment spots.
His body has managed to get flush against my own, gluing me against the door, and his leg has shifted between mine. I can feel his evident hard on, and I know Matt's aware of the growing tent in my pants. It's his giggling that brings me out of my daze.
'Mmm, Jeremiah, you're reactions feel soooo good...'
So Matt sucked at manipulating. Doesn't mean he wasn't damn good at seducing. Matthew Lovato is the siren of this century, and now he has me quivering under his every word.
'Matt...' I say softly, clearing my throat and beginning a little stronger. 'Matt. You have to... please... not when you're like this... you'll hate me again.'
Matt pauses, his hazel eyes becoming sternly clear for the process of a moment before he sputters with laughter.
'Hate you?!' he replies with a grin, placing a chaste kiss on my lips, 'Oh Jere, I could never hate you. I'm the fuck up, remember?'
I open my mouth to reply, and correct his story. I know it's useless, because he won't remember much of this in a couple hours, but for some reason I feel the need to validate exactly why I came here this evening. His next string of words cuts me off before I can even begin.
'Miah, my dear Miah, how's about we go and get you a nice bottle of JD? Think you can hannnndddle it?' He's testing me, raising his eyebrows suggestively, before ducking to smother my jaw line with kisses. I groan.
'Matt, just..no. I'll take care of you tonight, and if you really want we can get drunk tomorrow, mmk? I think for now you should just try to rest. You're on what, four an a half hours? It won't be that much longer.'
I'm further trying to reason. I'd like nothing better than to get drunk and fuck around with Matt, but for once I'm going to try this responsibility thing. I hold up a finger as Matt goes to complain.
'No, that's enough said. Now, we can cuddle on the bed and listen to music for a while- how's that sound?'
Matt doesn't like it; you can tell by the falling expression of his features, but he agrees anyway, leaning up to whisper into my ear.
'S'long as you're there baby.'
And then he's away from me, warmth disappeared, resting down on the bed and pointing over to the CD binder. Quietly I walk over to the zipped book, opening it and selecting a Rancid CD. Maxwell Murder chimes up, and I turn back to Matt. He's facing away from me on the bed, his hand twitching out slightly as he stares at the wall with a shocking confusion. He's tripping bad.
Calmly I make my way to Matt's bed, sliding on top of the covers, my fingers trailing over his side and hooking rather possessively over the material covering his stomach. He murmurs a bit, and rolls over, slightly lower on the bed than me, though still strikingly close. I've never really admired Matt so close before, at least I've never had the chance when I'm sober. Even in the lack of light and purely eery glow of the streetlight I can tell one certain thing: he is beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.
I swallow, and his eyes gently raise, taking in my chest, pausing at my lips, and then finally resting at my eyes. Somehow, the music has faded into the background, and I know he's just beginning to come down because I can sense a slight form of recognition and serenity behind those shadowed orbs. Matt offers a weak smile, and raises his hand to slide a piece of my black hair out of my face- to which his eyes linger on a second more than they should have.
'There was a snake on your face, Jeremiah,' He offers helpfully, his voice childlike and soft, 'I took it off, though. Don't worry. You're safe now.'
I smile, nodding and whispering a soft and simple 'thank you' to Matt as he looks quite proud and satisfied with himself.
Now it's a matter of waiting for the music to end, and for Matt to slowly ride down this trip until I can reach my true satisfaction- and that will be to divulge the truth. I watch as Matt 's lips slowly perk into a grin and he lowers his face to nuzzle into my chest. He's innocent now, truthful, and above all, vulnerable.
'Jeremiah, you're by far the best drug trip I've ever experienced,' is murmured against my chest, and all I can do is sigh, kiss the bridge of his nose, and stroke his spiked hair.