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‘I just wanna feeeeeeeeeeel reeeeal love,’ Matty warbles in between giggles, pressing his face into Adam’s shoulder, George resting heavily against his side as the three of them stagger down the corridor of their most recent hotel. Matty knows they’re in the Ukraine but he couldn’t for the life of him tell you the name of the city, let alone the name of the bloody hotel.
‘I don’t even like Robbie Williams,’ George snorts, tripping over his feet as they reach George and Matty’s hotel room. The rest of the guys all have their own rooms, but it doesn’t matter how much money they’re now making, Matty and George always share hotel rooms, it’s their thing.
‘He doesn’t like you either, mate,’ Adam laughs, rolling his eyes. He slides his hand into Matty’s back trouser pocket to retrieve the key card which makes Matty squeak.
‘Hann, you little tease,’ he grins, fluttering his stupidly long eyelashes up at Adam as the door clicks open.
‘Sleep. Now,’ Adam instructs, nudging Matty and George through the door which makes George pout, and Matty whine.
‘I love you significantly less now, Adam,’ Matty declares before kissing his cheek wetly in a contradictory fashion. Adam rolls his eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time that evening.
‘I love you too, pisshead,’ Adam relents before shutting the door behind him, leaving Matty and George alone in their hotel room.
‘I don’t want to go to bed,’ Matty complains, dropping his bag on the floor and flopping down on the almost impossibly soft mattress.
‘Well… we do have a mini fridge full of mini booze,’ George grins wickedly already rummaging through the mini fridge, and Matty claps his hands together excitedly.
George chucks Matty over a mini bottle of vodka and opens a mini bottle of whiskey for himself.
‘No mini wine?’
‘No mini wine,’ George confirms, sipping his whiskey and sighing contentedly, settling down on his own bed.
‘Mini mini mini,’ Matty giggles to himself, taking a sip of his own vodka. ‘It sounds funny when you say it over and over again.'
‘That’s fucking deep, Matty… should make a track about it on Notes,’ says George wryly, for he’s drunk, but definitely not as drunk as Matty, which isn’t really surprising seeing as Matty is a stick and never really could hold his booze.
‘Are you mocking me, Georgina?’
George snorts but doesn’t reply, he edges towards Matty on Matty’s bed which is pressed up against his own, despite the room being pretty big, and them having two separate beds, because that’s just what they do in hotel rooms. In the beginning they were used to having to share a tiny double, sometimes even a single bed because that’s all they could afford, and George supposes that early closeness and intimacy is so ingrained in them now, that they just gravitate towards each other regardless of the fact that they now have more money than either of them know what to do with.
Matty downs the rest of his vodka in one go, shuddering a little and shaking his head before laying back down on the bed once more, the mini bottle falling to the floor.
‘I could put my cover of Livin’ La Vida Loca on there,’ Matty grins, shimmying his hips on the bed and looking over at George who’s slowly sipping his whiskey.
‘Oh definitely,’ George concurs, nodding seriously. ‘Ross and I agreed that we’re only going to call you Snakehips Healy from now on.’
Matty cackles and springs to his feet, deciding in that moment that trying to replicate his dance moves of earlier is an excellent idea, however he’s forgotten to take into account that he dropped his bag in the middle of the floor, and promptly trips over it, crashing to the carpet with a very manly shriek.
‘Matty!’ George gasps and dives towards him without thinking about the logistics of his actions, slithering off the bed as he gets his feet caught up in the sheets, and he manages to roll his way towards an almost hysterical laughing Matty on the floor.
‘Nice swan dive,’ Matty gasps out, clutching at his stomach and trying to take deep breaths to stop laughing. George has always found Matty’s laugh ridiculous and infectious and soon he’s almost crying with laughter too, his face level with Matty’s as the they lay in the middle of their hotel room.
‘We’re livin’ la vida loca,’ George giggles, wiping at the corners of his eyes, his stomach aching.
‘No, I’m livin’ la vida loca, you’re just a clumsy cunt.’
‘Hey, I’m not the one that fell over while trying to replicate my stupid twink dance!’
Matty looks over him at that.
