"Our Clothes Were (Never) Off", X-Factor RPS, Matt Cardle/Aiden Grimshaw
Title: Our Clothes Were (Never) Off
Fandom: X-Factor UK 2010
Pairing: Matt Cardle/Aiden Grimshaw
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6510
Genre: Slash
Copyright: Title taken from Under The Sheets by Ellie Goulding.
Disclaimer: THIS REALLY, REALLY, REALLY DID NOT HAPPEN.
Warnings: Fuck-or-die/sexpollen fic. And because this is me, it’s, um, less cracky than it should be. So it isn’t meant as dubcon but for all I know it reads that way.
Summary: Now he feels absolutely insane and sooner or later Matt’s going to notice and it’s going to become really, really awkward between them.
Author’s Notes: J.K. ROWLING TOTALLY USED THIS AS A PLOT DEVICE, IT’S SO VALID. Right, so, remember how I was going on about how creepy I was on Sunday? Yeah, um, I got over that. I got over that a lot. Mostly because we’ve managed to build a tiny fandom in a week. And all fandoms need a sex pollen/fuck-or-die fic. Except that this is why I don’t write them apart from in the Torchwood fandom, because I always forget to make them fun and instead make them angsty. Although the lovely finkpishnets read the first half of this for me and said it wasn’t that creepy so we’re all good. Still f-locked; if I ever write something for these two that isn’t porn then I’ll unlock it.
Two other things: I made a sort-of picspam of the boys if you’d like visuals or just to be converted to how epic they are (there are gifs of Aiden feeding Matt popcorn if that counts as bribery?). And also, if you’re interested, you should totally join aidenmatt.
I.
It’s always kind of disconcerting when they’re allowed out of the little bubble that is their house and find themselves going, oh, yeah, right, they’re kind of famous now, and people know who they are, and their faces are splashed across the covers of Heat and things got so crazy that one of One Direction’s fans got taken to hospital and over forty thousand people follow him on twitter and, well, it’s weird. Nice, but weird.
Aiden isn’t used to the whole idea of fans; he’s always been shy and nervous and kind of quiet and half his old school thought he was a weirdo and now he has girls who leave him endearingly creepy messages under all his video diaries and newspapers talk about his life like it’s actually interesting - which it is at the moment, yeah, but it’s not like it was before - and there’s a whole lot of screaming in the whole thing.
They get oldschool fanmail sometimes too, which is kind of cool in this age of emails and twitter and stuff. It usually uses a hysterical amount of pink gel pen and apparently it has to get run through security first to make sure they aren’t being posted razorblades or whatever, but it’s still pretty awesome.
Aiden opens one envelope and a photograph falls out, which is, um, weird. He feels kind of like he’s meant to be acquiring a mail order bride so he only takes a quick look at the - admittedly pretty - teenage girl and takes a look at the accompanying card, which has the usual amount of OMFG AIDEN UR SO TALENTED markered inside. It also smells really good; sweet and sort of flowery and sort of overpowering.
He adds it to his other fanmail stuff and then kind of forgets about it.
~
Within a week of moving into the house and living in the same room as Matt Cardle, Aiden had to come to terms with being maybe a little bit too attracted to how bright his smile is. And that’s cool, because Matt’s older than him and considerably less awkward than him and he’s an amazingly good friend and it’s sometimes hard to forget that they’re rivals.
Anyway, he’s mostly got good about not thinking about Matt and not getting a little too distracted by how stupidly gorgeous he is when you look past the omnipresent hat, and it’s been going really well and they have a lot of fun and Aiden manages to share a room with Matt without any of the really inappropriate staring he could be doing, and he’s mostly resigned himself to getting over it, because that’s all he can really think of to do.
Except that this morning he wakes up and finds Matt shuffling around their room looking half-asleep, and something white-hot and needy runs down his spine and pools in his stomach. And yeah, Matt’s kind of cute and funny-looking with his eyes barely open and his hair sticking up at weird angles, but it shouldn’t be making his insides wrench like this.
Aiden swallows and blames it on the whole morning thing, bunching the duvet between his hands until his hard-on goes away.
~
Ok, so, there are lots of good parts to being a teenager, and lots of parts to being a teenager that are kind of shit. And fuck, yes, Aiden had the years when a breeze blowing past could induce an erection at the wrong time of day, and his mates gave him shit for it and he did it right back when it happened to them because, well, welcome to the world of an adolescent boy.
Except that he honestly thought he was over that part of his life now he’s eighteen. And he is. Apart from when Matt is in the room, when he finds himself hugging cushions and guitars and folding his arms in his lap. It’s affecting the way he dresses because he has to think carefully about what he wears that day and whether it’s going to be painful and/or obvious if he gets aroused in it, and it’s making it really fucking hard to be around Matt - no pun intended - because of his stupid body and the way it’s apparently decided to betray him.
Aiden’s been around people he’s fancied before and after he got over the whole blushing crazily thing, managed to cope fine. He was coping fine with Matt up until a couple of days ago. Now he feels absolutely insane and sooner or later Matt’s going to notice and it’s going to become really, really awkward between them, and Aiden doesn’t want that. He’s totally going to get over this hopeless teenage crush one day and he’d really like to still actually be friends with Matt when that happens.
It’s kind of easier said than done though.
~
Matt drops down next to him on the sofa, laying a casual hand on his shoulder, and Aiden gets turned on so fast that he actually gets dizzy as all his blood runs instantly south. He can feel the warmth of Matt’s hand spreading out through his whole body, twisting through his stomach, and it’s, God, it’s really distracting.
“You ok?” Matt is asking, laugh curling the corners of his mouth though his eyes are soft, expectant.
It’s almost too much, and Aiden forcibly swallows the whimper that wants to escape from his lips without him ever giving it permission to get there in the first place.
“Seriously,” Matt adds, frowning now, and his thumb strokes Aiden’s shoulder and his cock twitches at the movement and, just, no.
“Yeah,” Aiden squeaks out, voice almost broken, and he internally winces. “Just, um, you know. Tough coaching session today, so Saturday’s looking pretty scary right now.”
Matt smiles and, fuck, he shouldn’t smile like that, Aiden wishes he wouldn’t smile like that because it physically hurts. He’s sure he must be flushing, eyes helplessly dilated.
“You’ll be fine,” he assures quietly, leaning a little closer and Aiden can feel his breath against his cheek and it brings every inch of him out in goosebumps.
Aiden attempts to fumble together a smile that looks real and not desperate. Matt’s still touching him and Aiden can hear him breathing and he can smell him, cigarettes and the shampoo he used this morning, and if he sits here another moment he’s going to come in his jeans without being touched.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, and then strings together some words that might be I have to make a phonecall and legs it out of there.
~
It’s pretty hard to get any of the bathrooms for a protracted period of time because there’s a lot of them and everyone needs to do their hair or their makeup or practice their camera faces in the mirrors or whatever, but Aiden locks himself in one of them and turns the shower on as hot as it will go.
He hasn’t consciously let himself do this before, because it seemed sort of invasive and it would undoubtedly come back to haunt him at an inappropriate moment, but it only takes a moment with the water pounding on his back for him to be wrapping fingers around his cock and thinking about Matt. About Matt laughing, curled against his side while they watch a film or mug for the constantly-present cameras, about Matt with reassuring hands on his shoulders comforting him when it’s been a really bad day, and then without conscious effort he’s thinking about Matt pushing him into their room, locking the door behind him and pushing Aiden down onto his bed, warm skin and warm hands and warm mouth, and-
Aiden comes, choking, water running into his eyes and mouth. And it doesn’t feel good, not even for a second, and it doesn’t help anything; he can feel it rising in him, still, a wave that won’t break, and he’s almost blind for a moment. He switches the shower to cold and curls up in the corner of the stall, head in hands, and breathes until he feels almost sane again.
~
It makes him feel like a total bastard, but Aiden starts actively avoiding Matt in the hope it’ll make this better. If he’s not around Matt and he deliberately doesn’t think about him, then it can’t hurt, can it? He’ll just remove the problem until the symptoms go away.
