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abouttofillhisshoes · 18 hours

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Eat me // Strawberry Sorbet - Matty Healy pt.2

part three

A/N: genuinely took a lot out of me to write this, but i hope y'all like it!! Thanks @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff bae for being the cause of random spouts of inspiration (soz for spamming you, can't help it xx) Enjoy my loves❤️

content warnings: slightly suggestive, Matty being a man, cursing, sexist remarks

wc: 6k

“Matty, what the actual FUCK??”

Matty’s eyes snap open, vision slightly blurry as the bright lights of the walk-in fridge flood his senses. Scrambling to sit up straight, his hand narrowly misses the edge of the shelf, sending him tumbling down to the floor.

Clutching his shoulder, his eyes dart up to the source of the disruption. Ross. Red in the face and positively fuming, Matty feels a hand grab his arm, lugging him up to a standing position. Feeling slightly dizzy, he grabs onto Ross for balance, promptly being (rather violently) shoved off and towards the shelves stacked against the wall behind him.

“There is a full fucking house out there, and youre in the goddamn walk-in sleeping” his voice drips with rage. Matty looks at him, throwing his hands up apologetically before trying to scoot past. Ross’ hand stops him, pressing square into his chest.

“I dont give a shit where you were last night mate, but i will-” “Yeah, yeah, get off it now, i got the message.” Matty interrupts him, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder, gently moving him out of the way. Appalled at Matty’s nonchalance, Ross has no other choice but to stand there and watch him walk away and back onto the floor, swaying his hips ever so slightly.

“Fucking dickhead,” he mutters under his breath, before following suit, returning to his spot behind the bar.

Matty’s fridge naps were a rarity, but always happened at the worst possible times. Tonight was one of those times. The house was completely full, with Hann on the verge of yet another nervous breakdown, flipping through pages and trying desperately to find places to seat people. Waughy had migrated to the kitchen, and was now helping out George with an onslaught of orders.

Polly and Jamie rushed around the main space, almost running out of paper with the amount of orders they had to take. Gabriella had spontaneously called in sick, leaving six people to do the work of what seemed like twenty. And what had Matty been doing whilst chaos unfolded on the other side of the door? Sleeping off a wretched hangover.

Glancing at the clock, the time read six pm. Had he really slept for that long? Shaking his head, Matty pulled at his apron, checking his hair in the small mirror that hung on the wall next to the entrance to the kitchen. Bit messy, but at least he had shaved the day before. The grey streaking his hair seemed even more prominent now, standing out like a sore thumb.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, putting on his best customer service smile before relieving Jamie of covering both their sections. The look in Jamie’s eye could only be described as pure hatred, ignoring his attempt at a truce, smacking his hand away.

Walking up to a group of recently sat 20-something year old girls, he pulls out his notepad to take their orders. Giggles erupt as he shamelessly flirts with what he clocks is the leader of the group, a skinny, blonde woman, maybe about 24 or 25.

She bats her eyelashes at him, ordering five vodka martinis for the group, twirling her hair around her finger. Matty laughs inwardly before winking in her direction, turning around on his heel to walk up to that bar, putting the orders in.

“Nice to see you finally doing your job.” Ross comments, pouring an older looking gentleman a glass of whiskey. He glances over to the group of girls, all of them staring at Matty’s back.

“Looks like you got fangirls this evening, what's it like being fawned over everywhere you go?”

Matty leans against the counter, looking slyly over his shoulder.

“You sure know how to make a girl blush, mh?” Matty retorts, blowing kisses at a now even more annoyed Ross. He pours him the drinks, placing them on the platter. Matty spins around to bring the ladies their drinks, running a hand through his hair while making direct eye contact with the blonde from before.

“How about something to eat?” he purposefully lowers his voice, relishing in the attention and reactions he gets from the group. Once again, the blonde, also known as Ashley, orders for the table. Five Caesar salads, dressing on the side. Matty nods, noting down the order on his notepad. All eyes are on him as he turns to the kitchen, shooting Ross a provocative grin from across the room.

The kitchen is a hellscape, with meal tickets littering the counters and walls, George and Waughy up to their eyeballs in steak orders and essentially drowning in sauce. Fuck friday night.

“You alright, lads?” Matty asks, taping his tables order to the wall.

“Fuck do you think?” George spits back, gesturing to his sweat covered body, the heat of the stove getting to him.

Waughy is in the corner, frantically plating food and pouring soups into bowls, making sure everything is warm and ready to be sent out. Matty almost feels bad for them, before remembering that they don't have to deal with asshole customers all day. Thanking the two of them for their hard work, which causes George to raise an eyebrow at him, questioning his sincerity, Matty promptly leaves the sauna that is the kitchen, sighing in relief as the air conditioned atmosphere of the main hall kisses his skin.

Time stops when his eyes float over to the bar. Amongst the numerous people already sitting, he spots a certain someone he wasn't really expecting to see tonight. You.

Feeling his heart jump, he knows exactly what he needs to do. Rushing past his table of fangirls, he lifts the door to the back of the bar up, tapping Ross on the shoulder. An exasperated breath leaves his lips as he realsies who’s standing in front of him.

“Don't you have tables you need to tend to?” Ross asks, waving his hand at the six (all completely full) tables in his section. Matty sucks in a deep breath before speaking in a frantic voice.

“Ross, mate, swap with me.” He rolls his eyes, beginning to shake his head. “Please Ross, swap with me right now.” Matty begs, shaking him by the shoulders. Ross just frowns, refusing to go take his tables.

“Why do you want to-” “I'll give you fifty if you swap right now, no questions asked.” Now this makes him perk up, uncrossing his arms.

“Do you even have fifty? Last I checked, you had about six pence to your name.”

Matty scrambled around in his trousers pockets, producing a wad of cash. Smirking, he hands the man in front of him fifty pounds, and he reluctantly takes it.

“If you so much as undercharge even one shot, I will have your balls strung up as bells at the front door, you hear?” he threatens, pointing a finger right into Matty’s face.

“Remind me who the qualified bartender is? Youre lucky the coppers haven't shut this place down yet.” he chuckles, turning around, eyes meeting yours.

You light up at the sight of him, thinking maybe he wasn't working today. Matty quickly walks up the end of the bar, leaning forward on his elbows as you greet him quietly.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He says, his hands working on making your drink.

“Aperol Spritz, yeah?'' His grin is intoxicating, the gel in his hair shimmering under the orange lighting of the bar.

“You remembered.” your voice is small, and you know you sound overly sentimental. But how can you not? It's been almost two weeks since you had first laid eyes on each other, and you didn't even really expect him to remember you in the first place.

Matty could feel Ross’ eyes on him as he continued chatting with you up, handing you your drink. Pulled away by the same gentleman as before, he pours him another whiskey on the rocks, making sure to measure it out perfectly. The man thanks him, turnign back to the newspaper in his hand.

Matty spends the next 15 minutes taking various drink orders, mixing up fruity cocktails for college students, and pouring glasses of merlot for stressed moms on a night out. You studied him from the other end of the bar, watching how his hands gripped the bottles, strong forearms mixing and shaking ice and liquor. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing even more tattoos. It felt weird, ogling him like that, but you couldn't help yourself.

Minutes tick by, and Matty takes a glass from the shelf, pouring himself a whiskey on the rocks. Clinking his glass against the older man’s one, he takes out a tenner from his pocket, flashing it at Ross before putting it in the tip jar. Ross rolls his eyes, silently telling Matty that he shouldn't be drinking on the job. Matty discretely flips him off, brushing his hair out of his face.

“What's got a pretty thing like you drinking alone on a friday night? Boy troubles?” Matty asks you, finally done with the other customers. Blushing at the compliment, you shake your head, playing with the straw of your drink before taking another sip. He cocks an eyebrow at you, thrumming his fingers against the wooden surface of the bar.

“Nah, just lonely.” Matty perks up at the word. Lonely. You were alone. In other words, not taken.

You twirl the ice around, picking it out out sucking on the cold surface before crushing it in your mouth, the loud crunch oddly satisfying to your ears.

“God i fucking hate that.” Matty cringes at the sound of your teeth grinding against the ice, an involuntary shudder taking over his body.

“Oops, sorry.” you apologize, taking out another ice cube

His eyes are on you, darting between your hair, your eyes, and the ice cube between your lips. You suck on it lightly, the cold water coating your fingers. Matty feels his breath getting slightly shallow, a sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Aren’t you a server?” your words snap him out of it. He nods, explaining that he was, in fact, a licensed bartender. You already knew about Ross not actually having been trained, and you comment on how Matty’s drinks tasted far better.

He lets that go straight to his ego, making a mental note to rub it in Ross’ face later.

You finish off your drink, and Matty makes you a new one.

“Surprise me this time, will you?” He nods, starting to shake up various different liquids and pouring them into a tall glass. He makes a show of it, flexing his forearms when he knows you're looking, shooting you a wink whenever your eyes meet his.

“And.. there.” he presents to you a fruity looking concoction, topped with a cheesy umbrella. You cock your head, inspecting the glass.

“What is it?” you ask, taking a tentative sip.

“It's a sex on the beach! Have you seriously never had one?” you shake your head, humming in approval as the myriad of flavors hit your tongue.

“It tastes like juice.” you state, the alcohol barely present as you down almost half of it in one go. Matty swats you away, pulling the drink out of your reach for a second.

“Jesus, calm down, don't want you getting hammered on my watch.” You sigh, rolling your eyes when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket for what felt like the 17th time that night. Ignoring it, you turn back to Matty, tongue in cheek.

“Do you have a reason you don't want me to get drunk tonight?” You can see a faint blush dust his cheeks as he avoids your gaze.

“Do I have to?” a sly grin spreads onto his face, but the moment is crudely interrupted by Ross, who is speed walking up to the bar, looking like he’d just been through hell and back.

