Mates (ON HOLD)

7. a little tipsy

A/N: Let's do this...

Enjoy ;)

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C H A P T E R  S E V E N:
a little tipsy

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L I V A T O R

I know I don't know much about Matches and this is in fact the second twenty four hours I have spent with him, but I can tell when something is off.

It might have been his immense focus and drug like eyes and movements. I turned to Thomas, sipping a glass of water. I'd never be able to get drunk because of my dads genes so I didn't even try to drink something I didn't nessisarily like the taste of. I nodded toward Matches who had cocked his head, his face very close to the screen, ignoring the hits of Red who was annoyed that he wouldn't pay attention to her. "Is he always like this?" I asked, turning my attention to the guy who'd been talking to me all night.

Thomas' eyebrows knitted together, "Nah...he usually gets really happy and giggly when he drinks."

Red sighed, giving up on her fight with Match and sauntered lazily towards us. She leaned on the table beside Thomas, exasperated. "Idiot."

Thomas nodded, "I just told Livator how he's usually giggling when he gets drunk."

Red furrowed her brow, "But...Matches only had one beer."

"Is he a lightweight?" I asked, setting my glass down.

She shook her head, "It normally takes him ten beers to hit a buzz."

We watched Matches lazily laugh, and lay back, rubbing his hands over his eyes. Standing, I padded towards him, sitting beside his tired looking body.

He sat up quickly, turning towards me, both of his hands sliding over my left thigh. "Hey baby." He cheered, leaning over and kissing me gently on the cheek.

A genuine smile hit my face, "Hey." He grinned so widely, laying his head in the crook of my neck, breathing deeply. His large hands squeezed my thigh, his nose nuzzling at my skin. "You okay?"

Pulling his head up, his eye lids opened like paper weights were attached to them. "Hm?"

"Are you feeling okay?" I asked, pulling one of his hands off my thigh, holding it with the both of mine. His hand was so much bigger than mine, like a lazy giant in the hands of a tiny fly. Kind of.

He shrugged, kissing my neck gently after laying his head back on my shoulder. His hand was limp as I drew patterns on it. "I feel great." He muttered, switching to lay his head on my other shoulder, licking the side of my neck. My own eyes slipped closed, his lick dangerously close to his mark on my skin.

When he decided it'd be funny if I came right before math, he's wrong. I swear people could smell it and my cheeks were covered in my embarrassment. It was hot, though. Matches all around made me hot whenever I thought of him remotely naked or sultry like. And when he touched me, he made sure it wasn't a waste, hitting all the right nerves. Being with Matches, even if we were just talking, was like taking a drug. It was calming and nice, for lack of better words. Matches always had me crumbling between his fingers, like sharp pieces of glass, and I was afraid he'd get hurt.