Except that the symptoms don’t go away. And they get worse.
The time Aiden gets a hard-on watching TV and someone says the word matter, he realises that he’s kind of doomed. As it turns away, there are a reasonable amount of words that have matt somewhere in them, and Aiden physically feels every last one.
And the low-level arousal never actually goes away. He manages not to spend his entire life hard, because, wow, that would be fucking horrible, but there’s a low shivering heat in his stomach that sits there all the time, making him edgy and lose track of sentences halfway through.
He can feel Matt’s uncertain eyes on him and it makes his skin feel too tight. A lot of the time he can’t even stop shaking, and he knows he’s worrying the hell out of everyone, but he can hardly say I think I’ve turned into some kind of sex addict and Matt turns me on so much it physically hurts to be near him without sounding like some kind of freak who needs to end up on a register of some description.
The really stupid thing he tries involves a really pretty backing dancer who he flirts with after somehow not messing up Saturday’s show - he keeps his eyes closed while he sings and focuses on every last word and makes it through, even though Cheryl is still banging on about his intensity - and, well, he ends up making out with her in an empty corridor for an unidentifiable amount of time.
It doesn’t help. Aiden kind of thought maybe it was a contact thing, only it wasn’t; she was a good kisser and everything, but all he felt was the usual desperate need coupled with the fact she made his skin crawl. Later, he can’t help comparing it to being desperately hard but wearing gloves out of sandpaper; you needed to get off, but it would feel really horrible when you did.
He’s out of ideas. He doesn’t know what to do anymore.
~
By Tuesday, it’s physically painful to not be in the same room as Matt. He feels this desperate pull every time they’re apart that only eases when he can see him. Continuing to avoid Matt becomes impossible so he does his best not to be clingy but spends as much time with him as possible. It’s torture - kind of like being on the edge of an orgasm all the time but never quite tipping over it - and he’s pretty sure Matt’s going to start thinking he has a drug problem soon, but it’s better to be with him than without him.
Finding times to sneak off and masturbate furiously - just to take the edge off, it’s not like any of it actually helps - can be tricky but Aiden manages, and then he can pull himself together long enough to record a video diary or have a vocal coaching session or eat dinner without surreptitiously having to keep the heel of his hand pressed to his cock under the table.
It’s gone beyond embarrassing and into scary now, but Aiden doesn’t know how to articulate it to anyone so even though it gets worse with every passing hour and it kind of feels like he’s going actively insane, he waits it out, because he can’t think of anything else to try.
II.
Matt’s worried about Aiden. Well, it would be kind of hard not to be; this competition is fucking with Matt’s head and he’s a fully grown man, God knows what it does to teenagers struggling in something that’s simultaneously a test and a popularity contest and a job interview, being broadcast live to the nation twice a week. It would be enough to unsettle anyone, but he thought they were all doing pretty well; they drank tea together and chatted when it all got too much, and Aiden was Matt’s place of sanity in this weirdly claustrophobic house.
Except that Aiden isn’t acting much like Aiden at the moment. He’s too quiet and then he’s too loud and bright, smile stretching until it looks like it hurts. He spends more time than ever hunched over himself, defensive body language taken to the extreme, and he initiates conversations and then loses track of them. It’s like he’s on drugs of some kind, but Matt spends that much time around him, Matt would know.
But something’s definitely wrong, between the way Aiden spends half his time avoiding him and the other half curled up almost too close on the sofa, eyes too bright and whole body shaking if you look closely. Matt’s tried to ask him about it, but Aiden always deflects, moving swiftly on, and Matt doesn’t push it because he kind of thinks that if he did he’d break him.
It doesn’t stop him from being concerned, though.
~
Aiden’s been conspicuously absent most of the day and Matt isn’t concerned except that he is concerned, of course he is. He tries calling him but it goes to voicemail and no one’s seen him since breakfast. He’s missed his vocal coaching session and everyone looks kind of confused when Matt asks them.
He heads back to their room because he’s out of ideas and he needs a moment to think in a place where Katie and Cher are pretending they don’t hate each other’s guts in a really loud fashion. Matt opens the door and finds that Aiden’s there, curled up on his side on Matt’s bed, face buried in the pillow and hand shoved unceremoniously under the waistband of his sweatpants.
Which, ok, wow. Matt isn’t going to pretend he hasn’t thought about having Aiden sprawled across his bed a couple of times, because he has, it’s just... ok. He should probably leave him to it, and he’s about to quietly leave and maybe deal with this later when he’s had time to think about it when Aiden lets out a soft sound. It isn’t a good sound, it sounds like he’s in pain, and Matt lets the door slam behind him.
Aiden jerks, barely coordinated, and rolls onto his back, eyes widening when he sees Matt before snapping shut. His mouth moves, words not coming out, and his hand has slid up, pressed flat against his stomach.
“...Aiden?” Matt asks quietly, and Aiden lets out a sound between his teeth that might be a strangled whimper. His hair is a wreck, his skin bathed in sweat, and he doesn’t look at all good. “Aiden-”
“Don’t,” Aiden chokes out like it hurts him, “just... just leave me alone, ok?”
Matt has no idea what’s happening here but he’s not about to leave Aiden here, shivering and twitching against his sheets. He swallows and walks over.
“Aiden, what’s going on?”
Aiden’s eyes open and Matt feels his stomach jolt because the pupils are blown impossibly wide, huge and dark and intense.
“Matt, please,” he says, face twisting, and Matt doesn’t know what he’s asking for and is about to say so, when Aiden shifts, crawling clumsily down the bed to where Matt is standing, and plasters himself against him, burying his face in Matt’s chest and letting out a helpless, choked noise.
“What-” Matt begins, and Aiden moans, breath hot through Matt’s shirt. “Aiden, have you taken something?”
Aiden groans this time, low and hard, and he forcibly pulls himself away. “God, I don’t, I don’t... Matt, it hurts,” he adds, barely a whisper, head bowed and messy hair in his eyes.
Matt reaches for him before he’s even aware of what he’s doing, hand under Aiden’s chin and tipping his head up, and Aiden leans into his touch, breathing shallow and ragged. His lips are bitten almost raw, cheeks flushed and eyes still screaming desperate arousal, and Matt has no idea what’s going on but he can see that Aiden doesn’t either.
“Aiden, I can’t leave you like this,” Matt tells him quietly.
Aiden scrambles up off the bed, almost knocking them both over as he practically wraps himself around Matt, burying his face in Matt’s neck, hands fisting in his shirt.
“You should go,” he mumbles, “but please don’t leave, please don’t leave, please don’t leave.” His voice is hard and low and he sounds frantic, hips jerking against Matt’s and Matt can feel just how desperately aroused Aiden really is.
“I’m here,” Matt says softly, bringing a hand up to the small of Aiden’s back because even though he knows he shouldn’t, the little noises of relief that Aiden’s making are too much for him to pull away.
Aiden breathes his name into Matt’s neck, lips wet and warm against his skin, pressing kisses there without even seeming to be aware of it. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok,” Matt says, even though it isn’t, not really, because when he thought about how good it would feel to be wrapped up with Aiden somewhere, it’s not like he pictured it with candles and soppy music or anything, but it didn’t involve Aiden being this desperate. He doesn’t even know if Aiden’s a willing participant right now; he just seems to need contact with someone and Matt just happened to be the first person to walk in the door.
Aiden shifts, reaching awkwardly to drag Matt’s hand down his back until it’s curled over his arse. “I need,” he whispers, “oh, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I need-”
“All right,” Matt says, and his voice comes out almost calm, “all right.”
Aiden shudders, a full-body thing, and bites Matt’s shoulder through his shirt. And yes, Matt’s desperately hard because it would be difficult not to be what with the way Aiden is rubbing against him, warm and sinuous, but it feels wrong somehow; he should stop it but, insane as it sounds, he’s kind of scared about what will happen to Aiden if he stops touching him. Aiden’s hands are scrabbling down his back, pushing under the hem of his shirt and splaying against his skin, greedy slides against his spine.