“Your fangirls want refills.” he sighs, setting the platter onto the counter, and you see Matty shake his head before grabbing the vodka, filling up each glass.

“Fangirls?” you question, confused as to what he meant. Ross gestures at the table of girls behind him, all looking at, you guessed it, Matty. Your eyes scan over the group, each more beautiful than the last. A pang of insecurity ripples through you, and you down the rest of your drink, taking out your phone to scroll while Matty hands Ross his drinks.

“The main one wants your number, but I told her to go ask you herself.” this catches your attention, and you crane your neck to the left, trying to figure out who he meant.

“People seem to think I'm like your secretary or something. Fuck me, you cant be that attractive.” Oh, he definitely can. Ross looks just about done with life, slapping on his best (fakest) customer service smile and walking back over to the table, almost tripping over Jamie’s feet.

Sure enough, not even thirty seconds later, a blonde girl sheepishly walks up to Matty, batting her eyelashes at him, pulling her lip between her teeth. Something stirs up inside of you, but you desperately push it down, bringing your attention back to your phone.

“A sex on the beach, please..” she throws her hair back, making sultry eye contact as Matty looks her up and down, slightly unimpressed, but not letting it show. “And your number?”

“Sorry, I don't know how to make one.” That's a lie, you were literally holding one in your hand, about six feet to her right. Why would he say that? Was it because of you?

You see her visibly deflate as he pointedly ignores her second question, smiling faintly before rolling her eyes and turning back to her friends, each of them glaring at Matty like he’d just smacked her in front of them.

“Should've given her your number, she's pretty.” you mumble, the straw in your mouth slowly disintegrating. Matty wanders over to you, surprised at your comment. His expression is indecipherable, and you watch as he places the glass in his hands down, leaning onto his elbows as his face comes incredibly close to yours.

“Not as pretty as you though, is she?” he winks at you, a provocative grin spreading onto his face. You stutter over your words, not exactly sure what to say to that, his boldness making you take a second to gawk at him.

“Make me another drink.” you say, pushing the empty glass towards him. He smiles sweetly, going back to his various bottles of liquor, though quickly being distracted by a young man flagging him down from the other end of the bar. Snapping his fingers and waving like a lunatic, Matty finally gets to him, asking him what he would like.

“What's that bird over there drinking?” he points at you, oblivious to the whole situation. Matty eyes him up and down, telling the man your drink order. Something lights up inside of him, and he starts feeling oddly protective, not wanting you to interact with this guy at all.

“She’s having an aperol spritz.” the waiter says dryly, not even looking at the rather short stranger in front of him. A chuckles escapes his lips as his eyes rake over your frame from a distance, unabashedly checking you out. Matty goes to leave, hoping the man was done, but is quickly halted by an aggressive tap on the counter.

“So then, a vodka coke for me, and send over a drink to her, will you? Tell her it's from me.” The request makes Mattys blood boil, and every little part of him screams to just walk away, that the money lost would be worth it. He almost ignores him, but he catches Ross’ gaze on him all the way from table three, pointed eyes making sure he was on his best behavior.

“Sure, mate, that’ll do.” Matty is forced to serve him, making both drinks with huffy breaths and an eye roll or two as he continues staring like a creep. So maybe he overcharges him a bit, making him pay the price of a double when he’d ordered a single. Where was the harm in that? It's not like the place was swimming in money, and this guy clearly deserved it with the way his hungry eyes were looking at his favorite customer.

Sliding his drink over to him, Matty struts over to you, basically smashing the drink onto the surface of the counter. You jump, fumbling your phone until you drop it into your lap, looking up at Matty with a well pissed expression.

“This is from that bloke over there.” He vaguely gestures to the man sitting on the last barstool, and you see him smirk at you. You politely nod your head, but your fingers don't move from their spot in your lap, opting to fold them over each other atop the smooth surface of the bar.

“Tell him I appreciate it, but I'm not interested.” “What, really? Why?” Matty sounds genuinely curious, seeing as he himself never turns down a free drink and some friendly conversation. You simply shake your head, averting your gaze as to not have to look at the man who had sent you the drink.

“Sorry mate, she’s not interested.” Matty states, unable to hide the joy from his voice. The stranger simply rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Mattys ears perk up when he makes out the end of the sentence.

“Frigid bitch, waste of my goddamn money..” he scratches the back of his neck, sighing annoyedly before making a move to get up.

“What did you just say?” Mattys voice is firm, unmoving. He was not about to let some random bloke speak about you like that, especially not right in front of him.

“Mhm? What d’you want?”

“What did you just say about her?” he repeats himself, setting down the glass that he was currently holding in his hands, knowing he would feel the urge to chuck it at the asshole in front of him in the next three seconds.

“Women these days are so ungrateful, I buy her a drink and she won't even look at me.” he mumbles again, brushing off his coat. Ross sees Matty absolutely fuming, recognising pure, unfiltered rage in his eyes. You? Ungrateful? Far from it. Mattys mind started cooking up various insults to throw at the man, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side.

“Everything alright over here?” Ross’ voice cuts through the blaring silence between the two men, setting a cautious hand on Mattys shoulder, grounding him. The man simply nods, shooting Matty a weird look, before walking straight out the door.

“What was all that about, you looked like you were about five seconds away from clocking him in the face.” he tried to sound lighthearted, but the waiter simply pushed him away, trying to get back to work.

“You have to tell me.” Ross adds, refusing to leave Matty alone. He flips him off, going back to rinsing glasses in the sink under the bar.

He feels your eyes on him, watching his every move. Your presence might’ve been the only thing keeping him from dragging the guy out and curb stomping him in front of the restaurant. Now, Matty wasn't a particularly violent man, but assholes like him deserved to be strung up.

“Sexist dickhead said something about her.” he nudges his head in your direction, and you jump when Ross suddenly turns to look at you.

“Was gonna teach him a lesson before you rudely interrupted me.”

“Who is she?” The question is like a bucket of cold water.

“No one.” he answers, not wanting Ross to put the pieces together. He knew George had told him about the sneaky fudge, but neither of them had made the connection yet. Adam, being a complete saint, flagged down Ross to the host stand, getting him to deal with an annoying customer, which meant he finally went away.

In an attempt to change his own mood, Matty sneaks off into the kitchen once again, hoping and praying he’d be back before Ross or Hann noticed. Tables were overflowing with guests, most of them business dinners or groups of people on a night out. The lights seemed even dimmer than usual, but that was just because Matty had gotten used to the bright light that hung right over the bar.

“George?” He shouts before he even turns the corner, not wanting to accidentally run into Waughy with a tray full of already set plates.

“Yeah?” The chef's deep voice rings through the kitchen, frustration evident in it. Matty slowly walks up to him, his face giving him away before he even opens his mouth.

“What do you want?” trying to think of the best way to go about this, Matty lets a few beats of silence pass between the two of them, giving George ample time to finish what he was doing.

“Can you make me a strawberry sorbet?” a familiar grin spreads onto George's face, and Matty rolls his eyes, silently begging him not to say it.

“Is it for your girl?”

“If I say it is, will you make it for me?”

The taunting grin doesn’t falter, and the blonde man stands up straight, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Say it.”

“Fucking hell, yes, its for my girl.” Matty huffs out, glaring up at him.

He’s quick to fulfill Mattys request, grabbing a clear crystal bowl from the cupboard, scoping two scoops of pink strawberry ice cream into it.

“What's her name then?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“She hasn't told me yet.” Matty sounds almost sad, the fact that he didn't even know how to address made a small part of him ache. Pushing the feeling down, he watches as George drizzles sweet chocolate in the form of a heart onto the dessert, handing it to him.

“You have to find out who she is, if she's got you running around getting free food for her.”

“Fuck off, how do you know she not paying?” George eyes him up and down before answering.

“If she were, Jamie or Polly would be in here, not you. I know you're behind the bar tonight, even if you think you're sneaky”

Fuck, he’s caught. Rolling his eyes again, he lightly shoves George, quietly thanking him before pushing the doors leading to the main hall open.

He spots you, still sitting where he left you, talking on the phone. Mesmerized, he stops and stares, eyeing you up and down, watching you speak. The way your lips move and your mouth tugs up into a smile as you chat animatedly to the other person on the phone makes him grin as he slowly makes his way across the room, stopping right infront of you.

By that point you had already seen him, quickly hanging up and tucking your phone back into your pocket, wide eyes following him as he moved towards you. Brushing your hair out of your face, you sit up straighter, arching your back ever so slightly.

“Here darling, I hope you like it.'' He sounds genuine, deliberately lingering as he hands you the bowl, the glass cold in your hands.

“I’d say it wasn't necessary, but you’ll just ignore me right?” he nods, leaning against the high counter as he peers down at you expectantly.

You get the message, picking up the spoon that was elegantly placed right beside the sorbet. Raising your eyebrows at the heart shaped chocolate, you stifle a giggle before touching the spoon to your lips, letting the ice cream melt in your mouth.

Matty thought he was slick, the way his eyes watched your mouth with such an intensity, you felt your skin burning under his gaze. Lapping up the remnants of ice cream from the spoon, you make direct eye contact with Matty, grinning knowingly. He had a game, and you were just a willing participant, setting the utensil down before licking your lips, humming at the sweet sugary taste of the chocolate.

“I like it.'' You debate bringing George into this, to tease Matty further, but the sight of his chest heaving and arm flexing against the wood of the bar was enough for you. He just looks at you, taking deep breaths to steady himself, reaching up to adjust his nametag.

“You really don't have to bring me free shit, I can pay you know.” he smirks, and you feel his whole demeanor change.

“I know you can, but what would that make me? You’re already spoiling me too much, darling.” his arms are now firmly crossed over his chest, taking a small step towards you.

