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scarameownya · 11 days ago

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tags ran out so im continuing it here JAJSJSDJJD

on a second thought i should have tagged this as nsfw before the tags ran out 💀

#GRANDMA LOST HER SON AND DAUGHTER IN LAW... STOP IT STOP I DONT WANNA GET EMOTIONAL JAIL JAIL FOR YOU

#"grandma filled the roles so well even if his heart bled, not too much blood spilled out" thats its im stealing your brain this is actually insane writing and wording IM IN LOVE

#NO NO NOT HIM REGRETTING NOT BEING TO HELP HER AS A CHILD NOBONONOON

#AND HER DEATH HELLO ?!?!?! ok and ik u didnt intended for it to be but id like to think him brushing off people's remarks

#are somewhat in a way him grieving cause hes knows all of it and in a way because he knows his child self could not reciprocate all of it

#DO NOT TORTURE ME MORE WITH HIM READING HIS PARENTS LETTER AND FUCKING CRYING RIV I WILL KILL YOU HELLO IM ?!?@?@?@?#?@#*×*

#ALSO AUAGAHAHAHA I LOVE THEIR BANTER SO MUCH OMFGGGGGGGG THE FACT THAT HE HAS SOMEONE TO SHARE AND CALL A HOME WITH AUGAHSHSHD

#als his thought process during the smut scene... :[[ poor lil brain boy.. he's literally so happy at how you are so perfect for him

#and just how whole you made him feel... wahhh :"[[[[ riv should get her device taken away signing a petition rn //lh

#THE LETTER AT THE END ?!?!?! OMFG HAITHAM YOU CHEESY ASS //POS ALL POS HES JUST SO ?!?!?! SO ?!?@@??!

#seeing haitham this gentle is insane omfg riv i love love LOVE your version of him so much-- lowkey got me blushing at it like-- STOP

#ALL IN ALL HELLO ?!?!?! THIS IS INCREDIBLE IM LITERALLY SO HOOKED IN EVERY WORDS AND THEYRE ALL SO WELL WRITTEN

#eating your brain i need that nutrients PLS I JUST ?!?!?! I JUST LOVE THIS SO MUCH OMFG UAHSUAHDHSDHDHFHDH

#what if i die for just liking this too much-- IM SORRY BUT JUST ?!?!? EVERYTHING FLOW SO SMOOTHLY AND AND ITS SO NATURAL AND I JUST LOVE SEEING IT PLAYED OUT FROM START TO FINISH

#whens the wedding this should be at 28 ill be waiting //lh

like a lotus in spring, you are mine to bloom — ft. alhaitham

synopsis: at twenty one, you’re just a girl he meets as he trains for the role of scribe. at twenty four, you’ve become everything he loves in this world. after three years of knowing you and nearly two and a half decades of life, alhaitham finally realizes why his father left letters for his mother instead of just saying the words outloud

❤︎ word count: 7.7k words — we find ourselves here in the same old situation again, i see LOL pls give it a chance though!! plssss

❤︎ before you read: female reader ; 18+ content — not suitable for minors ; not proof read ; strangers to friends to lovers ; mutual pining but not at the same time for a bit (he falls first <3) ; jealous alhaitham ; hinted drunk sex ; getting together + love confessions ; alhaitham character story spoilers + references to his grandmother and parents ; semi-clothed unprotected sex ; no prep ; some nipple play ; creampie ; the cringiest love letter at the end LOL

❤︎ comments: guys every time i write alhaitham it’s so corny and cheesy but . he is my fav genshin guy of all time i deserve to be allowed this okay

TWENTY ONE.

You’re still a student when you first meet Alhaitham. (Not a student for much longer, but a student all the same. With a little luck on your side and good graces from your darshan’s sage on your thesis, you’re expected to graduate in just a few short months.)

You don’t have the best first meet. In fact, your impression of Alhaitham starts off entirely on the wrong foot.

He’s newly graduated, just freshly rewarded a degree for his (impressive) efforts, and is now well on his way to training for the role of scribe—you heard he was offered far more prestigious roles, but for some reason, a genius like him settled for a role like that. You try not to judge. People have their passions, after all, and if that’s what he wants to do, well…who are you to make comments? (But amongst a school that only houses the brilliant, Alhaitham is, very undoubtedly, a standout. It’s hard to stand out in a school filled with only the best minds, but he manages to do so with ease. Sometimes, you’re almost jealous. You can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t aim a little higher than he does.)

He trains in the house of Daena. His first order of training is to fact-check ordinance drafts using books so he can better get the hang of drafting them himself in the future. You’re also in the House of Daena to find the last book for your thesis—after weeks of begging, you’re finally granted access to the restricted section to find it.

And you do. Except your palm meets warm skin instead of the cold leather cover of a book. You pause, glancing up as sharp, teal eyes meet your gaze, staring at you expectantly as if you should be the one letting go. But you need this book. It’s the final research element to finish your thesis, and you’d like to be done with it. End of story. No matter how devastatingly handsome the man (because he is handsome, you’ll admit at least that much), you will not be handing over the last, final key to your academic freedom.

“Um, excuse me,” you say politely, “I was kind of reaching for that.”

“As was I,” he says, staring at you with a bored, almost uncaring expression. Your eyes narrow. “Now, if you’d please kindly take your hand off of mine.”

“I believe it should be you taking your hand off of mine,” you correct, huffing as you add stubbornly, “I reached for it first.”

He blinks at you, bland and a little irritated, as he points out, “Your hand is on top of mine, which means I reached the book first.”

Well.

Maybe if you were feeling particularly patient, you’d be inclined to admit that, yes, he does have a point. But stubbornness, combined with pure exhaustion, has you at your wit's end, and if you have to play the role of a difficult student, then so be it. You’re pretty sure you need it more, and you’re probably a much speedier reader anyway. You’ll have it done and returned in no time.

This guy, on the other hand…he doesn’t look too bright. You’re not willing to take your chances and let him walk off with a book that you might never see again.

“I started reaching for it first,” you scowl, “you just sped up your hand once you saw me. I should get it.”

“Unlikely,” he scoffs, “I didn’t even see you. Although,” he gives you a once over with his eyes, making you feel uncomfortably seen under his judging gaze, “I suppose you were a bit easy to miss.”

You gape at him. “Just what does that mean?”

“It means,” he smirks, taking the opportunity to grab the book as you stand in shock, “that I got here first.”

“Hey!” You glare at him, seeing red for a moment. What a perfectly good waste of a perfectly handsome face—and such an awful attitude coupled with his ridiculously smug grin couldn’t make for a worse combination. But, before you can even say anything, the book is being pressed back into your hands.

“You seem like you want it more than I do, though,” he hums, “I suppose I can let you have it. It’s a bit outdated for this ordinance, anyway.” With that, he saunters off. You push down the soft flutter in your heart for a moment and force yourself to hope you’ll never see him again. (Faintly, you hope your wishes don’t come true—but you refuse to admit it to yourself.)

Unfortunately (and fortunately at the same time) for you, you do see him again. Many, many times, in fact. When he works in the House of Daena as often as he does, and you like to spend all your free time there to study if you can, you’re both bound to run into each other often. Very often.

And sometimes, it’s quite literally running into him.

“Oof,” you hiss, staggering backward and hitting your head against the bookshelf behind you as you bump into a sturdy figure. You drop the books in your hand, blinking before reaching to rub your read as you start to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t see you—oh. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” he says, looking mildly entertained. Alhaitham is everywhere. Everywhere. You can’t escape him if you try, and now, you can’t even avoid him in your own personal space. “Although, I think I should be the one apologizing this time. I was too busy reading to pay attention. This section is usually empty at this time.”

“How often are you in here to know what section is empty at what time?” You raise a brow.

“Too often to be considered good for my well-being,” he says dryly, sighing in misery. You crack a smile at that. Oddly enough, so does he—you don’t think you’ve ever heard someone say they’ve seen Alhaitham smile. It must be a rare sight that only you, and perhaps a very few others, can say they’ve witnessed. “I was just about to take a break to buy a coffee—I’ll bring one back for you, too, to make up for the cranial damage I’ve supplied.”

“A most wonderful idea,” you perk up instantly, “I love when I get to drain the wallet of a man.”

He gives you an amused look at that. And somehow, bringing you a coffee along with his own during his breaks is a habit that seems to stick for a long, long while after that.

────────────────────────

TWENTY TWO.

Alhaitham’s feelings are hurt. Not a lot of words tend to do that—he’s been blessed with thick skin and an unbothered attitude to a fault, sometimes. But something about today, for some odd reason, hurts his feelings.

Your words to the waiter who took your order keep ringing in his head.

Oh goodness, no, we are definitely not dating!

Most people mistake you and Alhaitham for a pair of lovers rather than a pair of friends. It’s just the way things go when a man and a woman are seen together for extended periods of time over and over. It doesn’t help that Alhaitham doesn’t really have any friends. He had one before you, but…well, things are complicated now. Far too complicated to think about it more than necessary. He has you, and that’s enough. But the matter still stands that most people tend to assume that something blossoms between the two of you that isn’t just friendly.

He was starting to think it was true himself, too. He knows it’s true from his end, at least. But you say those words with such a sure, definitive tone that it almost sounds like you’re offended by the notion of being seen as his girlfriend. And sure, he would be disappointed—he’s no liar—if you didn’t feel romantically for him, but he’d understand. It’s not something you can help. But you brush off the idea like it’s an anomaly of sorts in the universe for someone like you and someone like Alhaitham to be a couple. It hurts his feelings. More than it should.

(He knows deep down, in the depths of his heart, that you don’t mean it that way. You never would. But irrationality is but one of many feelings that bloom when it comes to romance.)

