Work Text:
Fixation
It all starts with a packet of crisps. Cheese and onion to be exact. The crinkly-cut ones that give off a loud ‘chomp’ when you bite down. Of all the things, it had to be crisps. Matty is glaring across the studio at Ross who’s on the sofa beside Waughy, laughing at something stupid Waughy has just said and throwing handfuls of crisps into his mouth. Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Matty stops his fidgeting for a brief second to let a long sigh out of his nose. He’s leaning up against the wall to the left of George, who is pouring over the soundboard, hitting buttons and bobbing his head to the low music that’s filtering through the speaker directly in front of him. George stops bobbing for a second, gives him a look and says two words:
“Don’t start.”
But Matty has already started. He knows he has. He has the brief awareness that from this point on, things will only get worse. Fucking crisps. Of all the foods Ross could choose to eat in the studio right now, he’s eating the loudest, most obnoxious type of crisp. Cheese and onion crinkle-cut. Matty shakes his head and continues his silent glaring, watching as Ross grins and chomps and throws some more crisps in his wide-open mouth. Fucking crisps.
He knows he’s going to say something. He is absolutely without a shadow of a doubt going to tell Ross to shut the fuck up and get out of the studio. To go to fucking Sainsbury’s and buy a less offensive snack, like a fucking Snickers bar or something, anything other than these stupid fucking crisps with their stupid shiny packet that makes a scrunching sound every time Ross puts his fucking oversized man-hands into it and…
Matty forces himself to breathe. Calm down. This isn’t you.
Only it is him. This is who he is now. The kind of man who gets completely fucked off by the sound of his friend eating a packet of crisps.
His eyes slide to the clock on the wall of the studio. It’s only 2:30pm and yet feels as though they’ve been stuck in this room with Ross and his stupid fucking crisps for an entire fucking century. How the fuck can it only be 2:30pm? He narrows his eyes at the clock and lets out another long sigh – this time through his mouth, blatant and obvious.
George stops his bobbing and, again, turns to properly look at Matty this time:
“Don’t.”
Matty rolls his eyes sarcastically in response and starts chewing on his thumb nail as Hann, who’s sat in a swivel chair across the room, pipes up:
“Do you think we should rename the band?”
Hann has been mindlessly scrolling Instagram for the past hour (at least) having a nosy on a few fan accounts speculating about the next release. Which is why they’re all stuck in the studio today. They’re supposed to be doing a final run through, one last listen before it’s all golden, although so far, they’ve done sweet fuck all. Except eat fucking crisps like a twat. Matty resists the urge to glare at Ross once more.
“What do you mean?” George pauses his bobbing yet again and looks at Hann. Matty notices that George’s hand keeps tapping a rhythm against the soundboard as Hann shifts in his seat. It’s like George can’t help himself. He’s always letting some kind of beat work through him.
“Could you imagine how they’d react if we didn’t release under Drive Like I Do?” Hann says and George laughs in that high-pitched way of his.
“You want to troll our fans? That’s uncharacteristically evil of you Hann,” says George and Hann raises his little finger to his lips and grins, Dr Evil style.
George turns back to his soundboard and turns up the volume a little and Matty forces himself to focus on George. He takes in George’s side profile and wills George to block out every other annoyance in his mind. George is easy to focus on because he’s George. He’s soft and gentle and he’s not shoving fucking crisps into his mouth every five seconds.
“I was thinking we should rename it to something stupid like Drive Like I Don’t,” says Hann and George cackles.
Matty watches as he throws his head back and laughs loudly. And he narrows his focus on George intently now. George is a calming presence in Matty’s life and one that Matty eternally associates with comfort. Because that’s what happens when you’ve been friends for so long. Just focus on George. George is all that exists. Look at George and relax.
And focusing on George works to calm the storm of annoyance in his head… for about five minutes.
Against his will, Matty finds his eyes sliding from George’s delighted face as he quips “Vibe Like I Do?” back to Ross who is still sitting there, chomping loudly and chuckling.