‘I was not twink dancing, thank you very much,’ he sounds indignant which makes George laugh again, rolling his eyes, a habit he’s obviously picked up from Hann.
‘You definitely were,’ George retorts, kicking at Matty’s shin with his own.
‘How exactly was I twink dancing? I’m thirty… I’m can’t even be a bloody twink.’
‘Okay, you’re too old to be a twink… but come on, you know you’re pretty, Matty, and you were fucking grinding on Adam…’ George trails off before adding as an afterthought, ‘and you’ve taken it up the arse a fair few times.’
Matty’s eyes widen at this and George smirks.
‘We haven’t done that for ages,’ Matty says like it’s some kind of argument to George’s point, which he knows it isn’t, but he doesn’t really know what to say.
‘Almost three years,’ George says matter-of-factly, sitting up so his back is resting against the foot of the bed, looking down at Matty who’s still on his back, his hair framing his face like some kind of halo. George has always liked Matty’s hair longer.
Matty frowns and grabs the mini vodka bottle from the floor and sucks the remaining dregs from the bottle, manoeuvring himself so he’s sitting next to George on the floor, both their legs stretched out in front of them, Matty’s legs looking almost comically short next to George’s.
‘You can’t argue that twinks like it up the bum, and so do you,’ George says flippantly.
‘That’s a very sweeping statement,’ Matty attempts to argue, kicking at George’s socked foot as if to back up his statement.
George rolls his eyes again, thinking vaguely that Adam would be very proud at him racking up his eye rolling tally.
An air of awkwardness now fills the air and Matty finds his fingers itching for a cigarette, or just something to do with his hands, because his head is now filled with explicitly vivid memories of him and George. The first time they fucked in their tiny cramped bed in the first house they shared together, the time they fucked on one of the drum risers when they were rehearsing for their first night performing at the o2, and the multiple times they’d fucked in dressing rooms and tour busses around the world…
‘Why did we really stop?’ George’s voice breaks the silence and Matty jolts slightly and looks over at George, uncertain of what to say, because he never told George the real reason why he’d broken off their best friends with benefits arrangement. He had given George some spiel about how he was too fucked up and needed to focus on his mental health, which was true, but not the whole truth…
‘We had to grow up,’ is the answer Matty decides on eventually, feeling stone cold sober suddenly, because he had hoped to never have this conversation with George ever. Matty remembers saying to journalists in interviews that their second album title was about George, knowing that everyone would take it as a joke. However, what they would never know is that Matty remembers that cold morning in February, Matty had awoken to find the weak winter sunlight streaming through the thin curtains in the house that he and George shared together, the light had cast sleeping George in an almost ethereal glow, and Matty can still recall that ache in his chest he felt as he grabbed his notebook and scribbled down the words, ’I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it…’
‘That’s bullshit,’ is George’s response. ‘What has growing up got to do with anything? I never questioned it back then because I knew how messed up you were, and I’m so proud of you getting clean… but I always thought there might have been something else behind it all…’
Matty doesn’t reply, he simply crawls towards the mini fridge, because if they’re really doing this then Matty needs a lot more alcohol in his system. George stays silent, and Matty almost hates him for this because they were having such a good night, why did he have to bring all this up now? He knows he’s going to have to tell George, but what he doesn’t know is how to articulate the fact that none of the nameless generic girls he’s fucked since have even come close to filling the empty space inside his chest. Matty almost loathes himself for feeling this way because he knows George has always made him happy and hasn’t left his side for half his fucking life, and he fucked it up because he’s a sucker for punishment. He opens a mini bottle of whiskey and crawls back to George who’s just looking at him expectantly, but there’s something else in his eyes that Matty can’t put his finger on.
‘Okay,’ Matty huffs out, wincing at the slow burn of the whiskey as it slips down his raw throat. ‘I stopped our little thing because it was getting too much for me to handle… my feelings.’
‘Feelings?’ George questions, and Matty groans because George really can be so dense sometimes.
‘Yes, George. My feelings for you, dickhead.’
