32. Matthew

32

MATTHEW

F uck. Me .

I can't get enough of him.

All the signs are there. Visions. Possessiveness. Fantasies. Need. So much fucking need . I'm coming for his mouth again, and he might not be prepared, but I can't stop myself. In this moment, on this bed, he is everything . My forever obsession.

He grasps for me, and I wrap my arms around him, using my entire body to kiss him and hold him and want him. His legs lock around mine and we grind together as we pant and kiss. Sweat gets involved, and we're slick against each other, which just makes it hotter and better.

My praise game needs work, though. The only words I hear myself saying are "God, you feel good. Fuck, that's so good." And he deserves better than that. He needs to know he's the best thing that's ever happened to me—the best I've ever had.

But I'm in an inner frenzy, which I'll have to forgive myself for later. I need inside him so badly, and with any luck I'll be able to reset and string a coherent sentence together to tell my princess how profoundly I worship him, how he makes me ache and ache .

My erection gradually reasserts itself as it humps his soft, spent cock. His tongue is greedy as hell. I realize, to a degree, we've both been holding back, trying to feel out what we wanted from this arrangement—or what was possible.

All that's out the window now. I want my dirty little secret now more than ever.

"Fuck me, fuck me," he begins to chant between soul-sucking kisses.

I'd give literally anything in the world to be able to slide inside him this second. Cursing lube and cursing myself for being such a total slut, I try to make the transition as smooth as possible. After kissing my way down his throat and chest, paying extra attention to his gradually firming dick, I slide off the bed and grab my pants from the floor. I pull out a decent-sized tube of lube and a box of condoms from the thigh pocket.

"Do we need the condom?" he asks, and the question twists my gut.

"It's not you, it's me," I say.

His brow flinches with a frown he quickly erases. "You don't always use condoms?"

"I do, but I'm also paranoid." I mean I use condoms… I'm not sure I always make sure the other guy does…

I slide it on like it's not a big deal, not a symbol of a habit I know is a problem. Not a remembrance of those few weeks after Valentine when I whored myself out to anyone who would fuck me in a luxury hotel room across the street.

I grab him by the ankles and push his legs apart so I can get between them. "How're you doing?" I ask as I kneel between his thighs. "Hanging in there?"

He gives me an annoyed look. "Yes, thank you for asking."

I grin. "Well, you look good."

"So do you," he says in that low voice that makes my balls fill.

I run my hands up his legs, rubbing more firmly when I get to his thighs. "Comfortable?" I ask.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because once I'm inside you, I won't be in any rush to get out."

His eyes flutter closed. " God… "

Self-conscious, I say, "What?"

"Nothing, you're just…" He trails off without finishing.

"I mean, I can probably make it qui?—"

"No," he says quickly. "Use me. Torture me. Take as long as you want. But let me turn over. We'll save legs up for when it's gonna be fast."

I help him move his leg over me. We get him settled on his chest with a pillow under his head and one beneath his hips. I hope for thousands more nights like this. When I can take him fast or slow. Legs up or bent over his messy dining table. Fuck, the promise of falling asleep in each other's arms would be enough, but I have to admit, I like this arrangement better.

I take a few moments to appreciate his ass with my hands, shamelessly groping it and spreading the cheeks to watch his pretty hole wink up at me. I bend down for a quick taste, and he shudders.

"Fuck…that feels so fucking good."

"More?" I ask.

"Whatever you want," he says.

"I wanna be inside you."

"Then get inside me."

" Mm …" I love the sound of his pouty demand. Lifting my head, I squirt lube on my hand and directly into his hole, using two fingers to get him soft and wet for me, pleased to see him humping the pillow in time with my thrusts. "So fucking sexy," I murmur.

He hums, hiding his face behind his arm so I can't see his expression.

"Pretty little princess in all her pillows…" I grin.

"Fuck you."

"But I like it. This tight, wet pussy dripping just for me. You don't even have to lift a finger to make me so fucking hard."

"Matty, Jesus ."

His ass arches up, and I remove my fingers, slotting my cockhead against his hole. "So tight," I say as I nudge him a few times. "How many times do you want to come before I do this time, princess?"

I can tell he's already half-wrecked when he says in a rush, "As many as you want."

"You'll come when I tell you to?"

"I might."

"You really want me to fuck you to sleep?"

" Mm …yeah…"

Fuck, I love him like this. All trusting and relaxed. So unlike him in general. It's just for me. It's always only ever been just for me .

I nudge forward again, and the way his hole gives way proves he's ready for anything. I enter him slowly, and he groans long and low. As I push to my full depth, I bend over him, bracing my forearms on the mattress. When my hips meet his ass cheeks, I kiss the back of his neck. "You take my cock so fucking pretty …"

His hand moves, getting a handful of my hair as he gasps. I rock and swivel slightly, letting him adjust. He does the same.

"Does it hurt?" I whisper.

"Yes," he sighs like it's the best pain imaginable.

"Do you like it?"

" Fuck yes."

I know exactly what he means. "So fucking perfect."

He hums, relaxing into the pillow beneath his head, like he's beyond content—basking, even.

I work myself into and out of him, my cheek resting on his shoulder, my eyes closed as I breathe through the intense relief of being exactly where I've wanted to be for hours. Years.