Matty watches, as if in slow motion, as Ross’s huge man-hand is thrust back into the crisp packet and the scrunching of the packet makes his eye literally twitch. Matty feels like a spring that’s coiled too tightly. Actually, scratch that, he feels more like a volatile hand grenade – ready to go off and cause catastrophic damage at any moment.
His seething is broken suddenly when George declares loudly:
“DICK LIKE I DELIVER!”
And for a second Matty forgets his growing hatred of Ross because George has just insinuated that he’s going to be delivering some kind of dick and if that’s the case then Matty is ready, willing and available. Because for the past two days there’s been a weird kind of vibe between them.
Unlike the current situation he finds himself in, the vibe between him and George began with a bottle of tequila and not a packet of cheese and onion crisps. Thank fuck for that.
It started two days ago when they had all gone out for a drink. Matty and George had ditched the others towards the end of the night, as they had always done ever since they were teenagers and they had ended up back in Matty’s where they had drank too much and played an ill-advised game of ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’ and because Matty was a troublemaker, he asked the age old question: “If you had to fuck, marry or kill Hann, Ross or me, which would it be?” and George had immediately responded with: “Well, I’d have to fuck you.” As if he didn’t even have a choice. And that had sent Matty into a spiral of overthinking ever since because he and George were mates and you weren’t technically supposed to fuck your mate but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that yes, actually, fuck yes, he wanted to fuck his mate and probably had done for longer than he would ever admit.
So it was incredibly unfortunate then, that he had chosen that exact night, the night with the tequila, to get his shit together and try clean up his life.
He had made a show (because of course, he always had to make a fucking show of things) of removing every single packet of cigarettes from his house and declaring: “I am done! I am giving up smoking!” and he had turned to George and said: “No matter how badly I beg you to sort me out with a fag, don’t. I mean it. I need to kick this habit.” And they had done one of those spit-shakes that you always saw people doing in movies when you knew shit was serious.
So it’s been two days and Matty has felt every single second of every single one of those days, like time has become some kind of a personal attack.
He’s a nightmare to be around. He knows he is. He hasn’t had a single smoke since that night. He hasn’t even had any second-hand smoke so he is in peak withdrawal.
He sighs again and runs a hand through his hair and then down his face as Ross continues to guffaw loudly and George and Hann throw out alternative names for Drive Like I Do, and he feels like he’s being eaten alive from the inside. He wants to scream.
He feels shook up. He can’t concentrate. He can’t focus on anything except how badly he wants a fucking cigarette.
I would murder every single person in this building for a cigarette.
He crosses the room and grabs his bag, rummaging around in it even though he knows he won’t find anything in it and then, completely forgetting about everyone else around him, he throws it onto the ground and curses loudly.
Ross stops laughing and Matty can feel the weight of everyone turning to look at him.
He sighs and turns around, his eyes immediately meeting George’s. They stare at each other tensely for a few seconds and George speaks:
“You told me to keep you off them.”
“I know. I was there.”
“It’ll get better in a few days. You’re just in the worst of it now.”
“I know,” Matty says through gritted teeth, his annoyance prickling back over him in a spikey wave.
“How have you been feeling mate?” Hann asks then and Matty’s eyes flicker away from George for a second.
“Like I want to rip my own skin off.”
“Is it really that bad?” Hann says and Matty rolls his eyes:
“I don’t know Adam – does getting kicked in the balls hurt?”
“Yes…” says Adam quietly.
“Then yes Hann, it fucking sucks,” Matty snaps.
He waits for a second as silence falls and then mutters something about “needing air” and leaves because if he stays in that room any longer, he will hit someone. Probably crisp man.
George finds him a short while later. He’s sitting outside on the front step of the studio hating everything about life: The sun, the birds singing, the uncharacteristically warm weather that London is currently having.
“Mate?” George’s deep voice appears behind him as he slips outside and closes the door behind them.
Matty huffs and folds his arms around his knees.
Not engaging.
“Matty?”
Nope. Leave me alone.
“Matthew.”