Matty watches realisation dawn on George’s face, his realisation turns to laughter quickly which leaves Matty feeling wrong-footed and confused, because for the life of him he can’t understand how this is a fucking laughing matter. He frowns and takes a deeper glug of whiskey, angling his body so he’s facing George properly.
‘Why the fuck are you laughing at me?’
‘Because I can’t believe you sometimes,’ George laughs, rubbing his eyes. ‘I’ve been arse over tit for you since we were fifteen years old, and we stopped fucking around because of your feelings.’
‘Wait… you what?’
‘Don’t make me say it again,’ George groans, his cheeks have gone pink and Matty just stares because this is brand new information.
‘Fifteen,’ Matty echoes, coughing a little as he finishes his drink.
George just nods and then laughs again closing his eyes.
‘You were so fucking ridiculous back then, you had that stupid hair, and you wore those stupid skinny ties because you loved Avril Lavigne…’ he trails off and gives Matty’s tie a teasing pull which makes Matty’s eyes widen a little in surprise.
‘Wait… so if you’ve liked me for this long then why the fuck didn’t you say something earlier?’ Matty bursts out, suddenly really annoyed at George for being so easy going and passive.
George shrugs and avoids Matty’s eyes. ‘Well… you’re you… you do things on a whim, you know how you latch onto ideas, like straightening your fucking hair, which was a fucking disaster by the way… but I thought you might have just been experimenting because we never fucking talked about it properly, and then when you ended our arrangement I thought that was it, so I moved on as best I could, just happy to have you as a friend, and you’ve done so well to get clean, it would have been pretty selfish of me to want more than that, but I’ve always hoped…’ George trails off then, finally making eye contact with Matty.
‘You’re not allowed to be so well adjusted, George,’ Matty laughs softly, thinking that he really won the jackpot the day he made friends with the awkwardly tall, skinny, and fucking weird boy in the hallway at school, and before he can rationalise what he’s about to do, he climbs into George’s lap, his thighs bracketing George’s on the floor.
George responds immediately without hesitation, hooking his hands under Matty’s arse and pulling him closer, their lips crashing together and moving in sync like muscle memory, like the last three years never happened. Matty slides his fingers into George’s hair and pulls a little, grinning into the kiss.
‘Your hair was a lot longer when we last did this,’ Matty pants wetly, running his fingers through the short strands, George keening under the touch and digging his fingers into Matty’s arse a little harder.
‘I still remember all the kinky shit you like,’ George murmurs, leaning forward to bite at Matty’s bottom lip.
It’s Matty’s turn to flush this time, he can feel his cock getting hard because he knows exactly what George is about to say.
George pulls the end of Matty’s tie once more, smirking.
‘I remember how much you liked my hands around your throat when we fucked… I remember how much you love to beg.’
Matty nods shamelessly and kisses George again, his whole body thrumming with anticipation and arousal, and he knows in that moment that literally no one could ever compare to George, no one has ever made him feel as reckless and pent up like this, and probably no one ever would.
‘Get this fucking tie off,’ George growls against Matty’s lips, his fingers going to tug the utterly pointless piece of material lose, tossing it across the floor before scrabbling at Matty’s shirt in a desperate attempt to undo the buttons and expose the expanse of skin there. He licks over Matty’s chest tattoo before biting gently on Matty’s nipple, causing Matty to whine, his cock now fully hard and very obvious in his stupid suit pants.
‘Please,’ Matty pants, his hands braced on George’s knees to balance himself as George flicks his tongue relentlessly over Matty’s sensitive skin.
‘Please what?’ George smirks, his lips shiny with spit as he looks up at Matty.
‘On the bed,’ Matty pants. ‘You want this, yeah?’
‘Is the Pope Catholic?’ George snorts, and somehow manages to hoist Matty up while standing up himself.
‘Oh yeah, just mention the Pope when we’re about to fuck, very appropriate, George,’ Matty chastises as best he can as George throws him down on the bed. George just shakes his head, kneeling at Matty’s feet, peeling his own shirt and vest of slowly, and Matty is more than content to just sit back and watch because George is fucking fine and Matty has him all to himself.