“Speaking of darling, that’s getting a bit old, innit? I’d much rather know your actual name.”

Pretending to think about it, you lean your chin onto the palm of your hand, playing with the rapidly melting sorbet. You finally give in, telling him your name, watching his eyes light up.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl, mh.” he numbles, almost to himself. But alas, all good things must come to an end, including this little interaction. You see Matty jump as Ross seems to spawn out of nowhere, scaring the shit out of him

“Fucking hell Matty, im gonna have to fire you if you dont get your shit together.” he interrupts, grabbing Matty by the collar of his shirt, lugging him backwards. He yelps, grasping at his shoulder, a pained expression spreading onto his face.

“He’s very sorry for hassling you Miss, he’s going to leave you alone now.” you smile gently at a visibly stressed Ross, nodding your head before turning your attention back to Matty, who was already lifting up the bar door in defeat, shooting his mate an apologetic look.

“Alright alright, I'm going. Look!” He recklessly waves a bottle of tequila around before walking up to a woman, taking her drink order. Ross looks at you one last time, almost as if trying to commit your features to memory, before finally disappearing into the kitchen, the doors swinging harshly at the force of his entrance.

Minutes pass, and Matty busies himself with other customers, pouring drinks and handing bills to people ready to close out. The song playing softly in the background changes, a jazzy number coming on, filling the room. Feeling at ease, you lean back slightly, letting yourself fully relax.

You sit and watch, just like you did before. Matty moves around so fluidly, mixing drinks and handling glass and silverware like he was born to do it, almost like an art form. Sweat beads on his forehead, making his skin glow in the light, the grey in his hair now even more visible.

Matty mentally curses at Ross for getting between the two of you. He knew he had to actually contribute something to the restaurant, but you were far too interesting to just ignore. Out of nowhere, Matty spots George. Now, George wasnt meant to leave the kitchen, and he was ready to go up to him and tell him to fuck off, but something stopped him. Ross was right next to him, and was pointing at something. You. Fuckkkk

Panic fills his eyes as he tries to get either of their attention, trying to stop you from noticing. They speak in hushed voices, giggles escaping their lips as they piece the puzzle together. George and Ross had figured him out, and it was only a matter of time before Hann knew as well. Glancing over to you, he sighs in relief, seeing you completely engrossed in your phone, blissfully unaware of Mattys worst nightmare unfolding right in front of him.

Torn between going to them to tell them to fuck off, and shielding you from their inevitable comments, his eyes dart between both options, eventually landing on the crowd of customers right infront of him

Pouring a lady her amaretto sour, he smiles as best he can as she hands him a tenner, telling him to keep the cash. He thanks her, eyes looking right past her head and glaring at his mates, who were actively plotting his demise.

Conjuring up a plan to keep as much distance between you and his mates as possible, he strolls up to you, drawing your attention to himself. He silently begs you to ask for the check, and by god's good graces, you do.

“You better put that sorbet on the bill.” you say halfheartedly, grinning up at him.

“We both know i wont.” rolling your eyes, you look for your wallet, fumbling around for it in your purse. You don't notice Matty grabbing his pen from his apron, scrawling something onto the paper in front of you.

Pulling out two twenty pound notes, you straighten it out a bit before handing him the money. You raise your eyebrows as you notice his erratic handwriting right beneath the total.

Little do you know, Mattys heart is beating about a thousand miles an hour as he sees your eyes dart across the words, your expression remaining neutral.

“I tell you I can visualize it all, too real, it all seems.”

you read it out loud, your voice smooth, making Mattys breath hitch slightly. He wrings his hands behind his back, his tall frame casting a small shadow over the surface in front of you

“Whats this?” you ask, turning the receipt around so he can see. Noticing his slightly nervous demeanor, you smile reassuringly, waiting for his answer.

“I write songs, just thought you might like this one” your heart warms, he did seem like the creative type, even if he did look like he hasn't laid hands on a book since year 8. Scruffy and maybe even a bit dirty, no one was necessarily mistaking him for a seasoned academic. Not that you were complaining, though, his messy hair and wrinkled shirts did unspeakable things to you. A thousand questions go through your mind, but you settle on just one.

“When will I get the rest?”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, words getting caught in his throat.

The rest. Was there even a rest? He’d write you as many songs as you wanted, about anything you could ever dream of.

Dreams. Mattys dreams.

Dreams filled with passion, naked skin, hot whispers, high pitched moans that belonged to you.

Matty, even as an artist, was incredibly out of touch with his emotions, opting to shove them down as far as they could go, never properly feeling. This had a tendency to make him difficult to be with, his inability to communicate driving all girlfriends and lovers away. But hey, who needs communication anyway? It's much easier being a tortured songwriter in a tiny flat in western London, living off of cigarettes and the odd pre-packaged sandwich.

So, love– not exactly Mattys forté.

Snapping back to the present, he just stares at you, words forming in his mouth, being erased before he could even voice them.

Your question lingered in the air, and suddenly the space felt small, like it was only two of you in the room. He finally speaks

“Come back.”

He knew he’d said it too fast, sounding too desperate. His flirty, indifferent façde slips for the first time. He scrambles to pull himself together, straightening his back, grinning at you as best he could, trying to play it off.

You smile slightly, thumbing the ink on the paper, running your fingers over the smooth surface of it. You read it again, once, twice, before finally answering.

“Do you want me to?” you deflect, batting your eyelashes at Matty, trying to elicit a reaction. Something, anything.

“I do.”

All you can do is nod, neatly folding up the paper and sticking in your pocket.

“I need to go, but it was nice talking to you, Matty.” The way his name rolls off of your tongue makes his head spin as he spits out an answer.

“See you, darling, don't forget me.” he winks at you, waving as you stand up from the barstool, grabbing your bag. The goodbye is short, no further quips from either of you. Matty watches you go, the length of your coat covering most of your body, swaying with your movements.

Once you're out of sight, Matty feels an arm around his shoulder, immediately recognising it as Georges. Fuckk.

“That's your girl?”

“Fuck off.”

Giggles erupt from Ross, who was hiding behind the blonde man essentially holding him hostage, continuing his interrogation.

“You think you can hide this from us? Nice try, but we know everything.” he prolongs the last word of his sentence, wiggling his eyebrows at him. Matty groans in exasperation, trying to get free from George's iron grip. No use, he just ends up looking like a complete idiot.

“Do you at least know her name?” George asks, glancing at the stool where you had just been sitting, your full aperol spritz still sitting there. Matty nods, refusing to elaborate.

“She is pretty, but really? Doesn't really seem like your type.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Matty sounds offended, not appreciating the comment on his taste in women. You were interesting to him, able to keep up with his incessant flirting and cheesy pick up lines, never faltering.

“It means, you usually go for the ditzy ones.” George laughs hysterically, drawing unwanted attention from guests trying to enjoy their meals.

While true, Matty knew you were nothing like that. You were different. New.

“For the sixth time this evening, fuck off forever please.”

With that, he's finally left alone. The barstools were now mostly empty, and Matty got to picking up dishes and washing them under the sink. Moving down the line, it takes about fifteen minutes before he gets to where you were sitting.

There were two glasses left. The one you had gotten from the stranger, still completely untouched, and one empty one.

What caught his eye wasn't the wet ring it left on the table due to your lack of coaster, but the red mark od lipstick around the rim

Though the drink came with a straw, Ross had gotten these cheap, paper straws that disintegrated if you even looked at them too hard, which forced you to drink straight from the glass.

He eyed the imprint, committing the shape of your lips to memory. Rinsing the glass, he let his mind wander.

The way your lips moved when you talked, especially when it was something you found interesting. The way your eyes crinkled around your eyes whenever he said something particularly scandalous, all just to watch the blush spread onto your face.

The sound of your laughter was his favorite. He relished in it.

Even if you thought you were sneaky, Matty was fully aware of your staring when you thought he wasn't paying attention, eyes raking over his body from a distance, taking in every fold of his shirt, every flex of his arm, even the way his slacks clung to him in all the right places.

But now, every time he hears the bells chime, and the door creaks open, he hopes it's you. Your face, your body, your presence. He wanted you with him, even if only in short intervals. Anything you gave him was enough, his only goal when you were around was to hear the sound of your angelic laughter, or see you attempt to hide the redness of your face whenever he shot you a provocative wink.

There still wasn't anything real. Matty didn't know if he wanted anything real, but there was a nagging feeling in his chest that wouldn't leave the thought be. Like always, he pushes it down, refusing to acknowledge it. It didn't matter, it didn't matter.

A pathetic attempt at avoiding his own mind, Matty announces his smoke break, grabbing his coat and quickly shoving past Ross before he could stop him.

Leaning against the cold brick wall of the alleyway behind the restaurant, smoke spilled from his mouth, the nicotine quickly calming him down. A quick fix, a break from, in his opinion, unnecessary thoughts. Unnecessary feelings. Feelings?

The realization dawns on him. Feelings. Emotions. Want. Lust. Everything boiled down to one singular fact:

He has feelings for you.

“Fuckkk.” he groans, the sound of his voice echoing in the cramped alleyway.

This never ended well.

#the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy fluff #matty heal x reader #matty healy x you #matty x you #waiter! matty

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slytherinslut0 · 5 months

Text

Why Not Both.

PAIRING: Mattheo Riddle x Reader x Theodore Nott

INFO: Lucius Malfoy, fueled by disdain for your family's wealth and competitive Pureblood status, makes an unwanted advance at a public event. Fortunately, two old friends from your Hogwarts days come to your rescue, and grateful for their intervention, you seek a meaningful way to express your thanks.