Alhaitham knows from a young age he’s different than most kids his age. This fact doesn’t change as he gets older. He’s brighter than most of his peers—which is certainly saying something because Sumeru is a nation filled with enough sharp minds, it’s as though brilliance were the average trait. People don’t typically like Alhaitham (which is fine by him, he doesn’t like most of them, either. They mostly don’t meet his standards). The kids don’t play with him in the parks that Grandmother would leave him at while she shopped around at the market, and they don’t sit with him on his one and only day at the Akademiya when he is but an elementary scholar. It never bothered him. He preferred reading under the trees and self-learning at home, anyway. When he’s older and enrolled in the Akademiya full-time, they don’t prefer to partner with him for projects for any other reason than simply being guaranteed a good grade, and they don’t spare him a glance when they all converse in groups outside of class. He never cared for freeloaders, anyway—he only trusts himself for projects, and he is at the Akademiya to learn, not make friends.

It’s not until he meets Kaveh does he consider the idea that friendships are meaningful enough to spare some effort into. But the end result of that only solidifies that he is best when in solitude.

But then he meets you. Some part of Alhaitham knows very early on that you would never be just a friend to him. If it was friendship that he craved, he would have looked for it elsewhere before running into you. Something about you from the very beginning makes him yearn for things much deeper than that. Things that remind him of his parents.

Friendship is fleeting. People at the Akademiya go their separate ways and meet new people. They fall out and have arguments. They grow up and grow apart and become different. But love blooms like the Kalpalata lotuses on a vine, timeless as time itself. It starts and never ends, one root stemming into more and more vines until they never stop growing.

Alhaitham has fallen in love with you. Logic tells him it’s only a recent development, but his heart has known this outcome would be brought about for a long, long time. And, in all truthfulness, your words have hurt his feelings.

And yet, he still loves you through it. He thinks that even if you crushed his feelings with a cold, indifferent smile, he would still love you through it.

A hand waves in front of his face, pulling him from his thoughts as you take a sip from your coffee. Puspa Cafe is not as busy at this hour, most people are in the middle of a work day, but Alhaitham is allowed to pick his lunch hour, and yours happens to be earlier than most.

“Sorry, I just have to ask—are…are you upset?” you ask gently, making him pause.

Yes.

“No,” he says simply, “why would I be?”

“You seem upset.”

“I’m not.”

“You were fine up until…I don’t know, a few minutes ago. Is something on your mind?”

You know him so well, he thinks. How could you not see how perfect the two of you are together?

“I’m simply concerned about your sugar intake is all,” he eyes the cold, iced drink in your hands with more syrups than he deems necessary. You always have a penchant for choosing the sweetest drink off the menu, and Alhaitham will never understand how your teeth don’t rot.

“Well, that��s very funny,” you roll your eyes, “because I was just thinking about how low on vitamin D you must be—do you ever leave your study to see the sun?”

He spares you a soft chuckle at that, shaking his head before taking a sip of his own coffee—hot and black and with two spoons of sugar. Simple, like how he prefers. You make a face at his drink as he sets it down.

“Have you ever thought about what you look for in a partner?” he asks suddenly, making you blink in shock for a moment. He flinches at his own forwardness just a tad.

“Umm, I suppose a little here and there…why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, “just curious what your type was, that’s all. You’re painfully single, so I figured your taste was rather distinct.”

“Rude,” you scoff, rolling your eyes enough that he thinks it’s safe to assume you’re not suspicious. “Are you here just to poke fun at my choices today?”

Alhaitham should not be asking you this. Not when the answer so clearly is going to hurt his already very bruised feelings. Of course, your type won’t be him. And, of course, he is going to mourn your answer the second you give it, which is his own fault considering he’s the one who asked. (He has to wonder, for a moment, if this constitutes as an undiscovered hidden kink of his and whether or not he really just gets off on some unnecessary pain. Why else would he willingly subject himself to this?)

But, he’s caught off guard when you shrug and simply say, “I suppose someone who’s intelligent. I’d appreciate some good discussions. And…and maybe someone who’s kind, y’know? I would be rather sad if they were mean,” you pretend to sniffle dramatically.

“That’s…that’s it?” He tilts his head in equal parts shock and equal parts confusion.

“What did you expect me to look for in a partner?” You snort, “A three-story mansion? A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on?”

“Well, no,” he rolls his eyes, “Maybe something a bit less generic to narrow down your pool, I suppose, but if that’s your bar, so be it. There are far too many men who are intelligent and kind, you know.”

“Yes, but none of them show me any signs of interest,” you pout, “I must be undesirable or something.”

I desire you, he wants to say. He can’t quite find the courage to get the words out, though—and as if the universe has it completely out for him, the same waiter from earlier who is responsible for asking you the question that kills Alhaitham’s mood for the day comes back with the bill. And something else, too.

Something that kills his mood for the week.

His jaw clenches a tad when you flush at the note scribbled on a napkin for you, eyeing your flustered reaction while you read over the words: I get off at eight if you’d like to find me. You stare for a moment before you murmur, “Well, look at that. A sign of interest—it must be the Dendro Archon’s divine power.”

“The Divine have no say over who you fall for,” he insists.

“You don’t know that,” you hum thoughtfully, “The God of Wisdom knows her people better than anyone else, you know. I’d like to think she knows when love is bound for two people.”

You fold the napkin carefully and keep it in your pocket, and Alhaitham fishes out his mora pouch with stiff fingers. He leaves a very shoddy tip on the table before he exits after you.

────────────────────────

TWENTY THREE.

You wake up in his bed.

It’s a foggy memory, but you know you fucked Alhaitham after more sips of wine than you can count and one flirty comment too many. It happened in a blur last night, and you can’t say you’re surprised that it finally happened at all. Alhaitham is a man just like any other, and mingling pleasure with friendship is a normal thing to do. Falling under him on his mattress is not something you never had daydreams of—but the truth of the matter is that your daydreams don’t just stop with the bed.

They end with a toothbrush beside his in the bathroom. A mug next to his in the kitchen. Your shoes kicked off along with his at the entrance of a home. Your laughter and his bouncing off of the walls. A ring, maybe. One on your hand and one on his.

In your imagination, it starts with pleasure, but it ends with love.

Falling in love with Alhaitham is a peaceful ordeal. He’s dependable and inherently kind. Strong and impressively capable. Intelligent and objectively handsome. You’d bring him home to your mother and father, and they’d thank Lord Kusanali for smiling down upon their humble little family and their darling little daughter by sending such a divine man your way.

You don’t think you can pinpoint when exactly it is you started to love this boy, but you know loving him became as simple as breathing. You never thought about it. Never learned to do it. Never questioned it, even. You inhale the scent of his spicy, woody cologne and exhale the warm breath of your affections stored in your lungs. He lives somewhere nestled so deep in your ribcage that you think you’d have to crack each of them one after the other before you could pry him out.

You love Alhaitham. You think you know everything there is to know about loving him. You think you’d do it right—better than anyone else.

He only drinks his coffee when it’s piping hot, and his wine can never be one degree less than iced. He has dry hands, but he hates the feeling of lotion. He doesn’t like raw onions but he doesn’t mind them cooked. When the sun is in his eyes, he’s in a foul mood, but he enjoys napping under the warm rays, much like a cat. He laughs surprisingly boyishly from his belly if you manage to deliver a dry yet clever enough joke, and he clears his throat and gets a bit shy once he’s realized he’s let it out. He twirls his pen in his hand when he’s bored, and he only uses the kind with gel ink because they write smoother.

You love Alhaitham. For you, it’s always been him.

When you wake up to his bare, warm body next to yours, breathing peacefully with an arm thrown over your waist, you can’t help but selfishly wish he’d stay asleep all day. Just for a day. Just for the amount of time you get in between the sun’s departure and the moon’s arrival. Just so you can watch him exist in this moment where it’s you, him, and the liminal space between friends and lovers. Just so you can admire how beautiful he is without worrying about his eyes opening and the inevitable conversation of what you’re both doing is brought up.

People (like Kaveh, or Dehya, or Tighnari, or…anyone) tend to insist that Alhaitham loves you. It’s obvious, they say, just as obvious as your love for him. You never believe it. It’s not because he’s bad at love or because you’re bad for him. You think he’d make a good lover—contrary to popular belief, you don’t think Alhaitham is uninterested in intimacy or affection. And you think you’d make a good girlfriend—unlike other people, you understand him and like what you see.

But he doesn’t love you. That much is a fact you’ve long accepted. It’s not because you’re bad for him or because he’s incapable of feeling—but rather, it’s just that bitter, soul-crushing reality that you can’t help who you love and who you don’t. Alhaitham doesn’t love you—it’s not something either of you can really change. Because if he did, he’d waste no time. He’d get to the heart of the matter and quit dancing around the issue.

It’s just the kind of guy that he is.

So, because this is your first and likely last time seeing him this way, you slowly reach over and brush a few strands of messy, unruly bedhead from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and warm under your palm, much more delicate to the touch than you anticipated from how chiseled his features are. Your thumb gently brushes along the slant of his cheekbone, eyes softening at how he lets out a puff of air as he sleeps.

“Morning,” he says hoarsely, eyes still closed and making you jolt in surprise. He lets out a quiet, sleepy chuckle that would make you melt if not for the way your heart still pounds from the shock.

“You’re awake?”

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding before finally cracking an eye open. “For a while now.”

“Why pretend to sleep then, you creep?” You scoff, glaring at him as he sits up slightly and glances at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. No part of him seems to be shocked about you being nude in his bed. Or the fact that you’re even in his bed at all, nude or not.

“You’re the creep if we’re being technical here. It’s undoubtedly a little on the creepy side to study someone with such careful touches while they sleep.”

“That’s your main concern…?” You stare at him—and for lack of better words, you’re dumbfounded. You and Alhaitham have been friends for two years and counting. You’ve never once crossed the line or even toed at it to step beyond the border of anything more. And, yet, here you are. In his bed. Completely nude. He was lying there and felt your delicate touch along his skin, felt you act like a lover and not a friend on a quiet, intimate morning when in fact, you both should be shamefully avoiding each other’s eyes in a moment that’s anything but intimate as you leave.

