The One Where Drunk Matt Flyzik = Horny Matt Flyzik
Title: The One Where Drunk Matt Flyzik = Horny Matt Flyzik.
Author: Amanda, who goes by the aliasapodiopsys
Pairing: Flykat (which is Matt Flyzik/Jack Barakat if you haven't guessed, bro.)
Rating: Prawns are here. NC-17.
Summary: Years of knowing Matt has taught Jack that drunk Matt = horny Matt, so he isn't all that surprised when he leans over in his chair again, his lips close to Jack's ear.
Disclaimer:Sory, I shouldn't have bought the boys all that beer. My bad.
A/N:Hm, this has been about a week in the making. Personally I kind of really hate it. It's not that good, and it's probably rushed, and ugh idk. I've half a mind not to post it but then it'd be a waste of time and blah blah blah.
tumblr is here, br0.
come sexually harras my message box. it's into that kind of thing~
Matt has maybe had one too many beers. Or like, four too many. Jack can tell, he's been watching him, and Matt's been getting fidgety, eyes darting around the table and sucking on his lip ring.
Jack's only had two beers and a few sips off of Alex's, not enough to even get him buzzed or anything. He's driving them home tonight.
Just as he grabs Alex's can of beer to take another sip, Matt leans over in his chair, slurring something into his ear that Jack doesn't quite get.
"Babe," Jack says, and puts the can that he's holding down so he can take the red cup that Matt procured from thin air. "I think you should stop now," he laughs, and Matt pouts, making grabby hands at the cup.
"I'll blow you later if you give it back," he offers hopefully, sucking on his lip ring again and he has like, magic Disney powers or something because Jack hands him the cup back.
"Bro, you are so whipped." Vinny says says from the other side of the table with a smug expression at Jack.
"If you've ever gotten a blow job from him you'd understand." Jack shoots back at him, looking even smugger.
Years of knowing Matt has taught Jack that drunk Matt = horny Matt, so he isn't all that surprised when he leans over in his chair again, his lips close to Jack's ear.
"I'm gonna blow you so good later," he promises, his voice some sort of sensual purr. "And then you can fuck me. Bend me over the back of the sofa or the kitchen table."
Jack stiffles a groan, pushing Matt away when he starts biting at his neck and if he was as drunk as Matt was they'd probably fuck there in front of everyone.
He isn't as drunk as Matt is though (isn’t anywhere near that), so they'll save the acts of promiscuity for when they get home.
Matt whines and leans over again, apparently determined to give Jack as many hickies as possible.
"Matt!" Jack says sharply and then stands up, pulling his tour-manager-slash-boyfriend to his feet. "I think Matt's ready to leave now," he says and rolls his eyes when Matt leans on him and gropes his ass.
Alex stops making out with Zack long enough to fist bump with Jack and say, "Alright, bro!" before shifting over into his boyfriend's lap so they can do everything except have the actual sex in front of everyone.
If it weren't for the fact that Rian was dating Kara, Jack is positive that All Time Low are the gayest band/crew ever because he sees Evan and Grieco over in the corner on the sofa, he sees them.
And Grieco is "straight", right.
They say their byes to everyone and grab their coats, and Jack has to do one of those body search things they do at air ports to find their car keys.
He finally finds them in his left front pocket (Matt rolled his hips suggestively the whole time he was looking and Vinny watches them from the living room and says in the most camp voice possible "I bet he likes that.") and Jack can't wait till they get drunk next time because then it's Matt's turn to be the baby sitter and designated driver.
Jack gets Matt into the passenger seat somehow, and Matt is giggling at something that in his highly intoxicated state he finds very funny.
The first few minutes of the drive are fairly quiet, Matt's drunk chattering easy enough to tune out with the radio switched to Kiss FM. It's when Matt realizes that he's horny again that the driving gets difficult, because Matt is all in his space again and his hand is sliding up his thigh and he's breathing on his neck and this is so fucking typical of Matt.
"Babe, baby, Matt, Matthew," Jack says, trying to get his boyfriends attention. "There are fifteen minutes until we're home, and as much as I love handjobs and blowjobs I would really prefer not to die getting one."