Matty palms his cock through his trousers and groans at how good it feels to finally touch himself, his chest is flushed and he’s already panting, so turned on it fucking hurts and he can’t honestly believe that he purposefully denied himself of this for three fucking years.
‘Do you remember…’ George drawls, squeezing himself roughly, ‘…how you used to finger yourself for me, you just love performing so much, don’t you, Matty?’
‘Oh my god, George, are you trying to kill me?’ Matty mutters, closing his eyes because yes, he does remember, now with vivid clarity. They would be in their separate bunks on the tour bus, and George would text Matty, instructing him what to do and Matty would have two fingers buried inside himself so fast it made him breathless, and George would get off just on the idea of Matty doing as he was told.
‘Have you done it since?’ George asks, his tone suddenly serious, his hand stilled on his straining cock. Matty honestly considers lying, not entirely sure why the idea of admitting that he definitely fingers himself, fairly regularly in fact. He even considered at one point asking one of his one-night- stands to finger him but decided pretty quickly against it because he didn’t really want that fact about himself circulated around the fans.
‘Yeah,’ Matty admits, squirming a little under George’s intense gaze.
‘Did you think about me?’ George asks shamelessly as he slowly unzips his trousers.
Matty nods straight away because there’s no point in lying, all Matty could ever see when he fingered himself was George and his strong arms, his slightly wonky smile, and his hard cock, and the noises he would make when he was buried deep inside Matty.
‘Fuck,’ George growls, kicking his pants and boxers to the floor, his hard cock no longer constricted. Matty wants desperately to taste and goes to sit up, to lean forward but George moves quickly and pushes Matty back down on the bed, his strong hands moving deftly to strip Matty down until he’s laid bare before him, achingly hard, breathless and wanting.
‘You look like you want to eat me alive,’ Matty pants, George’s eyes are so dark and predatory that it makes Matty’s cock leak a little against his stomach.
‘Didn’t think I’d get to ever do this again,’ George says almost reverently, leaning down to nip at Matty’s hip.
Matty moans and slides his fingers through George’s hair once again as George licks a stripe down Matty’s groin towards his cock, but not touching Matty where he desperately wants to be touched.
‘On your front,’ George instructs, and Matty complies, whimpering a little at the friction caused by the sheets, he thrusts a little but is quickly stilled by George’s hand pressing down hard on his arse, leaving no room for Matty to move his hips.
‘Stay still.’
Matty complies once more and feels George shift off the bed, Matty turns his head to the side as George goes over to his suitcase, rummaging around before emerging with a small bottle of lube and a condom. He closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath, feeling George climb back onto the bed, positioning himself next to Matty, and his warm hand returns once more to Matty’s arse, squeezing it a little.
‘When did you last finger yourself?’ George inquires, and Matty hears the cap of the lube bottle snick open.
Matty swallows thickly, feeling his entire body flush as he admits, ‘two days ago.’ He hears George ‘hmmm’ behind him and gasps as he feels two of George’s slick fingers pressing against the rim of his arse.
‘This okay?’ George checks, the fingers slowly circling, causing Matty’s hips to buck up a little bit towards the friction.
‘Put your fucking fingers in me right now, I swear to god,’ Matty gasps in frustration and apparently that’s all George needs because he slowly slides both fingers inside and Matty feels tears spring to his eyes because jesus cunting christ it fucking hurts, the burn shaking Matty right to his core and finds himself pushing his hips up to meet George’s fingers until George is knuckle deep and Matty is panting loudly.
‘Been pretty jealous recently,’ George says, his tone light and conversational despite the fact that his fingers are buried deep inside Matty.
‘J-jealous?’ Matty groans, annoyed because he really doesn’t want to be having a conversation right now, he just wants to fuck himself on George’s thick fingers and come for fuck’s sake! George thrusts his fingers in slowly a couple of times before answering.
‘Mmm… kissing Ross on stage last week, grinding in Adam’s lap tonight…’
‘Shut up, George,’ Matty whines. ‘Your fingering me right now, not them!’
George scissors his fingers inside Matty then which makes him instantly shut up because fire shoots up his spine and his whole body tenses as George hits that small bundle of nerves inside him, his thighs shake and he tries to thrust his hips but George’s free hand is still pressing him into the mattress.