He makes no move to ask you to leave or even question why you’re still here. You make no move to really leave—it’s not like you want to.

“What should my main concern be, then?” he looks at you expectantly, like he really doesn’t know.

“Oh, I don’t know, Alhaitham—shouldn’t you be a little more panicked by the idea that I’ve trespassed into your bed and seen you…bare?”

“Well, to be fair, you didn’t trespass. I let you in—and also, to be fair, I saw the same for you, too, so we’re even.”

“You’re oddly calm about this,” you hiss. “This doesn’t bother you even a little? That things might change?”

He looks at you funny—like you’ve just told him a joke that hardly makes sense but makes him want to laugh anyway. “You’re too brilliant to be this dense,” he murmurs. “Maybe I’m quite open to the idea of change.”

You take offense to the first part enough to completely miss the second part of his statement.

“I am not dense,” you huff, “I’m incredibly bright. I’ll have to send you my thesis sometime.”

“No need,” he responds through a low hum. He pulls you closer, flush against his chest. Bare skin on skin. Intimate skin, at that. You shiver for a moment as his warm, large hand wanders lower and lower before stopping just at the small of your back, rubbing slow circles at the dimple where your spine ends. “I’ve read it plenty of times. It was very insightful.”

“Well, in that case, you should know not to insult my intelligence—”

“If you don’t notice my affection for you, I’m afraid you might not be as observant as I initially thought.”

You pause. Your heart flutters. Then it feels like it decays. Your eyes widen a fraction. Then they feel like they need to be squeezed shut for fear of tears. You feel your fingers twitch to reach for him. And yet they stiffen in distrust.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you whisper. Because you don’t.

You really fucking don’t. You thought you knew. His feelings and how to read them. His thoughts and how his mind works. Every little quirk of his and how he approaches every damn thing in this world. You thought you knew.

Now you feel like you don’t know much of anything, especially not what he means right in this moment.

“You don’t?” He whispers, hand moving to grab your wrist and bring it to his cheek so his lips can brush along the delicate lines of your palm prints. (If he was brave, he’d tell you that his destiny and yours are written in those very lines. Maybe someday he’ll build the courage.)

“No,” you say through a shaky whisper. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you. Just like you love me.” He says it so plainly, that you almost feel like it's a dry, cruel joke. (You know him a little better than that, though, to know he’d never.)

“How do you know I love you?” you challenge just because it’s all you have left to cling to—easy, instant denial.

He laughs. Soft. Quiet. Melodic. So fucking sweet. “I’m too smart to act dense,” Alhaitham teases. And then, for a moment, his eyes soften enough that they almost look vulnerable. “And only someone who loves me could deal with my… peculiarities. Though, I will admit, it took me quite a while to reach this conclusion. You made me work for it.”

“If you’ve known all along—”

“Not all along,” he corrects, “like I said, it took me a while to come to this conclusion. But once I did, it was rather obvious.”

You scowl with a finger prodding into his chest, eyes misty with relief and the faintest traces of agitation, “Well, regardless, why haven’t you said something all this time? Obviously, I wasn’t as aware as you seem to be, so the least you could have done is spared me the pining and heartbreak of wondering if you’d ever look at me—”

“I wanted to make sure I could offer you a peaceful life first,” he says gently. You blink. He smiles, eyeing something in the distance—you don’t quite catch it, but you think it might be the old, worn-out stack of envelopes sitting on his desk.

“What?”

“When you’re with me,” he whispers, leaning in so that his lips brush over yours, “I can lead a peaceful life. I wanted to make sure I could give you the same.”

“And what does that consist of?” you raise a brow.

“Well,” he murmurs, pecking the corner of your mouth, “A stable job with a generous income, which I now have. A fixed schedule, which I have also negotiated. A proper home to house the both of us, which you are comfortably laying in. And…” he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest where his heart is beating erratically, “A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on, which I have dedicatedly worked to add to my physique for you.”

“Haitham!” you squeal, shoving him away with a horrified shriek as he laughs with a wide grin. You don’t even know why he still remembers that comment to poke fun at it, but you suppose that is the tragedy of falling for a prodigious scholar. His mind is sharp. And so is his memory. “Enough!”

“Okay, okay,” he grins smugly. “I want us to lead a peaceful life.”

“There’s not a lot of peace I am counting on with you.”

“I will elect to ignore that statement,” he says dryly, “But that’s why I waited this long,” he buries his face into your neck, nose pressing into the skin as he inhales, “I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer, though. Won’t you accept my frugal attempt at a serene life with you?”

“Perhaps I can make do,” you fight back a stupid grin.

He smiles into your neck. You can feel it. You can practically see it. You hope you’ll grow old with it, too.

“Then I suppose I’m forever indebted to your graciousness, my love.”

────────────────────────

TWENTY FOUR.

When Alhaitham was eight, Grandmother told him the story of how his parents had fallen in love. It was a typical love story, he thought at the time—nothing overly special or unique. A simple, sweet bond between two people who became friends and something more along the way.

What stood out were the letters. Not very much at first, but with time, he’d realized how special they were.

Grandmother handed him the letters with a soft, melancholy look in her eyes that made him realize he hadn’t just lost his father and mother. She had lost her son and daughter-in-law. Alhaitham felt the absence of his parents often. It was hard not to at that age—he didn’t have a father to throw a ball to or tag along with to the market. He didn’t have a mother to hum him a melody or make his favorite dish for dinner. But Grandmother filled the gaps in those places well enough that even if his heart bled, not too much blood spilled between the cracks.

But he was no son. Not a proper one for her at her age, anyway. She raised him like he was her own, but she grew older every day, and he didn’t grow fast enough to keep up. He couldn’t take care of her in her old age the way his father would have. He couldn’t do much besides bring the vegetables for her to cut or set the table while she cooked. He couldn’t offer her the mora when she went to the market or carry too many of the heavy bags while they walked home. He couldn’t let her rest in her old age too much because, regardless of how mature and bright he was for his age, Alhaitham was just a child. Her child, nonetheless—Grandmother didn’t let him forget that fact. But a child.

When she died, he arranged the funeral alone. He didn’t cry throughout the whole ordeal. Her old colleagues from way back in her Akademiya days came, as did some of his parents’ old acquaintances. No one he knew too familiarly, though—no one who really mattered when they clasped his shoulder and told him to hang in there.

She was a good woman. He knew that already.

She was very intelligent. A very obvious fact.

She was exceptionally kind. A rather unsurprising observation.

She loved very deeply. Well. That one stung—as true as it might have been.

He remembers it so vividly still. How he had walked home alone after it all. How he had taken off his tie (a very poorly tied tie, at that—Grandmother had always helped him before) and silently entered his room.

It wasn’t until he had eyed his desk that finally, it all sank in. The notes—the ones his father had so carefully written his mother while they were still just starting to fall in love, sat there as if waiting for him. He read them one by one, just like he had so many times before. He didn’t realize he’d started crying until a rivulet of his sorrow landed from his cheek to the page, staining the paper a darker shade of heartache.

Alone.

That’s all Alhaitham had ever been since the tender age of four. At least, that’s what people had always thought—but he’d never felt the sorrow people tended to feel for him. Not having a father and mother was okay. Hard at times, but okay. Grandmother had been everything he needed. More than what he needed, in fact.

Grandmother was everything. And she had left him just the same way his parents had. He’d cried that night—alone in a house that was nothing more than just a house. Not a home, not a place where he could return to and look forward to it. Not a place where love was waiting for him to shelter him as soon as he came back from the cruel, outside world.

Grandmother was gone. Mother and father had left so long ago. But they all had each other—in whatever world they’d crossed to, they’d had each other.

He remembers it all so vividly still. How he’d read his father’s words, and for the first time in all his life, he’d craved it. What his parents had.

To my love, my soul, my heart. I am yours, always.

He wondered that night, through teary and blurry eyes, if love like that would ever find him. If he’d one day be able to call someone his love, soul, and heart.

He thinks now, as you laugh with your head tilted forward and a tweezer in hand while sitting on his lap, that he can.

“Hold still, you,” comes your teasing remark, “you said this would be nothing. Now look at you.”

“You’re being too harsh,” he grumbles, pouting slightly. With a smile, you bend your neck down and press a soft kiss to his jutted lips, humming before pressing an extra one to the corner of his mouth for good measure. (And yes, the grand sage—acting, you can almost hear him correct in your own head—can pout. He is rather frequent at curling those lips of his in your presence when he wants something, in fact. Or when he is teased too much. Something about you brings about a side of him that is much less stoic and far more dramatized.)

“You can just admit it hurts, you know,” you say through an amused snort.

“It won’t hurt if you just do it right.”

“I’m an expert at tweezing eyebrows,” you huff, “I do mine all the time. And I would know that it hurts.”

“It can’t be that painful,” he clicks his teeth, “just be gentle.”

“I cannot gently pull out a hair from your follicle, Haitham—I don’t know what you want me to—hey!”

He grabs the tweezers from your hand and pulls you close, hugging you tight enough that his nose digs into your skin a bit as he buries it into your neck. It’s Saturday. His first out of two days off for the week—standard scribe work weeks are nine to five on weekdays, and he very much appreciates his weekends away from the bustling, lively Akademiya nonsense.

Saturday happens to be your day off, too.

“Where is Kaveh?” you ask quietly, playing with the hem of his shirt. He raises a brow, eyeing the suspicious movement of your fingers.

“Working with a client in Aaru Village. He won’t be back until tomorrow evening. Why am I not enough company for you?”

“Oh, be quiet,” you roll your eyes, and this time, your hands wander under his shirt, palms slowly dragging along his chiseled, planed abdomen while he shivers slightly under your touch. “I was just asking if…”

“If…?” he urges you to continue.