George’s voice has an edge to it as he comes to stand in front of him and Matty scowls.
A few moments of silence pass and then George says:
“You need to chill out. Seriously.”
When Matty doesn’t respond, George rolls his eyes and then sighs.
“Look. How about you come over to mine tonight and let me cook you dinner?”
Matty feels the edge of his fucked-off-ness softening ever-so-slightly.
“Might make you feel a bit better? Or distract you at least,” George says.
Feeling better. Matty would give his right arm to feel better. He’s had a fucking headache non-stop for the past two days. All he wants is to feel better. He would do anything to get the craving for nicotine out of his skull.
“Go on then,” he finally says and George’s mouth curves up into a small smile.
Matty shifts position on George’s sofa for what has to be the thirtieth time in the past ten minutes. He feels like he has spiders crawling all over his skin – he just can’t get comfortable. He pulls the hood of his hoodie onto his head and starts chewing on the drawstrings. All day long he’s been chewing on his fingers, pens, his sleeves…
“Oral fixation – a common side effect of giving up smoking,” George reads from Google earlier that day.
And maybe it is an oral fixation but mostly, Matty just misses the way a cigarette feels between his lips, resting against his teeth. He’s feeling hopeless and weak and despite George’s suggestion that dinner might make him feel better or distract him, neither of those things have happened. All he can think about is smoking.
He’s on edge. The pressure inside his skull is growing rapidly and he feels like he’s on the verge of cracking.
I would probably murder George for a smoke right now.
He glances at George who is sitting beside him on the sofa, his eyes glued to some stupid nature documentary about common garden birds and while Matty normally cares about nature and the environment in general (quite a lot, actually), tonight he feels so pent up he literally could not give a flying fuck about the robins and blue tits that are currently hopping around on the screen.
He shifts again and shoves a finger into his mouth, biting on his nail. He continues shifting and twisting in his seat and chewing on his hands until eventually George turns his head, fixes his eyes on him and says:
“Would you just sit still?”
Matty stops moving for all of five minutes before the urge to fidget wells up inside him again and he’s back to twisting and shifting around. He picks up his phone and shoves the corner of it into his mouth.
“Jesus Christ, you actually can’t stop can you?” George gives him an incredulous look.
“I just need a cigarette so fucking badly,” Matty groans around the corner of his phone, aware that his voice sounds whiney and horrible and desperate.
“You’re actually unbelievable,” George rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
And it’s at this moment that Matty’s resolve completely crumbles.
He knows that George always keeps a pack of fags in his jeans. Always. He has done ever since he was about fifteen. Without thinking, Matty allows his phone to drop from his mouth and lunges at George, immediately forcing his hands into George’s pockets.
“Matty, for fuck’s sake!” George struggles and hits at him, trying to get him off, but Matty is a man possessed. He lets out a choked-out scream as he comes away empty handed. All he could find was George’s stupid fucking phone.
George shoves him back down onto his own side of the sofa and they both sit there glaring at each other and breathing heavily. And then George spots his phone in Matty’s hand.
“Don’t,” he says his voice full of warning, but Matty doesn’t care.
He picks up George’s phone and shoves it into his mouth. Anything to just take away this craving he has. Anything to stop his brain longing for a cigarette in his mouth. Not surprisingly, George is fucking livid:
“That’s it! I have had it up to here with you, for fuck’s sake!”
George is visibly fucked off with him. He gets to his feet and storms out of the living room and Matty frowns as he hears his heavy footsteps thundering up the stairs. He knows that fucked-off George is usually never a good thing. George is normally all ‘namaste’ and Zen. It takes a lot to make him angry but Matty has apparently succeeded.
He jumps as he hears a door slamming somewhere upstairs. On the TV the narrator on the nature documentary is talking about how robins regularly eat fermented berries so they can get drunk:
“The robins know that the addictive behaviour is bad for them but they continue to do it. This particular robin is anxious – he can’t find a berry and is visibly distressed.”
Fucking same mate.
