/ / T H E W A Y H E T A L K S / /
Marcy mixes the batter, singing lightly along with the song playing from her iPod, hips swaying rhythmaticly in what Matty can only describe as sensually. He pauses for a moment at the doorway, leaning against the frame, enjoying the scene before him.
Marceline Divine, in an old flimsy white shirt of his, and as she reaches up, stretching to get an ingredient from the cupboards, the shirt rises, exposing the lovely tattoo – the one she shares with him...and Jamie and Anna and Adam and George and Ross – placed just under the line of her panties.
"Oh yeah the music feels like paradise," she sings softly, swinging her hips from side to side, "can't get any better, no,". Matty chuckles, grabbing her arm and spinning her to him. She gasps, a blush creeping up her neck, "Matty!"
"Hmm?" He pulls her hands over his shoulders and grips on to her hips as she clasps her fingers behind his neck. He dips his head to the crook of her neck, and she shivers as he breathes out, attempting mockery but sounding oh so very fond, "Marcy."
He guides her hips to the music, kissing her right where his lips are pressed. She groans a bit, "How long have you been standing there?"
"Not very." He grins, catching the chorus of the song, singing along and twirling her. He chuckles, "What are you doing?"
She shrugs, beginning to move on her own accord, laughing at Matty, probably because its nine in the morning and they're attempting some wayward type of salsa to a Becky G song while practically in their underwear, seeing as Matty only has his boxers on. "Making breakfast. Usually, Anna's up before me, but I was hungry and I'm not home, and she isn't here and now I have to cook – to fend – for myself." She breaks off, sighing dramatically.
Matty rolls his eyes, sliding his hands down her hips, just above her thighs. His fingers lightly trace the raised lines of her new tattoo, not missing the shiver, nor the goosebumps rising. "This is cute," he says, pulling her closer to him, the thin layer of clothing still too much for his liking. "You're usually at class before I wake up," he explains. "You look sexy, cooking with no pants on."
Marcy stands on her tiptoes, pressing her lips up his neck until she's able to nibble at his ears. He catches her chin and pulls her face to him, his lips encasing hers, pressing down hard and rough. She pushes back, her tongue begging for more, and he grabs her thighs, pulling them around his hips and lifting her atop the counter, pressing his core to hers.
She shudders, moving forward, and he loves the friction she's establishing. He's getting hard and she's getting wet.
She pulls away, gasping, but his wet lips trail down her throat. She mewls his name and falls back a bit, resting her head against the cupboard, her eyes shutting, mouth parting as she lets her boyfriend cover one of her breasts with his mouth, his tongue trailing through the fabric, nipping at her hardened nipple, sucking it into his mouth. "Matty," Marcy breathes, hands shaky as she tries to weave them into his hair, not sure if she's trying to pull him away or drive him further into her.
He tugs at her skin and runs his hand to the inside of her thighs, feeling her trembles as he works his way up, grasping her through the cotton of her near soaking panties. "Matty," she calls out again, slightly louder, "Oh fuck – Matty, wait...please," His rubbing is almost vigorous and he wonders if she can get off on just this, lifting his mouth to her other breast. "Matty, please," she calls again, "Stop," she pants.
Matty pauses, lifting off of her with a pout to his face, "What's wrong?"
She lets out a short giggle, her breath still catching up to her and her cheeks flushed. Running her knuckles over his cheeks, "I'm hungry," she whines.
Matty rolls his eyes, "I'm hungry, too." He admits, "If you let me lay you flat on the dinning table, I'd be happy to eat, baby."
"Matty!" Marcy gasps before startling herself when she glances up to see the figure standing by the entrance, amused. "George!"
George laughs, " No, please, do continue, don't stop on account of me." Matty glowers, turning to his mate. George is rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he glances down at Marcy's shirt, "Jesus, are you lactating? Why are your nipples wet?"
"Was going for a snack," Matty says as an explanation. Marcy scoffs, pushing him away and hoping off the counter. She grabs the bowl she had been mixing from and hands it to Matty.
"Finish this, I'm going to change," she tells him. He watches her leave before turning the stove on.
"Are you two getting bent now?" George asks, scratching at his chest and walking to the fridge.
Matty pours the pancake batter, "No, not really. Just a lot of foreplay...and tension, I suppose."
George guffaws, nearly spluttering milk from the carton he's drinking straight from, "You're like a born again virgin, I haven't seen you this celibate since we were younger." He glances down to the bulge in Matty's boxers, "How's the blue balls going for you?"
"Shut the fuck up, Marcy has a mouth." He mutters.
"I find offence in that," Marcy mumbles, a clean shirt on as well as a pair of shorts.
