#I’ll write with Myself 😂 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewintersoldierdisaster · 3 months

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a/n: this is my aggressively self-indulgent birthday present to myself ☺️ and in true 30 year old fashion, i pulled a muscle in my back during pilates class this morning so i’ll be enjoying the day quietly 😂 anyway, i had so much fun writing it and i hope you guys enjoy!

word count: 10.9k

tw: oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, innuendo, car sex, semi-public sex, drinking

summary: you turn thirty and mat makes sure it’s a birthday to remember

You hadn’t been aware that you’d fallen asleep, but you’re woken up with Mat’s lips hot on your skin. He kisses the inside of your knee and you sigh, eyes still shut. The rasp of his playoff beard against your soft skin makes your stomach jump. Mat’s hand works its way up over the outside of your opposite thigh, fingers coming to rest and curl around your hip.

“Taste like champagne,” Mat mumbles, his voice hoarse from screaming at the parade. A shiver overtakes your body when he licks at your skin, blowing over the spot and raising goosebumps on your arms and legs.

A throaty giggle slips past your lips and your hands find his hair, overgrown since he’d lost his barber’s number during the playoff run. The dark strands are soft under your touch, slightly sticky from all the beer and champagne that had been flowing during the parade and post-parade celebrations just a few short hours ago. He groans against your inner thigh when you tug and then scrape your nails against his scalp.

“We basically bathed in the stuff,” you reply, spreading your legs wider for Mat to have more room between them. It’s dark outside still, no light streaming in behind the curtains. Mat’s shoulders are wedged between your legs, forcing you to drape your leg over one, the bottom of your foot resting flat just below his shoulder blade. Your bent knee gives Mat a clear view of your cunt, soaked for him always.

He doesn’t get any closer than halfway up your inner thigh though, licking and sucking gently at your skin. You can feel your skin chafing from the coarse hair covering the lower half of his face.

“It’s late,” you breathe, head fuzzy with lust. You’re still drunk, you think, your body both too heavy and too light. The parade down Hempstead Turnpike had been in the afternoon, the afterparty at Borrelli’s, the after-after party at Revel in Garden City, the after-after-after party in the Horvats’ backyard. You’ve had more alcohol in the past twenty four hours than in the past two years, probably.

“It’s early,” Mat counters, his fingers creeping down to brush against the crease of your thigh. “Happy birthday, Squeaks.”

You blink your eyes open, adjusting to the darkness, and let out a little giggle. “I almost forgot today’s my birthday,” you admit, too caught up in the whirlwind of watching Mat and the boys win a Cup to really keep track of the days. You suck in a sharp gasp when Mat’s teeth nip at your skin, even closer to the elastic edge of your panties. The fabric between your legs is damp and sticking to your skin.

“Dirty thirty,” Mat’s breath is hot on your skin, his head turning and nose rubbing against the damp spot on your panties. Your hips jump, pressing against his face. “Fuckin soaked, baby.”

He kisses over the wet spot and you hiccup a gasp, feeling more arousal flood your panties. Your fingers tighten in Mat’s hair and he groans against you sending a vibration straight to your core. Pressure coils tightly in your stomach, a live wire buried under your skin.

A whine works its way up your throat, your hips wriggling under Mat’s grip on them. “Mat,” you murmur his name, dizzy even though you’re on your back. Your toes curl against his back and Mat shifts up, pressing his shoulder up against the curve of your ass, bending your knee closer to your chest and pushing your other leg open wider.

“Birthday kisses?” He asks, lifting his head up slightly and grinning at you. His eyes are blown dark, a pink flush dusting his cheeks. Your hands are still buried deep in his hair. With the beard and longer hair, he looks almost dangerous. Less like your husband and more like a pirate ready to take exactly what he wants.

You nod, knowing he doesn’t intend to work his way up your body to kiss you properly. His teeth flash white against his dark beard and that gorgeous head disappears between your legs again.

Anticipation builds in your stomach while Mat carefully presses kisses to the insides of your thighs, alternating between legs to make sure no inch of skin is untouched. You whine and writhe, desperately trying to get your cunt to his face to relieve some of the throbbing. He nips at the junction of your thigh, a warning, and you tighten your grip on his hair.

“How many birthday kisses for my girl?” Mat rasps, his words a little slurred from all the drinking. He keeps one hand flat on your hip and hooks the index finger of his other hand around the edge of your panties, tugging the fabric to the side. “Thirty, one for each year you’ve been perfect?”

His beard scratches the inside of your thigh when his mouth lands on your cunt and you groan his name, panting already from the barest touch of his lips. Your heart beats wildly in your chest and Mat huffs a laugh against your folds, darting his tongue out to lick at you quickly.

“Please, oh my god,” you whine, all vestiges of sleep gone. Your nerve endings are on fire, desperate for him. Mat’s fingers are so close to your clit, holding the fabric of your panties aside, but his grip on your hip is too tight to let you move. “Mat,” you drag his name out into a choked moan, his tongue delving back into your wet, messy cunt. He licks and sucks at you like it’s his job and he’s getting paid by the hour. Carefully and methodically, his tongue drags more of your arousal from your entrance, the sounds of him eating you out obscene in the darkness of your bedroom.

The rasp of his beard on your inner thighs and against your sensitive cunt has tears slipping down your temples and into your hair. Mat dips his tongue into your entrance, holding it stiff so he can thrust it shallowly, and you keen, toes curling and fingers nearly ripping his hair from his head.

“Good girl,” he mumbles against you, nose bumping up against your swollen, sensitive clit and making you see stars.

“Please, please, Mat, oh my god, more,” you babble incoherently. His face is held right where you need him, the iron grip of your fingers giving him no room to pull back. He sucks gently at your clit and you choke off a scream, back bowing off the mattress and pushing your hips up into his face.

He moans against you and you kick at his back reflexively, drawing a grunt from him and making him grip your hip even tighter. You can feel your body dripping for him, arousal pooling under your ass faster than Mat can lick it up. He takes his time, licking and sucking painfully slowly, stoking the fire in your belly until it’s an inferno.

You’re not even sure what you’re saying as words fall from your lips, eyes wide open to watch Mat’s hips grind into the mattress. His ass, encased in a tight pair of royal blue boxer briefs, bounces with the movement and all you can picture is his hard, thick cock pressing into the mattress, leaking pre-cum and wetting the front of his briefs. Your mouth waters a little, desperate to get him in your hands or on your tongue and Mat’s tongue picks up its pace inside of your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you squeal out, writhing against Mat’s face, hiccuping and panting until Mat’s lips move up to latch around your clit and suck, hard. A shriek rips from your throat and your orgasm hits like a bomb, exploding in your veins and gushing out of your cunt to coat Mat’s face. You see stars and your chest heaves, breath catching as Mat continues to lick you through your orgasm, stroking gently over your hip bone. You whine and buck your hips against Mat’s face, eventually collapsing back against the mattress, a sheen of sweat making your oversized shirt stick to your skin.

