Practice ☆ Matt Sturniolo
Summary: Matt volunteers himself as kissing practice
Warnings: bsf Matt, kissing
Silence stretches between you and Matt as you sit at opposite ends of the couch. You've already said goodbye but your ride is running late.
Your best friend seems perfectly content at his end of the sofa, phone in hand and arm spread across the back of the cushions lazily. But you are on edge.
The person picking you up isn't just a ride home.
Usually, that wouldn't be something that would put you on edge like this, but it's been months since you were last interested in anyone and this guy seems really interested in you.
Checking your phone again anxiously, you see no message from the date in question. With a groan, you slide down the couch to the floor.
"He's running pretty late." Matt points out, watching you slide off the couch and onto the floor.
"I know," you groan, "I'm already nervous, all this waiting is making it worse."
"Why are you nervous?" Matt asks, sliding along the couch to look at you on the floor.
Sighing, you pull yourself up into a sitting position and turn to face your friend. "I don't know, it's just been a while. And what if.."
"...What if he tries to kiss me."
Matt responds with a shrug and a very matter of fact tone. "Then you kiss him back."
"But, like, what if I'm bad? I'm out of practice"
You've spoken to Matt about your relationships before, he's seen you kiss people at parties, but it's been months since your last kiss.
Matt motions for you to join him on the couch again and as you settle into the spot next to him he speaks up. "So then practice."
"On me." At his words, your eyebrows shoot up. You've never considered Matt in that way before and now here he is just offering himself up as kissing practice. He is attractive, though, not that you usually pay much attention to it. As you take in his appearance now, you remember. His blue eyes are full of sincerity, brown hair falling messily over his forehead. The grey crewneck he's wearing is loose around the neck, revealing the glint of silver from his chain necklace hiding underneath. In the brief silent pause, Matt raises a nervous hand to scratch at his neck. Even his hands are attractive. But he's your friend. Your best friend. You're not supposed to see him that way.
Your eyes flick back and forth between his, searching for any sign of a joke but you don't find one, and then he speaks again, this time his voice is low, almost pleading. "Kiss me."
The gravelly sound of his eager voice causes your chest to jump, your heat beating faster as Matt inches closer to you. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, drawing your eyes to them. And fuck, do they look tempting.
"Matt..." You whisper. A quiet warning that this might change everything, that it's not a good idea. But as his face leans closer to yours, you can't hear those warnings anymore. The sound of your racing heart drowns out the doubts. The sight of Matt's eyes fluttering closed, the feel of his breath dusting over your lips as he whispers your name in response.
You tilt your chin upward, closing the small gap between you. Your lips brush against Matt's in a teasing sweep. The slightest touch sends sparks through you, your lips tingling. But it's not enough. After that tiny taste you need more.
Your hands rise to his face, gripping his cheeks and holding him as you smash your lips onto his again, this time with more force, more eagerness.
As your mouth parts and your tongue glides over his lips, he lets out a breathy moan, eagerly reciprocating. Your tongues tangle in a sloppy, messy dance between your mouths. Each movement causes your chest to squeeze, yearning for more.
You can tell that Matt is eager for more as well. His fingers curl in your hair, urging you closer. Small groans slip free from his mouth into yours each time you glide your tongue over his.
But just as you shift your hands to the back of his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss, your phone buzzes and Matt pulls away panting.
"Your date's here." He says through heavy breaths.
You grab the phone out of Matt's hands and toss it into your bag at the end of the couch. "I don't care. This isn't practice anymore."
