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didyoulookforme · 18 days ago

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sight of you

part of give me a moment (aka stylist au)

because you’re his stylist, you of course have to help him get ready before shows. and this is one of those days. happens a few weeks after need you tonight.

warning: 18+, smut. he’s still a jerk. grammatical errors and typos likely.

au masterlist here

—

turns out you did end up seeing matty that night after you went down on him, part of you hoping that more would happen but nothing actually did. you guess you’d expected him to want to fuck—you’d obviously say ‘yes’— so you were taken by surprise when you just spent hours talking instead.

“are you enjoying yourself on tour?” yes.

“was this job what you expected it to be?” for the most part, yes.

“do you like this shirt i got?” to be honest, not really. doesn’t fit you properly but there’s another one that i think might look better. just ask me next time.

“last night was nice, y’know… ” really?

“i, um, do want to see you. but i don’t want to hurt you.” you won’t.

but you knew all too well that was a blatant lie.

yes, you started to spend more time together. yes, you two would kiss for hours on end on some nights. yes, you swallowed his cum whenever you could. yes, you started having sex when your hands and mouths weren’t enough anymore. and yes, it did fucking hurt to see him come back from sleeping with someone else.

there were plenty of nights when you’d patiently wait on that same spot against the tour bus or even seated at the end of your hotel bed (when you had one) just in case matty showed up as he'd said he would. honestly, you preferred for him to not arrive at all than having to see him make his way with another girl. if that happened, he would just walk past, not giving you an ounce of attention. it was usually the women who would wave “hello” or compliment your dress instead, probably a garment you choose because he had previously loved it on you.

you knew the consequences when you decided to start having this thing—whatever you want to call it—with him. you understood he probably wouldn’t stop sleeping with others, but at least you were now one of them, too.

“no strings attached, right?” yes, that's okay…

—

“matty, what exactly are you doing over there?”

you’d been focused on steaming his blazer, carefully smoothing out every wrinkle that when you caught sight of him in the mirror, you had to do a double take. he’s sitting at the vanity, shirtless, staring at his reflection as he seemingly applies paint on his stomach. guess he’s lost inside his mind as he doesn’t bother to answer, so you walk over to get a closer look.

“love me, huh? is that your favourite song now?” it’s definitely one of yours. “or are you really that desperate?”

he finally stands up to admire his work, capping your now ruined eyeshadow and tossing it into your makeup bag. “can’t hurt, darling.” in another reality, you’d be smacking that smug grin off his face, but in this world, he loves it when you try. go figure.

the letters stand out starkly on his pale skin, some of the loose powder already smudging at the edges. they’re messy, fading in places, and curiously it suits him—bold but never too precise. feels almost careless, like everything else he does.

love me.

such a him thing to do. put his need for attention out in the open even though he never has to worry about having a lack of it. not like dozens of girls don’t write that same line on cardboard signs they hold up night after night.

it’s a familiar dance between you two—him always needing to be the sole focus, you pretending it annoys you when really, it’s half the reason you’re so down for him. honestly, though, all you can do is laugh, rolling your eyes as you turn back to finish getting his garments ready.

but just as you start to walk away, you feel his arms snake around your waist, pulling you back to him.

“matty, if you mess up my shirt, i fucking swear...” you protest half-heartedly, trying to break free from his hold. however, you don’t really mean it. there’s something undeniably comforting about the way his chest feels pressed against your back, his breath warm against your neck, curls brushing against your cheek. weirdly feels like home, but you’re terrified to admit it.

“just take it off, then.” his voice is just above a whisper, a combination of amusement and lust that sends a jolt of electricity straight to your heart. “plus,” he turns you around, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s fast, messy, just the way he seems to like it. “‘m pretty sure it is mine, anyway.”

there’s never been anyone who could take over every single cell in your body the way he does, and you can’t find it in yourself to deny him. his hands work at the buttons of your now stained shirt while his tongue invades your mouth, making you dizzy with need. he pulls away only long enough to shove the fabric off your shoulders, leaving you in a wine-colored bra—the same shade as your newly manicured nails. never a coincidence and he knows it.

the warmth of his gaze lingers on your chest, taking in every inch of your skin before his fingertips ghost over the mesh fabric, circling your nipples until they harden under his touch. you can practically feel the smirk on his lips before he leans down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth to roughly suck on it, leaving a damp mark behind when he has to kiss you again.

it doesn’t take long before you're straddling his thigh on the couch, your body already moving on its own, want overtaking reason at that second. “we don’t have time,” the words come out breathless as you grind on him, the friction delicious against your clit. matty's hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements to become faster. “don’t really care. not like they can start without me anyway,” his lips brushing yours before pulling you into another kiss that only makes you want him more.

your body feels like it’s already burning from the inside out, every nerve on edge, your heart pounding as you nod in silent agreement, words no longer able to form. his fingers move with ease, undoing the clasp of your bra and finally freeing your breasts. the second his mouth is on your flesh once more, teasing and bitting, it’s like you’re completely under a messed up spell.

you can’t help the way you squirm, your hips rocking forward without a thought anymore, making a mess of the dark material you’d so carefully picked out for him that same afternoon. but you don’t even care. not right now, anyway. you just want focus on how good it feels, how his mouth on yours pulls these desperate little sounds from his throat, and how his hands somehow keep you grounded in reality, even though your body feels like it might fall apart at any minute.

leaning back, you arch just enough to give him a full view as you ride his thigh, your wetness now definitely soaking into his pants, the evidence of just how much you want him impossible to hide. his teeth pull at his bottom lip when he notices, and his fingers find your nipples again, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp. it’s too much, but you don’t want him to stop, not when your whole body is trembling, not when you can feel the pleasure building, relentless. and when you come, shaking and grinding hard against him, the rest of the world finally dissolves around you.