“God,” you gasp, fingers cramping when you let go of Mat’s hair and flex them. Your legs tremble.

Mat’s head pops up between you legs and he gives you an absolutely shit-eating grin. “Nope, just me,” he chirps, wiping his hand over his beard. His whole face is shiny with your orgasm, but you’re so wrung out you can’t even be embarrassed about it.

Your foot twitches against his back and Mat’s grin widens, his head dipping again to kiss the inside of your thigh. “Real glad your parents took T,” he murmurs, kissing his way up over the top of your thigh to your hip bone. “I like when you scream for me.”

A yawn cracks your jaw and you squirm, overstimulated by the damp cotton stuck to your cunt and Mat’s weight on your legs. “Better let me take care of you so we can sleep before the princess is back tomorrow,” you reach down and scratch at Mat’s face, another yawn cutting your sentence in half.

He hums against your skin, fingers tracing nonsense patterns over your side. “I’m okay, babe,” he sucks a little mark over your hipbone, tracing the tip of his tongue over the spot, making you shiver. “Birthday girl doesn’t have to do anything.”

“What if-“ you yawn again, feeling your eyelids grow heavy, “the birthday girl wants to suck her Stanley Cup Champion husband’s dick?”

“How about we save that for when you’re able to keep your eyes open?” Mat chuckles and rubs his hand over your lower stomach, warm broad palm soothing you to sleep.

———

You wake up a couple of hours later, if the faint sunlight streaming in around the edges of the curtains is to be believed. Your legs are tingling, numb, and Mat’s not next to you when you turn your head. Instead, he’s still slotted between your legs, his head on your upper thigh and arms wrapped around your leg like it’s a teddy bear. A laugh bubbles up in your chest, even as Mat shifts and his shoulder wedges up against your cunt, arousal fizzing in your veins.

Reaching one hand out to your night table, your fingers brush up on your phone and tilt it so you can see the time - just after 5 in the morning, so plenty of time before the family comes over with Talia for your birthday breakfast. You let your eyes close again, the fingers on your other hand threading through Mat’s hair. Your body feels heavy from the early morning orgasm and the residual hangover from the parade yesterday. Most of it is faded, but you know that a nice greasy breakfast is going to do the last of the heavy lifting to make you feel normal again.

Mat stirs between your legs, his fingers tightening briefly around your thigh before loosening again. He rubs his bearded cheek against your skin like a cat and the bristles tickle you, goosebumps lifting on your arms. He’ll probably shave in the next few days, but you hope he’ll keep some stubble, if not most of the full beard.

His face is slack in sleep, laugh lines faint around his mouth and eyes. It’s been a gauntlet for Mat and the boys the last few months, but they have the ultimate prize now and every time you look at your Stanley Cup winning husband, the pride you feel for him grows exponentially. You’ll leave for Greece in a few days, a family vacation that all four of your parents and Liana are joining you on before they all head back home and you, Mat, and Talia skip off to Italy for another few days. It’s much needed family time after missing out on so much time with Mat during the post-season.

There’s still a ton to do before you leave, but today’s all about you, according to Mat.

Dirty thirty, you laugh to yourself. Never in a million years would you have thought this is where you’d be on your thirtieth birthday, with the best man you know madly in love with you and the greatest kid in the world. It’s been nearly seven years with Mat and every day just keeps getting better.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Your husband’s sleep rough voice startles you from your thoughts and he chuckles when you jolt under him. Mat lifts his head and rests his chin on your lower stomach, grinning up at you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, matching his grin. “Just…how amazing everything is.”

Mat blows a raspberry against your stomach and you shriek a laugh, pushing at his cheeks. “Stop, I’m allowed to be sappy on my birthday,” you whine, poking your lip out in a pout.

“Better sappy than crying like you usually do,” Mat teases. His fingers flex on your thighs and curl in towards the apex. One index finger traces over the edge of your panties. “These look damp,” he comments idly, continuing to trace his finger over until the tip of it is resting just over your clit. “Can’t be comfortable.”

You hum, already lifting your hips. Mat chuckles at how eager you are, sliding his hand up so the heel of his palm can grind against your clit and his fingers can curl under the top band of elastic. He shifts up to kneel in between your legs and you glance down to see the bulge in his briefs, one of your favorite sights in the morning. His free hand reaches for his dick and he grasps himself idly through the fabric, bringing the outline of him into stark relief. The shit-eating grin he gives you when he sees the fresh damp spot between your legs makes your knees go weak.

“Oh, birthday girl is desperate this morning, huh?” He murmurs, tugging down your panties and leaning forward to press a heated kiss to your lips. You groan against his mouth, parting your lips to allow his tongue inside.

“Mat,” you huff his name, breathless when he pulls back from the kiss. “Please.”

The plaintive syllable spurs Mat into action. He pushes the fabric of your sleep shirt up, exposing your breasts, nipples pebbled from arousal and the air conditioning. He sucks one into his mouth, his tongue circling until you’re moaning and canting your hips up into his hand. The backs of his knuckles are just barely touching you where you want him - need him - and you spread your legs farther apart, only to be stopped by the fabric of your panties still around your thighs.

“Mat!” You grumble, wriggling under him, trying to help your orgasm along.

He’s alternating between your breasts, licking a stripe in the valley between them. “Just relax, baby,” his voice vibrates in your chest when he speaks against yous skin. “Gonna make you feel good.”

And he does, burying three thick fingers in your cunt and crooking them until you’re screaming his name, gushing all over his hand. He murmurs filth into your skin as he pays attention to your breasts, sucking until your nipples are red and puffy. “Such a good girl,” he praises you, your heartbeat racing wilding in your chest, blood rushing in your ears. “Look so pretty when you come on my fingers.”

You’re boneless on the mattress, one leg slung lazily over Mat’s hip, and you give him a slow, dazed smile. “Fantastic start to thirty. Ten out of ten, no complaints,” you giggle, gaze trailing down to his cock. “Now, I remember something about the birthday girl wanting to suck her husband’s dick.”

Mat grins down at you and pinches your hip with his clean hand, the wet fingers of his other hand trailing over your stomach. “Who am I to deny the birthday girl?” He shrugs, his entire face crinkling up in the mischievous expression you love so much. You grin and sit up, pushing at Mat’s chest so he’s laying back and your positions are reversed.