“Oh,” Aiden breathes, soft, and Matt isn’t sure he can stop now either. “Oh, God, Matt, I don’t even-”
“It’s ok,” Matt says, voice shaking but steady, and he presses a kiss to Aiden’s cheek. “Just... it’ll be ok.”
Aiden nods and then wrenches himself away, nearly falling backwards, and starts pulling frantically at his clothes, dragging his t-shirt off and abandoning it and then kicking the sweatpants down his legs; he isn’t wearing underwear. He’s shaking and Matt can see where every inch of him is covered in goosebumps and fuck, this isn’t how he thought he’d see Aiden naked for the first time. There are angry red scratches on Aiden’s hips and it takes Matt a moment to realise that Aiden put them there himself, like he was curling his fingers there to try and hold onto something only to find that there was nothing.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, and wonders just how many hours Aiden’s been stuck here like this, going out of his mind without anyone to help him.
Aiden looks like he’s going to reach for him and then restrains himself, hands clenched so tight Matt’s kind of afraid he’s going to hurt himself.
Matt can see the way Aiden’s looking at him so he makes quick work of his own clothes, hearing the hungry little needy noises Aiden’s making and God, they shouldn’t be hot like they are. He takes the two steps over to him and guides Aiden down onto the mattress; Aiden’s legs open easily and Matt falls between them, leaning down to press a kiss to the marks on Aiden’s right hip before Aiden drags him up, burying his face in Matt’s neck again and wrapping his legs around Matt’s waist.
He’d hate to admit it, but he’s kind of relieved that Aiden hasn’t tried to kiss him; it would make all this far too real and too intimate and Matt has to remind himself, yet again, that this isn’t about him. Just because he wants it it doesn’t mean that Aiden does, not really, and Matt can’t let this mean anything because otherwise he’ll come out of this absolutely shattered.
Aiden’s moaning against his throat, shifting restless and needy underneath him, and Matt strokes an experimental hand down his ribs; Aiden arches into him, hissing like it’s almost too much, and if he can’t even touch Aiden’s stomach without it being too much Matt isn’t sure how they’re going to get anywhere else.
It’s difficult to be practical right now, but someone has to be and the way Aiden is shaking like he might just break apart at any moment makes it clear that it can’t be him.
“Aiden,” he says quietly and Aiden shifts a little to look at him. It’s like when he’s singing and he opens his eyes underneath the spotlights, dark and all-consuming, although worse because he can see all the places where Aiden’s lost control. “We’re going to need-”
Aiden takes a hand off Matt’s shoulder long enough to wave vaguely at his own bedside table, which is unfortunately in another part of the room and Matt isn’t sure if he can get Aiden to let go of him or not. He tries to work out how to articulate this.
“I know,” Aiden mumbles, mouth pressed against Matt’s collarbone, and it almost breaks him, just how helpless he sounds. “I know, ok?”
Matt sighs, cheek against Aiden’s hair, and when he occasionally allowed himself to think about this Aiden wasn’t scared and miserable.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he half-whispers before he even has time to really think about the words.
He feels the face Aiden makes, teeth scraping his skin as he does something that might be a grimace but which screws up his whole face. “All right,” he says, voice shattering, “just... please don’t move yet.”
Matt stays as still as he can while Aiden squirms, knee digging into his ribcage and hands slithering over every inch of him, like he’s trying to drink in as much of Matt as possible. It’s overwhelming; Matt can’t help thinking if this is what it feels like for him, what the hell must it feel like for Aiden? He remembers sex as a teenager, just how all-consuming and new and still a little scary it was, and being under the influence of something as well...
Aiden makes a noise that sounds half frustrated and half on the edge of tears, like he’s doing his best but it’s not enough, and this isn’t the Aiden that he knows from around the house, dorky smile and stupid dancing, and this isn’t the Aiden from the stage, drowning gracefully in the song while still looking on the verge of a panic attack; this is another side of Aiden entirely, a version of himself that Aiden didn’t choose to be, and Matt might be being selfish here but it isn’t anything to do with him when he whispers: “look, I’ve got condoms over here already” - and God, he’s glad Aiden isn’t in a position to question him about that right now - “but I’m going to need lube of some kind, ok?”
“I don’t need it,” Aiden responds, arms and legs tightening around Matt.
“Fuck that,” Matt informs him, because Aiden might be desperate here but Matt is not about to hurt him. He’s just not. “If you think-”
Aiden sighs, sounding frustrated, and he shifts so he can grab Matt’s hand so he can slide it between his legs, and... and oh. Oh.
“I... kind of already...” Aiden huffs out something that might be a laugh, and he sounds halfway normal as he mumbles: “God, I’m going to be so embarrassed about this later.” He breaks off as Matt slides an experimental finger inside him, inside where Aiden is already slick and stretched and he’s trying not to think about him lying here doing it to himself because he needs to hold himself together long enough to give Aiden whatever it is that he feels he needs. “Yes,” he hisses, drawing out the s for too long, head tipping back against the pillow and eyes closed.
Matt takes it slower than he thinks Aiden really wants him to; Aiden can’t stop moving, impatient and wanton, hips rolling as he pushes back against Matt’s fingers, clenching tight around them and making soft needy sounds. Matt can tell he’s trying to be quiet, and that’s good; the last thing they need is someone else coming in. Katie will only carry the story to the press, and Matt’s trying not to think that if someone else comes in here Aiden will probably want them to join in, and it might help but Matt doesn’t think he can do that. This is almost too much already.
Aiden takes three fingers easily but Matt is careful anyway, curling them to make Aiden’s back arch, eyes fluttering shut. He spares a thought that Cheryl hasn’t seen intense, whatever she says about Aiden; the twist of his face and the way his mouth shudders with trying to keep quiet, those are more expressive than anything he’s ever done for a television screen. Aiden moans his name, dragging it out in a long slide of vowels, lashes dark against his cheeks and Matt wonders if he’ll ever be able to look at him again and see anything but this.
“All right,” he says quietly, and Aiden cries out when he pulls away, fingers sliding free, biting his lips together and face screwing up. “It’s all right,” Matt adds again, and God, he doesn’t know what he’s doing here, if he’s making it better or worse but Aiden is beautiful like this, beautiful and broken and wanting.
His hands are shaking and he can barely get the condom on, Aiden attempting to help but mostly just getting in the way, twisting and shifting and biting on his lower lip like he’s concentrating on not losing control completely. He pushes Aiden’s legs apart and Aiden catches on quickly, one sliding over Matt’s shoulder, the other curling around his waist. Matt’s still not sure if it’s enough and he doesn’t want to hurt him, he really doesn’t, but Aiden lets out a soft, sharp growl and tugs him closer, and Matt is helpless to do anything but push inside him, fast and hard. Aiden’s eyes close again and he lets out a breath between gritted teeth, hips tilting upwards.
“Yeah?” Matt says, and his own voice sounds wrecked, shaky.
“Yeah,” Aiden nods, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, whole body twitching and moving from his facial muscles to his shaking thighs. “Just... fuck, just move.”
So Matt does, keeping a steady rhythm as Aiden fights to keep quiet, hands sliding from Matt’s shoulders to fist in the sheets, head thrashing from side to side like it’s more than he can bear. He gasps harder from time to time but Matt is already fucking him as hard as he’s willing to, the slapping of their skin too loud in the room; he’s not going to hurt him, even if it’s what Aiden apparently wants. It’s good, and he hates thinking that because this isn’t normal, this isn’t right, but it is pretty fucking amazing, Aiden clenched tight around him and leaning into every thrust, Matt’s name spilling repeatedly off his lips until it’s almost unrecognisable, turning into a low keening that sends rivers of heat down Matt’s spine to pool in his stomach.
He doesn’t know if this is enough, if this is what Aiden needs, and Matt shifts his angle until he gets it right, Aiden’s whole body jerking and the keening rising a little in pitch. Matt needs to support himself and Aiden doesn’t seem all that interested in touching his own cock, and he doesn’t know if he needs or wants it but something’s got to give here before Aiden breaks from the tension. He can’t give him more than he’s already giving and Matt leans down, almost bending Aiden in half with the back of Aiden’s thigh pressed to his chest, and mumbles into his ear in a voice that sounds like it’s full of gravel: “come for me, Aiden.”