"I'm sorry," he apologizes, flipping the pancake. George snorts again and Matty rolls his eyes, "Okay, when's the last time you've had sex, G?" When he's quiet for too long, Matty smirks and Marcy can't help her giggles – although, it's not over their conversation, he finds. When Matty glances at her, she's texting on her phone, cheeks turning pink at the conversation literally at hand.
He furrows his eyebrows, starting a stack of pancakes on a plate, "Who are you texting?"
"Huh?" She looks up, eyes wide and Matty is very aware of George watching in amusement. "Oh," she says, "its Louis."
George chokes, eyes starting to water, but he manages to ask, "Louis, Louis? Matty's Louis? Louis Healy?"
"Yeah," Marcy confirms, shrugging.
Matty's teeth grit reflexively. "Why are you texting my brother? When did you even get his number? Little shit tried to pull a move while I was at vulnerable state, ey?"
Marcy rolls her eyes, leaning against the fridge, next to George, "Matty, you were drunk – you cried over a Nicki Minaj song –"
"Maybe it was the touching lyrics – I heard Bed of Lies, okay –"
"It was Anaconda," She cuts him off, "Louis just texted me something funny he saw, I'm sure he forwarded it to you, too."
"Are you jealous?" George asks, smirking, "Over a fourteen year old?"
"Fifteen," Matty and Marcy correct. George just laughs harder, patting Marcy on the back before grabbing the few pancakes that were done and drowning them in syrup.
Marcy walks up to Matty, encircling her hands around him from behind. Her delicate fingers clasp together in front of him, her thumbs stroking the ridges of his abdomen comfortingly. "You're the only Healy for me," she mumbles, pressing her cheek to his warm back.
He sighs because, yeah, he knows he's irrational, "I know."
He can feel her grin against him, "Great. What should I wear when we go see him – er, I mean, your family?" He whips around fast and she laughs cheekily, dashing to behind George's seat, as if George would save her.
"You're lucky I'm still making pancakes. Bitch."
She laughs, "Matty!"
-
"You look lovely, Mars, quit that tugging and pulling," Ross tells her as Matty walks out of his room, wearing his usual attire of black jeans and some sort of button down that might actually be Marcy's and not his, but whatever, it's black.
Matty is sort of surprised to see Adam, Ross, George and John lounging on the sofa, watching a match. He winces when he realizes he'd be missing most of it tonight.
"Thank you, Ross," Marcy mumbles, wringing her fingers together. She's sat between George and Ross at the moment and Matty has to catch his breath when he properly sees her. Her hair are in these thick soft curls that cascade over her shoulders, her make up is minimal, Matty can only really tell the dark red lipstick, as it's quite popping, and almost seductive without even trying. To her body is a fitted knee length white dress, rising to her thighs with the way she's seated as her legs are crossed and adorned on her feet are white pumps. It's so simple, yet so elegant.
"Wow," Matty mumbles and Marcy hears, her head snapping to see him. She gets up quickly, and Matty can't help but admire how the dress hugs her curves so perfectly.
"Oh," John says, thoughtfully, "That's cute, you two are contrasting."
"Black and white," Marcy and Matty mumble.
"That's starting to get creepy," George says with a frown. "That speaking at the same time thing."
He goes ignored as Matty stretches his hand forward and Marcy walks closer, grasping it. As she nears, Matty notices the dress is zipped at the front and all he's really thinking is easy access. Marcy chuckles, her free hand patting his cheek, as if guessing his thoughts, she grins, "Not tonight, buddy."
Matty pouts, "Then when?"
"Soon," she shrugs and he quirks an eyebrow. She bites her lip, swinging her hand that's clutching his lightly, "How do I look? Under dressed? Over dressed?"
"You talk to much, did you know?" his eyes roam over her again; the need to touch her like he hasn't done in months is so prominent. As much as he loves the dress, he wants it off of her, he wants to grab her legs and wrap them around his waist, fuck her right there, right then – screw the others if they were watching, Matty probably wouldn't mind in the short run; where it's in the moment and he wants her under him, begging for more. "You look gorgeous, as always." She blushes as if she's never heard him compliment her before and he tugs her from the flat, bidding goodbye to the lads. He wants so badly to be alone with Marcy at the moment.
"You're quiet," She mumbles, "Did I do something wrong? Is it too white? I know it's after Labor Day, but I mean, it's a good four months after Labor Day – or is it my hair? I should have straightened it, right?" She frowns, not really paying attention to Matty as she presses the button to the lifts repeatedly.
Matty places his hand over his, halting her movement and she turns with a worried look, eyebrows furrowed and lips tilted downward, "It's the lipstick isn't it? It's not my color, I should have gone with Cherry Red, but I went with Wine Red because you love wine, but it probably doesn't even taste like wine, it looks like wine is all – should I have put on lip gloss? It's a matte lipstick; my lips look dry don't they?"