“I like that attitude,” you smirk, scratching your nails lightly over his chest until your fingers reach the elastic of his briefs. You snap it once, enjoying the way Mat’s stomach muscles jump, before slipping your hand under the fabric and wrapping your hand around the hot, thick base of his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Mat draws the curse out into a couple of groaned syllables. “Baby, have mercy, please.”

You tighten your grip and Mat grunts low in his throat. “Oh, I’ll be nice to you, baby,” your voice is a purr, faux-sweetness laced in every syllable.

Hours later, after Mat gave you another orgasm in the shower, pounding into you so hard you’re fairly convinced you saw God and feeding into that tiny little, not-so-secret wish that he put another baby in you, he changed the sheets on the bed and you’d both gotten ready for the day. You negotiated Mat away from a clean shave down to a healthy amount of stubble.

It is your birthday, after all.

You’re scrolling through the birthday texts and Instagram posts when the front door bangs open and Talia’s little feet stampede through the halls.

“Mommy! Happy Birthday!” She shrieks, running into your arms and giving you a huge hug. You laugh and lift her up onto your hip, tightening your arms around her.

“Thanks, love bug!” You press a smacking kiss to her cheek. “How was the sleepover with Grandma and Grandpa?”

While she chatters away, your parents appear in the kitchen with bags of food and a few gift bags. Mat’s parents and Liana aren’t far behind. Nadia and Liana have huge bouquets of flowers in their arms for you, to be mixed in with the days-old bouquets that had arrived after the Stanley Cup win. The entire kitchen island is covered in flowers and you grin into your birthday bouquet, thanking your mother-in-law and sister-in-law.

The kitchen is chaos for a few minutes, while everyone greets you with hugs and kisses, wishing you a happy birthday. Talia’s still on your hip, but she has one arm wrapped around Liana’s neck, making you both laugh while standing in an awkward position.

Mat appears and Talia lunges for him, leaving you and your sister-in-law in the lurch.

“Daddy’s girl,” you shake your head, taking the iced coffee that your mom offers you.

“Tossed over for the Stanley Cup champ,” Liana teases. “We get it.”

Behind Talia’s back, Mat flips off his sister and laughs, even as Nadia is scolding him. Laughter and conversation echo around the kitchen and you lean a hip against the counter, sipping at your coffee, taking it all in with a small smile. Your mom appears at your side, nudging your arm with her elbow and smiling up at you.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” she murmurs, squeezing your hand. “Talia, she’s just such a delight, exactly like you were at her age.”

You laugh a little. “Oh, she’s totally Mat’s mini. I think she got the best of both of us,” you reply, watching Liana try to teach Mat and Talia one of those schoolyard clapping games. All three of them are laughing and Talia’s bossing them around.

“Well, either way, you’re a wonderful mom and I’m so glad we got to be in town for your birthday,” she pinches your cheeks together and presses a kiss to your nose, just like she used to do when you were a kid.

“I’m glad you guys are here too,” you reply, tucking up against her side and resting your cheek on the top of her head. “And we’re extra glad that you’re all teaming up to watch T while we celebrate.”

There was no chance either you or Mat was able to parent last night or this morning, not with the amount of alcohol you had mainlined during the celebrations. Your mom laughs and waves you off, saying it was nothing.

The rest of the morning passes in a comfortable blur of homemade breakfast and bakery pastries, presents, and plenty of cuddles from Talia. You, Liana, and Talia do a Starbucks run too for your free birthday gift, detouring to Sephora and Chip City for those birthday freebies too.

“So, did Mat tell you where he’s taking me for dinner tonight?” You ask Liana, wiping whipped cream off of Talia’s face. Mat had told you he was taking you out for a fancy dinner, but hadn’t said anything else, other than you should dress up.

“I think the city,” Liana comments off-handedly. “Nothing specific other than that though.”

You squint at her, a little suspicious because you know the siblings are close and Mat tells Liana like 85% of his plans, especially when they involve you and surprises.

“The city?” Talia pipes up, her face breaking out into a huge smile. “Do I get to go?”

You’d brought Talia into the city to see the tree this past Christmas and now she’s obsessed with it and being like Eloise in the Plaza. So every time you or Mat go into the city, she thinks she’s tagging along.

“Not this time, kiddo,” Liana tugs at her pigtail. “Your mom and dad are going solo to celebrate your mom’s birthday.”

“I wanna go!” Talia kicks the back of the passenger seat and you wrap your hand around her ankle.

“Hey! No kicking, I get that you want to come, but right now this visit isn’t for you. Daddy and I will bring you in a different time, okay?” You wait for her to nod her agreement and then unbuckle her from her car seat so she can scamper up the walkway to the house.

Liana falls into step next to you, snorting a little laugh. “She’s so fiesty and then so agreeable. That didn’t come from either of you,” she teases.

“I’m so much more agreeable than Mat,” you counter, laughing too. “Plus it’s my birthday, aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”

She bumps her hip into yours, “annoying little sister privileges!”

As an only child, you love the relationship you’ve developed with Liana, so you’ll happily take her teasing and chirping as a sign of affection.

Mat has lunch ready for Talia and reminds you that dinner reservations are at 6, so you have to start getting ready soon so you can leave on time.

“I don’t even get a single hint?” You pout, picking at the leftover half of a cinnamon roll from breakfast.

“Here’s your hint, put on a cute little dress,” Mat kisses behind your ear and lets his hand fall to your ass, grabbing a palmful, “and let me handle everything else.”

“You’re a menace,” you grumble, leaning back against his chest. “How do I know if I’m dressed properly?”

Mat’s hands wander over your hips, flattening over your stomach and slipping below the hem of your shirt to tickle your bare skin. “Li knows where I’m taking you, she’ll let you know if the outfit is good.”

You gasp, “she told me she didn’t know! Bunch of liars!”

Mat’s laugh echoes behind you when you break away from his grip and shout for his sister, stomping out to the back deck where she’s watching Talia in the pool.

Liana’s like a vault though, refusing to tell you where you’re going, but she does agree to help you pick a dress. So, after you shower, she and Talia camp out on your bed, both on their stomachs with their legs kicking in the air. Talia keeps looking over at Liana to mimic any change in position and it’s adorable, the way she wants to be just like her aunt.

“Oh, Mommy,” Talia sighs, her chin cupped in her hands, “you look so pretty.”

“Thank you, T,” you beam at your daughter, fingers tugging gently at the hem of the short black dress. “Is it too short?”

Liana shakes her head, “nope. It would be perfect.”

You look at yourself in the mirror and smooth your hands over your hips, cocking your head at your reflection. It does look nice and you haven’t worn it in a while.