Aiden groans, a long, desperate sound, and then clenches tight around him, whole body shaking with it. Matt realises he didn’t even really expect it to work and he’s so busy watching something like helpless bliss spread over Aiden’s flushed face that his own orgasm almost catches him by surprise. He turns his head and bites the inside of Aiden’s knee; not enough to leave a lasting mark but enough to make Aiden gasp.
They both stay still for a moment, breathing slowing and Matt can feel the sweat running down his spine; Aiden is quieter than he’s been since Matt found him, something eased in his face.
His eyes open eventually, bright and dark but with a clarity Matt was worried he wouldn’t see again.
“Matt,” Aiden croaks.
“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, I know.”
Aiden’s shaking too much to be particularly helpful but Matt gets them both tidied up and dressed as fast as he can. And then he finds his phone from where it fell out of his jeans and calls an ambulance.
III.
When he wakes up from a sleep he doesn’t remember falling into, Aiden finds he’s in a hospital. He aches all over; his thigh muscles are screaming like he ran for hours and he shifts a little and, ouch, ok, not doing that again. He doesn’t remember getting here but he thinks about it and finds that most of the last couple of days is a blur. He feels calm, though, calmer than he can remember feeling in a long time.
His mum is there, and Dannii has come to the hospital too, and he has flowers and cards from everyone in the house (and everyone who’s left the show too); Aiden frowns and finds himself wondering aloud what the hell happened.
As it turns out, one of his fans was completely crazy and basically sent him a letter designed to make him fall in love with her. It’s a new chemical thing that’s not widely available yet; based on pheromones or something, and it’s quietly becoming the date rape drug of choice on the London club scene. Also, like lots of new things, it’s pretty dangerous.
“If Matt hadn’t got you to a hospital...” his mum mutters, and she looks tired and scared.
Aiden’s first feeling when Matt’s mentioned is relief, because he doesn’t get an instant hard-on and that’s such a novelty right now that it’s basically awesome.
And then something the mush of his brain stirs and it’s like a bucket of cold water being thrown over him, because the last couple of days rush back and, just, oh. He can remember getting to the hospital with his fingers threaded through Matt’s because Matt tried to stay behind and it hurt so much the paramedics were threatening sedation, he remembers being whisked off for tests and screaming all the way down the corridor because they wouldn’t let Matt come with him, and he can now remember Matt fucking him so hard the whole bed was actually shaking.
He lets his head drop into his hands and he pretends it’s because he’s startled and freaked out by the idea of someone being crazy enough to drug him. In reality, that isn’t it at all.
~
Aiden’s only missed a day and a half of training, so Dannii makes sure he drinks lots of fluids and has extra coaching sessions, and it looks like Saturday’s going to be fine. Which is great and everything but, for the first time since he entered this competition, the live shows aren’t really what Aiden’s interested in right now.
Matt’s avoiding him and he isn’t even trying to be discreet about it. And Aiden can’t blame him, really, except that he at least wants the chance to apologise. Because, yeah, that wasn’t him, it was him-on-drugs (and, ok, he’s going to start paying attention to all those cautionary adverts from now on), but still: maybe if he hadn’t fancied Matt in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if he’d fancied Cher, or Katie, or one of the One Direction boys or - ok, that train of thought is kind of unsettling and he just needs not to think about it.
Basically, he just wants to tell Matt that he gets it, because it’s got to be uncomfortable being around your friend who you slept with this one time because they were crazy and might have actually hurt themselves if you hadn’t, but if Matt ever wants to forgive him Aiden will work on making it not be weird anymore. Something like that, anyway.
~
It stays out of the papers because despite the fact they’re the tabloids’ favourite things ever, the show actually has some pretty damn good PR people and lawyers. And that’s good, because Aiden already feels nauseous and miserable and stupid about the whole thing without having to add making official statements or whatever to the mix. Even in a house full of people with next to no privacy and rumours abounding, no one’s found out all the details of what actually happened and that’s good; it’s bad enough that Matt can’t look at him without everyone knowing why.
Matt’s moved out of their room and onto the sofa like Nicolo did at first; only Paije knows about this and though he looks sad and confused, he doesn’t ask and that’s kind of a relief. Aiden wouldn’t know what to tell him and he’s pretty sure Matt won’t either.
They both get through on Saturday; Matt gets his result first and hugs Dannii tight, grins at Paije and subtly but carefully pulls away before Aiden can actually touch him; he can’t even lay a hand on his arm to congratulate him. Aiden feels sick and hopes that the public just view it as nerves.
~
Aiden lets it go on for a few more days until he can’t bear it anymore, and then doubles back to their room at a time he knows Matt will be there (maybe because Paije told him, and Aiden doesn’t know what Paije does or doesn’t know but he’s amazing, seriously, Aiden’s going to mention how much he loves him in his next video diary).
Matt startles when he sees Aiden, turning towards the door almost immediately. Aiden steps in front of it and waits until Matt reluctantly meets his eyes.
“Please,” Aiden says, “please, can we just talk about this?”
“I...” Matt sighs. “I don’t think I can.”
Aiden swallows hard, feeling his stomach drop, but manages: “can you at least let me apologise?”
Matt frowns, looking confused. “You really don’t have anything to apologise for,” he says. “And... I’m grateful that you haven’t pressed charges, ok, so you don’t have to do this.”
Oh God. Oh God. “Why would I-” Aiden realises at the last minute what Matt means and Matt can’t think that, Matt can’t. If anyone was... forcing anyone, it was Aiden. And he doesn’t want to think of it in those terms because it just makes him feel sick. “No,” he says, quick and vehement, “no, no, no, no. No.”
Matt sinks down into his bed, head dropping into his hands. “Look, Aiden,” he mutters, “I was the first guy to walk through the door and I’m kind of glad it was me because, you know, I’m your mate and stuff, but you were under the influence and I wasn’t, so...”
He trails off and Aiden suddenly forgets all about that dignity he was going to try and preserve before this all happened because it doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter because he just needs Matt to stop looking like that.
Matt doesn’t look at him when he sits down beside him on the bed so Aiden decides that desperate times call for melodramatic measures and kneels down on the floor in front of him so they’re on something like eye-level, prying Matt’s hands away from his eyes and wrapping his fingers around his wrists.
“It wasn’t anyone else,” he says, quiet and firm, “it was just you, ok? It was only you. Whatever the hell that drug did to my system, all it did was take what was already there and make it impossible to ignore. You didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want even before I got drugged up by whoever that crazy bitch was.”
Matt is just staring at him but that’s ok, stunned is better than unhappy, and Aiden pulls away and pushes himself to his feet. This is probably enough for one day; at least Matt might stop looking so upset all the time.
He gets halfway to the door before Matt says, voice sounding just a little broken: “you don’t get to say that and just walk out, Aiden.”
Aiden turns, swallowing, but he only gets a quick look at Matt’s face before Matt is dragging him close, fitting their mouths together and kissing him hard and deep. It feels good, filling every inch of Aiden with warmth, but it’s normal and he likes that. There’s no scary overpowering rush that makes him want to wrap himself around Matt and try and consume him in wholly disturbing fashion. He leans into it, kissing him back, pushing Matt’s hat onto the floor so he can curl his fingers into his hair.
Matt pulls away, but he’s smiling so Aiden doesn’t mind too much. “Hey,” he says quietly. “We’re going to do this slower this time, ok?”
Aiden attempts to look serious and innocent. “Do you want to take me to Pizza Express and sweet-talk me? I’m pretty sure we could convince the tabloids it’s not a date.”
Matt laughs. “I’ve got a pizza in the fridge and I’m pretty sure Katie’s got a bottle of wine we can steal, think that’ll do?”
He’s drowning in something that feels like relief and feels like happiness and he grins wide, too wide, that really ridiculous grin he always hides when he’s onstage because it kind of makes him look like an idiot. He ducks his head on automatic to hide it but Matt tips his head up, kissing the corner of his smile and sliding across his whole mouth until Aiden’s too distracted to keep smiling.