TAGS: 18+, THREESOME. complete filth. slight sexual aggression/unwanted touching, violence, an ungodly amount of flirting, SMUT, fingering, hickeys, drug use, mentions of blood, throat fucking, oral(mrec), piv, degradation kink, praise kink, italian!theo.

"Please, for the love of all things magical, conduct yourself appropriately tonight, figlia."

Hidden behind the obscurity of your tinted black sunglasses, you executed an eye roll so pronounced you half-expected your eyes to vanish into the depths of your skull. The subtle percussion of your tongue against the back of your teeth preceded the moment as you composed yourself enough to deliver a response.

"I already told you," you retorted, curtly. "I'll play nice if he does."

Your father reciprocated the eye roll, reclining back against the supple leather of the limousine seat with an irritated huff. His gaze lingered on you, a silent calculation etched across his face, contemplating what tempting offer might sway you into comportment. He knew that you were not going to make it out of this gathering alive if you let your attitude get the best of you.

"What's the price tag this time, hm?" He tutted, fingers deftly adjusting his tie while sharing an anxious glance with your mother, perched nervously beside him. "A new purse? Some shoes, perhaps? Or are we gunning for another car?"

Suppressing a smirk, you lowered your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, casting a pointed gaze over their rim at him.

"Are you seriously resorting to bribery, padre?" The feigned disbelief laced your voice, but your mother's glare sliced through it like a knife--a silent command to hush, one you chose to disregard. Adjusting your glasses, you exhaled a theatrically exasperated sigh. "Your lack of faith in me is genuinely disheartening. I assure you nothing but the epitome of professionalism from me tonight."

"Stronzate," (bullshit) your father snapped back, his eyes smouldering with a frustration intense enough to sear through your facade, clearly fed up with your antics. "Last time you peddled that line, you ended up with Lucius Malfoy's hand around your throat during what was supposed to be an informal business dinner."

You scoffed, a smirk playing on your lips before you could restrain it. "Not my fault that lunatic can't handle the damn truth. Would you prefer I let him take advantage of you? Step on you like a fucking cockroach?"

"Listen to me," he shifted to the edge of the limousine seat, his elbows finding a perch on his knees, hands firmly clasped together. Leaning forward, his gaze locked onto yours, his serious demeanor demanding your full focus. "Just because we have money doesn't mean I will bail you out if you happen to land yourself behind bars tonight. Do not fuck with the Malfoy's, figlia, I mean it."

"You sound afraid of him," you fired back, your expression a stoic mask, unruffled. "I wonder how your esteemed associates would feel about that...one of the wealthiest Pureblood wizards...intimidated by a bleached blonde-"

"Enough," he exhaled, weariness tainting his tone as he implored, "For Merlin's sake, behave your age for once--just tell me what you want."

Pouring a measured amount of champagne, he lifted the glass to his lips, the subtle clink echoing a blend of frustration and reluctant acceptance in his gaze. You huffed, reaching into your purse and retrieving your lip gloss and flip-open mirror. As you leisurely applied it, your thoughts raced, contemplating what might rein you in.

"I want him to stop mentally undressing me in front of his wife," you declared bluntly. "It's just plain rude."

Tossing your lipgloss and mirror back into your purse, a ripple of annoyance traversed your father's features, his countenance ready to unleash a torrent of reprimands in Italian, ones you'd heard a countless number of times before. It didn't take much to get under your father's skin.

However, before the first word could escape, your mother intervened with a firm, "Cut that out, figlia--just answer the bloody question."

Her intervention carried the weight of both authority and exasperation, effectively halting the imminent linguistic storm your father was about to unleash. With another dramatic eye roll and a matching huff of irritation, you straightened out against the leather, flattening the fabric of your tight black dress out against your thighs.

"Fine," you ground out through clenched teeth. With your chin defiantly raised, your gaze flicked back and forth between your parents. "Bags. A new Fendi, a replacement for the Christian I lost, and another Prada."

Your father grumbled something discontented in Italian, the disappointment clearly etched across his features as he parted his lips to respond; his brows pinched so tight it looked painful--until your mother swiftly raised a calming hand, quelling the potential storm.

Turning her eyes to you, she wore a wry smile and declared, "Deal."

A devilish smirk played across your lips as you nodded in agreement, satisfaction colouring your calculated arrangements. Handbags were hardly a necessity, considering you already owned more than you knew what to do with--but, if your father was determined to buy your silence, to keep you from retaliating against the biggest assholes in the entire wizarding world, one of whom was intent on tearing down your family's name out of sheer jealousy--then the price wasn't going to come cheap.

As the limo glided to a stop outside the opulent venue, you composed yourself, aware that tonight meant facing a sea of influential figures. Pureblood wizards--from the Nott family to the Riddles, the Malfoys, and the Berkshires--were all gathered at this prestigious ball, amongst many others. You knew tonight carried immense importance for your family, and you harboured every intention of keeping your opinions in check, and keeping your mouth shut.

But you couldn't say the same about your legs.

Stepping gracefully from the limousine, the resonance of your red stilettos hitting the cobblestones beneath them echoed in sophistication. A subtle adjustment of your dress against your thighs preceded your purposeful stride toward the entrance. Cameras relentlessly flashed from all angles, rendering the protective shield of your sunglasses almost futile against their blinding onslaught.

Squinting, you ascended the velvet stairs, only to feel a sizable hand rest on the small of your back, accompanied by a honey-like drawl in your ear.

"Easy there, Bella...we wouldn't want that perfect ass meeting the cobbles, now would we?"

You scoffed, your smirk undeniable. Turning your head, you caught a glimpse of the charming Italian boy you hadn't seen since graduation. The desire to fling yourself into his arms simmered within, yet you reserved such greetings for the more private confines indoors.

"Gods, how I've missed that sexy voice of yours," you teased, a pleasant warmth enveloping you at the sight of him. Clad in a crisp black suit, his hair styled to perfection with light stubble grooming him nicely--he looked even better than your memory served. "Remind me to grant you a proper kiss once we're inside."

"Missed more than just the voice, I hope," he quipped, a smug grin playing on his lips. Adjusting his suit jacket with a casual flair, he leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "Inside or outside, Bella, I'm not one to decline such tempting offers."

"Believe me, I'm keenly aware," you retorted, a sly grin playing on your lips. "You never were good at resisting temptation."

"Can't resist the irresistible, principessa," he replied, his tone laden with a provocative confidence. "I'd take your ass right here if you asked."

"Aren't you as bold as ever," you quipped, a grin playing on your lips as you finally reached the grand double doors. Theo's hand reluctantly left your back as he positioned himself behind you, gently ushering you forward. "Perhaps you could at least buy me a drink first?"

He huffed. "Anything you want--it's yours, angioletta."

Theodore graced your ass with a subtle smack as the two of you glided into the grand ballroom, its excessive expanse pulsating with the energy of wizards and witches converging from every corner of the globe. The occasion? A celebration for the new Minister of Magic--a matter that scarcely held your interest. The real allure? A night to revel in intoxication and reconnect with the charming Slytherin boys you'd wanted to see since graduation.

And here you were, the night only just unfolding, already engaged in a provocative exchange with one of the men you'd been yearning for. His hand rested tantalizingly low on your back, skillfully guiding you through the bustling crowd.

You drew nearer to Theodore as the two of you continued weaving through the crowd, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "My parents gave me strict orders to steer clear of the Malfoys tonight, specifically Lucius."

"Huh, can't say I'm shocked," Theo chuckled, his grin stretching across his cheeks. "After that little incident at the meeting, I'm surprised they're letting you share the same room with him."

"So you heard about that." A flush warmed your face as you peeked at him over the edge of your sunglasses. "Was I really that terrible?"

He cast you a sidelong glance, his eyes twinkling. "Let's just say, your mouth has a reputation for getting you into quite a bit of trouble."

"Maybe," you quipped, your gaze confidently drifting towards the bar across the room. "Then again, it's also been known for getting me out of a fair bit of trouble."

Theo slipped behind you as you navigated through a cluster of witches, their dazzling diamond necklaces almost blinding, even through your shades.

"Mm, I wouldn't doubt it," he husked, the audible smirk in his voice. "That mouth of yours has its own set of skills, Bella...some men just can't handle it."

"Well, lucky for me, I prefer those who can handle a little challenge," you purred, turning to shoot him a sultry glance over your shoulder. "I intend on staying far, far away from him tonight."

"As much as I want to take your word for that..." he replied with a sly grin, cocking an eyebrow. "We both know how you are."

As the two of you finally reached the bar, a dazzling array of diamond bottles adorned the shelves against the wall. The counter, a masterpiece of ornate gold foiling on a white marbled surface, beckoned with an air of opulence. Theodore leaned over it, flashing a cheeky grin at the bartender.

"Two glasses of Dom Pérignon champagne," he requested smoothly, the words gliding off his tongue like silk, "per favore e grazie."

"Dom Pérignon?" Your jaw fell open, and you drew your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose to look at him. That champagne was over three hundred dollars a fucking glass. "Are you trying to get me to fuck you, or fall in love with you?"

He choked, snorting at your bluntness. "Why not both?”

Your grin was untameable as Theo's laughter resonated through the bustling room. Collecting himself, he accepted the glasses from the bartender, presenting one to you with a deviously charming grin. His eyes sparkled with desire as they traced the curve of your lips, before falling to observe the way your red-manicured nails delicately wrapped around the crystal glass.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he met your gaze again, his smirk growing wider. "Not to burst my own bubble or anything...but if it weren't for my parents picking up the tab, we'd be toasting with sparkling cider."

A soft laugh escaped you at his cheeky admission, and you raised your glass to meet his with a playful clink. "To your parents' tab."

As you toasted, you couldn't help but savour the familiar charm that had always intrigued you about him. Despite the magnetic connection and your undeniable attraction, the boundary between friendship and something more had remained uncharted territory throughout your school years.