Matt whines, pressing the palm of his hand against the crotch of Jack's jeans, palming him slowly and it's a good thing that it's about half one in the morning, because that means there’s pretty much no one on the roads and Jack can swerve the car into the other lane to his heart’s content.
By the time they get back to their house, Jack is fully hard and Matt is sucking a hickie onto his collar bone, because apparently his shirt collar is stretchy or Matt just stretched it out pulling it down so he could suck a mark there.
Jack stops the engine and gets out of the car, not even waiting for Matt to get out before he’s going towards the front door. He pulls it open, leaving it open for Matt and starts undoing his belt, because if he has to wait time doing belts and buttons and zippers while Matt could be blowing him he will cut someone.
Matt stumbles a little as he trips over the door frame, smirks at Jack and then drops to his knees in front of him, pressing him against the back of the couch. His hands are surprisingly steady for someone who’s pretty much wasted, but Jack doesn’t notice that, only notices Matt pulling his pants and his boxers down, exposing his hard on. Matt smirks up at him and then sucks the head of his dick into his mouth, rubbing his tongue over it. He pulls back a bit and licks over his lips, looking up at Jack and Jack swallows hard, bites his own lip because Matt’s lips are so damn shiny.
He pushes Jack’s shirt up a bit, fingers cool and steady as he splays his hands out over his hips, slowly taking Jack back into his mouth, deeper with every bob down until the tip is hitting the back of his throat, and good God, this is one of the reasons that Jack is in love with Matt. He is so fucking good at giving head, even when he’s drunk.
Jack forces his eyes open because he can’t not watch this, no matter how many times he’s seen it before it’s still as hot as it was the last time, his cheeks hollowing out and his jaw slack, eyelashes fluttering and moaning around Jack’s cock like he’s getting as much out of it as Jack is.
Matt’s hands slide down from his hips to his thighs, and Jack’s hips stutter forward, thrusting deeper into his boyfriends throat, and he feels him relaxing his throat, taking him deeper, fuck.
Jack doesn’t realize that Matt takes his hands off him, his eyes slide shut and it takes him about a minute to realize after he opens his eyes that Matt currently has his wrist twisted at an incredibly awkward (and probably painful) angle, fingering himself open for Jack.
“Oh, fuck.” Jack grits out, one hand gripping the back of the couch, the other buried in Matt’s black hair, gripping tight and subconsciously pushing him further down on his dick. Matt moans, vibrations shooting up Jack’s spine and he pulls him off and Matt stares up at him for a moment, panting, before pulling him up by his hair to push their lips together in a bruising kiss.
Jack pushes Matt around, against the couch and bends him over, his hands tracing up and down his sides, resting hot and heavy on his ass. “You are such a slut when you’re drunk.” Jack says in a low voice and Matt moans, sucking his lip ring into his mouth.
Jack disappears for a minute, going into the bathroom across the hall to get some lube, back again before Matt has even fully registered that he wasn't there. The cap pops, and Jack slicks his fingers up, presses three quickly into Matt just to make sure that he's stretched just enough, because pain is good, but he doesn't want to hurt him.
He pulls his fingers out, pouring a little more lube into his hand and , before he puts the non-sticky hand on Matt's hip, squeezing light in warning before he lines up and pushes in, slick and smooth and hot until he's balls deep, bodies pressed up flush together.
"Fuck." Jack groans, rotating his hips slowly. Matt is practically bent in half, his breath condensing on the leather couch cushion as he moans, louder than he usually does because he's a lot less sober than he usually is when he's being fucked.
Jack smoothes his hand up Matt’s side pulling out and thrusting back in, murmuring dirtyhot promises in his ear. Matt moans, his head tipped forward, mouth brushing the leather on the cushions. “Jack.” He moans, his hands clutching tight to the couch, eyes closed in ecstasy.
Matt moans again, panting harshly against the couch, and Jack’s hands dig into his hips, leaving finger shaped imprints on the skin, but that’s okay, that’s okay because Matt like’s bruises, likes having reminders of what it is they do for days after.