“Yeah,” Aiden says when they part, “I think that’ll probably do.”
Fandom: X-Factor UK 2010
Pairing: Matt Cardle/Aiden Grimshaw
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6510
Genre: Slash
Copyright: Title taken from Under The Sheets by Ellie Goulding.
Disclaimer: THIS REALLY, REALLY, REALLY DID NOT HAPPEN.
Warnings: Fuck-or-die/sexpollen fic. And because this is me, it’s, um, less cracky than it should be. So it isn’t meant as dubcon but for all I know it reads that way.
Summary: Now he feels absolutely insane and sooner or later Matt’s going to notice and it’s going to become really, really awkward between them.
Author’s Notes: J.K. ROWLING TOTALLY USED THIS AS A PLOT DEVICE, IT’S SO VALID. Right, so, remember how I was going on about how creepy I was on Sunday? Yeah, um, I got over that. I got over that a lot. Mostly because we’ve managed to build a tiny fandom in a week. And all fandoms need a sex pollen/fuck-or-die fic. Except that this is why I don’t write them apart from in the Torchwood fandom, because I always forget to make them fun and instead make them angsty. Although the lovely finkpishnets read the first half of this for me and said it wasn’t that creepy so we’re all good. Still f-locked; if I ever write something for these two that isn’t porn then I’ll unlock it.
Two other things: I made a sort-of picspam of the boys if you’d like visuals or just to be converted to how epic they are (there are gifs of Aiden feeding Matt popcorn if that counts as bribery?). And also, if you’re interested, you should totally join aidenmatt.
I.
It’s always kind of disconcerting when they’re allowed out of the little bubble that is their house and find themselves going, oh, yeah, right, they’re kind of famous now, and people know who they are, and their faces are splashed across the covers of Heat and things got so crazy that one of One Direction’s fans got taken to hospital and over forty thousand people follow him on twitter and, well, it’s weird. Nice, but weird.
Aiden isn’t used to the whole idea of fans; he’s always been shy and nervous and kind of quiet and half his old school thought he was a weirdo and now he has girls who leave him endearingly creepy messages under all his video diaries and newspapers talk about his life like it’s actually interesting - which it is at the moment, yeah, but it’s not like it was before - and there’s a whole lot of screaming in the whole thing.
They get oldschool fanmail sometimes too, which is kind of cool in this age of emails and twitter and stuff. It usually uses a hysterical amount of pink gel pen and apparently it has to get run through security first to make sure they aren’t being posted razorblades or whatever, but it’s still pretty awesome.
Aiden opens one envelope and a photograph falls out, which is, um, weird. He feels kind of like he’s meant to be acquiring a mail order bride so he only takes a quick look at the - admittedly pretty - teenage girl and takes a look at the accompanying card, which has the usual amount of OMFG AIDEN UR SO TALENTED markered inside. It also smells really good; sweet and sort of flowery and sort of overpowering.
He adds it to his other fanmail stuff and then kind of forgets about it.
~
Within a week of moving into the house and living in the same room as Matt Cardle, Aiden had to come to terms with being maybe a little bit too attracted to how bright his smile is. And that’s cool, because Matt’s older than him and considerably less awkward than him and he’s an amazingly good friend and it’s sometimes hard to forget that they’re rivals.
Anyway, he’s mostly got good about not thinking about Matt and not getting a little too distracted by how stupidly gorgeous he is when you look past the omnipresent hat, and it’s been going really well and they have a lot of fun and Aiden manages to share a room with Matt without any of the really inappropriate staring he could be doing, and he’s mostly resigned himself to getting over it, because that’s all he can really think of to do.
Except that this morning he wakes up and finds Matt shuffling around their room looking half-asleep, and something white-hot and needy runs down his spine and pools in his stomach. And yeah, Matt’s kind of cute and funny-looking with his eyes barely open and his hair sticking up at weird angles, but it shouldn’t be making his insides wrench like this.
Aiden swallows and blames it on the whole morning thing, bunching the duvet between his hands until his hard-on goes away.
~
Ok, so, there are lots of good parts to being a teenager, and lots of parts to being a teenager that are kind of shit. And fuck, yes, Aiden had the years when a breeze blowing past could induce an erection at the wrong time of day, and his mates gave him shit for it and he did it right back when it happened to them because, well, welcome to the world of an adolescent boy.
Except that he honestly thought he was over that part of his life now he’s eighteen. And he is. Apart from when Matt is in the room, when he finds himself hugging cushions and guitars and folding his arms in his lap. It’s affecting the way he dresses because he has to think carefully about what he wears that day and whether it’s going to be painful and/or obvious if he gets aroused in it, and it’s making it really fucking hard to be around Matt - no pun intended - because of his stupid body and the way it’s apparently decided to betray him.
Aiden’s been around people he’s fancied before and after he got over the whole blushing crazily thing, managed to cope fine. He was coping fine with Matt up until a couple of days ago. Now he feels absolutely insane and sooner or later Matt’s going to notice and it’s going to become really, really awkward between them, and Aiden doesn’t want that. He’s totally going to get over this hopeless teenage crush one day and he’d really like to still actually be friends with Matt when that happens.
It’s kind of easier said than done though.
~
Matt drops down next to him on the sofa, laying a casual hand on his shoulder, and Aiden gets turned on so fast that he actually gets dizzy as all his blood runs instantly south. He can feel the warmth of Matt’s hand spreading out through his whole body, twisting through his stomach, and it’s, God, it’s really distracting.
“You ok?” Matt is asking, laugh curling the corners of his mouth though his eyes are soft, expectant.
It’s almost too much, and Aiden forcibly swallows the whimper that wants to escape from his lips without him ever giving it permission to get there in the first place.
“Seriously,” Matt adds, frowning now, and his thumb strokes Aiden’s shoulder and his cock twitches at the movement and, just, no.
“Yeah,” Aiden squeaks out, voice almost broken, and he internally winces. “Just, um, you know. Tough coaching session today, so Saturday’s looking pretty scary right now.”
Matt smiles and, fuck, he shouldn’t smile like that, Aiden wishes he wouldn’t smile like that because it physically hurts. He’s sure he must be flushing, eyes helplessly dilated.
“You’ll be fine,” he assures quietly, leaning a little closer and Aiden can feel his breath against his cheek and it brings every inch of him out in goosebumps.
Aiden attempts to fumble together a smile that looks real and not desperate. Matt’s still touching him and Aiden can hear him breathing and he can smell him, cigarettes and the shampoo he used this morning, and if he sits here another moment he’s going to come in his jeans without being touched.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, and then strings together some words that might be I have to make a phonecall and legs it out of there.
~
It’s pretty hard to get any of the bathrooms for a protracted period of time because there’s a lot of them and everyone needs to do their hair or their makeup or practice their camera faces in the mirrors or whatever, but Aiden locks himself in one of them and turns the shower on as hot as it will go.
He hasn’t consciously let himself do this before, because it seemed sort of invasive and it would undoubtedly come back to haunt him at an inappropriate moment, but it only takes a moment with the water pounding on his back for him to be wrapping fingers around his cock and thinking about Matt. About Matt laughing, curled against his side while they watch a film or mug for the constantly-present cameras, about Matt with reassuring hands on his shoulders comforting him when it’s been a really bad day, and then without conscious effort he’s thinking about Matt pushing him into their room, locking the door behind him and pushing Aiden down onto his bed, warm skin and warm hands and warm mouth, and-
Aiden comes, choking, water running into his eyes and mouth. And it doesn’t feel good, not even for a second, and it doesn’t help anything; he can feel it rising in him, still, a wave that won’t break, and he’s almost blind for a moment. He switches the shower to cold and curls up in the corner of the stall, head in hands, and breathes until he feels almost sane again.
~
It makes him feel like a total bastard, but Aiden starts actively avoiding Matt in the hope it’ll make this better. If he’s not around Matt and he deliberately doesn’t think about him, then it can’t hurt, can it? He’ll just remove the problem until the symptoms go away.
Except that the symptoms don’t go away. And they get worse.