You had every single intention of changing that, tonight.

As the liquid elegance glided down your throat, leaving behind a lingering warmth steeped in opulence, you held Theo's gaze as you lowered your glass, acutely aware that his eyes had yet to stray from yours. Taking a measured step closer, you tilted your head back slightly, maintaining the captivating connection as you closed the distance between your bodies.

"I believe there's still something I owe you, hm?" you purred, your voice a sultry whisper. "And perhaps...given the circumstances," you gestured to the expensive champagne in your hand, moistening your lips, "I might now owe you more."

Theo's response was a low, husky chuckle as his free hand found its place on your hip. His fingers pressed into your side with a possessive grip, while the hand clutching the glass tightened, threatening to shatter within his fingers.

Spurred on, you continued. "Unless, of course, we consider it a mere indulgence on your parents' generous tab...either way-"

"Oh no, no," he interrupted with a knowing tut, his gaze piercing through half-lidded eyes. "My parents appreciate repayment just as much as I do...consider me their collector."

"Mm," you breathed, red fingernails on your free hand trailing up his chest. "I suppose I better get to work, then, hm?"

His response was a low huff, a smouldering spark in his eyes. "Dio mi aiuti..."

A smirk played on your lips, a rush of heat colouring your face as his teasing plea to God sent a surge of desire through your thighs. Gliding your fingers higher up his chest, you seized his tie, drawing his mouth down to yours in a deliberate, unhurried kiss. With no sense of urgency, you explored his mouth, savouring the moment for all it was worth.

Until, abruptly, a curt voice sliced through the charged air, instantly extinguishing the flames that had been blazing between you and Theo. The sound made you want to vomit near instantly, the feigned niceness in its tone grating on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard. You knew there was only one fucking man a voice that sickening could ever belong to.

"Well, isn't that just adorable...young love in all its glory," he sneered, and as you and Theo reluctantly pulled away from each other, you released your grip on his tie, taking a measured step back. "...never thought you'd be able to find someone who would put up with that attitude of yours...colour me shocked. "

As your gaze met the tall, arrogant blonde man peering down at you, you bit your tongue hard enough to taste the metallic tang of blood. His eye twitched as he shamelessly scanned your body, tracing over every curve and inch of body that his evil gaze could find. You were grateful for your sunglasses now more than ever, as they perfectly concealed the intense eye roll you were directing at him.

And then, just as you were poised to respond, you caught sight of his son, Draco Malfoy, and his nephew, Mattheo Riddle, two more of your old housemates. Draco, accompanied by his wife, Astoria Greengrass, sauntered up beside his father. Each of their eyes widening in disbelief at the unexpected sight of you.

As Mattheo Riddle approached, clad in a crisp black suit and tie, his curly brown hair framing gleaming dark eyes and a strong jawline, your body ignited once more. The charm he exuded brought forth a desire you had worked extremely fucking hard to suppress during your school days, now resurfacing with an intensity that left you breathless.

"Holy shit," Mattheo breathed, moistening his lips as his dark eyes roamed over you from head to toe. He pulled you in for a hug, the smell of his cologne filling your nostrils and making your head spin without effort. Against your neck, he muttered. "Now that's a fucking sight for sore eyes."

Heat flooded your veins, spurred on by the sight of him and his compliment. You let your hand rub tender circles into his back, feeling the taut muscle tense beneath your touch.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Riddle," you purred against his ear, your grin impossible to conceal, the warmth of his embrace intensifying the heat that flooded your veins. "I see your charm hasn't lost its touch...surprised you're not locked down yet."

"Never been more glad that I'm not," his hand slid lower, finding the small of your back, calloused palms catching on the fabric. "You're leaving very little to the imagination, wearing this..."

"Little something to fuel those late-night thoughts," you murmured, your voice a sensual drawl, heat rolling off your tongue, overflowing your veins. "Better enjoy the view while you can."

"Mm," his hand found your ass, giving it a harsh squeeze. "Don't doubt that I will."

As Mattheo finally pulled away, stepping over toward Theo and embracing him in a bro-hug, Lucius peered down at him in disgust. The atmosphere was filled with the low hum of conversation as Theo, Draco, and Astoria were deep in discussion.

Lucius was busy rambling on to Theodore's father, who had now also joined the group, seemingly oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface--but then abruptly shifted his attention to his nephew.

A wry huff of arrogance escaped him. "Do you possess any self-control?"

"Some, on a typical day," Mattheo replied, undisturbed, and with his gaze drifting back to you, he smirked. "Currently, almost none.”

"Right." Lucius' voice was flat, devoid of any emotion as he turned back to you. "Where are your parents? I've been needing to discuss some things with your father."

"They're around," you replied flatly, taking another sip of champagne, determined to deflect his probing. "I'm sure you'll run into them eventually; no one would ever dare ignore you, Lucius."

"A compliment from you? How peculiar." Lucius tilted his head slightly, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Similar to your father's recent behaviour...I must say he has been raising a few eyebrows lately."

"And how is that any concern of mine?" you retorted, your tone laced with partially-restrained irritation. "I don't keep tabs on my father's every move. Perhaps you should address him directly with your concerns."

"Perhaps." He smirked, his gaze lingering on you as he stepped closer--Theo, Mattheo, Astoria and Draco lost in their own conversation now. "But I believe you're easier to talk to, more...amenable."

Your eyes narrowed at his implication, but you maintained a stoic exterior. "I have no interest in entertaining conversation with you."

As he closed the distance, his gaze briefly shifted to the boys beside you, ensuring they were sufficiently distracted before refocusing on you.

"You should," he murmured, an insidious charm lacing his words. "You should want to hear what I have to say."

"Your arrogance is outstanding." Through gritted teeth, you practically snarled at him, "Get to the point."

"Your father has been dabbling in rather dubious dealings of late. It reflects poorly on me and those associated with him." Lucius leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur filled with calculated venom. "If something doesn't change, I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands."

"I try my best to stay out of my father's business," your pulse quickened, a surge of anger coursing through your veins, the air around you growing tenser with each passing second. "But, if I'm being honest, Lucius, I don't appreciate the way you're running your mouth. My parents-"

"Ah, ah," he raised a hand, silencing you. "You'd do well to remember your place, little witch." Lucius's eyes glinted with a sadistic satisfaction, and a smirk played on his lips. "Though I do suggest you start caring about your father's affairs; it might save you from the consequences of his foolish actions."

"I never asked for your advice," you hissed, the thread of restraint in your voice now frayed. "But if we're trading favours, I suggest you leave me the fuck alone before this gets ugly."

Lucius eradicated the remaining space between you, his imposing presence sending a shiver down your spine, the strong scent of whiskey enveloping you. Your gaze remained locked with his, refusing to yield, but as he leaned in, your body tensed. His lips brushed your ear, and you swallowed, fighting the discomfort.

"Women shouldn't curse, little witch, it isn't very ladylike..." he sneered, his voice dripping with vindictive amusement, the words crawling over your skin. "Perhaps your parents failed to teach you that? Amongst other things, it seems..."

You fought the urge to retch. "Get fucked, Lucius."

He huffed, his touch ghosting your hip as he muttered, "I just might."

The moment you felt his fingers graze your body, your hand rose instinctively, before you even had a chance to process it--delivering a swift slap to his cheek, making his head whip to the side, blonde locks flinging upon impact. A moment of tense silence hung in the air as you watched the anger seep into his features, witnessing his eyes darken with fury. Mimicking a move he'd pulled on you before, he seized your jaw, forcing your back against the edge of the bar.

But then, before he could utter a word, the scene unfolded like a rapid, chaotic dance. Strong hands forcefully grappled his shoulders, ripping him away from you within an instant.

"Keep your fucking hands off of her." It was Theodore's voice. Followed instantly by Mattheo's. "The fuck is wrong with you."

In the blink of an eye, Theodore was in action, hooking his arms around Lucius to restrain him, while Mattheo, fueled by raw anger, threw a powerful punch that landed square on Lucius' jaw. The room buzzed with gasps and whispers, the unexpected altercation taking center stage in the glamorous event.

Your stomach fell dramatically. There goes the handbags you'd bargained for.

As Lucius seethed with fury, he forcibly pulled himself out of Theodore's grasp, retaliating by landing a punch on his nephew. The impact split the skin over the bridge of Mattheo's nose, but undeterred, Mattheo swiftly retaliated with another punch, forcing Draco to step in and restrain him.

Sensing the escalating tension, you rushed forward, attempting to break up the skirmish. However, Draco hissed at you, his arm darting out to halt you, eyes narrowing in warning, "Just get out of here. You've done enough damage."

"Are you kidding me?" you snapped back, the clink of your glass punctuating your frustration as you discarded it on the bar. "You've always been a sickening little daddy's boy--wake the fuck up, Draco. Your father is an absolute asshole."

Before Draco could respond, the voices of your parents, entwined with Mattheo and Theodore's parents, resonated through the room, silencing and halting every single one of your collective movements. Your father unleashed a barrage of reprimands in Italian, while your mother shook her head in utter disappointment. She gripped your arm with enough force to make you groan.

Her words were no less than a snarl in your ear. "You had one fucking job tonight. One."

"I didn't do anything--he started it," your heart pounded, vision tinged with red as you spat back, uninterested in the ridicule. "He fucking touched me."

Lucius, now somewhat composed, turned to the security guards standing amidst the commotion and pointed decisively at you, Theodore, and Mattheo, his stern tone leaving no room for negotiation. "I want them removed. Immediately."

Your mother's grip on your arm loosened, her voice now softer as she said, "We'll talk about this later."