Jack shifts the angle of his hips, a low growl escaping his lips when a short scream is ripped from Matt’s lips, writhing in pleasure underneath him. “Theretherethere,” Matt slurs, his breath coming out in short gasps. Jack thrusts in harder, deeper. “Want to come,” he moans.
Their rhythm stutters for a moment, but Jack gets his hand around Matt’s waist, wrapped around his cock and Matt moans again, his hips rolling back onto Jack and then into his hand and it’s perfect, fucking perfect, fucking into Jack’s fist as he comes, spattering onto the back of the couch and dripping down Jack’s fist.
Jack fucks him through his orgasm, coming a second after he slumps against the black leather, pushing in deep and going still as he pulses inside him. Matt groans weakly when he pulls out, left feeling empty and so so good.
He tries to say as much, but it comes out more as “Nnnngnh.”
“Baby,” Jack laughs breathlessly, watching Matt slumped limply against the sofa. “Bedtime.” He manages to get the tourmanager into a clean pair of boxers and under the covers in their bed, snuggled up with Jack.
The next morning (early afternoon, really) Jack leaves the room for a cup of coffee for himself and some asprin for Matt. He passes by the living room and snorts when he sees the couch, dried cum streaking the back of the black sofa.
Matt can clean that later. And if it stains, they’ll just have to move the furniture around, because Jack likes that couch dammit, and he is not going to buy a new one just because that one has cum stains on it.
He brings a steaming mug and a water bottle and two white pills back into the bedroom, tossing the bottle at Matt and getting back in the bed before he hands him the pills.
“You can clean up the couch later. It’s your mess anyway.” He informs him with a smug grin.
“What mess?” Matt asks blearily, swallowing the pills and then drinking half the bottle of water in one go.
Jack snorts and shakes his head. His phone vibrates in his jeans pocket on the floor, and he does some acrobatical things and stretches out, tugging the jeans towards him to get his phone out of his pocket. He raises his eyebrow at the fact that Vinny is already tweeting at him, considering its one o’clock in the afternoon and he’s usually asleep right about now.
vinny_vegas
@JackAllTimeLow I hope @JMatthewFlyzik choked on your dick last night.
Author: Amanda, who goes by the aliasapodiopsys
Pairing: Flykat (which is Matt Flyzik/Jack Barakat if you haven't guessed, bro.)
Rating: Prawns are here. NC-17.
Summary: Years of knowing Matt has taught Jack that drunk Matt = horny Matt, so he isn't all that surprised when he leans over in his chair again, his lips close to Jack's ear.
Disclaimer:Sory, I shouldn't have bought the boys all that beer. My bad.
A/N:Hm, this has been about a week in the making. Personally I kind of really hate it. It's not that good, and it's probably rushed, and ugh idk. I've half a mind not to post it but then it'd be a waste of time and blah blah blah.
tumblr is here, br0.
come sexually harras my message box. it's into that kind of thing~
Matt has maybe had one too many beers. Or like, four too many. Jack can tell, he's been watching him, and Matt's been getting fidgety, eyes darting around the table and sucking on his lip ring.
Jack's only had two beers and a few sips off of Alex's, not enough to even get him buzzed or anything. He's driving them home tonight.
Just as he grabs Alex's can of beer to take another sip, Matt leans over in his chair, slurring something into his ear that Jack doesn't quite get.
"Babe," Jack says, and puts the can that he's holding down so he can take the red cup that Matt procured from thin air. "I think you should stop now," he laughs, and Matt pouts, making grabby hands at the cup.
"I'll blow you later if you give it back," he offers hopefully, sucking on his lip ring again and he has like, magic Disney powers or something because Jack hands him the cup back.
"Bro, you are so whipped." Vinny says says from the other side of the table with a smug expression at Jack.
"If you've ever gotten a blow job from him you'd understand." Jack shoots back at him, looking even smugger.
Years of knowing Matt has taught Jack that drunk Matt = horny Matt, so he isn't all that surprised when he leans over in his chair again, his lips close to Jack's ear.
"I'm gonna blow you so good later," he promises, his voice some sort of sensual purr. "And then you can fuck me. Bend me over the back of the sofa or the kitchen table."
