Addiction/Affliction {M.Healy}

desperation/surprise

Wowzers! Thank you to everyone who has voted and commented, like I'm so happy my little smutty story is getting noticed! Please keep voting and commenting, don't be scared to say hello, or hell no, whichever you prefer. It truly is motivation for me! Enjoy this adorable gif of Matty singing "Sex" and living his motto. This is unedited so I apologize for any mistakes or typos.

Warning: contains sex, dirty sex. Cause duh. Not gonna do vanilla sex with Matty, sorry. And if you write basic bitch mediocre ten minute missionary sex scenes with Matty then you need to rethink your imagination because, forgive me, but you KNOW that boy knows how to work it. Don't do that to him, man.

"I'd like to show you something," Matty said, taking my hand and tracing the back of it with his thumb.

My fingertips traced the definition of his stomach and I looked up at him, a certainty in my eyes meeting the openness in his.

"Show me, Matty."

I'd known Matty's clinical diagnoses, his list of medications, his family history, his behavioral history. I could recite his entire phsyciatric file like a daily mantra. But in this moment, I was going to truly get to know him, and he was going to get to know me.

He led me to his bedroom, walking casually in front of me, my trembling hand guided by his. The room was dim, barely lit by the small lamp that rested on his bedside table. Matty had opened his walk-in closet, and I looked at him, confused, until he had parted about a dozen button ups to reveal what the closet was truly used for.

It was a storage space, for all of his precious toys. His hand slid against the closet wall to turn on a light, and my lips parted in awe and curiosity of what stood before me.

The shelves were black and kept meticulous, glossy dark wood shining. On the top shelves were sleek, grey storage boxes, all straight and ordely, not a centimeter off balance. The middle shelf housed several spools of ropes, all different lengths, but all in the same nylon blend I was touching as Matty watched me. The third, and final shelf, were a plethora of handcuffs and binding agents, along with a few things I could not begin to describe nor recognize.

"What are those for?" I asked, eyeing a pair of black, thick cuffs of some kind.

"Those," Matty eyed the subject of my curiosity, "Are for that," he said, his dark eyes going to the hooked mount on his ceiling.

"Can we try that?" I asked him, in almost a whisper.

He traced the curve of my hip with his fingertips and gipped it lightly. "Not yet."

"Please?" I pouted.

He giggled a little, almost playful in this very erotic scenery. "You're not ready for that."

"But maybe I am--"

Matty interrupted me then, and took my lips in his softly, making my knees weak and my lashes flutter shut as he took my top lip between his. My heart was racing, but he pulled away, and turned around from me, only to gently take one of the spools of rope from the shelves.

The sounds of my sharp inhales of oxygen took up the space in the room as Matty stood, the spool of rope in his hand, paralyzing me with his stare.

I swallowed, trying to keep my thoughts and legs steady.

"Matty," I said, a volume above a whisper. "Are you going to tie me up?"

He gripped onto the rope and slid his hands across the material, his teeth framing the corner of his full bottom lip. "Are you going to pretend you don't want me to?"