“Maybe you need sparkles, Mommy,” Talia kicks her feet in the air. “Cause then you’d be like a princess!”

Liana nods when you look over at her. “Sparkles are also appropriate,” her grin matches Mat’s and you shake your head, disappearing back into the walk-in to find a dress with sparkles. You can hear Talia chattering to Liana, telling her all about the play date she’d just had with the Martin girls and Tulsa Horvat. You flip through the random dresses hanging in the back of your closet, fingers skipping over the more casual ones and the longer ones, until you land on the tiny, sequined mini that you wore for a New Year’s Eve party. The black sequins glitter in the closet’s overhead lighting and you feel good when you pull it on, sexy and sparkly and fun.

Based on the delighted gasp Talia lets out, she thinks you look good too.

“Mommy!” She jumps up onto your bed, bouncing a little with her arms thrown wide. “You’re sooooo pretty!”

She bounces and falls on top of Liana, who lets out a little grunt and grabs Talia around the middle to tickle her mercilessly. Talia shrieks and giggles, wriggling away from Liana and rolling off the bed to beeline for you. Her arms wrap around your leg and she looks up at you with big hazel eyes, “Mommy, can I pleaseeeee come to the city? Because you look so pretty with sparkles on.”

“Nice try,” you scratch at the top of her head. “You’re staying here with your grandparents and Aunt Li.”

Talia pouts and drops her head back dramatically, before disappearing into your closet. You can hear her start to knock shoes off their shelves and clomp around in your heels. You giggle at the noise and sit down at your vanity to start doing your hair and makeup. Liana rolls towards the end of your bed to chat.

“Did you start packing for Greece?” She asks, laughing when a little crash sounds from the closet and Talia shouts out, “I’m okay, Mommy! But the shoes fell.”

You roll your eyes, knowing you’re going to have to do a major clean up tomorrow, and look at Liana in the vanity’s mirror. “Nope, been way too busy celebrating,” you smirk. “Packing is a future me problem.”

“Spoken like a true Barzal,” Liana chirps. “You’re officially one of us.”

Waving the Dyson at her so she’ll get the hint to come and curl the back of your hair, you reply, “your brother’s bad habits have definitely rubbed off on me.”

“What have I rubbed on you?” Mat pokes his head into the bedroom, grinning wickedly and ducking when you toss a makeup brush at him. He bends to pick it up off the floor and twirls it around his fingers.

“Your daughter is within earshot, Mathew,” you reply primly, smothering a giggle with your lips rolled together. Liana tugs at the Dyson, releasing another curl, and you can see her roll her eyes.

“You two are gross,” she comments.

Mat points the brush at her and replies, “you’re in our home, we’re allowed to be gross here.”

“You’re gross everywhere! Don’t think we missed the ass grab during the parade, or the way your hand mysteriously disappeared,” Liana shoots back, your cheeks flushing hot at the memory of Mat’s hand down your shorts.

Your husband just shrugs, unbothered. “I’m gonna hop in the shower quick and I should be done by the time you are,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head as he walks past, clearly used to the time it takes you to get ready.

Mat’s still ready before you are, waiting downstairs with the family while you finish off your makeup and spray yourself in a cloud of Black Opium. Jewelry adds the final touch, your wrists jingling with the two Love bracelets and Van Cleef Alhambra bracelets you’ve collected over the years and your ears studded with the stupidly large diamond solitaires that Mat (and Talia, according to the card!) had given you this morning for your birthday. You take a final look in the mirror and smile at yourself, feeling settled and excited to start your thirties.

When you come downstairs, heels in your hand, Mat wolf whistles, cheeks flushing a little pink. “You look fucking edible, baby,” he murmurs, settling his hand heavy on the curve of your hip and tugging you close to press a kiss against your lips, biting down gently on your lower lip.

“Ditto,” you giggle when he pulls away, raking your gaze over Mat’s form, from the top of his tousled hair to peek of his throat and collarbones through the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, down to the loafers he’s wearing without socks.

“Ready for your birthday dinner?” He asks, folding you into an embrace, for no real reason other than him wanting your body flush against his. You can feel his cock twitch in his slacks.

You hum an affirmative against his skin, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck, “still no hints on dinner?”

“Just that we’re going into the city,” he kisses your cheek, spinning you around and patting your ass to get you moving to the door. You pad through the kitchen, planning on putting your heels on in the car.

Talia has all four grandparents monopolized on the couch, her head in Nadia’s lap and her feet on your mom’s lap. Beauty and the Beast is playing on the TV and you giggle when you realize that your dad and Mike are engrossed in the cartoon too.

“Hey,” you call softly, getting everyone’s attention. You notice Liana’s missing, has been since she finished your hair, but there’s also no dinner being cooked so she must’ve run out to pick up the food. “We’re heading out, give me a kiss, love bug.”

Talia stands up on the couch and plants a smacking kiss to your cheek telling you again that you’re ‘sooo pretty, even prettier than Belle, Mommy! And she’s the prettiest princess,’ before giving Mat a kiss too and a hug that has her jumping over the back of the couch and clinging to him like a monkey. He peppers kisses over her cheeks and she pushes him away after a minute, nearly back flipping out of his arms to get back on the couch and curl up with her grandmas.

“Remember, bedtime is 8, please,” you tell your mom and Nadia, knowing they’re going to disregard that completely. They nod and wave you out the door, Mat’s hand low on your ass doing the most work to get you out to the car.

He opens the door for you, like a legitimate gentleman, and bobs his head along when you flip the radio to the Sirius 90s pop station. His hand falls quickly from the steering wheel to your bare upper thigh and you smirk down at it. His fingers are long and thick, tanned even though he hasn’t been spending that much time outside. He taps them against your thigh in time with the music and your stomach does a little flip, lurching like you missed a step.

“Skin’s so soft,” Mat murmurs, eyes on the road, trailing his fingers up and down your thigh, closer and closer to the hem of your dress. “Just as soft as burying my fingers in your tight, little cunt.”

You let out a little squeak at his words, heat rushing between your legs, letting them fall open slightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mat’s grin widen, his fingers dipping up under your dress and stopping.

“Mat,” you huff. You clit throbs.

Pulling to a stop at a red light, he turns to face you with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk. “What’s the matter, Squeaks? Need something?”

You growl in the back of your throat. Fucking menace. “Don’t make me say it,” you grumble, his fingertips are dancing lightly against your inner thigh.

“You’re a big girl now,” Mat’s smile is wicked, “you know how to ask for what you want.”

“Mat,” you whine, pressing back into your seat as the light turns green and Mat hits the gas. Your hands grip his wrist, trying to push his hand closer to your cunt. His tendons flex under your fingers, his hand immovable. “Please, I need you to touch me.”