You know he knows. But, for the sake of indulging his smug, teasing little game, you huff and push his shirt up to expose his chest before murmuring, “If we would be interrupted or not. I don’t fancy such awkward run-ins with your roommate.”

“Our roommate,” he corrects, “this is your home, too.”

“Yes,” you smile, brushing your palms over his pectorals, watching as he stiffens when you graze along his nipples, “I suppose it is.”

“Well, he’s not here. And he won’t be, so kiss me,” he demands through a breathy whisper. You do. You kiss him instantly—because kissing Alhaitham is what you do best. When he’s happy, sad, angry, distressed, or just plain tired, kissing him is how you know him the most. When your breaths exchange and your life force and his mingle to become one, singular unit.

You sigh into his mouth, letting his hands cradle your jaw and tilt your head to better meet his mouth, all while your hands still explore his upper half. He moans under your touch, cock springing to life slowly below you through his pants. You angle your hips forward, inching higher up his lap to drag your crotch along his and help the erection grow against the friction.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hard and heavy between his legs in no time.

“Haitham,” you breathe, feeling that familiar ache build between your own thighs.

You kiss him like that for a bit. Messy, deep, sloppy, and so, so slow. With all the time in the world. Languid strokes of your tongue against his as he rolls his hips up from underneath you, dragging his clothed, bulging cock against your dripping cunt. The fabric separates you, rudely so, and it’s not long until you both grow tired of it.

“Off,” you whine, tugging at his pants, “off, off, off!”

“So demanding,” he chuckles, pecking your nose sweetly before he lifts his hips, letting you slide off his sweatpants. “Satisfied?”

“Yes,” you beam, “You always give me what I want. It’s my favorite thing about you.”

His gaze darkens at that—not for any other reason than it makes him so incredibly filled with lust when you speak to him like that. So spoiled and happy about it because it’s him. Him. You’re happy that it’s him. And he’s happy that it’s you.

You don’t even bother undressing yourselves fully—he pulls down your own pants just enough to expose your pretty, leaking folds, and his hands wander under your shirt, where he almost short-circuits for a moment. Braless. Because you just love to drive him mad, he thinks. This much easy access to your soft, delicate breasts and the pert nipples that decorate them is enough to make him curse under his breath as his thumbs tease over them.

“You’re a tease.”

“For simply existing?” you gasp, making him crack a small grin.

“Yes,” he hums, “Your existence on its own teases me at all times. I’m afraid it drives me mad.”

You hum, reaching forward to gently take his hard, leaking cock into your hand and give a light, teasing squeeze. “Maybe my goal is to turn you completely into a lost cause.”

“Then,” he groans, throwing his head back against the couch cushions while he breathes harshly, “then you’re definitely succeeding. Is that what you wished to hear?”

“Yes,” you whisper, kissing his jaw, “It is, actually.”

It doesn’t take long at all before Alhaitham has tossed you back against the couch, laughing as you shriek at the sudden change of position. You glare at him, fighting back your own chorus of giggles as he moves to hover over you, kissing and biting playfully along your cheeks.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

“Aw, so sweet,” you coo, “say that again.”

He rolls his eyes. His lips curl into the brightest grin at the same time. My love, my soul, my heart—the words are ingrained in his memory always. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” you whisper.

He leans in for a soft, slow kiss as the tip of his leaking cock slides against your folds, tapping against your clit before rubbing along your entrance. You gasp, shuddering against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I could get used to this.”

“Sex on the couch? We can do that any time—”

“A weekend with just the two of us,” he groans, dropping his head to your neck as you laugh loudly. Bright. Airy. A sound the wind carries to him in his subconscious. He hears you even when you’re not there—even when you aren’t around, he searches for you.

“Oh,” you say playfully, “Yeah, I guess that’s nice too, isn’t it?”

“I’ll show you just how nice it’s about to be,” he hums. The tip of his thick, blunt head is pressed against your folds—you’re leaking just as much as he is. You slick, and his pre cum mix for a messy collision of arousal as he presses into you slowly, so carefully, you feel like you could break at any second with how he handles you.

He’s patient. When Alhaitham fucks you, he’s patient enough that you feel like his other half and not his means of pleasure. Like he fucks you for you and not for himself.

“More,” you insist, impatient as you add, “I can take it.”

“Patience is a virtue,” he clicks his teeth, “I want to take my time feeling you.”

And he does. He rolls his hips slowly. So slowly, you feel delirious. It’s a painful, gradual build-up of pleasure that has you trying to roll your hips into him to meet him halfway, a pathetic attempt when he’s on top of you to press his weight down on you to keep you in place.

“Please, Haitham,” you whine, sweat shining across your sweet, pleasure-hazed face as he stares down at you, “Please more. I need it—need you. Need all of you.”

“You have all of me,” he groans, feeling the tight walls of your cunt squeeze around him, the squelching noise of his thick girth bullying into your folds in and out, in and out, in and out, driving him to the brink of insanity. “You’ve always had every piece of me.”

“I want more,” you hiss.

He lets out a breathy laugh that turns into a soft moan. “If that’s what you want.”

The next thing you know, two strong, muscled arms are grabbing your thighs and bringing them around his torso to wrap around him, and his large hands grab your hips and pull, practically manhandling you deeper onto his cock. You shudder, letting out a shrill, high-pitched gasp as he intrudes further into your cunt, nudging the head of his cock against your sweetest of spots and making your body tremble.

“Haitham,” you gasp, “Haitham, fuck—fuck, you feel so good. So deep—love when you fuck me like this.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, kissing in between your pretty little scrunched-up eyebrows, “I love fucking you like this, too. When you take me so well, squeeze so tight, and let me feel you like the good girl you are.”

His words make your folds squeeze around him, and fuck—he’s close. So fucking close, the pad of his rough, callused thumb meets your clit as he rubs circles, trying to bring you to the edge before he goes plummeting himself.

“‘M close—almost…almost there,” you pant.

“Me too, baby,” he groans. He slams into you, skin slapping against skin and the glistening sheen of it mixing your sweat together. His mouth parts with pretty, low sounds of his pleasure, and your face twists with the devastating rush of yours.

Once. Twice. A third time, and you fall apart as he thrusts into you and presses the tip of his thick length against the spongey spot in the back of your walls.

“Haitham,” you gasp, legs tightening around him as your nails press crescent shapes into his back. “Fuck, I’m c-cumming…oh, Gods.”

“Good,” he gasps, and with one last roll of his desperate hips, he spills into you, too. A thick, sticky, familiar rush of heat fills your cunt, topes of cum painting you white within with every twitch of his aching cock. “Fuck—you feel so good. So perfect—you were made for me. Me.”

“You,” you whisper, breathless.

You let him shudder over you, fingers running through his hair as he finishes releasing his load into you before he slumps his wait over your body. It’s a small couch—decorative more than functional. (All thanks to Kaveh, of course.) But you don’t particularly care when you’re under him. It feels right all the same.

“We have the house to ourselves this weekend,” he reminds you after some time of catching your breaths. “So…so we can do this all you want.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes as you poke his forehead. “You’re obscene.”

“I’m romantic,” he corrects, “I just want to be with you and nothing else. Can’t blame a man when he’s been gifted such a beautiful sight before him.”

“And cheesy, too,” you huff.

He smiles. My love, my soul, my heart.

——————————

You wake up Monday morning to Alhaitham already gone—it’s rare that he’s ever up before you. He leaves the house just in time to make it to work exactly on the dot and not a moment sooner or a moment later. But, as is with any Akademiya position, there are quarterly meetings that even the scribe can’t avoid. You giggle at the image in your head of a grumpy Alhaitham carefully tiptoeing around the room as he miserably gets ready for an early morning of extra work, all while making sure he doesn’t wake you.

You yawn, sitting up to start your morning for your own day of work ahead—but it catches your eye before you can fully rise from bed, making you pause.

A note? No, you realize almost instantly. Not just a note—a letter.

To my love, my soul, my heart: Kalpalata lotuses will bloom soon. I forget how beautiful the world is sometimes, and I suppose it’s because I am always distracted by your beauty alone. Will you laugh as you read this? I suppose you might because even I must admit, it is a rather cliche thing to say. I can just picture your smile now, and I am certain I will have it memorized until my last breath. It’s easy to remember it so well when it’s all I see in my dreams. Have I told you how often I see you in them? It’s difficult to think that there was once a time in Sumeru when we did not dream. It seems like sleeping beside your body is no longer enough—your presence is required even in my slumber for me to truly be at peace. Perhaps when the lotuses bloom, we can take a trip to the deeper parts of the rainforest to catch a glimpse of a few. They say the vines are blessed by The Lord herself. I was never one to seek out the divine, but perhaps with a gift as sacred as you, I should take the time to thank Lady Kusanali for granting such brilliance to take bloom in my presence. Only, the difference is that here with you, there are no cliffs to climb or seasons to await. You are mine to bloom, always—my precious, beautiful lotus. Forever yours, Haitham ♡