‘Fuck,’ Matty gasps, his eyes squeezed shut, his fingers now twisted tightly in the hotel sheets, sweat beading on his forehead.
George ‘hmmms’ appreciatively and slides his fingers out slowly which makes Matty whimper even more because the loss of sensation makes him feel cold and empty.
‘Please,’ Matty moans lifting his hips up against George’s firm hand, so desperate now for friction hat he wants to bloody cry. Blessedly, George lets go of Matty’s arse and Matty starts to rut against the sheets, every nerve in his body on fire and desperate for George.
Matty can hear George tear open the condom packet and he turns his head to the side, his hair plastered to his face, aware that he probably looks a wrecked mess right now.
‘Ready?’ George says breathlessly, and Matty wonders if George is as utterly gone as he is right now.
‘Fuck me,’ Matty gasps, feeling George align himself, his slicked cock sliding slowly over Matty’s arse crack, the head of his cock slowly pressing against Matty’s sensitive hole. He pushes in slowly and Matty’s breath catches in his throat because he definitely forgot how much this bit sucks, his body tensing. This makes George moan at the tightness, his hand warm and firm on Matty’s back as he presses in further, his breathing becoming more and more ragged in time with Matty’s.
Once he’s fully inside, his body flush against Matty on the bed, George presses his face into the crook of Matty’s neck from behind.
‘You feel fucking incredible,’ he breathes, one hand coming around to hold Matty’s throat. This makes Matty’s eyes almost roll to the back of his head because the pressure inside and the pressure on his throat is just too good.
‘I love how much you love this,’ George continues, starting to thrust ever so slightly so that Matty lets out a strangled sound as he starts to press up into George’s shallow thrusts, his cock leaking onto the sheets, Matty’s fists balled tight.
‘H-harder,’ Matty grunts out, George increasing the pressure on his adam’s apple just a touch as his thrusts speed up. He knows he wont last long because everything just feels too overwhelming, and George has started to groan on every thrust which shoots to Matty’s poor neglected dick which is still trapped against the mattress, but Matty is pretty sure he could come just from being fucked like this.
George bites down on Matty’s earlobe, his hips slapping hard now against Matty’s arse cheeks, Matty bucks up and George hits that spot inside Matty that makes him momentarily see stars, his mouth is hanging open and tears are starting to leak down his cheeks.
‘There, fuck… please, George… harder,’ Matty sobs, the pressure is building in his lower stomach and his body aches in the most intensely satisfying way.
‘I love it when you beg,’ George moans, and that’s it for Matty, he comes untouched, his dick still trapped between his stomach and the sheets, his hips twitch and his entire body goes limp, though it hardly matters as George is holding onto him so tightly. He can feel George all over him, and all he can do is moan every time George pounds into him, unrelenting.
‘Oh my fucking god,’ he manages to pant, knowing that his words will probably make George come, ‘I fucking missed this, you feel so fucking good I came without even touching myself.’
George cries out at this and he thrusts deeply one last time before he comes, his vice-like arms finally loosening around Matty. His hips stutter and then still, George’s face pressed into Matty’s neck, his breath coming out in short sharp bursts.
‘Holy fuck,’ George mumbles after a minute, slowly sliding out of Matty so that he whines at the loss once more.
‘You can say that again, fucking hell,’ Matty sighs, wiping his sweaty forehead against the sheets before rolling over onto his back. ‘That was probably the best shag of my life, you know?’
George laughs and shakes his head. ‘I dunno… that time we fucked at the o2 was pretty hot.’
Matty giggles. ‘Yeah… but I was so shit scared of getting caught… this was just… fuck.’
George leans over and kisses Matty on his sweaty forehead just as both of their phones go off in the now quiet room.
Matty’s phone is on the floor and he can’t be bothered to get it, but George grabs his from the nightstand, he lets out a loud cackle and chucks his phone over to Matty so he can read what’s on the screen.
Adam: If you’re done fucking can you livin la vida shut the fuck up so I can sleep? Thanks love you xxx