More noises come from upstairs and Matty is half thinking about apologising but then he hears George’s footsteps flying back down the stairs. George’s face is set into hard lines as he marches over to the sofa and holds his hand under Matty’s mouth:
“Phone,” he says and his voice is so low and filled with an undertow of something dangerous that Matty immediately complies and lets George’s phone drop out of his mouth.
They stare at each other tensely and then George grabs him into a headlock.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Matty yelps, struggling against him. He hits out in every direction, but it’s no use – George is way stronger than him.
He shrieks as George shoves something cold into his mouth, fastens it around his head and then releases him. Matty falls forward and immediately scrambles away from George. They both stop again, staring at each other and breathing heavily. Matty brings a hand up to his mouth and his heart drops.
He grabs his own phone off the coffee table and opens his front-facing camera and lets out a muffled series of words that don’t sound anything like the “what the fuck?!” he’s trying to say when he sees his own reflection.
“You are driving me fucking insane,” says George. “This will stop you sucking on things.”
Matty’s heart is beating in his chest as he realises what George has done to him. He raises a finger to his mouth and runs it around the cool metal of the O ring. George has gagged him. George has actually put a fucking gag on him. And then a thought sends an instant bolt of heat through him as he realises something important: George has an O ring gag in his house.
Matty’s nostrils flare as he breathes heavily, unsure of what to do in this situation. He could easily untie the harness around his head himself… and yet that doesn’t exactly seem like a good idea.
“Are you going to behave?” George asks then and Matty finds himself nodding along because he doesn’t really understand what’s happening and his body is responding to this in a very interesting way.
“Come sit beside me,” George says and again, Matty finds himself moving before he even really thinks it through.
He sits silently beside George and they both go back to watching the nature documentary as if sitting in your best mate’s house with a ring gag shoved in your mouth is a perfectly normal turn of events. Matty’s head is a bit of a mess as he watches a drunk robin hop across the television screen. Why does George have an O ring gag in his house? Is this what George is into? Does George get off on domming people? He always knew George would be a top. He definitely couldn’t see George being a bottom, no way. But George as a dom… interesting feelings started to transpire in his underwear.
Without moving a muscle, he casts a sideways glance at George. George is beautiful. In a game of ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill,’ Matty would definitely place George in the ‘Fuck’ role. Absolutely. He is divine to look at and his cock… Matty’s eyes flutter shut as he recalls the one and only time he had accidentally seen George’s dick. They had been on tour and he had accidentally walked in on George right as he was getting out of the shower. George was packing some serious cock. Matty had just stood there, unintentionally gaping while George had grabbed a towel and told him to “Fuck off you muppet.”
Matty had, not that he would ever admit this, wanked over that a lot. In fact, he realised, he had wanked to George a lot over the years of their friendship. But he always thought it was a no-go zone. They were mates. He always thought that it would never happen. But then tequila had happened and George had said he would fuck him.
Matty groans as heat started pooling his lower body. His cock starts to come to life more noticeably now, twitching in his boxers. George has gagged me. George said he would fuck me and now he’s put a gag on me.
“You’re drooling.”
Matty’s eyes snap open. George is watching him.
“You’re making a mess of yourself,” George says.
Matty frowns and starts tonguing at the ring. Saliva is pooling in his mouth. He can’t help it. It feels sort of like being at the dentist. He makes a small noise and throws an apologetic look at George.
“Do you want me to take it off?” George asks.
He moves closer to Matty and reaches up to undo the harness but Matty grabs his wrist and stops him.
George’s eyebrows rise slightly.
“You want it to stay on?”
One of Matty’s worst personality traits is the fact that he is impulsive as fuck. He knows this about himself. He does things without thinking of the consequences. And he knows that this is one of those situations where he absolutely should stop and think about the repercussions of his actions but truthfully? He finds he doesn’t give a fuck.
Not breaking eye contact, he moves George’s hand to his mouth.
George inhales deeply.
“You sure about this?” he asks.
And Matty tries to garble a “Yes” but there’s so much saliva in his mouth it’s virtually impossible. Thankfully George seems to understand what he’s trying to say.