ITS DONE. HAPPY LATE BDAY TO MY FIRST AND LONGEST LOVE. YOU MEAN EVERYTHING AND MORE TO MEEEEE

#OK FIRST OF ALL I WAS SO EXCITED TO SEE THIS FIC GOES LIVE YOU HAVE NO IDEA #SO HERE COMES MY THOUGHTS (im writing the tag as i read so i can give u my live reading cause holy shit)#for the twenty one section: OK FIRST OF ALL HELLO MEET UGLY ?!??!!? I THINK THIS IS MY FAV HAITHAM'S FIRST MEETING CAUSE #HOLY SHIT YEA ID HAVE A HEADACHE TALKING TO THIS MAN-- and the banter us so so natural and funny-- what a lil shit he is lol //pos #BUT I ALSO LIKE THE SET UP FOR READER'S CHARACTER ?!?!?! I JUST LOVE HOW SASSY AND STRAUGHTFORWARD #*straightforward* SHE IS LIKE HELLO YOU GO GIRL BOSS #btw running into him in the house of daina cause he works there is also such a fun“oh theyre going to be friends” lead up I LOVE THAT #the line “i love draining a man of his wallet” legit got me going “YES QUEEN DO IT SUCK HIM DRY” AT READER IM SO ?!?!?!? //POS #ITS JUST ONE OF MY FAV BANTER AJDJSJDJSJDJ #ok to the twenty two: i havent read 23 yet but i think this is my favourite out this fic #because the situation is just set up so incredibly well-- haitham being conflicted cause hes so obviously in love but he doesnt know (or #isnt willing to submit his conclusion of her liking him back yet + him being thick skinned and this affected him just show how smitten he i #ALSO WOW HE GOT GUTS-- I MEAN HE KNOWS HE HAS GUTS BUT WOW THAT WAS VERY STRAIGHTFORWARD BRAVO BRAIN BOY #reader is so fucking sassy im actually in love with her like-- ok so shes definitely in love but she cant help being sassy when he said #'thats it' LIKE MAN AJDJSJDJSJDJ also the waiter... whos the waiter actually he got rizz what the heck #“the waiter that ruined his whole day give him the bill and something that ruin his mood for week” IM LITERALLY SO OBSESSED WITH THIS LINE #GOD IDK WHY BUT THERE IS SOME WEIRD CATHARTIC SEEING UR FAV SO IN LOVE THAT THIS WOULD RUIN THEIR MOOD AJDJSJDJSJD #OK ONTO TWENTY 3: HELLO WHERE DID WE WAKE UP IN CAN YOU REPEAT THAT I WAS WALKING MY FISH ?!?!?!#ON HIS BED ??? IN HIS CHEST ??????????#drunk sex cure relationship i stg (i jest for legal reason ofc) BUT OMG READER'S POV AFTER 2 YEARS OF HAITHAM SUFFERING #but oh my god she is so so so sweet... sweetie he's so in love with you you need to be more confident sob #BUT ALSO THE SMALLEST OF DETAIL SHE RECALLED LIKE HELLO ?!?!?!?! WIFE MATERIAL HAITHAM YOU LUCKY BITCH #“praying lord kusanali for blessing their small humble family and daughter for such a devine man” IM SORRY BUT THIS WAS SO FUNNY TO ME FOR #SOME REASON LIKE-- asian parents im sorry but theyd be so happy for real 😭😭 BUT YES GIRL YOU ARE WIFE MATERIAL #HAITHAM OF ALL PPL FALL FOR U UR THE CHOSEN ONE-- also their dialogue... im so weak river what :[[#ITS ACTUALLY SO SWEET ?!?!?! him saying i love you finally while reader is here having a spiral... :[[[#AUSGHASHHAHS ok haitham u are forgiven please treat reader well :[[[ NO TWENTY 3 IS SO SWEET IM #ALSO HIM MAKING SURE THEY COULD HAVE A GOOD LIFE IM ?!?!?! I CANNOT BE THIS WEAK RIGHT #AND THE CHEST COMMENT ?? I ACTUALLY LOVE SASSY HAITHAM LIKE THIS-- he should be like this more riv im begging hes so entertaining like this #OK TWENTY 4 OMG: THE BEGINNING TALKING ABT HIS PARENTS' LOVE IM... LIL HAITHAM NO...

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cuteandhughesy · 6 months ago

Text

Sleepover | Matt Rempe

summary: your roommate and matt's roommate are hooking up - leaving you with no choice but to stay with matt during your shared schools trip.

[word count] 7.9K

a/n: this story jumps between past and present - if the paragraphs are in italics, that is my way of writing the past :)

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you were going to kill your roommate jade. first of all, you didn't even want to go on this stupid trip in the first place: jade had convinced you to come along. second of all, the trip didn't even benefit you. jade is in the sports journalism program at the college, therefore the field trip of what was described as 'the most beneficial sport related retreat,' was an ideal place for her and her entire program to attend: not so much you.

jade begged for you to join her. she claimed a girl from her class that she really didn't get along with would've been her roommate if she couldn't find someone else...and being her good friend you agreed (eventually).

the first couple days of the trip weren't all that bad. you attended presentations, participated in fun sport related activities and even beat jade in ping pong in the hotel lobby.

you still wanted to kill her though. she's looking at you all cute and innocent - hair styled and makeup still on, wrapped in a silky set of red pyjamas that definitely weren't comfortable.

you fight the urge to groan. "are you joking?"

jade bites her lip gently, "no...i'm sorry. it's just, devin and I wanted a night to ourselves and I said my room was free....if you're really upset I can call it off."

devin and jade have been hooking up for a little over a month, but they've been shamelessly flirting for three. it was cute, it really was. and devin was really sweet and was actually a super nice guy. jade clearly agreed, her big eyes blinking back at you gently.

"no," you sigh, "don't call it off."

jade's smile starts to grow. "you're the best."

you just shrug. a knock sounds on your hotel rooms shared door and it has jade giggling, skipping along to pull open the threshold. devin stands there with a big smile, looking comfortable in his sweats, hair messy atop his head.

"hey," he greets you after kissing your friends cheek.

you nod, "hey, i'll head down to the lobby, give you guys some space."

jade furrows her brows as you collect a hoodie, "what? the lobby?" she sounds kind of shocked, like maybe there was a possibility you were going to miraculously have a different room to go to.

"the lobby," you nod.

"actually," devin interruptes, "I have a room you could chill in...as long as you don't mind some company."

your stomach swoops, "who's your roommate?" you already know the answer. although you didn't know many people attending this outing, you knew that a few guys from the hockey team had tagged along - including devin. and wherever devin goes, his good friend and your biggest fan follows.

"matt." devin says.

matt rempe wasn't your favourite person in the world. it's not that you two didn't get along, because you were friendly. it's just...matt wasn't the type of person you typically gravitated towards. if he wasn't flirting with you, he was driving you crazy - or worse, flirting with someone else. he was loud, ridiculously popular...and he was so tall it was almost intimidating.

you nod at devin and jade with a tight smile, grabbing your stuff. you're sure they are both sick and damn tired of hearing your comments about the hockey player - so you choose to behave: listening to devin rattle off his room number and brief directions to the room. they practically shove you out the door, obviously eager for their alone time.

the number of devin and matt's hotel room stares down at you. you raise your hand to knock, but drop it. then you start to gently pace, because...what the hell are you about to do?

matt would be suspicious of you immediately. you had never seeked him or his attention out in the three long months you've been acquainted. or maybe he'd be happy you're there, and you'd have to pretend like his flirting didn't make your toes curl and stomach flip like it usually does. then you think of the possibility he might even turn you away - finally having some alone time on this trip without interruptions: maybe...he's got a girl in there.

you almost turn and head for the lobby at that thought but stop yourself. the shitty pleather chairs by the front desk aren't calling to you the same as the plush mattress of the hotel bed. and honestly, you really need to get out of your tight jeans and scrub your face until there's not even traces of makeup left.

the fear of matt's rejection is long gone, and you lift your hand again - your fist is coming down, knocking three times gently before dropping.

as you adjust the pillow tucked under your arm, the door swings open. upon seeing you, matt raises his brows inquisitively. at first he almost looks nervous of your sudden presence and you think he probably is: because why would you be showing up outside his hotel room at night when you were barley friends. "ummm, hi."

he sounds confused but doesn't look annoyed with you. then again, you don't think he's ever been annoyed with you.

"hi," you repeat back, flashing a gentle smile at him. matt looks you up and down before eyeing the pillow you have under your arm and the tote bag hanging off your shoulder.

you try not to blush under his intense gaze.

"you okay?" he asks after a moment.

you just nod, neck tilted back so you can look at him properly.

he chuckles gently, "okay. what are you doing here?" matt folds his arms together across his gray shirt, leaning against the doorway with a rather hot smirk on his face.

you take a deep breath and try and shake away the feelings in your belly. "jade and devin are having some time to themselves...devin said I could crash with you."

he nods once but stays silent.

"if that's okay. I already told them I could always head down to the lobby." your words don't sound convincing and you're pretty sure your giving him a pleading look - you really want to put your pyjamas on.

matt lets out a soft laugh, "alright, c'mon." he jerks his head over his shoulder and into his dimly lit room.

you shoulders drop with relief and you breath a gentle smile. you move into the room and past the threshold, brushing against matt's abs as you squeeze past his large frame leant up against the door.

he follows you once you pass, shutting the door behind him. you can feel the ghost of matt's massive hand hovering against your back as you move - even though he isn't actually touching you, the heat between you was enough for you to be aware of his presence.

"thanks," you smile. there's a brown pullout couch that mirrors the one in your and jades shared room. it has you feeling even more relived, moving and tossing your stuff down on the cushions. although the bed sounds nothing less than heavenly, sharing a bed with the guy who just so happens to not only push your buttons but turn you on simultaneously...wasn't the smartest decision. the couch would do.

"what are you doing?" matt asks behind you. you freeze, hands that were previously removing couch cushions to find the lever to release the mattress, stopping.

you give him a look of confusion over your shoulder, "i'm trying to prepare my bed."

matt raises his brows at you and takes two large steps towards you, grabbing your pillow and bag from the couch.

