That 000000 & ffffff || Matty Healy

The Way He Talks

/ / T H E  W A Y  H E  T A L K S / /

Marcy mixes the batter, singing lightly along with the song playing from her iPod, hips swaying rhythmaticly in what Matty can only describe as sensually. He pauses for a moment at the doorway, leaning against the frame, enjoying the scene before him.

Marceline Divine, in an old flimsy white shirt of his, and as she reaches up, stretching to get an ingredient from the cupboards, the shirt rises, exposing the lovely tattoo – the one she shares with him...and Jamie and Anna and Adam and George and Ross – placed just under the line of her panties.

"Oh yeah the music feels like paradise," she sings softly, swinging her hips from side to side, "can't get any better, no,". Matty chuckles, grabbing her arm and spinning her to him. She gasps, a blush creeping up her neck, "Matty!"

"Hmm?" He pulls her hands over his shoulders and grips on to her hips as she clasps her fingers behind his neck. He dips his head to the crook of her neck, and she shivers as he breathes out, attempting mockery but sounding oh so very fond, "Marcy."

He guides her hips to the music, kissing her right where his lips are pressed. She groans a bit, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not very." He grins, catching the chorus of the song, singing along and twirling her. He chuckles, "What are you doing?"

She shrugs, beginning to move on her own accord, laughing at Matty, probably because its nine in the morning and they're attempting some wayward type of salsa to a Becky G song while practically in their underwear, seeing as Matty only has his boxers on. "Making breakfast. Usually, Anna's up before me, but I was hungry and I'm not home, and she isn't here and now I have to cook – to fend – for myself." She breaks off, sighing dramatically.

Matty rolls his eyes, sliding his hands down her hips, just above her thighs. His fingers lightly trace the raised lines of her new tattoo, not missing the shiver, nor the goosebumps rising. "This is cute," he says, pulling her closer to him, the thin layer of clothing still too much for his liking. "You're usually at class before I wake up," he explains. "You look sexy, cooking with no pants on."

Marcy stands on her tiptoes, pressing her lips up his neck until she's able to nibble at his ears. He catches her chin and pulls her face to him, his lips encasing hers, pressing down hard and rough. She pushes back, her tongue begging for more, and he grabs her thighs, pulling them around his hips and lifting her atop the counter, pressing his core to hers.

She shudders, moving forward, and he loves the friction she's establishing. He's getting hard and she's getting wet.

She pulls away, gasping, but his wet lips trail down her throat. She mewls his name and falls back a bit, resting her head against the cupboard, her eyes shutting, mouth parting as she lets her boyfriend cover one of her breasts with his mouth, his tongue trailing through the fabric, nipping at her hardened nipple, sucking it into his mouth. "Matty," Marcy breathes, hands shaky as she tries to weave them into his hair, not sure if she's trying to pull him away or drive him further into her.

He tugs at her skin and runs his hand to the inside of her thighs, feeling her trembles as he works his way up, grasping her through the cotton of her near soaking panties. "Matty," she calls out again, slightly louder, "Oh fuck – Matty, wait...please," His rubbing is almost vigorous and he wonders if she can get off on just this, lifting his mouth to her other breast. "Matty, please," she calls again, "Stop," she pants.

Matty pauses, lifting off of her with a pout to his face, "What's wrong?"

She lets out a short giggle, her breath still catching up to her and her cheeks flushed. Running her knuckles over his cheeks, "I'm hungry," she whines.