George brings his hand to Matty’s mouth and smears the saliva all down his chin.
“You look good in that y’know,” his voice is low and filled with things that Matty knows are bad ideas but he realises that he has never wanted anything more in his life right at that second.
George slowly brings his hand back to Matty’s mouth and slips two fingers through the O ring. Matty surprises himself by letting out what could only be described as a horny noise as George presses his fingers against his tongue, making more saliva pool there.
Matty shivers as George brushes his fingers across his tongue and the inside of his cheeks and then pulls them back out, more spit running down Matty’s chin as he does so.
“That’s a gorgeous wet little mouth you have there,” George says and Matty becomes very aware of the fact that he is properly pitching a tent in his pants now. George seems to realise it at the same time. Matty watches him as his eyes drop to Matty’s lap and his tongue slides over his lower lip slowly.
George’s mouth twitches in a half-smile and his eyes meet Matty’s again.
“It’d be a shame to let that mouth of yours go to waste. Especially when you’re so wet and clearly ready to be fucked.”
Matty can feel his face flushing slightly. George’s living room suddenly feels way too hot and George himself feels like a completely different person. In all their years of friendship Matty has never heard him use the words “wet” and “ready to be fucked” in the same sentence. He doesn’t know who this George is, but he’s very much into it.
His body is humming with excitement as George moves closer and closer until they’re barely separated. Matty can feel his hot breath on his face as George leans into his ear and whispers softly:
“Do you want to taste me?”
Matty’s stomach flips and he nods.
George kisses his cheek and moves to the opposite ear:
“Do you want to feel my cock inside you?”
Matty’s dick throbs painfully in his boxers. He wants nothing more in that moment than to feel George’s cock stretching out his ass. George is big and Matty is so frustrated with life that he wants, no, needs, to fuck it all away. He moans and George kisses his other cheek.
Then George pulls back so he’s looking right at him and whispers something that makes Matty feel lightheaded:
“Do you want me to use you?”
George doesn’t wait for an answer this time. Instead he grips Matty’s hair with one hand forcefully and pulls his head back. Matty moans loudly as George’s free hand presses against his erection.
Matty bucks his hips up into George’s touch, desperate for any kind of friction.
“You’re eager aren’t you?” George practically growls the words at him and something deep inside Matty tightens deliciously. He gasps as George starts to rub him through his pants. George is just the right kind of rough. The kind that isn’t enough to hurt past the point of pleasure, but the kind of hurt that leaves you in no doubt that he could completely fuck you up if you wanted it. It feels dangerous, sort of, and Matty has always been drawn to dangerous things - the things that you shouldn’t want. The things that are bad for you.
“How badly do you want my cock?”
The question makes Matty groan again as George releases his hair.
So badly. I want his cock so fucking badly.
Matty does his best to stick his tongue forward, so the tip appears out of the ring on his gag.
George grins and then, much to Matty’s dismay, moves away. Matty watches, slightly confused as George stands up and slips off his shoes. And then just as quickly Matty realises what’s happening – George is getting undressed. He watches with eager eyes as George pulls his top off and then unbuckles his trousers and pushes them down his legs. More spit drips down Matty’s chin uncontrollably as George stands back up and Matty catches sight of the large bulge in the front of his boxers.
Holy fuck.
Smirking George catches his eye and slowly pushes down his boxers, revealing his cock. Matty’s dick twitches in response as he takes in George in all his glory. He’s thick, girthy, curving upwards towards his stomach, swollen, flushed. Precum is already glistening on the top of his cock.
Matty watches, utterly transfixed as George wraps a hand around himself and lazily starts to tug. George groans as his hand moves, swiping the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock and picking up the precum on his thumb.
He lets go of his dick and extends his thumb towards Matty.
“Taste it.”
Matty does as he’s told. He pushes his tongue forwards again as George moves his thumb towards his mouth. Matty swears that he hears George’s breathing hitch almost imperceptibly as he swipes his tongue over the cum on his finger. Matty can’t swallow and his jaw is starting to ache, but his tongue still picks up the distinct taste of George. Salty. Musky.