"hey!" you exclaim, watching as the 6'7 athlete tosses your belongings onto the queen sized bed in the middle of the room. he doesn't look in your direction, too busy jostling your stuff around. he is so infuriating, you think with a huff, "hey, rempe, what the hell are you doing?"

he quirks a brow and looks down at you with an amused smirk from your use of his last name. "you're not sleeping on the couch, y/l/n." he teases your last name and that with the combination of his smirk has you feeling hot and bothered.

your face must be pulled tight because matt's face falls. "don't worry, we don't have to share...I'll sleep on the couch."

immediately you shake your head, "no, you're way too big for that small ass couch."

his teasing look is back, "you think i'm big?"

you just scoff, crossing your arms as you look away from the man infront of you.

matt laughs at your reaction.

your eyes dart back to him, "i'm not going to kick you out of your own bed, matt, especially after i crashed your peace and barged in here."

he shrugs, "well, i'm not letting you sleep on the couch."

you tilt your chin up, "then I guess we will share the bed." there goes your plan to not share a bed with him.

"guess so," he grins.

matt rounds towards the side of the bed he had clearly been lounging in before you knocked on the door, picking up his phone and continuing his video as if you weren't even there.

you clear your throat gently, digging into your bag that had been thrown on the unoccupied side of the bed to grab something to sleep in. "i'm just gunna get ready for bed in the bathroom."

matt's eyes dart up to meet yours, "okay?"

your brows pull together, "just letting you know in case you need to use it before I go in there."

he smirks, "nah i'll be alright."

you don't say another word and turn on your heels, marching off into the bathroom and locking the door quickly behind you. once alone you take a deep breath, gripping the counter top to try and calm yourself.

you can't believe you're about to share a bed with a guy you've known for three months- never mind that guy being matt fucking rempe.

you weren't blind. although he may not be your preferred cup of tea, it was undeniable that he was attractive. he was tall - almost too tall - and he had a soft face with nice features that made him conventionally good looking.

sometimes the way your body reactes when you think about him has you thinking that maybe you have some sort of feelings for him. you think that if he wasn't so...obnoxious, you'd probably be hopelessly in love with him.

you shake that off, washing your face of any makeup - you have to use a new hotel branded bar soap because you left your face wash back in your own room. you pray your skin doesn't breakout tomorrow because of it.

you change into your pyjamas and almost immediately you think about changing back into your jeans and long sleeve. your tank top is low cut, exposing a fair amount of your chest. your shorts are loose, but small. a very comfortable set, but not appropriate for sharing with a guy - especially matt. matt who loved to make comments, matt who loved to touch you and flirt with you.

relax, you think, you're both adults. in fact, this is probably a normal thing for matt. he probably shares beds with girls all the time. the thought of that has you feeling a bit sick, so you take a deep breath and collect your discarded clothes.

you leave the bathroom and don't look in matt's direction. shoving your clothes into your tote and pulling out your phone charger to avoid his stare. the room is almost dark, only matt's lamp illuminating the room. he must've shut off the ceiling light while you were gone.

you plug in your phone and then tuck yourself into bed quickly, still ignoring the feel of matt's eyes on your body as you get under the sheets.

a moment later, you hear his phone turn off, the click of the button echoing in your ears. you grab one of the pillows and shove it between you two, providing a barrier between your bodies. you don't know if it was more for your sake or his. the action has matt chuckling in a breath, his long fingers fiddling with the lamp until it's shut off.

now enveloped in the dark, you let your eyes wander over to matt. he's shirtless now, thick chest on show, almost glistening in the moonlight streaming through the cracks of the curtains.

"want a picture?" his voice has your eyes widening, quickly moving your head to look up at the white ceiling and away from his body.

you scoff, "no."

matt laughs quietly.

a beat passes.

"nice pyjamas." you can practically hear the smirk on his voice - feel the lazy stare.

even in the dark, matt can see the way your cheeks flush. your breathing quickens and you tug on the blanket, pulling it higher and tighter around your chest. you splutter for a moment, not too sure what your response should be - you know he's just trying to get you to react. "thanks." is what you settle on, a quirk to your lips that has matt feeling gooey in the best possible way.

matt has always been a fan of you. he likes how easy you get flustered, and the way you love your friend so much that you'd trek all the way to his room so jade could be alone in yours. he's always noticed you. he's noticed the way your hair was always styled: wether it was down or up - straight or curly. sometimes slicked back, or half up half down - ribbons sometimes pinned in with braids, or headbands as an accessory. he noticed how you always smelt the same, which was heavenly: something fruity but also not too sweet.

ever since meeting through devin a few months back, matt has yet to get you out of his head. he remembers the royal blue zip up hoodie you were wearing and flared black pants when you introduced yourself. you were so beautiful and he was smitten immediately. matt liked that you didn't fall to his feet - but we're still affected by his words. he liked that he had to work for you to smile and he would work as hard as he needed to if it meant seeing your face beam.

"how come you're here?"

matt's question has you frowning, "I already told you that Jade and Devin-"

"no," matt interrupts, "like how come you're on this trip. you're in the psych program."

"oh," you hum, "how do you know what program i'm in?"

"I pay attention, y/n."

your brows lift, "you pay attention to me?"

he kind of scoffs at that because, are you being for real. "especially you," he smirks at the way you blink quickly at him. "are you going to answer my question?" matt teases.

"right," you laugh gently, "jade needed a roommate if she didn't want to bunk with some girl that, apparently, annoys her. I couldn't really care less about any of this sports stuff but, I care about her, so...here I am."

matt watches your face go soft when you mention jade and he thinks you're just the sweetest thing ever. instead of praising your act of kindness, he smirks, "here you are in a bed with me," he teases.

immediately you blush at his teasing out of habit and then you curse yourself because, how can he get you flustered so easily? "why are you always flirting? can you have an actual conversation? or are you just trying to get me to fall for your charm and then be done with me?"

he swallows thickly and his face falls, "sorry." matt mumbles, eyes leaving yours to stare up at the ceiling.

you exhale at his somber reaction, your chest dropping. you watch as he studies the area above him, blinking gently and gnawing at the skin of his bottom lip: probably hard enough to break the plump flesh.

now you feel guilty. matt's never been mean to you, even if his flirting drives you crazy - he's never made you uncomfortable or given you the slightest hint that he would ever discard you after getting what he wants. matt is just being unapologetically himself.

without much more thought, your small hand grabs the fluffy cushion shoved between you and softly toss it to the end of the bed, removing the barrier between your bodies. you sigh, turning your body to the side so you're completely facing matt.

his eyes widen as he watches you, and you can tell he wants to smile at your act of boldness. you have to resist turning right back over under his stare.

"don't be sorry," your words are a whisper into the room, "i'm just being a bitch. it's who you are and...I like who you are matt."

then he mimics you and turns his much larger body to the side, chest now facing yours. you only take a moment to admire the ripples of muscles under matt's skin before you meet his eyes. "you do?" he asks you gently.

"yeah," you swallow, "it's what makes you you."

his brows pull together and then his top lip quirks up in what looks like the beginning of a smirk, "are you fucking with me?"

you groan, "matt i'm being serious." your words come out in a whine and you're pushing off the mattress with your shoulder, propelling yourself to turn back on your other side and away from matt.

"hey, no," his large hand grips your hip, stopping any more movement you had thought about making. "i'm sorry, don't be mad."

you stay still and his hand doesn't leave your hip. which is good, because you don't want it to. "i'm not mad," you breathe.

he smiles softly , "okay."

you're feeling flustered under his gaze again so you close your eyes, praying that sleep will take you away sooner rather than later and this weird evening came be done.

matt's fingers start tracing patterns on your exposed hip bone gently, the calloused pads sending shocks through your body. you shiver gently, to which he breaths a sigh.

"do you hate me?" his words are gentle, a hushed whisper that bounces through the quiet hotel room.

your eyes open to meet matt's. he's looking down at you softly, pure vulnerability over taken his features. he looks almost...sad.

"why would you ask me that?" your words are just as hushed.

his shoulders shrug against the sheets. "I feel like you hate me."

you're shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence. "I could never hate you matt. I wouldn't be here If I hated you."

"then why do you never flirt back?"

all the colour drains from your face at his question. if you were being honest with yourself, you don't even know why you've never reciprocated matt's advances. I mean sure, you tell yourself and everybody else that you weren't that into him - he wasn't your cup of tea and so on but...then you think about how your body tingles and heart beats when he checks on you or finds you in a crowd, just for the sake of being near you.

so yeah, maybe you do know why you don't flirt back. you swallow gently, eyes flickering to meet matt's. "you make me kind of nervous." you whisper.

his eyes widen slightly, "I make you nervous?" his question is so simple and genuine that you immediately want to grab his face and tell him everything you've ever felt for him.

instead of answering his question directly, you sigh, "If I be honest will you promise to not make fun of me?"

matt barley nods, face moving against his stack of pillows- eyes not once leaving your face.

"sometimes I wish that you only flirted with me," you start your confession very quietly. so much so you're almost sure matt can't hear you. you don't wait for him to say something, you just continue, "because if you only flirted with me I would know how you feel about me...instead of flirting with everyone and making me feel like i'm just some girl."

matt's eyes soften in the dark room. although he looks nervous, his words hold confidence. "you're the only one I flirt with the way I flirt with you. you're not just some girl."

your brows furrow, "what does that mean?"

he sighs, "you're different than everybody else, y/n. god..." he laughs through his sigh, eyes darting towards the ceiling momentarily, "can you not tell how utterly obsessed I am with you?"

you feel your face heat up, body flushing with his confession. you're sure matt can feel the warmth from where his fingers still rest against your skin under the blankets.

swallowing, you answer, "I thought you were just being nice - just like you are with everyone."

he pushes himself an inch closer towards you, squeezing your love handle with his warm palm. "can you honestly say that you've seen me treat anybody the way I treat you?"

you think to back when you first met matt.

three months ago

"wanna grab another drink with me?" jade's voice is loud in your ear, even booming over the shitty music playing through the speakers.

you shake your head, adjusting your lean against the wall of the hockey house - or so campus called it. the house was essentially a fraternity, but instead of guys affiliated with greek clubs, it was most of the college's hockey team.