Jack stiffles a groan, pushing Matt away when he starts biting at his neck and if he was as drunk as Matt was they'd probably fuck there in front of everyone.
He isn't as drunk as Matt is though (isn’t anywhere near that), so they'll save the acts of promiscuity for when they get home.
Matt whines and leans over again, apparently determined to give Jack as many hickies as possible.
"Matt!" Jack says sharply and then stands up, pulling his tour-manager-slash-boyfriend to his feet. "I think Matt's ready to leave now," he says and rolls his eyes when Matt leans on him and gropes his ass.
Alex stops making out with Zack long enough to fist bump with Jack and say, "Alright, bro!" before shifting over into his boyfriend's lap so they can do everything except have the actual sex in front of everyone.
If it weren't for the fact that Rian was dating Kara, Jack is positive that All Time Low are the gayest band/crew ever because he sees Evan and Grieco over in the corner on the sofa, he sees them.
And Grieco is "straight", right.
They say their byes to everyone and grab their coats, and Jack has to do one of those body search things they do at air ports to find their car keys.
He finally finds them in his left front pocket (Matt rolled his hips suggestively the whole time he was looking and Vinny watches them from the living room and says in the most camp voice possible "I bet he likes that.") and Jack can't wait till they get drunk next time because then it's Matt's turn to be the baby sitter and designated driver.
Jack gets Matt into the passenger seat somehow, and Matt is giggling at something that in his highly intoxicated state he finds very funny.
The first few minutes of the drive are fairly quiet, Matt's drunk chattering easy enough to tune out with the radio switched to Kiss FM. It's when Matt realizes that he's horny again that the driving gets difficult, because Matt is all in his space again and his hand is sliding up his thigh and he's breathing on his neck and this is so fucking typical of Matt.
"Babe, baby, Matt, Matthew," Jack says, trying to get his boyfriends attention. "There are fifteen minutes until we're home, and as much as I love handjobs and blowjobs I would really prefer not to die getting one."
Matt whines, pressing the palm of his hand against the crotch of Jack's jeans, palming him slowly and it's a good thing that it's about half one in the morning, because that means there’s pretty much no one on the roads and Jack can swerve the car into the other lane to his heart’s content.
By the time they get back to their house, Jack is fully hard and Matt is sucking a hickie onto his collar bone, because apparently his shirt collar is stretchy or Matt just stretched it out pulling it down so he could suck a mark there.
Jack stops the engine and gets out of the car, not even waiting for Matt to get out before he’s going towards the front door. He pulls it open, leaving it open for Matt and starts undoing his belt, because if he has to wait time doing belts and buttons and zippers while Matt could be blowing him he will cut someone.
Matt stumbles a little as he trips over the door frame, smirks at Jack and then drops to his knees in front of him, pressing him against the back of the couch. His hands are surprisingly steady for someone who’s pretty much wasted, but Jack doesn’t notice that, only notices Matt pulling his pants and his boxers down, exposing his hard on. Matt smirks up at him and then sucks the head of his dick into his mouth, rubbing his tongue over it. He pulls back a bit and licks over his lips, looking up at Jack and Jack swallows hard, bites his own lip because Matt’s lips are so damn shiny.
He pushes Jack’s shirt up a bit, fingers cool and steady as he splays his hands out over his hips, slowly taking Jack back into his mouth, deeper with every bob down until the tip is hitting the back of his throat, and good God, this is one of the reasons that Jack is in love with Matt. He is so fucking good at giving head, even when he’s drunk.
Jack forces his eyes open because he can’t not watch this, no matter how many times he’s seen it before it’s still as hot as it was the last time, his cheeks hollowing out and his jaw slack, eyelashes fluttering and moaning around Jack’s cock like he’s getting as much out of it as Jack is.
Matt’s hands slide down from his hips to his thighs, and Jack’s hips stutter forward, thrusting deeper into his boyfriends throat, and he feels him relaxing his throat, taking him deeper, fuck.