The security guards seized you, Mattheo, and Theodore by the arms, forcefully guiding you away from the group. Under the intense scrutiny of Lucius' gaze, you were pushed through the concealed back exit, leading to a row of valet cars waiting in the shadows. The door slammed shut behind you, leaving the chilly night air to greet you as the security guards swiftly retreated back into the vibrant chaos of the celebration, leaving you, Mattheo, and Theodore standing alone in the dimly lit alley.

Without missing a beat, Mattheo smoothly extracted a small container from his pocket, revealing a blunt that he quickly found a comfortable spot for between his teeth.

An irritated huff escaped you as you yanked off your sunglasses, shoving them into your purse. "What an insufferable prick."

The night air became tinged with the scent of both smoke and potent weed as Mattheo exhaled, Theodore hastily loosening his tie around his neck as Mattheo passed him the herbal offering.

"He's got his eyes set on you," Mattheo stated matter-of-factly, the words casually hanging in the air as if discussing the weather. "Not exactly discreet about it either, especially when his wife's not around."

As Theodore passed the blunt to you, you took a long, slow drag--the bitter taste of the weed lingering on your tongue as you mulled over Mattheo's words.

"He’s just looking for another thing to hang over my father's head." A sardonic smirk curled your lips, and you passed the weed back to Theo. "I'm not interested in anything he has to offer...there’s nothing he can give me that I can’t get myself.”

Theo smirked, the dim light casting shadows across his features as he took another drag of the blunt.

“I'll have to admit, it was quite the sight watching you slap Lucius bloody Malfoy..." he purred, smoke twirling around him as he paused, passing it back to Mattheo now. "Not many would dare."

“Well, he had it coming,” you chuckled, the tension of the evening dissipating slightly. “...I'm not one to back down."

"Oh, we know." Mattheo laughed, smoke escaping between his lips, wiping the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. "Your bad ass is always stirring up trouble, don't think that'll ever change."

You smirked, the corner of your lips curling with a hint of mischief. "What's life without a little trouble, hm?"

Theo chuckled, practically a scoff. “A little?"

"Please," you teasingly nipped at your bottom lip, head tilting in a seductive manner. "You know you love it."

Stepping closer to them, you sensually reached out, your fingers making deliberate contact with the fabric of their suit jackets, covering the strength of their strong arms. Moving slowly and deliberately, your touch trailed upward, both of their eyes locked onto every nuanced movement, captivated by your enticing grace.

"I believe I owe you both a special thanks for coming to my defense back there...my heroes." Your voice dipped lower, a sultry edge creeping in as you trailed your fingers upward, grazing their shoulders. "How could I ever repay you for such...courageous acts..."

"Sexy little damsel in distress…" Mattheo smirked, the blunt dangling from his lips as he leaned in, eyes dipping over your lips before falling lower, tracing your curves. "I can think of a few ways you could show your appreciation.”

Theo's grin mirrored Mattheo's as he added, "I think we'll have to discuss those options somewhere more private...back at my place, perhaps?"

"Mm," your stomach leapt with excitement, your stomach tightening in anticipation, you slowly withdrew your hands, stepping back. "Lead the way, boys."

Without needing to hear another word, Mattheo and Theo exchanged a knowing glance before they began to move toward the valeted cars, Mattheo's eyes scanning the line until they landed on a sparkling blacked-out Range Rover. Discarding the blunt with a casual flick, he turned back to you, a smirk playing on his lips.

The night air shimmered around Mattheo's dark pools as he confidently asserted, "We can take my car."

A casual wave set the valet into motion, retrieving his vehicle for him within an instant. The driver expertly guided the sleek black Range Rover to the forefront, its glossy paint reflecting the ambient lights. Mattheo opened the back door with a flourish, gracefully sliding in and making himself comfortable on the far side. A sly grin danced on his lips as he gestured for you to join him.

"After you," Theo's purr accompanied a playful smack to your ass, forcing a slight squeak from your throat, and you tsked at him before obliging.

As you settled into the lavish embrace of the Range Rover's spacious backseat, Theodore smoothly slipped in next to you, closing the door behind him. The interior exuded opulence, the cold leather meeting the warmth of your thighs. Mattheo leaned forward, parting the partition to share Theodore's address with the driver, his cologne enveloping you in an intoxicating embrace.

The air crackled with anticipation as he ended the conversation and slid the partition shut, reclining back against the seat with a provocative spread of his legs. Loosening his tie, he extracted a small bag from his pocket, revealing a white powdery substance within its confines.

"Fuck sakes," he grumbled, catching Theodore's attention. You both met his eyes. "Any chance you've got a mirror in that purse?"

"Who needs one when you've got her?" Theo huffed, snaking an arm around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest. His lips hovered over your ear, and he added, "She's got more than enough to work with, hm?"

As Theo's lips brushed your earlobe, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine, you couldn't ignore the electrifying sensation that danced across your skin. Mattheo's intense gaze fixed on you, adding to the palpable tension in the air as he waited, seemingly holding his breath for your response.

"Mm." Your voice came in a breathless, shuddering whisper, "go on then, Riddle."

Mattheo's eyes darkened with a mischievous glint as he inched closer. Unhesitatingly, he tapped a sprinkle of white powder delicately above the neckline of your dress, right on the edge of your chest. Theodore pulled you even closer against him as Mattheo leaned in, his head lowering to quickly sniff up the line of powder. A cascade of goosebumps erupted across your skin, and your back instinctively arched.

After he'd finished, lingering tingles traced along your skin, intensifying by the millions as Mattheo sensually licked up the remaining powder. His tongue danced against your skin, brushing the delicate tops of your breasts, provoking a series of deeper breaths from your lungs. Your thighs clenched involuntarily, all while Theodore chuckled softly into your ear.

Mattheo pulled up, his lips dangerously close to yours as he whispered. "You want some?"

When you shook your head, Mattheo shrugged, moving to pour more onto your chest--your heart racing as you watched him, eyes dark, jaw tensed. On instinct, you tugged your dress down a bit further, offering him better access. Arching your back into him, your breasts spilled out as you tugged the fabric a little too far, now nearly entirely revealed, nipples just barely covered by the black fabric. At the sight, Mattheo sucked in a sharp breath, jaw falling open.

"Fuck me," he murmured, his hand instinctively coming up to grope the one not covered in cocaine.

Theodore groaned against your ear, watching the entire show with just as much exasperation as Mattheo. His hold on your waist tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as through he was trying to tear it apart within his grasp.

"That's what you've been keeping from us...." Theo's voice rumbled with dark lust, the words almost tangible in the air as his lips grazed your skin. "…for all these fucking years."

The tender caress of Theo's lips on your neck elicited a soft whimper, matched by Mattheo burying his face in your chest, sniffing up the rest of the drugs, his fingers tightening their grip on your breast, kneading it with a primal urgency. Theo's initial gentle kisses on your neck evolved into hungry bites and passionate flicks of his tongue, sucking vibrant welts into your skin.

Your body wrestled with conflicting waves of sensation, not knowing which to focus on first--blood pooled beneath Theo's teeth as he broke the vessels and marked you violet, inspiring an electrifying surge between your legs, growing more desperate with each passing second. Each touch and graze intensified the sensitivity of your skin, leaving your mouth slightly agape, head tilted back, giving both men easier access.

Mattheo groaned into your chest, a primal sound echoing desire. His rough hands moved lower, finding the hem of your dress and sliding beneath it with urgency, hiking the fabric higher up along your thighs. Your legs willingly surrendered, drawn onto his lap as he pulled them there. His nails dug into your skin as he shifted his mouth higher up your neck, capturing the side opposite Theo, working his teeth along your pulse as he too began marking your skin, sucking purple possession marks to life.

A low, sensual moan escaped your parted lips, a delicious shudder rippling through your spine. As Theo pulled his lips from your skin, you turned your head toward him, drawn by an irresistible force. The moment your eyes locked, an electric charge sparked between you, and in an instant, his lips claimed yours--a blend of sweet champagne, the faint taste of cigarettes, and the lingering hint of weed creating an intoxicating mixture, dizzying your head even more than it already was.

Mattheo's grip tightened around your thigh, a deep, primal groan escaping him, reverberating against your neck. You gasped against Theo's mouth, your fingers moving to find Mattheo's big hand, squeezing him tightly, conveying a silent, unspoken urgency--inviting him to go higher.

Taking the invitation, Mattheo's fingers crawled upwards, pushing your dress further up your thighs until your thong was nearly visible. Theo's hands left your waist, curling around your stomach before moving higher, cupping your breasts and tightening his hold on them; palming and groping and squeezing as much of the supple flesh as he could.

As you whimpered into his mouth, he groaned in response, bucking his hips against you as his long fingers worked to tug them free, exposing your entire chest to the thick, heated air within the Rover.

"Fucking hell." Mattheo muttered, instantly stalling his movements, his plush lips glistening with saliva as his eyes hungrily took in everything you'd just exposed to him. "Now this is fuel for my late night thoughts..."

Lowering his face to your chest again, taking one of your nipples in his mouth without hesitation while Theo gently rolled the other one between his fingers, their collective movements causing you to whimper and squirm against them, eyes rolling back as they each panted against you; lips and hands and teeth claiming as much of your body as they could.

Mattheo's palm slipped higher, grazing your heat over the fabric of your panties, the pads of his first two fingers catching your clit through the thin layer--immediately causing your hips to buck toward his touch as he swirled his warm tongue around your nipple, sealing his lips around it, teeth giving it a gentle tug before he released it with a wet pop.

You moaned, entire body shuddering with need as Theo's teeth tugged on your bottom lip. Breaking the kiss, his mouth moved to press hot, moist kisses against your cheek before falling to your jawline and softly nipping at the ridge. You met Mattheo's gaze, his face flushed with lust, his eyes drilling into yours as he teased you, rough fingers ghosting over your slit, catching on the hem of your panties, watching every single subtle ministration of your face as he did.