"no, i'm good."

jade frowns at your lack of enthusiasm and pushes away from the wall. "are you not having fun? I thought this would be fun for the both of us!"

you sigh. jade had asked you to accompany her to this party because she was wanting to get closer to who she claims is her future husband. his name is devin and you share a couple classes together. he was really nice, and jade's type - which was fortunate for her ongoing fantasy.

"i'm sorry, it's just....if you want to go and stalk your lover boy, be my guest. just because I don't want a drink from the kitchen where devin walked into a few minutes ago," your call out has jade giving you a sheepish look, "please go. i'm ready to be a bridesmaid."

your last sentence has her giggling, quickly forgeting your sour mood.

"hey," a voice says from beside you. both of your and jades eyes find devin's. he's smiling at your friend all bright and happy and you're kind of shocked because you really thought jade was in an unrequited love situation- devin's eyes said otherwise. teeth bright and holding a drink in his hand, devin greets you.

"hi," jade says cheerfully, squeezing devin's bicep.

you smile politely and look down towards the ground. your fingers fiddle with the zipper of your blue hoodie, tugging gently until you can pull it back up. just then you notice another pair of shoes standing with your friend - rather big shoes may you add.

your brows pull together just as devin starts to speak. "guys, this is my good friend matt. he's on the team with me - don't let his pretty face fool you, he's a total goon."

you look up (way up) and find a dark chocolate set of eyes looking down back into yours. he's got dark hair as well, but still lighter than his deep eyes. he does have a faded cut across his nose, but it's not off putting - it almost makes him look sexy.

you swallow hard.

"hey," matt smirks down at you.

"hi," you sound timid, so you clear your throat. "i'm y/n."

he nods. you've jetted out your hand in his direction, which seems to make his teasing grin widen, taking your hand in his own. just his palm is the size of your entire hand, and it has you gulping as he shakes it in a greeting.

jade and devin have wondered off, and you're suddenly wondering if this was some sort of setup. you can't find yourself to be too mad at jade if it was though, you were always complaining how lonely you felt. wanting a boyfriend and craving that male attention ever since your ex left you at the beginning of the year.

maybe matt was meant to fill your void. figuratively and literally. you blush at your own thoughts.

"are you going to drop my hand? or are we going to keep going until one of us gets a cramp?"

matt's words have you freezing, dropping his hand that you had still been shaking.

he frowns gently at the loss of contact, "awe, I was hoping you'd keep holding my hand."

your raise your brows, "is that so?"

his smirk is back, "most definitely."

your suck your lips to try and keep your smile at bay. you haven't been flirted with in so long, it was kind of rewarding.

the night was nice, you remember. matt had totally swooped you off your feet and charmed you with his teasing smile and dark eyes. but you also remember that while he flirted with you for hours, you heard him talking to another girl, and saw him dancing with a different one and you didn't feel so special anymore.

you went home with jade and when she had asked you about matt, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes (probably already planning double dates) you just shrugged, claiming he wasn't your cup of tea.

deep down, you knew he was more than just your cup of tea. he was the whole damn cafe. you're brought back into reality, those same brown eyes watching your face for any sort of indication that his sudden closeness was making you uncomfortable.

he wasn't.

you don't say anything so matt continues, "I mean I remember what you were wearing when we first met - and how you smelt. everyday I see get to see you, I can't wait to see how you've styled your hair or if you're wearing tinted or fucking regular lip gloss. honestly what I look forward to everyday is teasing you and only you. and when jade brings you to our games, I always look for you in the crowd."

two months ago

you're standing with your back to the locker room tunnel, facing jade as she excitedly recaps the boys game to you. you smile, even though she's telling you things you already know - you were there after all, but she is so excited you don't stop her. devin had scored a goal and pointed to her in celebration. it was cute.

during warmups, she begged for you to stand with her at the glass - which obviously you did because you would do anything for her. the team wizzed passed you both, and they were so fast, it was almost impossible to keep up with. devin had tossed a puck over the boards and blew jade a kiss - which was obviously sickingly sweet.

you remember admiring the way her eyes lit up and how she smiled back at devin. then you were pulled out of your admiration when a fist banged against the glass in front of you, affectively grabbing your attention. your head whips back around until your met with a chest covered in hockey gear and your schools team jersey.

you look up and to find matt looking down at you. he's impossibly taller on skates and it kind of has you trembling. he's got his usual grin on his face and he winks down at you.

you just roll your eyes at him. he sees right through your faux annoyance and sends a sarcastic pout in your direction - and it has your lips pulling into a smile. matt grins at your crack, giving one more bang to the glass before continuing his warm ups.

jade is still taking about the overtime goal when devin slides up beside her, hair wet from his shower and clad in his game day suit. he kisses her cheek and she's immediately stopping, giving her attention to the man beside her.

you smile at them.

a hand wraps around your ponytail, giving it a gentle but firm tug. your eyes widen, and just when you're about to turn around, the culprit comes into your view. matt is grinning at you with a cheeky twinkle in his eyes, releasing your hair so he can stand directly infront of you. "hey."

"hi." you say flatly. "I put a lot of work into my ponytail. don't tug it."

"yeah, I bet you did." he touches the tiny blue ribbon wrapped around the base. "looks cute, just like you."

you ignore his compliment, whacking his hand away from your hair.

matt laughs, grabbing your hand that was whacking at him and holding it to his chest. you just roll your eyes at his action, eyes darting away so you don't flush under his intense stare.

"what? no, 'thank you for the compliment, matt. you're the best!'"

you smile, eyes meeting his once again, "thank you," you deadpan.

matt smiles in victory. "you see my goal? I made sure to point to you in the crowd."

you quirk a brow, "you copied devin."

he smirks, "I scored first, if anything he copied me."

you continue, "also, no. I thought you were pointing to one of your other quests in the crowd."

he scoffs gently, "never. only you."

matt's hand moves from your hip, gently up your side until he finds your arm. he slides down until he meets your wrist, gently tugging until he can bring your hand towards his chest. he holds it there. "god, anytime we've all hung out, you've never noticed I always come looking for you? I'm always ordering your favourite food, picking your favourite movie..."

1 month ago

you're standing in devin and matt's kitchen by yourself and you have been for 5 minutes. everybody has occupied the living room, the entire hockey house along with you and jade and a couple other girls you don't recognize. all arguing over a movie and food and ugh, you just needed a second to get off the hard floor and drink some water.

the floor boards creek and it has you looking up. matt walks into his kitchen all tall and sleepy looking. you kind of want to put yourself inside his sweatshirt and wrap yourself around his torso. you ignore yourself and fill your glass with more water.

"what are you doing in here?"

you raise your eyebrows and swallow your mouthful of water. "i'm thirsty."

he mimics your expression, "you've been thirsty for 5 minutes? I miss you out there."

you ignore his last statement. "i'm very thirsty, yes."

he steps into your personal space, grabbing a cup from the shelf above your head. "okay, me too." he fills his own cup of water, drinking it slowly as he eyes you over the rim of the glass. you do the same, more so to hide your blush rather than actually drink water.

you clear your throat, "have they picked a movie?"

he shakes his head, "no." matt puts his glass in the sink, turning back towards you. "what's your favourite movie?"

"why?"

he laughs gently, "i'm just curious. don't shoot me."

your shoulders fall, "okay. my favourite movie is twilight."

"why?" matt asks quickly.

you quirk a brow and set your glass down. "umm, I don't know. I think I just like the story. it's not even about the romance," you laugh a little bit, "honestly I couldn't care less about the romance. it's just the whole mystery and colouring and rain and...it's very comforting."

he's watching you with such admiration it has you clearing your throat, slightly embarrassed about confessing your love for the damn twilight franchise.

"guys!" matt calls out. he grabs your hand and drags you both back into the living room. "I wanna watch twilight. it's her favourite."

you splutter and blush and smile all at once. he doesn't let go of your hand, bringing you towards the couch he was previously occupying. you don't protest, it looking much more comfortable that your blanket on the floor.

nobody really protests the twilight marathon, which was surprising. but then again matt is kind of scary and the poor girl with the tv remote was probably too nervous to disagree.

the movie starts and you turn to look at matt. he's already watching you.

"thanks," you whisper. your words can barley be heard over bella's monologue, so only matt's ears pick up your gratitude.

"shhh," he teases in a hush, "i'm trying to watch your favourite movie."

you give him a look of annoyance, which has him smirking, sending you a wink before turning back towards the dreary scenes of twilight.

you can practically feel your heart rattling your ribcage. the combination of matt's gentle touches and his words have you feeling overwhelmed in the best possible way.

matt squeezes your hand, "i'm so into you, it's not even funny. I like when you're snappy with me and give me a hard time - you make me work for it and it's my favourite thing."

1 month ago

you wipe your running nose with the back of your hand, groaning when you realize you definitely have to blow it. this cold was kicking your ass - so much so the past two days have been spent in bed or on your couch. surrounded by used tissues and cups of hot tea, avoiding any human interaction besides jade by not going to classes or any friend hangouts - including the party at the hockey house tonight.

you toss your recent kleenex to your mini garbage can just as your phone buzzes with a notification.

matt rempe

open your door

your brows pull together, cold nose scrunching as you re-read his text.

y/n

what?

matt rempe

i'm outside your door. open <3

you stumble over to the door like asked, one eye searching through the peephole to find matt standing outside. he's holding something in one hand, the other holding his phone - presumably texting your buzzing phone.

you pull open the door, not worried about your appearance. matt smirks at your tangled braid and the polar bear printed pyjamas set covering your body. "i'm sick," you huff, leaning against the door.

"Yeah, I can tell," he smiles, "your nose looks like rudolph's."