“You like that?” George asks and Matty nods his head.
“Good, because it’s going to be dripping out of your asshole for the rest of the evening.”
Matty’s cock twitches so forcefully between his legs he feels like he’s going to pass out.
“Up,” George orders and Matty scrambles to his feet.
“Off,” George says and Matty rips his clothes off until he’s standing in George’s living room completely naked. His own cock is slick with precum and he’s so turned on he’s struggling to think straight. There’s something so deliciously filthy about hearing George say these dirty things to him. George who is normally the quiet one, the even-tempered one… the objectively ‘good’ one. George’s sudden filthiness is doing things to Matty. Dark things. Things that he will, he knows, never fucking recover from. In the past few moments, George has firmly cemented himself as quality wank bank material and Matty knows that no matter what happens after tonight, he will probably be getting off to his best friend multiple times a week for the rest of his life.
“Sit down,” George’s voice slides through the air like something delicious and Matty complies, automatically pushing his legs apart as George comes to stand between them.
Matty watches, aware that there’s drool running down his neck onto his chest from the gag as George turns around and grabs his wallet off the coffee table. He removes two sachets from it and it takes Matty a second but then he realises what they are: Lube.
Who is this George who owns a ring gag and who carries fucking lube in his wallet?
Matty knows that George is bisexual. That is a fact. Although he had only ever seen him herd women into his hotel room while they were on tour. But lube sachets in his wallet? Maybe he was swinging more towards men these days.
Matty casts a glance down at his cock and then looks back up to George who is slicking up his fingers with lube. Yeah, he’s definitely swinging more towards men.
“You’re so hard. It must hurt. Does it hurt?” George sinks down on his knees between Matty and flicks his tongue over the head of Matty’s cock. Matty groans.
George smirks.
“Touch yourself for me. Go on. Get yourself off as I stretch you open.”
Matty hesitates, unsure if this is some kind of trick or something he’ll be punished for, but then George grabs his hand and guides it to his cock.
“Don’t be shy. Show me how much you want me,” he says.
Matty arches his hips up as he grabs his cock and starts pulling on it. Pleasure ripples through him and some of the pressure in his stomach abates slightly at his own touch. He gasps as he feels George’s fingers circling around his arse, the lube so cool against his hot skin, it leaves tiny chills in its wake.
“That’s it, fuck yourself for me,” George’s voice is intoxicating and Matty grips himself tighter. He has always been a performer and he loves the way George’s eyes are trained on his hand now as he pumps his cock. He feels hot under George’s gaze. Sexy. Magnetic. Turned on.
Matty’s eyes flicker closed as he thinks about how good it would feel to have George’s mouth wrapped around his cock and as he builds the image up in his head, he gasps as he feels George’s thick finger sliding into him. He tries to moan George’s name but can’t. It’s getting harder and harder to use his mouth because of the stupid fucking gag. His jaw is starting to really hurt.
“Fuck you look so good, drooling all over yourself, desperate for my cock,” George’s voice fills every part of Matty’s head as he starts frantically tugging on his cock now. But his hand isn’t enough he needs more. He shifts himself on the sofa and tries to slam his hips down to meet George’s finger as it fucks into him. The burn in his arse feels divine and all he wants is to have George inside him. He wants George to fuck him so hard he can still feel it tomorrow. He wants to stumble back into the studio barely able to stand, making the others wonder what the fuck is wrong with him. He wants proof that tonight, that now, is actually happening and not some delicious hallucination brought about by nicotine withdrawal. He wants George to cum inside him and, because Matty is pretty damn filthy too, he wants to feel George drip out of him for the rest of night. He wants, he wants, he wants.
Thankfully a certain level of symbiosis has always existed between George and Matty and George must have read his mind because he soon pushes another finger inside Matty. Matty cries out as George scissors his fingers inside him and the sharp stap of pain mixed with pleasure is enough to make his eyes water and to start bringing on his own orgasm.