He slides his fingers up higher, bumping just against your covered clit and you gasp, relaxing down into the seat. “Anything for the birthday girl,” he grins, moving his fingers slightly while still keeping his eyes on the road. “Go ahead, use my hand, babe.”

It’s awful and dirty and not even close to the most depraved thing you and Mat have done in his car, but you sigh and spread your legs a little wider, the hem of your dress inching up your thighs so you can guide Mat’s hand exactly where you need it. He merges onto the Grand Central and you know you only have a limited amount of time to get yourself off.

Shouldn’t be hard since you’ve honestly been wet for Mat since you saw him in the kitchen. The combination of the open neck of his button down and the peek of his chain is enough to get you halfway to an orgasm.

His fingers slip against your clit and you let out a little sigh, wiggling your hips against his hand. Mat chuckles a little and his voice is rough when he says, “go ahead, be as loud as you want. No one’s gonna hear you.”

You don’t even really want to be that loud, all of your attention focused on getting off as fast as you can. Mat’s fingers rub gently at your folds through the fabric of your thong, the fabric soaked through to the point where you think you really should’ve thought this through and sitting in a restaurant is going to be wildly uncomfortable with a damp thong.

Little whimpers leave your mouth while you pull the fabric to the side, guiding Mat’s middle and ring fingers to your entrance. He lets them sink into you in a quick slide and you clench around his fingers, groaning at the slight stretch.

“Sound so pretty when my fingers fill you,” Mat says, crooking his fingers just right and hitting your g-spot with enough force that your leg kicks out and your knee smashes into the underside of the dash.

“Ow, fuck, oh my god,” your yelp of pain trails off into a moan when Mat pumps his fingers without warning.

His fingers rub against the walls of your cunt and you feel arousal trickle down the curve of your ass, wincing when you think about the state of the car’s seat.

“You okay, babe?” Mat asks, glancing over at you.

“Mhm,” you nod, your own fingers moving from Mat’s wrist so you can circle your clit. “Just need…I’m so close, oh my god.”

Your fingers make tight little circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, building tight pleasure in your stomach in tandem with Mat’s thick fingers.

The pads of Mat’s fingers press - hard - against your g-spot and you toss your head back against the headrest, coming around his fingers with a high pitched moan, your cunt clenching around his fingers like a vice. He continues to stroke your walls through the trembling aftereffects and the song on the radio changes over to ‘Genie in a Bottle’ and you start to giggle as the lyrics filter through the buzzy haze of your orgasm.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, Mat’s snort making you laugh even harder. His fingers wiggle in the grip of your cunt and your spasms of laughter only serve to grip him tighter.

“What a fucking soundtrack,” Mat cracks up, laughing so loud the music is nearly drowned out. He pulls his hand out from between your legs and you whine at the sudden emptiness. His hand glistens with your come and his smirk is devilish. “Proof I rubbed you the right way, huh, Squeaks?”

You groan, laughing, “god, you’re awful, Mathew!”

“You’re laughing though,” he chirps, sticking both fingers in his mouth to suck them clean. You clench your thighs together at the wet popping sound he makes when he withdraws his fingers from his mouth.

“Fuck,” you grumble, feeling lightheaded. “You’re going straight to the bathroom to wash your hands when we get to the restaurant.”

He pumps a little Purell onto his hand from the bottle sitting in his cup holder and grins at you, “yes, Mommy.”

You narrow your eyes at him and shake your head, “oh, don’t even start that, Mat! I’m already so messy, do you have napkins or something in here?” You’re flipping open the center console as you speak, finding nothing but a pair of sunglasses, one of Talia’s Polly Pocket dolls, and six protein bars in the space.

“I think T left her towel on the backseat after her swim lesson the other day,” Mat cranes his neck to look in the rear view mirror and nods. “Yep, it’s back there.”

Reaching back, your fingers grasp the striped towel and you pull it into the front seat, shaking your head. “Are we, like, sex maniacs? Because this isn’t even close to the weirdest thing I’ve cleaned myself up with,” you snort a laugh through your nose and wipe at your thighs with the chlorine-scented towel. You roll your window down too, trying to get the smell of sex out of the car.

“Honestly?” Mat laughs, changing lanes. “We probably are, but when my wife is as hot and smart and funny as you are? Who could blame me?”

“Flatterer,” you murmur, a faint smile on your face and butterflies fluttering around your stomach. Flirting with Mat will never get old.

You toss the dirty towel back into the backseat, making a mental note to bring it into the house later to wash.

Rummaging around in the glove compartment, you withdraw your little toiletry bag and spray a little bit of the travel sized Black Opium perfume on your thighs and hair.

“What?” You ask, catching Mat looking at you.

“How long has that been in there?” He laughs, studying you while you touch up your lipstick with a miniature tube.

You smack your lips, shifting the color, and giggle at your husband. “Since the first time we had sex in the car,” your laugh grows.

The rest of the drive into the city is quiet, Mat trying to hold your hand over the center console and laughing when you push his arm away because you “know where his fingers have been!”

“Yeah,” Mat shoots back, “inside of you!”

He drives over the 59th Street Bridge and you’re still trying to guess where you’re going, even as Mat drives into Midtown. He remains frustratingly tightlipped, driving past Bryant Park and pulling into an Icon Parking garage in the middle of West 36th.

You buckle your shoes around your ankles and climb out of the car, wondering just exactly where you’re having dinner nearly in the middle of Times Square. Nothing looks familiar to you, in terms of fancy restaurants that you and Mat have discussed trying out. Mat hands his keys off to the parking attendant and takes your hand with his clean one.

“How far are we going?” You cling to his hand, skipping along in your heels. “Because these aren’t walking heels, they’re look good at dinner and then draped over your husband’s back while he rails you in bed heels.”

Mat snorts a laugh and replies, “literally down the block, babe. If we were going any further, I’d carry you.”

“Down the block?” By the time the question is out of your mouth, Mat is stopping and guiding you towards the door of the Moxy Hotel. You squint up at the neon pink sign and tilt your head at Mat, pushing the door open.

“Magic Hour,” he says in response to your unasked question. “Rooftop bar since I know those are the birthday girl’s favorites.”

You give him an excited little bounce-shimmy because he’s right, you love a rooftop bar especially in the warm days of June in New York. You’ve never been to Magic Hour, have heard of it though with its rotating seating area and miniature mini golf course.

“Well this is a fun surprise,” you beam, resting your chin on his bicep. “Go wash your hands and we can get up there!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mat laughs, presses a smacking kiss to your cheek and scampers off, returning a few minutes later with freshly washed hands. He takes your hand and guides you to the elevators, your heels clicking along the floor. You lean against the back wall of the elevator, watching Mat’s fingers punch at the rooftop button.

