26. Matthew

26

MATTHEW

I can describe my oral fixation better than I can describe my creative process. It feels like restlessness. I grind my teeth. I bite my nails, my cheeks, my lips. I suck candy, chew gum. I have a near constant awareness of the inside of my mouth. I tug my lips when I'm thinking, my tongue is almost always in motion.

I have a callus at the base of my left index finger from holding it between my teeth as I'm sketching. I can't wear chapstick because it doesn't last more than ten seconds before I've sucked it off.

Why am I like this? Best I can guess is my mom took away my pacifier too soon, and I had to use my hands or whatever else I could get my mouth on. Tits are great. Tits with piercings—even better, but cock, pussy, and ass are my holy grail.

Eating ass isn't the kind of thing you can do in a men's room. I mean, I'm sure some people have, but I enjoy it too much to rush it. I like whoever I'm with to come with my tongue in their ass alone, and that can take time. A lot of guys are self-conscious about it. Hell, I'm self-conscious about it.

Fischer might be, too, but I have a feeling he'll get over it. I always manage to.

I straddle his legs, massaging his full, strong ass cheeks in my hands. "You look good like this."

"Like what?" he murmurs.

" On my bed ." I dip my head and run the tip of my nose up the nape of his neck and inhale deeply of his spring scent—like mountain air. Crisp and earthy. Green trees and wildflowers. I blink the sudden image of a glass landscape from my eyes and latch onto his neck, sucking deeply as he hisses in a breath.

" Matthew …no marks." His voice is a gravelly hush.

"No one will know," I say, doing it anyway because he tastes that good. "Don't make me stop. It'll be our secret."

" Fuck …"

His shoulders relax, giving in to me, and I suck his skin until all I can taste is myself, and then I decorate the length of his spine with a series of smaller, lighter bruises—one for each bone stacked up his back.

He moans and sighs but barely moves as my hands roam obsessively up and down his sides.

I don't know if I've ever been this hard this long. My balls are begging for mercy, and occasionally they let out a twinge so strong I grunt with the restraint I'm using to take my time.

"Sleeping, princess?" I ask as I approach his ass.

"Hmm…?"

I take that to mean "sometimes."

What's hot about that? I don't know. Everything ?

His thighs are slightly parted, and I press the palm of my hand to the back of his right thigh, bending his knee until it's in line with his hip. His cheeks part to reveal his dusky, puckered hole.

My pulse thrills, mouth waters, cock throbs. He's hairless down here, and I love that. I had no idea what to expect after all this time—a whole marriage to a woman, but his ass is exactly like I remembered, even that one small red scar I trace with my fingertip. I want to make a mural of his scars. Paint it on my bathroom wall and try to make sense of them because I bet if I stared at them long enough, I'd have an epiphany.

I run the same hand between his lone ball and the mattress, making him twist slightly, his semi extremely tempting against my palm.

"I promise I'm not worshipping you or anything," I lie. "I'm just using you."

"That's what it feels like. Don't worry. Not reading anything into it."

"Good."

I like hearing the lazy smile in his voice. I like that at the heart of this, it's still just me and him. Just us.

I stretch out between his legs, sliding onto my stomach. With my feet hanging off the edge of the mattress and toes touching the floor, I spread his cheeks with a firm grip of my hands. Slowly, I lick a wet stripe from his nutsack to his tailbone.

His groan vibrates the bed, so low it's barely audible. More like a shift in the atmosphere. "I really did think you were gonna fuck me," he murmurs, squirming as I taste him again.

"I am."

"You weren't kidding about not being in a hurry."

A short laugh huffs out of me. He's not wrong, but my restraint is wearing thin.

I've had to mentally disassociate with my cock for the time being. It's possible I'll come while I'm rimming him, the mattress now giving me something to thrust against, but I hope I don't. There's some twisted part of me that wants to show off for him—show him all the things I've learned while he was alone in war zones married to a woman.

Call me sick, but I get off on the perverted, taboo element of this moment and the last ones we shared. If he were a stranger in a bar, I'd have wanted him, too, but the fact that's he's all but forbidden is even better, satisfying me on a deep, deep level.

I trace Fischer's virgin rim with the tip of my tongue and lap at his center until he blows out a harsh breath and opens up, granting me entrance.

"Oh, Jesus …oh my God …" he breathes as the tip of my tongue slips inside.

I circle the tense ring. My cock is screaming, and I roll my hips against the mattress, humping into it to take the edge off. The movement plunges my tongue deeper inside him.

He arches back to meet my face, smothering me with his ample ass, which makes me lose my mind. I attack his pretty pucker with deep kisses and hungry growls.

"Fuck, that's good, Matthew. Your mouth ." His hand catches his thigh, pulling it nearly to his chest, spreading himself open like the needy bottom I knew he was. It takes one to know one.

It's a wet, suffocating mess what I'm doing to him and honestly to myself. Precum is pouring from my cock like a red flag warning that I'm dangerously close. But I can't stop. Every taste, every clench of him around my tongue is supplying my demand and ratcheting it higher.

