Fashionista

[million_star]

Title: Fashionista
Author:  millionstar
Pairing: Matthew/Dominic
Rating:   NC-17
Here There Be: Smut, language, introspection.
Characters: Matthew, Dominic
Summary: Taken from this prompt at mkmeme: Dom thinks the jacket is the most horrific thing ever... until Matt is wearing that and nothing else while riding him.
Disclaimer: I don't own Matt or Dom, no profit is being made and this is fiction.
Beta/Support: As always, dolce_piccante. <3  Thank you to amusedinred for cheerleading. <3
Author's Note: This is me trying to ensure I haven't forgotten how to write completely. I hope the OP enjoys where I took this prompt. As always, if you choose to read, thank you so, so much. I appreciate it more than you know.


Looking back, I often wonder if, now, nearly twenty years on, my younger self would have believed that he and I would still be together at this point in our lives.  Probably not - in those days, I rarely looked to the future - I didn't see any reason to think on such things.

Now, though, I find myself considering them often.  Sometimes he will smile at me and unconsciously I'll find myself adding the memory of it to the collection of his smiles that lives inside my heart in a small leopard print box.  Sometimes my fingertips will smooth the hair from his brow and he will give me that little shiver and it reminds me of the first time I ever touched him in that particular way, my teenage hands nervous but eager.

More than anything, though, I am always amused at how, while some things have changed over the years, some things remain pure and constant.  Let me be succinct:  he still delights in doing things simply to wind me up, to elicit a very precise reaction.

He indulged in this not long ago, when we'd been doing a bit of pre-Lollapalooza shopping.  Typically, when he and I go shopping, the trip consists of me dragging him through shops while he complains like a petulant child.  On this day, though, he'd been a bit more laid back, letting me lead the way while he hid behind his sunglasses, nursing a vanilla milkshake.

We rounded the corner and saw a very peculiar looking, yet inexplicably expensive, jacket on display.  Well, I say jacket, but honestly, it was more like an abomination of the highest caliber, in every way imaginable.  There was nothing fashionable about it, and if you ask me, there was nothing even remotely redeeming to be found in wearing it.

"Jesus, what the fuck is that thing?" I had laughed, my hand absently stroking the sleeve where it hung on the mannequin.  "Why would anyone willingly wear this monstrosity?  Maybe it's some sort of Punishment Blazer."

He had been silent up to this point, content to simply hold my hand.  I glanced at him and he shrugged, lips barely pursed around his straw in a smile.  "I kind of like it."

"No," I said quickly.

"Yes."

"No."

"Oh, but yes."

"No.  You don't," I shot back.

"Yeah.  I do.  I like the pattern.  Reminds me of-"

"Of horrible abstract art?  Of that time you puked after one too many jello shots?"

My efforts at comedy earned me a slight smirk; I melted as he shook his head.  "I dunno, it's different.  I like things that stand out, that make a statement."

"What statement are you looking to make, though?  Hello, I'm wearing my tablecloth today? or Hi, how are you, a small child painted my jacket for me."

That one earned me a high pitched giggle and a squeeze to my hand as he led me away toward the shoe section, the ridiculous jacket forgotten.

Later that night I hadn't noticed the shower had stopped running; my eyes were closed as I'd laid there, stretching my tired limbs and relaxing into the bed.  I had nearly fallen asleep when out of nowhere I suddenly had a lap full of squeaky clean Matthew.  I smiled, my eyes still closed, because it was evident that he was as naked as I was.  My hands had latched onto his thighs, smoothing his skin, kneading it gently.  His hands soon covered my own and I could sense him leaning in for a kiss.

My senses were correct, and when his lips touched my own, my hands began to travel up his body.  They quite enjoyed their journey until they soon encountered some sort of fabric covering his arms and shoulders.  I pulled back, ending our kiss, and opened my eyes.

There, perched precariously atop my body, was Matthew, staring at me wearing nothing but the silver chain around his neck... and that fucking jacket.

I narrowed my eyes at him, letting my expression speak for me:

I can't believe you bought and are wearing that thing. 

In response, the corner of his lips turned up slightly, ever so slightly.  His silent reply was undeniable and crystal clear as he reached behind himself and proceeded to tug slowly on my suddenly very interested dick:

I can't believe you haven't fucked me out of it yet.

I thought he'd never ask.

That night it seemed like we kissed for hours, not willing to let each other go for even a moment. I sat up, pulling him close, then pressing him into the bed, his arms and legs wrapping around my body as I tasted as much of him as I could.  Every bite I delivered to his collarbones resulted in a moan.  Every lick to the skin beneath his ear resulted in a gasp, and before long he'd regained control and I found myself on my back again, a wide-eyed Matthew crawling up my body with one singular intention.  I opened my mouth and guided him inside, Matthew crying out at the sensation.

The pace that he set was gentle.  He knows I'd prefer him to fuck my mouth in a more punishing manner, but in this he has always been a gentleman, not willing to cause me a hint of discomfort in any way.  The pump of his hips could only be described as leisurely, his shaft very nearly hitting the back of my throat as I hummed around it.  I love being fucked this way, with his balls coming dangerously close to my chin with each thrust.  It's dirty.  It's primal.

It's only as my finger began to trace his rim that he faltered in his motion.  That's when I discovered the plug and a rush of blood traveled straight to my own dick in a surge of arousal so heady that I felt like I could drown in it.  He slid free of my mouth, panting as he stared down at me, his slightly sticky dickhead resting against my cheek.  Matthew nodded, and I carefully removed the plug and threw it across the room, his eyes never leaving my own.  I reached up to caress his cheek, my heart pounding when he leaned into my touch. 

In no time he'd moved into position, carefully guiding me into his wet, open core.  When he sank onto me and I was finally balls deep inside him, we both moaned aloud, Matthew arching his back as he began to ride me.  His hair was still damp from his shower, and the jacket began sliding down to reveal one bare shoulder and one extremely gorgeous nipple. He was so beautiful like that, so unbelievably beautiful riding me that night, hideous jacket or no hideous jacket.  The heat and the intensity had me moaning like a common whore in no time, rendering me incapable of anything but lifting my hips to pound into him as much as was possible in my position.

I took him in hand, thick and hot, and fisted him, Matthew throwing his head back as the jacket began to slide down his other arm from our furious motions.  He pulled at the silver chain around his glistening neck, eyes closed, and I'd never seen anything so decadently wanton in my life.

Then he started talking to me, saying the most filthy yet beautiful words, and I came utterly undone.  He whispered things so intimate that I could only groan and curse my way through my orgasm, I was so affected by them.  He followed me soon after, painting my chest with his release in thick ropes, with the most ethereal sounds coming from his mouth the whole time.

That night, as he rested next to me in his ridiculous new jacket, blue eyes closed as he succumbed to sleep, I was reminded of the first time we ever shared a bed.  Back then his hair was blue and his frame was thin, but his heart was as big as it remains today.  He's still Matthew; sometimes goofy, constantly kind, occasionally maddening... and always, mine.

These thoughts that flutter through my head, they come and go.  The memories that we are creating as the years pass do make me smile more often than not.

And, as for the jacket, well... I suppose it can stay.