“You got lucky today’s a beautiful day,” you tease. “Otherwise all those rooftop dinner plans are out the window.”

Mat’s smile curves up at an amused angle, something twinkling in his eyes. A secret? He looks more delighted than he should. “There was a Plan B,” he promises. “I’m just glad we didn’t need it.”

“What was the Plan B?” You ask, curious. But Mat doesn’t have a chance to answer, the elevator doors sliding open to reveal another hallway decorated with silver elephant heads. “Oh this is fun!”

You traipse ahead of Mat towards the doors, pointed off in the right direction by the woman at the reservation stand. He’s trailing behind you and you angle your chin over your shoulder to say something to him, pushing open the door to the rooftop.

“SURPRISE!”

The shout registers a second later and you jump, eyes wide and mouth dropped open, hands flying up to cover the lower half of your face. Mat’s laughter is at your back and the crowd of people in front of you are a blurry mess of faces and delighted cheering.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, taking a little step back instinctively, right into Mat’s waiting hands. They’re warm and solid on your hips.

“Happy birthday, Squeaks,” he murmurs into your ear, kissing your cheek. “Surprise,” his whisper is low and makes you shiver.

“Mat…” a lump of emotion clogs your throat, overwhelmed by the surprise party and Mat’s thoughtfulness. His hands squeeze your hips gently and he nudges you forward.

“Go ahead, greet your adoring crowd,” he laughs. “I’ll be around.”

You’re immediately pulled into a hug and shout with excitement and shock when you realize it’s Liana wrapping her arms around you. “Oh my god!” You yelp, hugging her back. “Aren’t you supposed to be hanging out with my kid? I was wondering why you weren’t at the house when we left.”

She grins and bounces up and down in her heels. “I snuck out and caught a ride in with Bo and Holly,” she beams, looping her arm in yours and dragging you deeper into the party. “My big sister is turning thirty, of course I wasn’t missing this party.”

Tears well up in your eyes and you lean into Liana’s side, bumping your head against hers.

“I can’t believe Mat pulled this off,” you say, completely awed. “With the playoffs and … well, I had no clue!”

“He had plenty of help!” Syd comes up behind you and wraps you in a huge hug. “Happy thirtieth, girl! Welcome to the club!”

Holly laughs and hugs you tightly. “Mat’s only two stipulations were an open bar and a neon sign because and I quote, ‘my girl loves those fuckass neon signs.’”

“He loves those fuckass neon signs!” You protest loudly. “He’s just as much of a basic bitch as I am.”

All three women nod in agreement. “Oh we know,” Liana grins, any opportunity to make fun of her brother.

The neon sign in question is pointed out to you - bright orange and spelling out ‘Dirty Thirty’ in script, it’s attached to a fake plant backdrop and you’re informed that it’s yours to keep - and then you’re moving throughout the party, greeting guests and getting wrapped up in hugs from the guys. At some point, someone places a plastic princess tiara on your head and hands you a glass.

It’s a Bay Breeze, your favorite, and when you finally make it to the bar, there’s a sign on top that names it as your signature drink. The Squeaks Special. Mat had to have been behind that one, the only one to use the nickname, and it makes you smile.

There are a couple of other speciality drinks that are named for you - a bright orange Aperol Spritz, an espresso martini, and your stand-by of a vodka cranberry. You know you’ll be sampling each one as the night goes on. But for now you stick to your Squeaks Special, the alcohol warming your body from the inside out.

The rooftop is huge, crowded with your guests. The entire team is here, including the handful of players that have retired in the last few years. Your friends from college and grad school, your parent friends from Talia’s class. Your best friends from high school. You spend more time than you realize catching up with everyone, wondering just how Mat and the girls knew to create a guest list made up of your favorite people in the world.

Including - “Tito! Emma!” you shriek, spotting your husband’s best friend and his wife chatting with Mat at the mini golf green and making a beeline for them, wrapping an arm around each of their necks and pulling them into a three person hug. Their arms loop around your back and you wobble slightly, a pleasant buzz settling in.

“Happy birthday!” Emma squeals, keeping her arms looped over your shoulder. “Perfect weather, perfect party for our perfect girl!”

You beam, waving a hand in the air, a giggle slipping past your lips. “Because I have the sweetest, most thoughtful husband in the world,” you blow a kiss at Mat.

“How many of those have you had?” Mat laughs, reaching out to take a sip of your Aperol Spritz. He winces at the harsh taste and washes it down with a sip of his Jack and coke.

“Enough,” you shrug. Truthfully, you’re not entirely sure, but Mat doesn’t need to know that. Returning to the conversation, you say, “I can’t believe neither of you slipped up on anything. Especially when we were talking about the August visit.”

Emma and Tito’s little boy is a few years younger than Talia and you were planning a trip down to Nashville for a visit in early August, once you’re back from Europe.

“We were under strict orders not to spill the beans,” Tito laughs, clapping Mat on the shoulder. “Pain of death if we ruined your surprise.”

Mat shrugs, a lazy smile on his lips and amusement dancing in his eyes. “Half of you are lucky you got told at all, big fucking mouths,” he teases, opening his arm for you to snuggle against his side. His arm is warm over your shoulders and you loop your fingers loosely over his belt, enveloped by the scent of his cologne and the laundry detergent you just switched over to.

“Well, I had no clue,” you assure him. “I’m…I’m really overwhelmed, honestly.” You choke up a little. “I just love that everyone I love is here.”

“You deserve it, babe,” Mat kisses the top of your head, getting an “oooh” from Emma and Tito and making you laugh. You lean up on your toes and kiss the side of Mat’s neck, a faint transfer of your lipstick smudging his skin.

“Oh!” The music transitions into a club mix of ‘Believe’ and you bounce, grasping Mat’s hand and tugging him over to the space in the middle of the rooftop that’s functioning as a dance floor. “Dance with me!”

Mat laughs and follows along, resisting just slightly. “Only because it’s your birthday,” he teases.

You shake your ass at him, tossing a grin over your shoulder. “Liar! You love a good jump around dance, don’t pretend,” your voice strains, shouting over the music. Mat’s free arm locks around your waist and pulls you back to him, your ass pressed tightly against his crotch, the bulge of his cock hot against the curve of your ass. You wiggle happily against him, getting comfortable, and let go of his hand so you can loop your arm around his neck and rest the back of your head against his collarbone, grinding and dancing completely off-beat.

Somehow, while the songs change, you polish off your drink and some of Mat’s and a few little snacks that someone keeps putting into your hands. You’ve lost track of how many drinks you’ve had, know that you did a round of shots with Cal, Casey, and Matt.