"Please," you whispered, the desperation in your voice palpable. "Stop teasing me, Riddle."

"Eager little slut..." Mattheo huffed, amused, and you could feel Theo smirk against your skin, each of their grips hardening to iron. "Look at you...spoiled little rich girl--fuck...you need to be finger fucked in the back of my fucking Range, don't you?"

A guttural groan escaped you, your head falling back against Theo's shoulder. He huffed in your ear, and there was a shared satisfaction between the two of them as they reveled in the newfound ways they had you wrapped around their fingers, surrendering to them in ways you had never dreamed of before.

Mattheo exhaled, a visible effort to rein in his self-control, brushing his thumb against your clit, his free hand coming up to grip your jaw, redirecting your eyes back to his.

"You wanna make a mess all over my expensive fucking leather, huh?" His voice was torn, shredded, a snarl past his teeth. "Tell me."

Theo's hand inched lower, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, and you nodded, swallowing the knot of lust clogging your throat. "Yes-fuck-I do-please."

"Say it," he muttered, voice low, leaning closer to you as he brushed your clit again, sending a burst of electricity through your veins. "I want to hear you fucking beg for me."

Theo's hand found your thighs, slipping between them and pulling them further apart, his heavy breathing washing over your ear.

"Mattheo, fuck-please," you grumbled through a heavy breath, lungs hitching as he teased the band of your thong, slipping under and trailing down to your mound, pausing there. "Please stop being insufferable."

"Oh, Bella...wrong fucking answer..." Theo chuckled, nails biting into your thigh. "Try again."

You groaned, attempting to inch your pelvis forward, attempting to coax his hand further, but Mattheo was unyielding, instead choosing to shift his hold on your face, forcing your jaw apart with your thumb.

"Did you forget that we saved your pretty little ass back there, hm?" His thumb pressed on your tongue, eliciting a gag, his dark eyes taunting you, revelling in your vulnerability. "Drop the fucking attitude or I'll do it for you."

You nodded against his hand, tongue fighting him to no result. His fingers jabbed into your skin, craning your head back, forcing the back of your skull to rest against Theo's shoulder. He relieved your mouth of his thumb, quickly shifting his hand to your neck.

"Tell me you need it." He commanded, tightening his grip, partially obscuring your airway. "Tell me how bad you fucking want it."

"Please," you gasped, spit leaking from the side of your mouth. "I need it so bad, I need you to make me fucking cum-fuck-please..."

"Look at that...much better bambina..." Theo murmured against your ear, his warm breath inspiring a rush of heat to your cunt. "Who knew the spoiled little rich girl could beg."

You rolled your eyes, and Mattheo caught it, returning his thumb to your mouth while simultaneously rewarding your obedience. The pad of his finger drew slow circles around your clit, warmth flooding your body, your lids fluttering in relief. Your hands shifted, one clutching Theo's thigh and the other wrapping around Mattheo's shoulder, thrusting into his hair as Theo pulled your thighs further apart.

"Mm, you're already fucking dripping..." Mattheo growled, rubbing faster in response, sending shocks of pleasure through you, your hips bucking. "Filthy little bitch."

His words, accompanied by his movements, made you groan--and Mattheo huffed, craning your head back further. You were looking into the ceiling--not that it mattered. A haze of pleasure was clouding your vision, drool spilling from your mouth as he massaged your tongue with his thumb.

You felt Theo's fingers creep lower, tugging at the fabric of your panties before slipping under, slicking two of his slender digits in your wetness, teasing over your throbbing entrance. You mewled against Mattheo's thumb, causing him to retract it; and he shushed you with his mouth, capturing you in a slow, breathless kiss, long lashes fluttering shut as he increased the pace on your clit.

Theo's chest was rising and falling against your back as he slowly thrust two fingers into your wet cunt, provoking a restrained squeal as your entire body jerked in response, your cunt clamping hard around him. He growled against your ear, curling his fingers inside of you, scissoring you open as he began to pump them in and out.

"My fucking God, principessa..." Theo husked in your ear, his voice torn. "Such a tight little cunt...so fucking wet..."

As Mattheo pulled back, lips falling to attack your jawline, you were working hard to stifle your moans, spreading your legs wider, hips bucking toward their touch. Their movements were frantic and unyielding, as though they were trying to drive you toward orgasm as quickly as possible, your eyes rolling back and your chest reaching for oxygen it failed to find.

"You want to cum, don't you?" Mattheo muttered, his own voice cracking. You bobbed your head frantically, chewing on your lip hard enough to make it bleed. "Let's hear you say it, pretty little whore..."

"Please," you whispered, your voice shredded, trying your best to keep your voice down as Theo increased his pace, the slick sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you filling the heated silence within the Range. "Please-please-please-"

"Please, what?" Theo husked, his voice breathless, driving his fingers deeper into your cunt.

"Let me cum," you pleaded, eyes squeezing shut, unable to stop the tightness coiling in your core, unable to slow your impending release. "Please, please let me cum."

"Mm," their response was a collective groan, Mattheo's lips trailing back up to find yours as he murmured against your lips. "Cum for us."

Theo grunted, working a third finger into your cunt, rolling his wrist, and Mattheo increased his pace, the two of them collectively dragging you over the edge--and without being able to control it, you wailed, hips bucking and walls pulsing as you came around their fingers, your ears ringing and your heart pounding as the results of their overwhelming, cumulative movements wracked through you, drowning you in a sea of pleasure.

"There we go..." Theo cooed against your pulse, the deep husk of his voice rolling through your body like thunder, your orgasm wracking every nerve, every cell. "I feel that little cunt squeezing me...fuck-I need to get inside you..."

"Oh Gods...oh fuck-" you whimpered, gasping and trying to catch your breath against Mattheo's mouth as the two of them continued to run their fingers along your slit, switching places as Theo brushed his first two fingers over your clit, and Mattheo thrust two of his own into your still sensitive cunt.

Your nails dug into Theo's thigh, the other gripping Mattheo's curls with force. "Fuck-oh...I can't--Theo-Matt...Gods-"

You broke open, moans flowing from your lips like water, unable to keep yourself quiet, unable to take the onslaught of pleasure that was encompassing you. Still sensitive, you were squirming, whining, whimpering into Mattheo's mouth, and they both shushed you, cooing softly as they increased the pace on your cunt.

Mattheo's free hand kneaded your tit, muttering against your lips. "Come on, little slut...you can take it..."

"We know how much you like to be spoiled, principessa..." Theo husked, lips pressed to your ear. "Don't pretend to be shy now...

You whimpered, squirming as you fought through your overstimulation, and this only seem to spur them on as Mattheo grunted before moving back to the side of your neck, hungry to consume any inch of your skin his eyes could catch.

With another groan, he latched on to you and sucked broken capillaries to existence, littering you with his possession. His hips rocked into the side of your thigh, the bulge between his legs becoming more insatiable with every passing second, electrifying the already unfathomable sensations sweltering inside you.

The atmosphere in the car was quickly changing, the two of them becoming far more aggressive, far less patient. You were flying, heart hammering in your chest, every single inch of your skin buzzing and shaking with pleasure. You knew it wouldn't be long before you broke again, your body screaming and begging for more.

"Such a pretty cunt..." Mattheo purred, curling his fingers inside you, jabbing you deep, rocking his wrist in ruthless rhythm. "You like that, little slut? You like letting us make you cum like this?"

"Yes-fuck-" the response was immediate, involuntary. "I love it-I fucking love it..."

"We wanted to do this years ago, bambina..." Theo purred, his voice like a soothing melody in your ear. "All those years in Slytherin...seeing that fat ass in the common room every fucking day..."

"Complete fucking torture." Mattheo added with a groan, the strain in his voice palpable. "I'm going to fuck the life out of this tight little cunt...fucking cum for me, slut."

You whined, your thighs quaking with the onset bursts of ecstasy, Theo moving his fingers over your clit in short, rough strokes--wetness seeping from between your legs and moistening the leather beneath them.

And as much as you tried to keep it together; to not crumble so fucking quickly, the two of them were too skilled, knowing your signs too well, and began to increase their paces, thrusting you deep under the surface of bliss once more--eyes lolling back as your body shivered in wake of your second orgasm.

"That's right." Theo purred, praise lining his lips. "Good girl... così buono.”

Gasping, you swallowed, noting the drool that had began trailing down your chin, and once you were squirming in sensitivity, they both pulled off--conveniently synchronized with the moment the vehicle's movements slowed, before finally coming to an abrupt stop. A discreet knock on the partition signaled your arrival at the destination.

As you readjusted your dress in an attempt to regain some form of decency, Theo popped open the door, gripping your hand and practically dragging you out of the car. Mattheo's palm lingered on your lower back, holding you steady and guiding you until you stood upright, each of them waiting until you'd regained some form of composure before moving. The two of them led you towards the villa, with Theo's firm grip wrapped around your wrist and Mattheo's hand planted securely on your lower back, your heels clacking off the stones with each step.

They ushered you into the opulent house, a stunning display of luxury that stole your breath. Mattheo swiftly took your purse, carelessly placing it on a polished bench by the entrance, shedding his jacket as he disappeared down a hall. Guided by Theo, you marveled at the plush furnishings and elegant decor as he led you toward the kitchen, his grip on your wrist tight enough to bruise.

The second you entered, the atmosphere shifted, the air becoming charged with anticipation as Theo's lips crashed onto yours once again, hungry and urgent and unyielding. He shoved your back against the marble counter, his hands gripping bunches of your dress and tugging it up your thighs, stomach, chest, before urging you to raise your hands--tugging it off and tossing it to the floor beside you.

His eyes widened, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he took in your exposed figure, inch by inch. "Oh mio Dio..."