The time Aiden gets a hard-on watching TV and someone says the word matter, he realises that he’s kind of doomed. As it turns away, there are a reasonable amount of words that have matt somewhere in them, and Aiden physically feels every last one.
And the low-level arousal never actually goes away. He manages not to spend his entire life hard, because, wow, that would be fucking horrible, but there’s a low shivering heat in his stomach that sits there all the time, making him edgy and lose track of sentences halfway through.
He can feel Matt’s uncertain eyes on him and it makes his skin feel too tight. A lot of the time he can’t even stop shaking, and he knows he’s worrying the hell out of everyone, but he can hardly say I think I’ve turned into some kind of sex addict and Matt turns me on so much it physically hurts to be near him without sounding like some kind of freak who needs to end up on a register of some description.
The really stupid thing he tries involves a really pretty backing dancer who he flirts with after somehow not messing up Saturday’s show - he keeps his eyes closed while he sings and focuses on every last word and makes it through, even though Cheryl is still banging on about his intensity - and, well, he ends up making out with her in an empty corridor for an unidentifiable amount of time.
It doesn’t help. Aiden kind of thought maybe it was a contact thing, only it wasn’t; she was a good kisser and everything, but all he felt was the usual desperate need coupled with the fact she made his skin crawl. Later, he can’t help comparing it to being desperately hard but wearing gloves out of sandpaper; you needed to get off, but it would feel really horrible when you did.
He’s out of ideas. He doesn’t know what to do anymore.
~
By Tuesday, it’s physically painful to not be in the same room as Matt. He feels this desperate pull every time they’re apart that only eases when he can see him. Continuing to avoid Matt becomes impossible so he does his best not to be clingy but spends as much time with him as possible. It’s torture - kind of like being on the edge of an orgasm all the time but never quite tipping over it - and he’s pretty sure Matt’s going to start thinking he has a drug problem soon, but it’s better to be with him than without him.
Finding times to sneak off and masturbate furiously - just to take the edge off, it’s not like any of it actually helps - can be tricky but Aiden manages, and then he can pull himself together long enough to record a video diary or have a vocal coaching session or eat dinner without surreptitiously having to keep the heel of his hand pressed to his cock under the table.
It’s gone beyond embarrassing and into scary now, but Aiden doesn’t know how to articulate it to anyone so even though it gets worse with every passing hour and it kind of feels like he’s going actively insane, he waits it out, because he can’t think of anything else to try.
II.
Matt’s worried about Aiden. Well, it would be kind of hard not to be; this competition is fucking with Matt’s head and he’s a fully grown man, God knows what it does to teenagers struggling in something that’s simultaneously a test and a popularity contest and a job interview, being broadcast live to the nation twice a week. It would be enough to unsettle anyone, but he thought they were all doing pretty well; they drank tea together and chatted when it all got too much, and Aiden was Matt’s place of sanity in this weirdly claustrophobic house.
Except that Aiden isn’t acting much like Aiden at the moment. He’s too quiet and then he’s too loud and bright, smile stretching until it looks like it hurts. He spends more time than ever hunched over himself, defensive body language taken to the extreme, and he initiates conversations and then loses track of them. It’s like he’s on drugs of some kind, but Matt spends that much time around him, Matt would know.
But something’s definitely wrong, between the way Aiden spends half his time avoiding him and the other half curled up almost too close on the sofa, eyes too bright and whole body shaking if you look closely. Matt’s tried to ask him about it, but Aiden always deflects, moving swiftly on, and Matt doesn’t push it because he kind of thinks that if he did he’d break him.
It doesn’t stop him from being concerned, though.
~
Aiden’s been conspicuously absent most of the day and Matt isn’t concerned except that he is concerned, of course he is. He tries calling him but it goes to voicemail and no one’s seen him since breakfast. He’s missed his vocal coaching session and everyone looks kind of confused when Matt asks them.
He heads back to their room because he’s out of ideas and he needs a moment to think in a place where Katie and Cher are pretending they don’t hate each other’s guts in a really loud fashion. Matt opens the door and finds that Aiden’s there, curled up on his side on Matt’s bed, face buried in the pillow and hand shoved unceremoniously under the waistband of his sweatpants.
Which, ok, wow. Matt isn’t going to pretend he hasn’t thought about having Aiden sprawled across his bed a couple of times, because he has, it’s just... ok. He should probably leave him to it, and he’s about to quietly leave and maybe deal with this later when he’s had time to think about it when Aiden lets out a soft sound. It isn’t a good sound, it sounds like he’s in pain, and Matt lets the door slam behind him.
Aiden jerks, barely coordinated, and rolls onto his back, eyes widening when he sees Matt before snapping shut. His mouth moves, words not coming out, and his hand has slid up, pressed flat against his stomach.
“...Aiden?” Matt asks quietly, and Aiden lets out a sound between his teeth that might be a strangled whimper. His hair is a wreck, his skin bathed in sweat, and he doesn’t look at all good. “Aiden-”
“Don’t,” Aiden chokes out like it hurts him, “just... just leave me alone, ok?”
Matt has no idea what’s happening here but he’s not about to leave Aiden here, shivering and twitching against his sheets. He swallows and walks over.
“Aiden, what’s going on?”
Aiden’s eyes open and Matt feels his stomach jolt because the pupils are blown impossibly wide, huge and dark and intense.
“Matt, please,” he says, face twisting, and Matt doesn’t know what he’s asking for and is about to say so, when Aiden shifts, crawling clumsily down the bed to where Matt is standing, and plasters himself against him, burying his face in Matt’s chest and letting out a helpless, choked noise.
“What-” Matt begins, and Aiden moans, breath hot through Matt’s shirt. “Aiden, have you taken something?”
Aiden groans this time, low and hard, and he forcibly pulls himself away. “God, I don’t, I don’t... Matt, it hurts,” he adds, barely a whisper, head bowed and messy hair in his eyes.
Matt reaches for him before he’s even aware of what he’s doing, hand under Aiden’s chin and tipping his head up, and Aiden leans into his touch, breathing shallow and ragged. His lips are bitten almost raw, cheeks flushed and eyes still screaming desperate arousal, and Matt has no idea what’s going on but he can see that Aiden doesn’t either.
“Aiden, I can’t leave you like this,” Matt tells him quietly.
Aiden scrambles up off the bed, almost knocking them both over as he practically wraps himself around Matt, burying his face in Matt’s neck, hands fisting in his shirt.
“You should go,” he mumbles, “but please don’t leave, please don’t leave, please don’t leave.” His voice is hard and low and he sounds frantic, hips jerking against Matt’s and Matt can feel just how desperately aroused Aiden really is.
“I’m here,” Matt says softly, bringing a hand up to the small of Aiden’s back because even though he knows he shouldn’t, the little noises of relief that Aiden’s making are too much for him to pull away.
Aiden breathes his name into Matt’s neck, lips wet and warm against his skin, pressing kisses there without even seeming to be aware of it. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok,” Matt says, even though it isn’t, not really, because when he thought about how good it would feel to be wrapped up with Aiden somewhere, it’s not like he pictured it with candles and soppy music or anything, but it didn’t involve Aiden being this desperate. He doesn’t even know if Aiden’s a willing participant right now; he just seems to need contact with someone and Matt just happened to be the first person to walk in the door.
Aiden shifts, reaching awkwardly to drag Matt’s hand down his back until it’s curled over his arse. “I need,” he whispers, “oh, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I need-”
“All right,” Matt says, and his voice comes out almost calm, “all right.”
Aiden shudders, a full-body thing, and bites Matt’s shoulder through his shirt. And yes, Matt’s desperately hard because it would be difficult not to be what with the way Aiden is rubbing against him, warm and sinuous, but it feels wrong somehow; he should stop it but, insane as it sounds, he’s kind of scared about what will happen to Aiden if he stops touching him. Aiden’s hands are scrabbling down his back, pushing under the hem of his shirt and splaying against his skin, greedy slides against his spine.
“Oh,” Aiden breathes, soft, and Matt isn’t sure he can stop now either. “Oh, God, Matt, I don’t even-”
“It’s ok,” Matt says, voice shaking but steady, and he presses a kiss to Aiden’s cheek. “Just... it’ll be ok.”