At some point, you end up behind the bar, dancing absently to the music that’s playing and pouring drinks for everyone. God knows if they’re the right drinks, but no one seems to be complaining. Mat’s leaning against the bar, grinning at you.

“What?” You say, cocking your head at him and overfilling a glass with seltzer. You shake your hand off and the actual bartender pours the drink properly, handing it off to one of your college friends.

“Nothing,” Mat shrugs, “you’re just really cute.”

Heat rushes to your face and you giggle. “You’re really cute,” you shoot back, reaching over the bar to grasp Mat’s hand. His fingers curl around yours and he pushes himself forward, over the bar, so he can capture your lips with his. His tongue passes over yours and you moan into his mouth, your free hand grabbing at the open neck of his shirt to pull him in even closer. Your fingers brush against the warm metal of his chain and you tug gently at it, a growl vibrating at the back of Mat’s throat. Mat’s hand gropes at your chest, cool fingers dipping beneath the fabric of your dress and squeezing gently at the swell of your breast. You whine and deepen the kiss, pressing your chest into his hand, wolf whistles from your friends rattling around in your brain.

You pull back from the kiss, desperate for air, and Mat has your lower lip captured between his teeth, tugging gently on it. You push a little at his chest, getting him to release you, and suck in a shaky breath.

“Get a fuckin’ room!” Marty shouts, laughing.

“When has a lack of privacy ever stopped them?” Bo chimes in, sounding exasperated.

Mat grins at you and you can see that his face is flushed. “Say the word, baby, I’ll haul you off to the bathroom right now,” his voice is low, his fingers drawing aimless trails up and down your arm. Your clit throbs in response to his voice, dampness growing between your thighs.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to say yes, to nod and have his arms around you in a second, an orgasm flooding your senses before you can even be missed.

And then the opening notes to ‘Stop’ by the Spice Girls start and your eyes go wide, an excited squeal from your lips barely audible over the music. You dart around the bar, leaving Mat hanging over the counter, confused and surprised by your sudden disappearance.

Until you start shouting for Syd, Alexa, and Liana, shimmying your way into the middle of the dance floor. Mat realizes exactly what’s happening when his sister and the other two blondes join you in a line, drunkenly performing choreography to the song.

Mat cracks up and he’s in the thick of it seconds later, recording the impromptu performance, holding his phone up and sticking his head in the shot as you hold your hands out and cross them over your chest, your movements not as sharp as they could be. Next to you, Sydney and Liana burst out into giggles, Alexa shouting along to the lyrics. Mat sings loudly and off-key, barely audible over the music.

“I need somebody with a human touch,” you drag out the notes, slurring your words a little, and Mat dances next to you, thrusting his hips a little, recording everything. You turn and kiss him, giggling against his mouth. When the song ends, you fall into a pile of arms, laughing and hugging the girls.

“I didn’t think I would remember that,” Syd grins, thinking about how drunk you’d all been during the game watch party a year ago when you decided to learn the choreography to the song instead of focusing on the game.

Alexa snorts, “valuable brain cells are used up on remembering 90s choreography.”

“Big hit with your fans,” Mat waves his phone in the air, the screen playing his Insta story, your off-rhythm dancing the focus, with Mat’s face popping up in the bottom corner of the screen, his face scrunched up in a delighted expression.

You reach for the phone, stumbling a little and landing hard against Mat’s chest, his arm locked around your waist. “That’s what you post?” You whine. “Not my amazing bartending shkills…skillsh…talents?” Your eyebrows furrow, your mouth clumsy around the sharp consonant.

“My drink was all cranberry, no vodka,” Alexa chirps.

“You gave me a White Claw when I asked for a beer,” Noah grins, draping an arm over his girlfriend’s shoulders.

A handful of your other friends chime in with their wrong drinks and you stick your tongue out at the group, “you’re supposed to lie to me!”

They all refuse to lie to you and you’re too drunk to care, slipping your way off the dance floor with Mat at your back, attention span moving onto the next conversation.

You’re not sure what time it is when Mat pulls you to the middle of the rooftop again, your question cut off when everyone starts singing Happy Birthday and a huge sheet cake is wheeled out in front of you, three big sparkler candles making everything glow. A picture from your first birthday is printed on the frosting and you grin down at your own face - your mom had to have supplied the picture to Mat - blowing out the number candles lit next to the sparkler candles.

“What did you wish for?” Mat asks in your ear, kissing your cheek. One of his hands is resting on the curve of your ass and the other swipes up a bit of frosting for you to try.

You lick it off his finger delicately, knowing you’re going to hear shit from the girls during the party debriefs in the coming days, and hoping someone got a picture anyway.

“Can’t tell you,” you whisper back, “otherwise it won’t come true.”

There’s only one thing missing from your life right now and you refuse to dwell on that anxiety producing thought for the night, instead choosing to swipe frosting onto your own fingers and run them over Mat’s cheek, laughing and running off when his mouth drops open in shock. You’d lost your heels hours ago, so your escape is going well until Mat follows, considerably less drunk than you are, and captures you around the waist, your legs swinging up in the air with your changed momentum.

“Brat,” Mat grumbles affectionately into your ear, peppering kisses down the back of your neck.

“Do something about it,” you challenge him, pressing your ass back against his crotch.

Mat’s hands tighten around your waist and you let out a little sigh, relaxing into his grip. His face is buried in your hair, lips working over the nape of your neck. Every so often his teeth scrape against your skin and you shiver, barely aware that he’s carrying you back inside, into the little hallway with the silver elephant heads on the wall.

“So needy,” he mumbles, pressing you up against the wall, kissing your cheek and letting his hands slide over your stomach and down to the bare skin of your upper thighs. “Lucky for you I’ve never been able to resist you.”

“Mat…” you whine his name, choking off in a gasp when his fingers find your clit and expertly roll the sensitive bundle until tears well up in your eyes and arousal soaks your panties. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to build, Mat’s middle finger teasing between your folds and his thumb and index finger working your clit.

“Come on, baby,” he grins into your shoulder, never stopping his movements. “Got a party full of people waiting for you, come on my hand and you can get back out there.”

You clap your hand over your mouth to muffle the high-pitched moan Mat drags out of you, your orgasm hitting like a tidal wave, your come drenching Mat’s hand.

“Good girl,” he praises you through the rolling waves of your orgasm, pulling his hand from between your legs and taking a little step back so you’re not crushed between his chest and the wall. “Back to the party,” he chuckles and pats your ass with his clean hand, guiding you back out to the rooftop.