“That’s it, get yourself off for me,” George is saying and Matty knows he’s already too far gone. He’s gonna cum. George works him until he feels so fucking good he knows he’s going to either explode or pass out. His orgasm hits him strongly and he cums all over himself – destroying his stomach and fist. His jaw is truly aching at this point and he groans as he feels George’s fingers slip from his arse. Matty is so out of it takes him a second to realise that George is lowering his face towards his crotch. Matty gasps as George’s tongue lazily laps at his over-sensitive cock. He’s licking up the mess Matty has made.
George gets to his feet and grabs Matty’s hair, forcing his head back so he’s looking up at him. George gives him a filthy smirk and then he spits directly into his open mouth.
Matty makes a small noise of surprise as the mixture of George’s spit and his own cum lands on his tongue but before he can properly react, George shoves his thumb into Matty’s mouth and smears the mixture all across his tongue and cheeks.
“See how pretty you taste hmm?” George is smirking at him and Matty realises something important: George is getting off on this. And Matty is too. He finds himself filled with a sudden need to please George. He wants to give George the best orgasm he has ever had. His stomach clenches in anticipation as George releases his hair and tears open another sachet of lube. As soon as his cock is lubed up, George sits on the sofa and gestures at his lap.
“Want to see you bounce for me,” George murmurs as Matty slowly approaches him.
Matty sits onto George’s lap, shuddering as the top of George’s cock slides up between his arse cheeks. There’s no doubt about it – George is huge. He’s possibly the biggest cock that Matty has taken in a long time but Matty wants to give him the best ride of his life. The problem now is that since Matty knows George is like this – a freak, just like him – he doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing. Suddenly going on tour takes on an exciting new light. Fucking in a tour bunk while the others are asleep around them is definitely a fantasy at the top of Matty’s list now.
Matty takes a breath to steady himself and tries to forget the pain in his jaw as he reaches down, grips George’s cock with his hand and guides it towards his arse.
George digs his fingers into Matty’s arse cheeks, spreading them apart as Matty sinks down onto him slowly, drool dripping from his mouth and his eyes rolling back into his skull as George’s thick cock splits him open. He moans loudly at the feeling of being filled, feeling like he’s going to black out from pleasure as he sinks lower and lower, his mouth watering beyond his control at the feel of George stretching out his insides, hitting him in a way that no cock ever has before. By the time he’s taken George in as far as he can, his insides feel like jelly and his thighs are literally quivering. He can feel George brushing against his prostate.
And just as Matty is trying his hardest not to completely lose his mind, George says one perfectly timed word:
“Bounce.”
Matty looks at him and feels like it’s the first time he has truly seen George. Which sounds ridiculous but is the truth. George looks gorgeous. His face is slightly flushed – his hair falling into his face, his eyes studying Matty as if he’s trying to memorise his features. This is his George, yes, kind, lovely George but now he’s also sexy, dark, commanding George. The juxtaposition leaves Matty feeling intoxicated.
Matty starts to move himself up, purposely clenching his arse, knowing that the drag on George’s cock feels amazing. And he’s right, George lets out a low “Fuck…” Encouraged, Matty grinds his hips forwards, making sure that George can feel every single inch of himself being held by Matty. He squeezes his arse again as he moves himself back down and repeats the movement. He’s just about to sink himself back down onto George’s lap fully when he sees it happen in real time – he witnesses the animalistic side of George take over, which is, he suddenly realises, exactly what he wants to happen. He wants George to lose control. He wants to be used.
George grips his hips tightly now and holds him steady. He fucks up into him with such force that the air is expelled from Matty’s lungs sharply and he cries out. George moans in response and thrusts again – hard, sharp. Matty gets the message. He starts bouncing properly now, loving the way George’s moans get louder and louder each time his ass connects with his hips.
“Fuck you feel amazing,” George is grunting now with the effort of his thrusts. “You like that? You like how I fuck you?”