Matty lets her babble, he figures it's her way of blowing off steam when she's nervous. He leads her to the open elevator, she's talking about how her parents use to watch his mom on the television, but all Matty is doing is staring at her lips. She stops speaking and asks, "What?"
He moves forward pressing her against the wall. She blinks, startled and when he bends to kiss her, she turns her head, "No, Matty, you're gonna smudge the lipstick and it's going to get all over your face and – " he kisses her anyway, silencing her for the first time in the past five minutes. He reaches behind him to pull the emergency break and she screeches against his mouth, startled by the sudden halt. "Matty...?"
"Let me fuck you," He murmurs, "I love your hands and your mouth, baby, but I wanna feel you – bet you'd be so warm and wet for me," he whispers hotly in her ears and he's loving the reaction her body gives off. Her wide flustered eyes, pink cheeks, automatic push of her body in his direction – he bets she's even getting wet. "Wanna make you come, Marcy," he pleads.
She shivers and there's a flash in her eyes, a split second of weakness, where he knows she'd have let him do anything he wanted to her, but she shake's her head, albeit, weakly. "No, not now, please Matty." She licks hat her lips and his body goes lax, pushing away from her. He sighs and pushes the emergency break button, restarting the elevator. He turns, facing the exit. She tentively touches his hands, "Matty?" She asks, quietly. The elevator doors open to the lobby and Matty guides her out. "Matty, I want you too," she admits, "But I'm scared."
"Marceline," he says with a start, stopping right in front of the building to look at her. He touches her cheek with his free hand, finding a curl and tugging it lightly, watching it spring back into place. Her eyes are starting to water and he feels like shit. He shouldn't have pressed like that – he just misses her. But fuck his needs; this is the girl whose life almost ended essentially because of sex. "I'm sorry," He tells her honestly, "Don't be scared – I won't bring it up again, I promise."
She cracks a smile at this, shaking her head, "Matty, I'm just scared it will hurt...and I wouldn't be able to take it...I just – I dunno, I want to prepare myself so I'm not a letdown," she shrugs almost bashfully. Matty grips her chin, tugging her up to him, and this time, the kiss is soft and lingering and she sighs contently into his mouth.
-
His mother loves her.
It's not a surprise to him, but he likes watching them talk together. He knows Marcy is still nervous, she's babbling and veering off topic after topic, but his mother listens well, inputs her own ideas, agrees or disagrees, but mostly encourages Marcy to keep going.
"Your girl's cute," she had told him earlier, when he was in the kitchen piling away dishes. She grinned, pulling him into another hug, as she had done the moment they had entered through the front doors, "Invite her for Christmas dinner, yeah?"
Matty had just entered the living room when he spots Marcy cocooned between his mother and his brother. His stepdad is starting a fire and the family pup is lounging by his brother's feet. The three of them are giggling like mad, and his mother's got a glass of wine she's offering to Marcy.
"Look at Matty, aw he was so cute," She gushes.
Marcy giggles, "What happened?"
Louis laughs, giving her a high five, and Matty's mom points at another picture, "That's him, naked in the bath, aw look at his little willy!"
"Wanna see me naked in the bath now?" Matty smirks when Marcy snaps her head to him, cheeks flaming. Louis makes a face of revolt and his mother scolds him. His stepdad chuckles, but covers it quickly. Matty ignores all of this, feeding off of Marcy's reaction most, "Fair warning though, my willy's not that small anymore – but you know that don't you?"
"Matty!" Marcy groans, putting her face in her hands. Matty walks over to behind the sofa, smooching Marcy's cheek. Louis rolls his eyes, wrapping an arm around Marcy's shoulder in condolence for his big brother's stupidity.
Matty rolls his eyes and steps over the couch, promptly breaking them apart and situating himself right between them. His mom arches and eyebrow in amusement, because, alright, maybe he hasn't acted this way about or around a girl since high school probably.
"Dick," Louis mumbles, shoving him lightly. Matty reverts and gets him in a headlock, ruffling his hair. Macy turns her face in her hands, watching in amusement.
"Our boys," Matty hears his Mother sigh. It takes a moment for Marcy to respond, but finally, he hears her sigh in affirmation and he grins, bending down to kiss his brother's cheek.
They talk a bit more, and it's quite comfortable Matty finds, with his arms wrapped around both his brother and his girl and it's a sight, but they're all laughing at some wild story his stepdad is spewing and a couple bottles of wine later, Matty's gripping his stomach, trying to cease his laughter, "She left me in Thailand and I got kidnapped!"