"shut up."

he smiles bigger, eyes darting behind you to try and catch a glimpse of the tv on the wall. "what are you watching?" matt moves past you, walking into your apartment like he lives there. he sets down what looks like a tupperware container of soup on the counter.

you shut the door, following behind him. "why? are you staying?"

matt turns back to face you, "do you want me to go?"

you shrug, "i'm contagious."

it's his turn to shrug, broad shoulders barley moving under his gray sweatshirt. "I don't care. besides, are you going to kick me out after I brought you chicken soup and flowers?"

you blink, seemingly unaware of the bouquet he had tucked under his bicep. the beautiful floral arrangement staring back at you when matt grabs them, pushing them in your direction and waving them slowly like he was enticing a dog with a treat.

you giggle thickly, your sore throat protesting. "no, I suppose not."

you throat goes dry. matt rempe is into you. "so you weren't flirting with me just because?"

he laughs gently, "no. I was doing it because I wanted you to think I was this really cool guy who, like, could just come in and swoop you off your feet and...I can't know for sure if it worked yet." his last words come out like a question, lip pulled between his teeth.

you nod, "that first time we met, I thought you maybe liked me. but then after we ended our conversation, you started dancing with other girls and talking with them and..."

matt suddenly drops your hand and you feel empty. but you don't feel that for long because he's then gently holding your face with his hands, his body practically pressed against yours. "I wouldn't have even done that if I had known you were interested. and i'm not saying it's your fault, I was just...I was nervous."

you smile gently.

"I've liked you since the moment I met you. when devin said I should meet jades best friend, I thought there would be no way I would've met the girl I've always dreamed of."

you feel tears wanting to prick at your waterline. you smile waterly, "the girl you've always dreamed of? you're such a little shit rempe."

he laughs with you, "only for you."

you grab ahold of his wrist as if you didn't want him to let go, holding him against your skin. "I like you too. I think i've always liked you but I pushed that possibility far away because I thought that it's just who you were - that I was just another face to lay your charm on."

"god no," matt sighs, "I've never wanted anybody the way I want you."

his confession has you clenching your thighs together.

"matt," you whisper, "I need you so badly. please kiss me."

you're worried you sound desperate, but then matt smirks at you the way he always has and your fears disappear. he leans in the last little bit until he can connect your lips together, slotting perfectly in a magical hold.

the first kiss last a good ten seconds, just lips holding still as if both too nervous to make any movements. too scared that this whole thing was a dream.

your lips feel cold when he pulls back.

his chocolate eyes open as yours do, both of your gazes saying a million things that your mouths don't.

he leans back in and gives you a quicker kiss.

and then another kiss, almost chaste.

your roll onto your back as he rolls over on top of you, slotting his lips against yours again. this time the kiss is hungrier, lips becoming slick with silva.

your legs fall open so matt can fit his large frame between them. matt's tongue is brushing your lip until you allow him access, opening your mouth so that your tongues can swirl together in a hot dance of their own.

your moan into his mouth as his hand slips down your front, past your chest to rest against your waist band. your hands travel down his bare chest, fingers dipping in and over the ripples of muscles.

matt's mouth leaves yours until he's kissing down your neck. stopping every couple of pecks to suck and lick your sweet skin, surely leaving deep purple and red marks. his hand comes back up your body until he reaches the strap of your tank top, pushing down the strap with shaky fingers, his lips following in their path as he continues to kiss your body.

you kiss the side of his head in appreciation, to which he comes back up to you face, hovering over you with a smile on his face. "can I take this off?" as if he emphasize his point, he tugs on the strap of your tank.

"please," you nod.

matt wastes no time, pushing up until he's resting on his knees. you follow suit, back leaving the soft mattress. you help him by lifting your arms, matt lifting your tank top until it's off your body, tossing it at the end of the bed.

"you're so pretty," he says, lying you both back down. he's propped up on his one arm, admiring your bare chest.

you don't feel self conscious - only the need to have matt all over you. "you've admired me for months, matt, please touch me."

he laughs quickly before leaning down, sucking one of your hardened buds into his mouth. the action has your moaning, hands grabbing onto his locks and tugging.

his other hand toys with your other nipple, twisting and pinching between his thumb and index finger while the other is being swirled by his tongue.

matt takes his hand and removes his assault on your breast, trailing down your bare torso until he reaches the waist band of your sleep shorts again. matt releases your boob from his mouth, eyes darting up towards yours with a questioning look.

all you can do is nod, adrenaline pumping through your body with anticipation swirling in you gut. matt keeps his eyes locked with yours as he slips his hand under your shorts. his thick middle fingers slips through your folds, and you moan.

"fuck," he hisses, gathering your arousal and bringing it up towards your pulsating clit. "you're so wet. is this all for me?"

you pant as he begins rubbing lazily circles on your bundle of nerves, watching the way he smirks all syrupy at you. "yes, matt, god."

he adds another finger, sliding back down until he's prodding at your entrance. slowly, he slips two fingers inside your warmth, both of your mouths dropping in unison at the feeling. "shit, baby." matt says, kissing your neck quickly.

you can feel his hard dick resting heavy against your thigh and it has you clenching around his fingers where they slowly pump in and out of you.

you moan, grabbing his wrist to halt his movements. matt watches as you bring his hand out of your shorts, dragging up your body until his fingers reach your mouth, to which you suck them. tounge swirling around his digits and cleaning your arousal off his fingers.

"oh my god," matt's mouth falls open and he gets impossibly hornier.

"are you gunna fuck me? I need you." your words have him nodding quickly.

"you're so fucking good for me," matt says. he gives you one more hard kiss before he clambers out of the bed, slightly tripping over his feet as he runs to his bag. you giggle, kicking off your last bit of clothing as he retrieves a condom from his duffel bag on the desk.

once he has it, matt waves the rubber in your direction with a smirk. he walks back over and tugs his sweat pants off, followed by his black briefs.

his dick hits his stomach - it's practically throbbing against his pelvis, thick and hot in a way that has you drooling. "want a picture?" he teases for the second time that night.

you bite your lip, "c'mere."

matt listens, crawling back into the sheets and back over to you. he leans back on his heels and tears open the condom wrapper. your legs spread impossibly wider, and matt watches in awe as your small fingers rub over slick folds. he can barley focus as he rolls on the latex.

matt groans, "that's my job."

you giggle, grabbing onto his shoulders he hovers back over your naked body.

matt grabs the base of his dick, lining it up with you wet entrance. "are you sure?" he asks, his once impatient gaze falling to a serious expression - eyes burning into yours in a way that has you feeling so much love.

you almost melt at his question. "yes. are you?"

"i've been sure for months," he admits through a breath, using one of his hands to push your baby hairs away from your slick skin. you smile big at him, kissing his palm once it reaches your cheek.

you give matt one more nod and then he pushes into you, splitting you open in a way that's so delicious and wonderful. your head falls back into the pillows, mouth opening in a silent moan.

matt grunts, "fuck you're so wet, like you're fuckin made for me."

you actually do verbally moan at that. he grabs your leg with his big hand as he begins to thrust into you, holding your thigh over his hip as he continues his fast ruts into your hole. he's so big and perfect that your body is already needing to have its release. "i'm not going to last long," you pant.

he doesn't stop or slow his pace, only smirks and presses a long kiss to your lips. the coil in your stomach gets tighter, ready to snap and release all over his dick. your walls tighten and you're ready to cum.

matt can feel your grip on him change and he is pulling out, much to your dismay. "what the fuck," you pant, walls fluttering in search of friction.

"you're fine," he insists gently, kissing your collar bone quickly. "flip over."

matt helps you onto your stomach. you push your ass up into the air in front of him, wiggling against him until his hand comes down, smacking your cheek with a groan.

"spread your legs a little baby." he nudges your inner thighs with his hand, getting you to automatically spread until your tummy is practically flat against the mattress.

matt grabs the pillow you had earlier tossed to the end of the bed and shoves it under your hips. he doesn't say anything else before he pushes back into you, the new angle much deeper and has you letting out a mewl. "oh god matt, it's so good."

"I know baby," he grunts, his pelvis hitting your ass with every thrust. he was impossibly deep, hitting your cervix with every movement. it was deliciously satisfying.

the coil in your stomach is back almost immediately, tightly wound as if it never left. the combination of matt's balls slapping against your clit and the kisses he was pressing to your shoulder, you were cumming. you shout out, moaning into the mattress as matt fucks you through your orgasm.

"that's it," he grunts, "fuck, come all over my dick."

and you do just that, surely making a mess between your bodies as he continues his hard thrusts into you weeping hole.

"fuck," you whisper, coming down for your high.

"i'm going to cum," matt says from behind you. his once strong thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic.

"yeah? gunna let me milk you?"

"yeah," he moans, forehead falling against your shoulder blade as he nears his orgasam. his breath warm against your skin.

"cum for me matty." with your words he's moaning loudly, stilling his movements as he releases his load into the latex pushed inside you - thrusting slowly a couple more times to ensure he's releasing his entire seed.

after he catches his breath, he pulls out of your warmth gently, sitting back and removing the condom. he ties it off, grabbing his gray shirt form the floor beside the bed to clean you up. the bed squeaks as he moves, getting up to throw away the condom.

you're on your back when he returns, still very much naked which has his dick twitching. he climbs back into bed, getting into your space and tugging you against him.

matt kisses you slowly for a moment, nothing but the hum of the heating unit to be heard. "are you good?"

you nod, "yeah, i'm really good."

he smirks that smirk you love so much and you kiss him again. "i'm really glad our roommates wanted to have sex today."

you laugh at matt's confession, "I never thought id say this, but me too."

"i'm still really into you, by the way," matt whispers, "this isn't a hook up for me. I want you always."

you nod, "I want that too."

"good," he smirks, "I can finally stop shamelessly flirting and hoping."

"actually," you tease, "I want you to keep flirting with me. it was just starting to work."

he laughs, pinching your side. "just starting? you're such a loser."

you laugh, letting matt kiss you over and over again.

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