Matty is very much enjoying how he’s being fucked but he can’t verbalise it, much and all as he wants to. He’s drooling everywhere. He cries out as George suddenly catches him by the mouth and forces his thick fingers inside. Matty responds and does his best to lick at his fingers as George continues to fuck up into him. He can feel the pressure of George inside him and he feels like he’s going to cum again, even though he has already given George every bit of cum he has.
He closes his eyes savouring the feeling of being fucked right as George fumbles with his mouth, moaning and groaning as he does so. Then suddenly, the gag goes slack and falls out of Matty’s mouth. Matty stops moving, surprised, and opens his eyes as George continues to ram himself into him.
“Tell me how much you want it, fuck,” George pants and Matty feels like he’s in the process of being reborn as he gasps George’s name loudly. George slams into him again and again, like something in perpetual motion, fucking to a rhythm only George can hear.
“Fuck George, fuck me. I want it. I want it so badly. Fuck me, please, fuck please,” Matty is babbling now. His jaw is killing him. His arse feels raw but despite it all, he can feel his orgasm rising up inside him as George fucks into him desperately. Somewhere along the way, Matty’s cock had come back to life and he’s surprised to find he’s hard as a rock as he bounces on George’s dick.
“Fill my ass with cum. Your cock feels so good. Please, ugh, fuck, oh my god,” Matty’s voice keeps cracking as he starts to lose control of himself for the second time that evening.
George slams into him even harder and Matty’s mind goes completely blank. He becomes fully empty. All he cares about is making George cum. That’s all he wants.
His second orgasm rips through him without warning and drags a scream (George’s name) from his throat as he spasms around George’s beautiful, thick cock. It’s was a dry orgasm but still feels amazing enough that Matty momentarily forgets who he is, where he is and his own name.
The sensation of Matty’s arse clenching rapidly around him is enough to tip George over the edge and Matty moans at the sensation as George’s dick twitches rapidly in his arse, spilling cum thickly right up inside him.
“Fuck, oh my god,” Matty shudders as George rides his orgasm out. He pants as he collapses back down onto George’s lap.
Silence falls. Matty feels like he has been in a boxing match his jaw is aching that badly.
As the afterglow starts to recede, George is the first to speak:
“I’m going to pull my dick out of you and you’re going to get up and stand there until every single bit of me has run out of you. Do you understand?”
Matty swallows and then nods.
He swears quietly as George pulls out of him and does as he was told. There’s something about being ordered around that thrills him and, he’s not going to lie, he loves the filthiness of it. If George wants to watch his cum pool on the nice hardwood floor, Matty is only too happy to oblige.
Matty stands, his insides jittering with aftershocks of arousal and a weird sense of anticipation as he watches George get dressed. When George is fully clothed he walks over to him and looks at the small trails of cum that are starting to snake their way down Matty’s inner thighs. He smirks and then looks at Matty.
“Have you thought about it?” he asks.
And Matty nods his head, yes.
“I’ve thought about it non-stop ever since that time I walked in on you getting out of the shower,” he admits and George rolls his eyes.
“I mean smoking,” he says and Matty could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of the question.
“No George, I haven’t thought about smoking once,” he says.
“It’s all thanks to Dick Like I Deliver,” George quips, returning to normal George – the George that Matty has known for years.
“You need to be employed by the NHS,” Matty says, jumping slightly as George smacks his arse.
“I don’t think they’d approve of my methods,” George says dryly.
Matty smirks and looks over his shoulder, following George’s movements as he goes to his bookshelf and pulls a packet of cigarettes out from behind a stereo. He had obviously been hiding them from Matty. Matty suddenly finds himself getting a bit emotional over that. George is a good friend. He’s also an excellent fuck. Excitement thrills up inside Matty at the thought and he can’t stop the smile that takes over his face.
“I know I shouldn’t ask… but do you want a smoke?” George tips the pack towards Matty.
And Matty nods, because after what just happened, he’s desperate for a fucking smoke. Besides, it’s always an excuse to tell George he needs help quitting again next week.