Jack doesn’t realize that Matt takes his hands off him, his eyes slide shut and it takes him about a minute to realize after he opens his eyes that Matt currently has his wrist twisted at an incredibly awkward (and probably painful) angle, fingering himself open for Jack.
“Oh, fuck.” Jack grits out, one hand gripping the back of the couch, the other buried in Matt’s black hair, gripping tight and subconsciously pushing him further down on his dick. Matt moans, vibrations shooting up Jack’s spine and he pulls him off and Matt stares up at him for a moment, panting, before pulling him up by his hair to push their lips together in a bruising kiss.
Jack pushes Matt around, against the couch and bends him over, his hands tracing up and down his sides, resting hot and heavy on his ass. “You are such a slut when you’re drunk.” Jack says in a low voice and Matt moans, sucking his lip ring into his mouth.
Jack disappears for a minute, going into the bathroom across the hall to get some lube, back again before Matt has even fully registered that he wasn't there. The cap pops, and Jack slicks his fingers up, presses three quickly into Matt just to make sure that he's stretched just enough, because pain is good, but he doesn't want to hurt him.
He pulls his fingers out, pouring a little more lube into his hand and , before he puts the non-sticky hand on Matt's hip, squeezing light in warning before he lines up and pushes in, slick and smooth and hot until he's balls deep, bodies pressed up flush together.
"Fuck." Jack groans, rotating his hips slowly. Matt is practically bent in half, his breath condensing on the leather couch cushion as he moans, louder than he usually does because he's a lot less sober than he usually is when he's being fucked.
Jack smoothes his hand up Matt’s side pulling out and thrusting back in, murmuring dirtyhot promises in his ear. Matt moans, his head tipped forward, mouth brushing the leather on the cushions. “Jack.” He moans, his hands clutching tight to the couch, eyes closed in ecstasy.
Matt moans again, panting harshly against the couch, and Jack’s hands dig into his hips, leaving finger shaped imprints on the skin, but that’s okay, that’s okay because Matt like’s bruises, likes having reminders of what it is they do for days after.
Jack shifts the angle of his hips, a low growl escaping his lips when a short scream is ripped from Matt’s lips, writhing in pleasure underneath him. “Theretherethere,” Matt slurs, his breath coming out in short gasps. Jack thrusts in harder, deeper. “Want to come,” he moans.
Their rhythm stutters for a moment, but Jack gets his hand around Matt’s waist, wrapped around his cock and Matt moans again, his hips rolling back onto Jack and then into his hand and it’s perfect, fucking perfect, fucking into Jack’s fist as he comes, spattering onto the back of the couch and dripping down Jack’s fist.
Jack fucks him through his orgasm, coming a second after he slumps against the black leather, pushing in deep and going still as he pulses inside him. Matt groans weakly when he pulls out, left feeling empty and so so good.
He tries to say as much, but it comes out more as “Nnnngnh.”
“Baby,” Jack laughs breathlessly, watching Matt slumped limply against the sofa. “Bedtime.” He manages to get the tourmanager into a clean pair of boxers and under the covers in their bed, snuggled up with Jack.
The next morning (early afternoon, really) Jack leaves the room for a cup of coffee for himself and some asprin for Matt. He passes by the living room and snorts when he sees the couch, dried cum streaking the back of the black sofa.
Matt can clean that later. And if it stains, they’ll just have to move the furniture around, because Jack likes that couch dammit, and he is not going to buy a new one just because that one has cum stains on it.
He brings a steaming mug and a water bottle and two white pills back into the bedroom, tossing the bottle at Matt and getting back in the bed before he hands him the pills.
“You can clean up the couch later. It’s your mess anyway.” He informs him with a smug grin.
“What mess?” Matt asks blearily, swallowing the pills and then drinking half the bottle of water in one go.
Jack snorts and shakes his head. His phone vibrates in his jeans pocket on the floor, and he does some acrobatical things and stretches out, tugging the jeans towards him to get his phone out of his pocket. He raises his eyebrow at the fact that Vinny is already tweeting at him, considering its one o’clock in the afternoon and he’s usually asleep right about now.
vinny_vegas
@JackAllTimeLow I hope @JMatthewFlyzik choked on your dick last night.