A mischievous smirk played on your lips as you took hold of his tie, pulling him closer. Your lips collided passionately, and with a sense of urgency, your fingers worked swiftly to strip off his suit jacket and move toward his belt. The desire for release consumed you; you needed him now.

"Fuck, you're so hard..." you murmured against his lips as you'd undid the clasp and grazed your fingers over his throbbing length, wasting no time before tugging his pants down, revealing his black briefs. "Does this make us even?"

"Not quite, but it's a good start," he groaned, his words a breath past his teeth. "You one time inside that little pussy can settle a fucking three-hundred dollar debt?"

You huffed, biting back your smirk. "Only one way to find out."

In a swift, intense motion, Theo seized your hips, spinning you around and forcefully pushing you against the cool kitchen counter. Your breath hitched as he pressed his body against yours, hard cock grinding against your ass as his hands deftly hooked around the band of your panties, smoothly sliding them down your trembling thighs.

As soon as the fabric hit the floor, he groaned, knocking your legs further apart with his knee. His rough palm caressed the curve of your ass, before following it with a sharp spank, making you yelp, jolting forward as pleasured pain rang out over your skin.

Instinctively, you clenched, and from the border of your vision you noticed movement--Mattheo joining back in from where ever the fuck he'd ran off to, his tie removed and the first of his buttons undone.

Bringing himself to the side of the counter opposite you, his eyes traced your form, bent over, breasts pressed against the cool marble, Theodore looming behind you as he began to tug down his boxers, his thick length springing free in relief; tip glistening. The part of the counter you were bent over was not very wide, giving Mattheo the perfect position to loom in front of you, entangling his hands in your hair as he leant down, softly pressing his lips to yours.

"You want this, puttana?" Theodore cooed, teasing your cunt with false thrusts as he slicked himself along your slit, palm caressing the burning flesh of your ass. Before you could even think to respond, he spanked you once more, your flesh quaking from his power as you whimpered into Mattheo's mouth. "You want to take this cock like a good little slut?"

Mattheo pulled back, allowing you the ability to speak--his dark eyes boring into yours as he murmured. "Answer him."

You swallowed, yelping as Theo whacked you again. "Yes! I want to..."

"What to, what?" Mattheo purred, the sadistic nature of his voice drawing heat from your veins. One free hand shifting to palm his crotch.

“I want to take your cock..." you groaned, and Mattheo cocked an eyebrow, a silent gesture telling you to finish the sentence. "...like a good little slut."

"There we go..." Mattheo murmured, leaning in to kiss you again. "Such a good girl."

"Mm-so fucking wet," Theo groaned, teasing you with the head of his cock. "Shit..."

With his hand on your hip, he plunged into your warm, wet cunt, choking on his breath as you whined and pulsed around him, enveloping him to the base. Fuck--he was big--his thick girth stretching you open, the sweet sting causing you to moan helplessly into Mattheo's mouth.

"Fuck..." Theo cursed under his breath, hissing your name as you clenched around his length, head slamming into your cervix with the very first thrust. “Porca puttana…you're so tight..."

Mattheo pulled back, straightening out and smirking down at you as he fumbled with his belt, undoing the latch before pulling out his throbbing length, your stomach instantly doing a cartwheel at the sight of it. He was just as big as Theo, and equally as fucking needy--cock pulsing as he wrapped his fist around it, pumping himself a few times as he eyed your body--took in the sight of his best friend fucking you against his kitchen counter.

And then, Mattheo's hand resumed its place in your hair, yanking your head back as he directed your eyes to meet his. He leaned in slightly, dark gaze burning wounds into your skin. "Open that filthy mouth...stick out your tongue."

Moans were flying from your lips as Theo quickened his pace, pulling out and slamming back in, pinching your hips between his fingers, cursing under his breath in Italian. Through the haze of pleasure, you obeyed Mattheo's command, jaw dropping open before sticking out your tongue.

Mattheo leaned in, closer, and spat into your mouth. "You want to suck this cock?”

Your eyes rolled back, quickly losing yourself in the hurricane of pleasure Theo was providing you with, a deep growl leaving Mattheo's throat as he tightened his grip on your hair.

“Yes, please-“ you whimpered, scalp stinging. “Please let me suck your cock.”

With an approving groan, Mattheo moved closer, guiding his twitching length past your lips, using the hold on your hair to crank your head back, the angle allowing him a long, deep stroke into your mouth, and you groaned, gagging around him.

"Shh," Mattheo purred, head falling back, lids fluttering. "Relax your throat for me."

You choked, drooling and panting as he overwhelmed your throat--but he was so far gone, so encased in fogging fizzles of lust that he didn't even put anymore thought toward your struggles, his groans growing louder with every thrust.

"Fuck..." he breathed, tightening his fist in your hair, tugging the strands with force. "That's it," pushing further, he released a moan when your neck bulged, swelling with the invasion of his cock. "Choke on it, whore."

He snapped his hips, pushing deeper, and you gurgled against his dick, but it only caused him to increase his pace, adjusting your head back as he started fucking into your throat. Every thrust brought a noise from your mouth, and every noise he ignored, fingers scraping your skin as bliss overwhelmed his senses.

Your body was throbbing, desperately fighting off its third orgasm, tears stinging your eyes as Theo fucked you deep, stretching you wide, your wails being suffocated by Mattheo's thick cock, your body physically convulsing in overwhelming, toe-curling pleasure.

"She likes this," Theo breathed, his hand snaking under your hip, fingers connecting with your clit, and you wailed against Mattheo's cock, eyes rolling back in your skull as you drowned in pleasure. "…she likes being used like a piccola troia del cazzo.” (little fucking slut)

"Mhm," Mattheo breathed, voice hoarse with pleasure. "Yeah she fucking does."

Delight resonated at their words--you were so drunk on the euphoria of being fucked that you could only moan helplessly in agreement. You were close, your orgasm a quickly rising tide, ready to crash over you at any given moment. Your body was trembling, near convulsing, cunt clamping down around Theo, pushing him dangerously close to his own peak.

"Fuck-" Mattheo choked, lungs sputtering--Theo's fingers swirling your clit harsher, quicker. They were both close, you could tell. "Fucking pretty little mouth feels so good wrapped around me..."

As your eyes fluttered, dangerously close to reaching your own peak, both men stalled, pulling out abruptly. You almost wailed in protest, almost chewed them each out for abandoning you so fucking close to orgasm like that, until they moved, switching places as though it was a silent understanding, as though they communicated without you hearing it.

Theodore stepped around to your side of the counter, quickly fisting your hair and forcing your mouth to his cock. You whimpered, tasting your own juices on his thick length, but before you could even generate a thought in your head, Mattheo sank into your wet heat, sucking in air through his teeth as it swallowed his heavy, hard length.

"Fucking hell..." he groaned, hands sliding up your sides and finding your tits, cupping them as he began pummelling your cunt. "Fuck-this pussy was worth the wait...so fucking worth the wait..."

You howled in ecstasy, moaning and gagging simultaneously as Theodore fucked your throat with no mercy, thrusting in and out with an animalistic pace. Mattheo slid a hand down your stomach, trailing over the mound of your pussy, connecting with your clit and rubbing vigorous circles against it. The reaction was immediate--your whole body jolting and withering under each of their massive frames, your lungs gasping and panting for air.

"Fuck-you're squeezing me so hard-I'm gonna cum in this tight cunt..." Mattheo breathed, free hand giving your swollen ass cheek another harsh smack. "Fucking slut-shit..."

You whinged, your climax fast approaching, and Theo jerked your head further back, meeting your glossy eyes. "You want to cum, huh?" He muttered, fucking deep into your throat. "You want to fucking cum for us?"

You nodded, or tried to anyways, and Theo grinned, gracing your cheek with a playful smack. "Go on then."

Body obedient out of habit, you snapped, pleasure storming through your raw, shredded nerves, stripping them of any control they had left, legs twitching and lids squeezing shut while you screamed onto his dick. He cursed in satisfaction, his hands squeezing fistfuls of your hair while he held off his own peak, fucking into you until you began to struggle for breath, your lips and jaw going numb.

"Fuck me,” Mattheos voice was shredded, physically in pain, free hand whacking your ass. "She likes cumming on my fucking cock…sexy little bitch-fuck-“

Theo groaned, the sound doing unspeakable things to your body as Mattheo pulled his fingers off your clit and returned to clutch your hip. You knew they both were close, their movements turning erratic--Theo's chest sputtering with each breath until as you felt his hot cum shoot down the back of your throat, you mewled--swallowing every last drop.

You must have blacked out, you must have disconnected from your own body for a moment, because when you came to--all you knew was you could feel Mattheo's climax rupturing through him--you felt the violent fucking into your cervix, the hitching, stuttering of his hips, felt him silence himself against your back while he poured jets of cum into your cunt, felt him throbbing at the hilt as he stopped, wiping the sweat from his brow as he pulled out, tucking himself away.

The room was silent, and for a few moments you were paralyzed, focused on trying to bring breath back into your lungs, focused on trying to return your heart rate to a normal pace. At this point, you weren't sure what was intoxicating you anymore--wether it was the alcohol or the buzzing, overwhelming lust that was slowly fizzling off your skin--but you knew that you were spent, your body nothing more than a limp, exhausted, sweaty mass of flesh.

Mattheo gripped your arms, tugging you off the counter. Theo passed him his white dress shirt, and Mattheo aided you in slipping your arms inside before wrapping his arm around your waist--walking you over toward the couch, plopping down and lying back along its length. Theodore joined in, moving to your other side, the both of them nuzzling up against your exhausted body as the three of you worked to come down from your highs, worked to return your pulses back to a normal pace.

After a moment, once your head had stopped spinning, you flicked your gaze over the both of them, smirk teasing your lips. “Round two?”

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