Your legs are shaky and you’re grateful that you’re barefoot because the post-orgasm leg weakness wouldn’t have combined well with your heels and the alcohol you’ve had to drink. Mat isn’t at your side and you assume he’s gone to wash his hands, but you don’t have a chance to really wonder where he’s gone or worry about it because you’re drawn into a drunken mini golf competition with Noah, Alexa, Bo, and Holly. Bo and Noah are the only ones who manage to do a halfway decent job, you and the girls giggling and sending the colorful golf balls rolling off the fake green.

The party winds down in the early hours of the morning and you find yourself tucked up on Mat’s lap, his hands warm on your back and outer thigh while he cradles you. Your cheek is pillowed on his chest and you’re half having a conversation with Holly, half falling asleep.

“I think the party’s over,” Mat chuckles, looking down at you.

“No,” you whine, “I don’t want my birthday to be over.”

“Hate to break it to you, Squeaks,” Mat’s lips are against your temple, “but it’s almost 2am. Your birthday’s been over for a couple of hours now.”

“That sucks,” your voice is muffled by Mat’s shirt and you yawn. “It was the best birthday.”

The last stragglers for the party get up when you and Mat do, hugging you goodbye and heading out into the night. You and Liana lean heavily on either side of Mat and he grumbles about trying to find his wallet in his pocket while you’re leaning on him.

“I literally can’t move,” you yawn, jaw cracking. You’re not as drunk anymore, but the exhaustion is settling in.

“Hop on,” Mat laughs, bending his knees slightly so you can climb onto his back with a happy little squeak. Your arms lock around his neck and you rest your cheek against his head.

“You smell like a bar,” you mumble, strands of Mat’s hair moving with your breath.

Mat’s heading out of the Moxy, nudging Liana along with the hand that isn’t propped under your ass to hold you in place. “Better than my post-game smell, huh?” he laughs. “Li, come on. Walk.”

“I wanna be carried too,” she complains, limping along in her heels.

“Car park is literally next door,” Mat rolls his eyes, bouncing you up higher onto his back when he feels you start to slip. Your thighs clamp tighter around his waist and Mat grunts a little.

“Can still smell your cologne though,” you continue, the heels in your hands dangling against Mat’s chest. “I like this one. Smells so good.”

The cool night air hits your face as Mat walks out onto the sidewalk, free hand wrapped around Liana’s wrist to keep track of her for the thirty foot walk to the Icon Parking lot. You snuggle up tighter against Mat’s back, eyes closing while he walks. Mat’s chuckle vibrates your chest and he sounds amused when he says, “you staying awake back there, Squeaks?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Awake, totally awake.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mat scoffs, paying for the parking and stepping off to the side where Liana’s sitting on a little bench with Holly to wait for the car.

It doesn’t take long, probably because it’s after two in the morning and there’s only a few people waiting for their cars - Bo and Holly included. You wave at them as they climb into their car and drive off.

Mat loads you and Liana into the car and you’re on the road back to the Island before you know it. Your head rests against the window, feet tucked up under your body.

“Can we stop for McDonalds?” Liana asks from the backseat, poking her head in between the seats and giving Mat a wide eyed flutter of her eyelashes.

“Fuck no,” Mat rolls his eyes and you laugh. “We’re going right home and to bed because some of us have a five-year-old that gets up with the damn sun.”

Liana punches Mat’s arm, “you’re no fun.”

“We have pizza rolls in the freezer,” you tell her, turning in your seat a little. “And I think a bag of those honey bourbon Perdue nuggets.”

“Oh, you’re my favorite sister for sure,” Liana sighs happily and leans back in her seat. “Pizza rolls and chicken nuggets, the food of drunk champions.”

The drive home takes about thirty five minutes, the shortest a drive home from the city has ever been, and you wander across the lawn barefoot when you get home, the damp grass soothing against your sore feet. Liana makes a beeline for the freezer once Mat opens the front door and asks if you want a snack.

You shake your head, “I’m beat. Thanks for helping Mat with the surprise.” You give her a huge hug and she returns it, the pair of you doing a faint drunken sway in the middle of the kitchen.

“Anytime,” she grins, accepting a goodnight hug from Mat too.

“Clean up your mess,” he demands, fake-sternly, as he follows you up the stairs.

After a very quick joint shower that was actually just a shower, you crawl into bed next to Mat, pressed up against his side tightly. “Best birthday ever,” you yawn into his chest, nose brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

“You deserve it,” Mat yawns back, kissing the top of your head. “Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna do for my thirty-fifth.”

You snort a laugh - Mat had gotten a slightly delayed thirtieth birthday last year due to the playoffs. “Mmm,” you hum, “let’s see how good you are the next four years.”

He murmurs a reply, but you barely hear him, asleep before his sentence is finished.

——

Your bedroom is bright with sunlight when you finally wake up, miraculously without the nausea and throbbing headache that usually accompany your hangovers. You sit up and push the tangle mess of your hair off of your face, smiling faintly when you hear noise outside of the bedroom door.

“I’m awake,” you call out and Mat wanders in, Talia perched happily on his hip. He looks tired, but there’s a smile on his face. Talia’s beaming and flings herself out of Mat’s arms to land on the plush mattress before crawling up to curl in your lap. She’s got a packet of the Nature’s Bakery fig bars you’re all obsessed with in her hands, tearing into the wrapper.

“Hi, mommy,” she chirps. “I had so much fun with Nana and Pop and Granma and Granpa. But Aunt Li wasn’t here, did you know that?”

You smooth a hand over her dark hair, “I think she was playing a little trick. But she’s down in the basement, she stayed over last night.”

“Really?” Talia’s eyes go wide. “I’m gonna go share my pig newtons with her.”

Mat steps to the side as she barrels past him, shrieking for Liana as she goes. He laughs and flops onto the edge of the bed, hooking a hand around your ankle. “Li’s gonna love the Hurricane Talia landfall,” he laughs. “I could hear her puking when I went down to make coffee.”

Sympathy for your sister-in-law has you wrinkling your nose. “Maybe we should’ve stopped her?” You ask, reaching out to run your fingers through Mat’s hair. You yawn widely, jaw cracking, and roll your neck to ease some of the ache.

“She’ll get distracted by the parents on her way,” Mat shrugs. “They’ve got breakfast going, whenever you’re ready to join.”

Surprisingly, you’re hungry, so you roll out of bed and press a quick kiss to the corner of Mat’s mouth and pad off to the bathroom. You can feel his gaze on your ass and add a little extra sway in your step, just for him.

“Thirty never looked so good,” he calls after you, making you laugh.

After such a perfect start, you’re looking forward to seeing what thirty has in store for you.

#mat barzal x reader #mat barzal #mat barzal fic #mat barzal x you #nhl fic

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