Aiden nods and then wrenches himself away, nearly falling backwards, and starts pulling frantically at his clothes, dragging his t-shirt off and abandoning it and then kicking the sweatpants down his legs; he isn’t wearing underwear. He’s shaking and Matt can see where every inch of him is covered in goosebumps and fuck, this isn’t how he thought he’d see Aiden naked for the first time. There are angry red scratches on Aiden’s hips and it takes Matt a moment to realise that Aiden put them there himself, like he was curling his fingers there to try and hold onto something only to find that there was nothing.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, and wonders just how many hours Aiden’s been stuck here like this, going out of his mind without anyone to help him.
Aiden looks like he’s going to reach for him and then restrains himself, hands clenched so tight Matt’s kind of afraid he’s going to hurt himself.
Matt can see the way Aiden’s looking at him so he makes quick work of his own clothes, hearing the hungry little needy noises Aiden’s making and God, they shouldn’t be hot like they are. He takes the two steps over to him and guides Aiden down onto the mattress; Aiden’s legs open easily and Matt falls between them, leaning down to press a kiss to the marks on Aiden’s right hip before Aiden drags him up, burying his face in Matt’s neck again and wrapping his legs around Matt’s waist.
He’d hate to admit it, but he’s kind of relieved that Aiden hasn’t tried to kiss him; it would make all this far too real and too intimate and Matt has to remind himself, yet again, that this isn’t about him. Just because he wants it it doesn’t mean that Aiden does, not really, and Matt can’t let this mean anything because otherwise he’ll come out of this absolutely shattered.
Aiden’s moaning against his throat, shifting restless and needy underneath him, and Matt strokes an experimental hand down his ribs; Aiden arches into him, hissing like it’s almost too much, and if he can’t even touch Aiden’s stomach without it being too much Matt isn’t sure how they’re going to get anywhere else.
It’s difficult to be practical right now, but someone has to be and the way Aiden is shaking like he might just break apart at any moment makes it clear that it can’t be him.
“Aiden,” he says quietly and Aiden shifts a little to look at him. It’s like when he’s singing and he opens his eyes underneath the spotlights, dark and all-consuming, although worse because he can see all the places where Aiden’s lost control. “We’re going to need-”
Aiden takes a hand off Matt’s shoulder long enough to wave vaguely at his own bedside table, which is unfortunately in another part of the room and Matt isn’t sure if he can get Aiden to let go of him or not. He tries to work out how to articulate this.
“I know,” Aiden mumbles, mouth pressed against Matt’s collarbone, and it almost breaks him, just how helpless he sounds. “I know, ok?”
Matt sighs, cheek against Aiden’s hair, and when he occasionally allowed himself to think about this Aiden wasn’t scared and miserable.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he half-whispers before he even has time to really think about the words.
He feels the face Aiden makes, teeth scraping his skin as he does something that might be a grimace but which screws up his whole face. “All right,” he says, voice shattering, “just... please don’t move yet.”
Matt stays as still as he can while Aiden squirms, knee digging into his ribcage and hands slithering over every inch of him, like he’s trying to drink in as much of Matt as possible. It’s overwhelming; Matt can’t help thinking if this is what it feels like for him, what the hell must it feel like for Aiden? He remembers sex as a teenager, just how all-consuming and new and still a little scary it was, and being under the influence of something as well...
Aiden makes a noise that sounds half frustrated and half on the edge of tears, like he’s doing his best but it’s not enough, and this isn’t the Aiden that he knows from around the house, dorky smile and stupid dancing, and this isn’t the Aiden from the stage, drowning gracefully in the song while still looking on the verge of a panic attack; this is another side of Aiden entirely, a version of himself that Aiden didn’t choose to be, and Matt might be being selfish here but it isn’t anything to do with him when he whispers: “look, I’ve got condoms over here already” - and God, he’s glad Aiden isn’t in a position to question him about that right now - “but I’m going to need lube of some kind, ok?”
“I don’t need it,” Aiden responds, arms and legs tightening around Matt.
“Fuck that,” Matt informs him, because Aiden might be desperate here but Matt is not about to hurt him. He’s just not. “If you think-”
Aiden sighs, sounding frustrated, and he shifts so he can grab Matt’s hand so he can slide it between his legs, and... and oh. Oh.
“I... kind of already...” Aiden huffs out something that might be a laugh, and he sounds halfway normal as he mumbles: “God, I’m going to be so embarrassed about this later.” He breaks off as Matt slides an experimental finger inside him, inside where Aiden is already slick and stretched and he’s trying not to think about him lying here doing it to himself because he needs to hold himself together long enough to give Aiden whatever it is that he feels he needs. “Yes,” he hisses, drawing out the s for too long, head tipping back against the pillow and eyes closed.
Matt takes it slower than he thinks Aiden really wants him to; Aiden can’t stop moving, impatient and wanton, hips rolling as he pushes back against Matt’s fingers, clenching tight around them and making soft needy sounds. Matt can tell he’s trying to be quiet, and that’s good; the last thing they need is someone else coming in. Katie will only carry the story to the press, and Matt’s trying not to think that if someone else comes in here Aiden will probably want them to join in, and it might help but Matt doesn’t think he can do that. This is almost too much already.
Aiden takes three fingers easily but Matt is careful anyway, curling them to make Aiden’s back arch, eyes fluttering shut. He spares a thought that Cheryl hasn’t seen intense, whatever she says about Aiden; the twist of his face and the way his mouth shudders with trying to keep quiet, those are more expressive than anything he’s ever done for a television screen. Aiden moans his name, dragging it out in a long slide of vowels, lashes dark against his cheeks and Matt wonders if he’ll ever be able to look at him again and see anything but this.
“All right,” he says quietly, and Aiden cries out when he pulls away, fingers sliding free, biting his lips together and face screwing up. “It’s all right,” Matt adds again, and God, he doesn’t know what he’s doing here, if he’s making it better or worse but Aiden is beautiful like this, beautiful and broken and wanting.
His hands are shaking and he can barely get the condom on, Aiden attempting to help but mostly just getting in the way, twisting and shifting and biting on his lower lip like he’s concentrating on not losing control completely. He pushes Aiden’s legs apart and Aiden catches on quickly, one sliding over Matt’s shoulder, the other curling around his waist. Matt’s still not sure if it’s enough and he doesn’t want to hurt him, he really doesn’t, but Aiden lets out a soft, sharp growl and tugs him closer, and Matt is helpless to do anything but push inside him, fast and hard. Aiden’s eyes close again and he lets out a breath between gritted teeth, hips tilting upwards.
“Yeah?” Matt says, and his own voice sounds wrecked, shaky.
“Yeah,” Aiden nods, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, whole body twitching and moving from his facial muscles to his shaking thighs. “Just... fuck, just move.”
So Matt does, keeping a steady rhythm as Aiden fights to keep quiet, hands sliding from Matt’s shoulders to fist in the sheets, head thrashing from side to side like it’s more than he can bear. He gasps harder from time to time but Matt is already fucking him as hard as he’s willing to, the slapping of their skin too loud in the room; he’s not going to hurt him, even if it’s what Aiden apparently wants. It’s good, and he hates thinking that because this isn’t normal, this isn’t right, but it is pretty fucking amazing, Aiden clenched tight around him and leaning into every thrust, Matt’s name spilling repeatedly off his lips until it’s almost unrecognisable, turning into a low keening that sends rivers of heat down Matt’s spine to pool in his stomach.
He doesn’t know if this is enough, if this is what Aiden needs, and Matt shifts his angle until he gets it right, Aiden’s whole body jerking and the keening rising a little in pitch. Matt needs to support himself and Aiden doesn’t seem all that interested in touching his own cock, and he doesn’t know if he needs or wants it but something’s got to give here before Aiden breaks from the tension. He can’t give him more than he’s already giving and Matt leans down, almost bending Aiden in half with the back of Aiden’s thigh pressed to his chest, and mumbles into his ear in a voice that sounds like it’s full of gravel: “come for me, Aiden.”