I slip my hand underneath him again, taking his cock in my hand and making a fist for him to fuck. When I glance up, he's got an arch in his back that the public would be shocked to see—this tough war correspondent with his ass presented so damn pretty for me —a horny doorman who knows a thing or two about etching glass.

I gorge myself on his hole as the rate of his breath picks up, and those whines I could jerk off to issue from his tortured lips.

I pick up a rhythm, and he joins me in it, our bodies working in perfect tandem—his dick in my fist, my thick, wet tongue in and out of his clenching hole, my cock driving into the bed.

When the warm gush of his cum drips over my knuckles, and his shaft slicks through my grip, I lose all composure and bury my face between his cheeks while my body shudders with the worst, most painful orgasm I've ever experienced, and then it explodes into something I can only compare with how I think people want the rapture to be.

I come up for air and curse his hole for being the best thing that's ever happened to my mouth. "Goddamn," I groan, kissing it again. " Fuck—oh, shit… " Cum squirts from me in violent spurts, my abs contacting with each convulsive shock.

He collapses flat, panting heavily into the pillow, twitching with aftershocks. Soft whimpers and a wheeze accompany his exhalations.

I rally, hauling myself to my knees, giving my cock a glance to make sure it's still on straight before grabbing for the lube.

"No…no, Matthew… please …" He might be sobbing, it's hard to tell.

"No meaning no ?"

"No… fuck …yes… please …" And then he definitely sobs and wraps both his arms tensely around the pillow, putting that hot little arch into his lower back and all but begging for it. I don't waste time—or my lingering erection.

I roll on a condom and drizzle the lube on his hole before roughly shoving two fingers in, filling him as he takes my aggressive move with a grunt. He got an excellent rimming—I'm not going easy on him anymore. "You good?" I check in.

"Yes…Yes.." His face is pink with the exertion of taking me, but I don't think he's hurting. My fingers aren't that thick.

With my other hand on his waist, I kneel between his open legs and consider the angle. "Put your weight on your good knee."

He does, his body moving into a sort of lunge. I put my left knee outside his left outer thigh as I move my fingers in and out of him, curling them and massaging him until he's panting. "You're so fucking soft," I say.

"Matthew, please …"

"Please what?"

"Please, please put your cock in me. I'm ready."

"You sure about that?" I ask, ruthlessly fingering him.

He sobs again. "I'm ready. Fffuuucckkk …I'm ready."

"You like how it feels to be filled?"

"Yes," he gasps.

"Because you're so fucking tight, princess. I'll barely be able to move."

"Please, fuck , I wanna feel it…"

Removing my fingers, I position my cock, notching my crown against his hole. He makes a soft, pitiful sound, and I melt.

This is my Fischer. The one who used to cling to me in the night. Who wept on my shoulder in the shower when the pain and humiliation was so intense, he couldn't contain it anymore. I'm the only one who ever got to see that side of him. And I'll be the only one to ever see this side, too.

I bite my lip, trying to beat back the wave of feeling threatening, swallowing it down before I say something I can't take back.

He tries to sink back on my cock, but I keep him still a moment longer. "Beg me again," I whisper.

"Please, Matty. I need it. I need it so fucking bad."

"Yes, princess. I know you do…"

I can't wait anymore. I need it as badly as he does. We need this.

Holding onto his hips, I yank him onto my cock so hard his ass slams my thighs, and I sheathe myself completely inside him. His cry splits the air. His head comes up, and he takes a gulping breath. I run a hand down his back, shivering at the way his warmth engulfs me.

Holding still, I give him a chance to adjust—to accept this. I couldn't afford to take it slower. I needed to get inside before I softened up. My first time was like this, and I remember feeling relieved that taking a cock whole was something my body could do—rather than squirming and doubting and giving myself a chance to second guess it.

"Tell me what you're thinking," I say, the throb of our bodies fused together making my voice soft and shaky.

"You're fucking huge ."

"Pass or smash?" I ask.

He huffs a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. "Smash. The bigger the better."

I smirk, which he can't see, but I like him like this. Humoring me. Bent over and taking me.

"Seriously, though," he says, taking another deep breath and grimacing. "Ask me tomorrow. I think your dick is in my lungs."

I give his ass a few smooth rubs for that one. Touching him like this—I don't know if I'll ever get used to it. If it will ever feel anything but illicit. The fact that we could be ruining everything between us in one night is part of the rush, but it's also terrifying.

I nudge again, this time more certain of my erection. His ass is all slick heat wrapping me up snug and tight. "Are you okay?"

"I mean, you're right," he huffs. "I have felt worse things."

"Would it help if I said I'm not sure I've ever felt anything better?"

" Mmm …" He stretches his arms out, flattening his chest against the bed, and dropping his head to the pillow again. " Yes …"

"You ready to get fucked?"

"Yes…fuck yeah." His voice sounds exactly like it did when he was on the high dose of narcotics. "Give it to me."