Addiction/Affliction {M.Healy}

Panic/Bliss

Hey! Sorry I've been slow on updates, I've been busy with life and other boring things. Please enjoy this chapter, vote, comment, do whatcha do. Thanks to my other half sunphazed for all of her support and patience as I babble about my ridiculous stories. 

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"Here you are, Matthew," I sat the coffee in front of Matty, putting extra emphasis on his given name, teasing him in not only that aspect but how I "forgot" to button a few buttons on my blouse as well.

His dark and lovely eyes went from my clevage to my face and he shook his head almost indiscriminately at my shenanigans , crossing his legs and smirking ever-so-slightly. "Thank you, Olive."

I winked at him discreetly and walked to the opposite of the room in Thom's office, pretending to read over some material in my notes, but actually just thinking about much I liked being around Matty. In fact, most of my time was spent thinking about Matty, and it didn't bother me nearly as much as it should have.

Thom didn't seem to take note of our actions, as he fiddled with the settings on his digital recorder and stuck his hand out for me to pass him the notes on Matty's last session. Observing individual therapy for four hours a week was part of my graduate studies program. The fact that most of those observation hours were spent with Thom during Matty's sessions wasn't exactly a coincidence. Matty didn't mind, though, and he would have spoken up if he did.

I handed Thom the notes I'd so carefully collected and cherished, before I sat down on the couch, diagonal from Matty, who was now rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt to his elbows, looking cozy in this early Autum weather. We had been sleeping together for a while now, and Matty was continuing to test my limitations almost daily. From first time he'd bound me, to the bathroom in the diner two weeks ago, to when I screamed into the palm of his hand as I sat on his lap with his fingers inside of me in my office two days ago. We had not been caught yet, and though Hannah had almost walked in on us, it wasn't enough to make me tell Matty not to do it again.

"And how are you today, Matthew?" Thom asked, not even bothering to look Matty in the eye, instead, reading the notes I'd prepared like they were a cheat sheet to some test that didn't have any effect on his final grade.

Thom was extremely intelligent, but sometimes I worried about how  lackadaisical he was towards Matty's treatment. He often repeated that he wasn't going to move mountains to get Matty to open up to him.

Matty wet his lips and shrugged. "I'm alright, Thom. And yourself?"

"Fine. Please don't call me Thom," Thom said flatly.

Matty had been "alright", actually. His nights, though they were still long and sometimes sleepless, were spent either between my legs or with writing frantic, beautiful poetry that he refused to let me read. His pretty lips smiled more, he hummed more, he was productive and polite and generally in a good mood, a far stretch from the man who'd just attempted suicide a few months ago.

A sickening feeling erupted in my stomach when I thought of how depressed Matty had been, his unique and beatiful soul floating around lost in the world. Meeting me hadn't "fixed" him, I knew--I wasn't naive enough to believe that. What had worked was steady therapy (as awkward as it was) , writing lines of poetry instead of inhaling lines of coke, being around the right friends. Still, some part of me hoped that I could change Matty, though, deep within myself, I knew I was not special enough to, not on my own, at least.

Matty and I had fucked constantly, in every way possible, and it still wasn't enough for me. I began to seriously wonder, now, if he was truly the addict and not myself. When he was inside of me, when his hands were clutched to my body, when his tongue was devouring me, when his lips were tugging at mine, that was all there ever was, all there ever needed to be. I'd moan his name and forget he was a patient. I'd swallow his release and forget I was probably doing more harm than good. I'd look at my body, all decorated with tiny bruises and blotches, and nearly shake at how delighted I was.