Aiden groans, a long, desperate sound, and then clenches tight around him, whole body shaking with it. Matt realises he didn’t even really expect it to work and he’s so busy watching something like helpless bliss spread over Aiden’s flushed face that his own orgasm almost catches him by surprise. He turns his head and bites the inside of Aiden’s knee; not enough to leave a lasting mark but enough to make Aiden gasp.
They both stay still for a moment, breathing slowing and Matt can feel the sweat running down his spine; Aiden is quieter than he’s been since Matt found him, something eased in his face.
His eyes open eventually, bright and dark but with a clarity Matt was worried he wouldn’t see again.
“Matt,” Aiden croaks.
“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, I know.”
Aiden’s shaking too much to be particularly helpful but Matt gets them both tidied up and dressed as fast as he can. And then he finds his phone from where it fell out of his jeans and calls an ambulance.
III.
When he wakes up from a sleep he doesn’t remember falling into, Aiden finds he’s in a hospital. He aches all over; his thigh muscles are screaming like he ran for hours and he shifts a little and, ouch, ok, not doing that again. He doesn’t remember getting here but he thinks about it and finds that most of the last couple of days is a blur. He feels calm, though, calmer than he can remember feeling in a long time.
His mum is there, and Dannii has come to the hospital too, and he has flowers and cards from everyone in the house (and everyone who’s left the show too); Aiden frowns and finds himself wondering aloud what the hell happened.
As it turns out, one of his fans was completely crazy and basically sent him a letter designed to make him fall in love with her. It’s a new chemical thing that’s not widely available yet; based on pheromones or something, and it’s quietly becoming the date rape drug of choice on the London club scene. Also, like lots of new things, it’s pretty dangerous.
“If Matt hadn’t got you to a hospital...” his mum mutters, and she looks tired and scared.
Aiden’s first feeling when Matt’s mentioned is relief, because he doesn’t get an instant hard-on and that’s such a novelty right now that it’s basically awesome.
And then something the mush of his brain stirs and it’s like a bucket of cold water being thrown over him, because the last couple of days rush back and, just, oh. He can remember getting to the hospital with his fingers threaded through Matt’s because Matt tried to stay behind and it hurt so much the paramedics were threatening sedation, he remembers being whisked off for tests and screaming all the way down the corridor because they wouldn’t let Matt come with him, and he can now remember Matt fucking him so hard the whole bed was actually shaking.
He lets his head drop into his hands and he pretends it’s because he’s startled and freaked out by the idea of someone being crazy enough to drug him. In reality, that isn’t it at all.
~
Aiden’s only missed a day and a half of training, so Dannii makes sure he drinks lots of fluids and has extra coaching sessions, and it looks like Saturday’s going to be fine. Which is great and everything but, for the first time since he entered this competition, the live shows aren’t really what Aiden’s interested in right now.
Matt’s avoiding him and he isn’t even trying to be discreet about it. And Aiden can’t blame him, really, except that he at least wants the chance to apologise. Because, yeah, that wasn’t him, it was him-on-drugs (and, ok, he’s going to start paying attention to all those cautionary adverts from now on), but still: maybe if he hadn’t fancied Matt in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if he’d fancied Cher, or Katie, or one of the One Direction boys or - ok, that train of thought is kind of unsettling and he just needs not to think about it.
Basically, he just wants to tell Matt that he gets it, because it’s got to be uncomfortable being around your friend who you slept with this one time because they were crazy and might have actually hurt themselves if you hadn’t, but if Matt ever wants to forgive him Aiden will work on making it not be weird anymore. Something like that, anyway.
~
It stays out of the papers because despite the fact they’re the tabloids’ favourite things ever, the show actually has some pretty damn good PR people and lawyers. And that’s good, because Aiden already feels nauseous and miserable and stupid about the whole thing without having to add making official statements or whatever to the mix. Even in a house full of people with next to no privacy and rumours abounding, no one’s found out all the details of what actually happened and that’s good; it’s bad enough that Matt can’t look at him without everyone knowing why.
Matt’s moved out of their room and onto the sofa like Nicolo did at first; only Paije knows about this and though he looks sad and confused, he doesn’t ask and that’s kind of a relief. Aiden wouldn’t know what to tell him and he’s pretty sure Matt won’t either.
They both get through on Saturday; Matt gets his result first and hugs Dannii tight, grins at Paije and subtly but carefully pulls away before Aiden can actually touch him; he can’t even lay a hand on his arm to congratulate him. Aiden feels sick and hopes that the public just view it as nerves.
~
Aiden lets it go on for a few more days until he can’t bear it anymore, and then doubles back to their room at a time he knows Matt will be there (maybe because Paije told him, and Aiden doesn’t know what Paije does or doesn’t know but he’s amazing, seriously, Aiden’s going to mention how much he loves him in his next video diary).
Matt startles when he sees Aiden, turning towards the door almost immediately. Aiden steps in front of it and waits until Matt reluctantly meets his eyes.
“Please,” Aiden says, “please, can we just talk about this?”
“I...” Matt sighs. “I don’t think I can.”
Aiden swallows hard, feeling his stomach drop, but manages: “can you at least let me apologise?”
Matt frowns, looking confused. “You really don’t have anything to apologise for,” he says. “And... I’m grateful that you haven’t pressed charges, ok, so you don’t have to do this.”
Oh God. Oh God. “Why would I-” Aiden realises at the last minute what Matt means and Matt can’t think that, Matt can’t. If anyone was... forcing anyone, it was Aiden. And he doesn’t want to think of it in those terms because it just makes him feel sick. “No,” he says, quick and vehement, “no, no, no, no. No.”
Matt sinks down into his bed, head dropping into his hands. “Look, Aiden,” he mutters, “I was the first guy to walk through the door and I’m kind of glad it was me because, you know, I’m your mate and stuff, but you were under the influence and I wasn’t, so...”
He trails off and Aiden suddenly forgets all about that dignity he was going to try and preserve before this all happened because it doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter because he just needs Matt to stop looking like that.
Matt doesn’t look at him when he sits down beside him on the bed so Aiden decides that desperate times call for melodramatic measures and kneels down on the floor in front of him so they’re on something like eye-level, prying Matt’s hands away from his eyes and wrapping his fingers around his wrists.
“It wasn’t anyone else,” he says, quiet and firm, “it was just you, ok? It was only you. Whatever the hell that drug did to my system, all it did was take what was already there and make it impossible to ignore. You didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want even before I got drugged up by whoever that crazy bitch was.”
Matt is just staring at him but that’s ok, stunned is better than unhappy, and Aiden pulls away and pushes himself to his feet. This is probably enough for one day; at least Matt might stop looking so upset all the time.
He gets halfway to the door before Matt says, voice sounding just a little broken: “you don’t get to say that and just walk out, Aiden.”
Aiden turns, swallowing, but he only gets a quick look at Matt’s face before Matt is dragging him close, fitting their mouths together and kissing him hard and deep. It feels good, filling every inch of Aiden with warmth, but it’s normal and he likes that. There’s no scary overpowering rush that makes him want to wrap himself around Matt and try and consume him in wholly disturbing fashion. He leans into it, kissing him back, pushing Matt’s hat onto the floor so he can curl his fingers into his hair.
Matt pulls away, but he’s smiling so Aiden doesn’t mind too much. “Hey,” he says quietly. “We’re going to do this slower this time, ok?”
Aiden attempts to look serious and innocent. “Do you want to take me to Pizza Express and sweet-talk me? I’m pretty sure we could convince the tabloids it’s not a date.”
Matt laughs. “I’ve got a pizza in the fridge and I’m pretty sure Katie’s got a bottle of wine we can steal, think that’ll do?”
He’s drowning in something that feels like relief and feels like happiness and he grins wide, too wide, that really ridiculous grin he always hides when he’s onstage because it kind of makes him look like an idiot. He ducks his head on automatic to hide it but Matt tips his head up, kissing the corner of his smile and sliding across his whole mouth until Aiden’s too distracted to keep smiling.
“Yeah,” Aiden says when they part, “I think that’ll probably do.”