"You went for a walk with the Nanny!" His mom insists, rolling her eyes, but a blush creeps on her cheek and Matty knows he's far closer to the truth than she's letting on.
"Oh my God," Marcy says, stifling a disbelief kind of laughter while rubbing Matty's back.
It's past midnight when they're stumbling out of the driveway, and neither of them are in a state to drive, but they're drunk enough to believe an hours worth of walking would be fine for them, honestly.
"I love your mom," Marcy slurs, placing her hands on Matty's shoulder before jumping. Matty stumbles a bit, not expecting it, but quickly latches on to her thighs, laughing a bit.
"You only love me for my DNA, don't you?"
"I want your DNA all over me, baby," She says into his ear and Matty has to honestly think it through before he finally understands. She continues, nipping at his ear, "In my mouth, on my chest, on my back, in my –"
"Marcy," Matty begs, "Don't do this to me." She giggles, reaching her hands to undo the first few buttons of his shirt, running her palms over his chest. Her fingers find his nipples, rubbing at them and Matty isn't sure if he likes the feeling or not. "You're a minx when you're drunk," he mumbles, turning his head to nip at her arm in hopes that she would stop her assault.
"Matty," She moans, and honestly, if she keeps it up, he would not hesitate to bend her over one of the cars parked along the road. He's honestly considering it. "I love your hands and your mouth, baby," she stops his heart, repeating the words he had uttered to her in the lift hours ago. "But I want to feel you, I want your big co-" She breaks off with a squeal as Matty lets go of her legs. She stumbles to the ground and Matty grabs her, turning and pushing her bent against a nearby car, pressing his front to her back.
"Marcy," He groans, his hand running up her hair, messing the perfection of her curls, weaving the locks between his fingers. He can hear how ragged her breathing is and can feel her heart beating profoundly in her back – or perhaps it was his heart, either way, it's pounding and the blood is rushing straight to his dick, straining in his damned jeans and when he rubs against her just instinctively, she moans out something wicked and pushes against him.
"Matty – now – fuck, I want you know, please," she begs, her hands struggle to reach down and hike her dress up, but Matty stops her, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head.
"Marcy, wait, stop... we shouldn't be doing this," yet he doesn't ease off of her.
She's silent for a while until very quietly, she asks, "Do you not want me?"
"What?" He turns her around beneath him, wanting to properly look at her face. Her eyes are wide and shiny and utterly dilated, the streetlight above only letting Matty glimpse at small ring of green around her pupils. "Marcy, I want you – fuck, I always want you, don't you feel what you're doing to me?" he presses against her to further his point, and she shivers, reaching up to clutch the material of his shirt. Matty bends down, his lips finding hers and she pushes back roughly, wanting more than he's giving.
He pulls away, pressing his head to hers, "I want you so bad, Marceline, but it's past midnight, we're half an hour away from home, and as much as I'd be glad to debauch you against the hood of this car, I can't do that to you. You said you were scared, and I know you still are, you don't have to put on a brave face for me, alright? I want you to be comfortable, I want you to be in a bed, soberly consenting, I want a condom as well," he chuckles half heartedly, "And I want you completely sure of it, baby."
Marcy breathes labored, but rests her hands, one against his bare chest, and the other against the nape of his neck. "I hate you." She moans before she lets her lips tilt in a grin and Matty shakes his head, pulling her up from the car, not mentioning the grime she's gotten on her white dress, no thanks to him. She takes his hand, leaning on his side as they begin to walk again. She sighs, "I don't hate you. You always say these things and sometimes I zone out because you just talk so damn much, but then other times, you make me feel so stupid because you say the smartest shit and I think: 'I'm gonna marry this dork one day'." Marcy rambles.
"I talk too much?" Matty is only very minimally offended but he's sobering up a lot quicker than his girl and he realizes, "You want to marry me?"
"Not now," She insists, shrugging. "I dunno maybe in ten years or something." She shakes her head, frowning a bit, "I think I veered off, the point I was trying to get at was that you're really sweet and you always know the right things to say. You fix me up when I'm being ignorant or naïve. You're like Motrin on, like, cramp days, or something," Marcy says.
Matty laughs loudly, Marcy is so faded at the moment but he tries to follow her analogy. "I'm your medicine?"
"You're gonna have to carry me, I can't feel my feet."
"Had I fucked you on that car, there's probably a lot more you wouldn't be feeling."
"But I'd be feeling your dick, though."
"Marceline."
"Matthew." She laughs, "You started it," she sticks her tongue out, childishly. He rolls his eyes but stops, lifting under her legs and arms, cradling her bridal style. She rests her head against the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, "I love you, Matty," and he grins, tilting his head down to kiss her.
"Love you, Marcy."
__________________________________________
ahh
Can they just get nasty already?
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