"jesus, fuck, you’re perfect," his voice low and rough. "need to be inside you. now." you don’t hesitate, your fingers rapidly moving to unbutton his pants. matty tears open a condom with his teeth, sliding it on while never breaking eye contact, the intensity now almost unbearable. as you sink down onto him, the stretch and pressure is heavenly. every inch of him hits just right, and it leaves you too dazed to think about anything else, just the way he fills you completely.

his hands grip your hips, guiding you, urging you to ride him faster. the leather couch beneath you creaks with every movement, but it's a distant sound compared to your high pitched moans and his countless praises. you can’t ignore how he watches you, his head tilted back but his stare locked on your chest, following every bounce of your breasts like he’s memorizing the way your body moves. his hands slide up your ass, fingers pressing into your skin just hard enough to leave a mark, and part of you likes that. knowing you’ll have a reminder tomorrow, a physical trace of this moment when he was completely lost in you and only you.

it feels like you're about to give out, your legs aching, but it doesn’t matter. every time he pulls you down harder, it sends a surge of pleasure through you, and the way his gaze now shifts from your breasts to your face—it’s like he’s seeing right through you, and it makes your pulse race even faster.

and just as you're getting near your release, teetering on that delightful edge, the door swings open. your heart nearly drops to your gut as george steps halfway into the greenroom. “hey, matty, i—" he freezes mid-sentence, eyes widening as they lock onto the sight in front of him. matty's arms wrap around you, pulling you close to shield your nakedness. you knew it was too late, though.

“what in the actual fuck.” george’s voice is caught somewhere between shock and a laugh he can’t quite hold back. “holy shit, i knew it. i always knew something was up with you two.”

matty’s grip on you tightens. "get the fuck out, you idiot!” his almond coloured eyes are glued to yours, almost as if to make sure you’re okay, but you know he's annoyed.

“chill, i’m going. not like i wanna watch you go at it anyway.” george takes a step back but pauses just before leaving. “by the way, you’ve got, like, five minutes ‘til we’re onstage, so hurry the fuck up, yeah?” he's clearly amused as he slips out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

you’re breathless, cheeks burning with a mix of disbelief and fear, trying to act like george didn’t just walk in on you mid-fuck with his best friend. “well… that was…” you mutter, the awkwardness settling in alongside the fact that matty is still inside you.

"embarrassing?" a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he starts to move his hips again, his annoyance rapidly melting away. "hmm, maybe. but not gonna lie, it was also kinda hot." his pace quickens shortly after, pulling a sharp gasp from you. “sorry that happened, love," he adds, voice dripping with anything but apology.

“you—you’re not.” you nuzzle into his neck as it all starts to feel good once more.

“not even a little,” his hands grip your ass to pull you closer. “do feel kinda bad that he saw your tits, though.” he punctuates his words by biting gently on your ear, sending a fresh jolt of pleasure through your limbs.

you pull back to watch him, a teasing smile on your face. “maybe he liked what he saw and will finally sleep with me.” the suggestion hangs in the air, you trying to push him just a little.

“don’t think so, babe. these,” he squeezes both of your breasts before leaning forward to place open-mouthed kisses on them, “are all mine.”

sure.

“please, like you don’t touch a different pair every night.” your grin immediately grows, but disappears just as quickly as he starts thrusting into you harder, faster.

you feel a pang of pain as he bites your nipple before looking up, putting on his best display of pleading puppy eyes that he can muster up.

“but i always come back to you, don’t i?”

you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much that matters to you, even if it's just an empty promise in the end. so you just urge him to fuck you harder until you are coming around him for the second time, almost—almost—forgetting about the fact that he won't always come back, even if he says so.

you barely take any time to steady yourself before you drop to your knees in front of him. your hands work quickly, removing the condom, before taking him in your hand, stroking slowly at first and grinning at the way his body responds to your touch. his eyelids flutter closed, his head tipping back as a deep groan escapes his lips, and you can feel the tension beneath his skin as he edges closer. it’s intoxicating, the way he’s laid out in front of you, on the verge of falling apart. you never grow tired of watching him come, that moment when he completely lets go.

your eyes meet his, everything else in the room falling impossibly still. his breath rises and falls on his chest, lips parted slightly, waiting, watching, always wanting. that’s the thing about matty—he’s always hungry for more, always craving something or someone, but never just for you.

with a few more deliberate strokes, his body tenses, and you feel his release building. warm cum spills across his chest and stomach, painting his skin in long, messy streaks. you’re transfixed by the way it glistens, dripping down and covering the hairs on his navel. again, there’s always something so satisfying about seeing him like this, bare and undone beneath you.

more often than not you lick him clean because you want to taste every single bit of him. but today, you gather some of the cum with your fingertip, using it to trace over the words he wrote. love me. you touch each line and curve, smearing his release over the black pigment, the sticky mixture marking him. there’s a strange satisfaction in it, as if you’re claiming him in some small, invisible way.

matty’s eyes flicker open, watching you through heavy lids as your hand trembles. his chest moves rapidly, still catching his breath, but there’s something in his gaze—surprise, maybe even vulnerability—as you trace the words on his stomach for a second, third time. you don’t rush, letting your finger move slowly. the letters blend together in a mess of black powder and white, but the meaning is still there. love me.

you want to say it—i love you—but you can’t. not when he’s the way he is, not when you know he’ll be with someone else tomorrow, probably touching her the same way, kissing her the same way. it feels like handing him your heart just so he can continue to step on it.

yet his eyes are still on you, his hand moving to cup your cheek, pulling you closer. his thumb brushes your lip, and you almost break, almost let the words slip past. but instead, you press your forehead to his chest, trying to hide from the weight of it all, looking down at the mess you made—the mess that you’re a part of now.