"Tell me if it gets to be too much," I say as an afterthought, my hips doing their own thing, providing the immense pleasure being inside him gives us both. Endorphins flood my brain, released by the delicious clenches of our bodies as we move fluidly together.

"I'd never stop you," he whispers, and fuck if that's not the nicest thing he's ever said to me. The ultimate green light.

It doesn't take long for him to come the first time. His dick and that pillow are having a very intimate relationship, but after that, his body relaxes again, and I rise onto my hands so I can watch myself fucking him. It's goddamn beautiful, the sight of my length being swallowed by his perfect ass.

He lies still while I experiment with pace and angles, finding one that has him groaning nearly non-stop as my cock strokes his prostate. I keep at it until his hips begin to grind again, and he's choking out another orgasm, complete with the saddest, softest, most defeated whimper.

"Had enough, princess?"

" Noooo …" It's a complaint, a plea, and a surrender.

I pull out, re-lube, and sink back in at a less torturous angle. He moans as I stuff him full again. I savor the slick grip of his tight channel. The thump of my hips meeting his ass. The soft slap of our sacs.

After long, blissful minutes of hypnotic strokes, his breath deepens. When I think to check on him, he doesn't respond.

"Fischer? Still with me, princess?"

No answer. Not even a moan. I examine his face only to find it slack with sleep.

And if this isn't the filthiest, most mind-blowing moment of my life, I don't know what else would be. It's so intensely wrong, it has me clenching not to come the moment I realize what's happening. I have a lot of kinks, and this one might be new, but it's been a long time coming. And it's burning hot.

I should stop, but… Shit…

I don't think I can stop.

I find myself trying not to make any noise, trying to keep things smooth and not jostle him, but I get this savage feeling in my chest, like I've been entrusted with the holy grail. My hips stutter, and he jerks awake, his head turning to face me. Our eyes meet, and I lose all restraint. I dig my hands into his hips, pinning him down and fucking him hard, holding his dazed gaze. I drive him into the pillows over and over again, chasing a release I want so bad I can taste it.

"Fuck, Fischer, I need to come."

"Matthew…" he breathes, like he's just now realizing what's happening. "I'm gonna come again ."

He sounds mortified.

"Fuck yeah, come with me . Milk this cock with your perfect ass…Fuck… fuck …"

He says my name again and again as he does exactly what I ask—clenching hard around my thrusts. I find our angle again, and he throws his head back.

"Jesus!" he shouts. " Harder. Fuck me harder ."

I grab hold of his hair, yanking his head back, and snap my hips, slamming into him while I grit my teeth and feel panic rise. "Come, goddamnit."

"I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," he says like he's pleading for understanding. "Ohhh…. God …" his air escapes in a high whine as he lets go, finally, and I bury myself deep, plant my hands on his back and spill. The orgasm makes my spine twist. My vision blacks out, and my fingers curl, leaving scratches on his back.

I've never had better orgasms than the ones I have with Fischer. This isn't an exception, but it might edge the other ones out based on the amount of time it takes to fully empty my balls. I'm not sure this or any condom could take it.

I'm a wreck as the long, earth-shattering release has its way with me, and the head rush that follows is better than any other high could possibly be.

I indulge myself by covering his back with my body for a few minutes, savoring the warmth of his skin and listening to his slowing breaths. My cock continues to twitch through aftershocks inside him, and with each one I shiver and groan like it's the first one I've ever felt.

My soul, which must have left my body at some point, eventually settles back into place.

Fischer's breathing is heavy, and I realize I've got all my weight on him and a soft dick still wedged in his ass.

"One second," I say quietly, pushing myself up and sliding my cock out as I hold the bulging condom in place. I get my bearings, make sure my legs still work, and get out of bed. When I slide off the latex in the bathroom, my cum is everywhere. It's a huge mess, and I imagine all of this load dripping from his hole. The vision makes me have to grip the countertop to stay steady. Once my knees stabilize, I wet a towel and bring it back to the bed where he hasn't moved an inch. I take half a second to appreciate the splay of his body.

It's fucking art.

The arch in his back, the angle of his open legs. The waves of dark blond on his pillow. I step over to the bed and run the towel down his back, then through his crack to wipe up what's left of the lube. "Turn over for me, princess."

Eventually, he does. I toss his cum-soaked pillow past the other side of the bed. It hits the floor, and I quickly assess an exhausted Fischer. He looks close to passing out again, so I quit staring at him and get to work. As gently and clinically as I can manage lest I get turned on again, I clean his cock, his stomach and chest. I even refold the towel and use it to wipe some of the sheen from his face. That's when our eyes meet, and I give him a warm smile. "That was fucking perfect," I tell him.

"Yeah?"

He sounds drunk, and I get it. I feel euphoric.

"Best I've ever had," I assure him, meaning every word. "You wanna rinse off in the shower?"

"There's no way. No bones."

I wipe his face again, running the towel over his sweaty hair. "Drink your water, I'll be right back."

He props himself on an elbow, and I pass him the glass. He gives me a look I recognize over the rim as he takes several long sips.

"I swear I'm not going anywhere."

"Good, because now that I've had a nap, I was wondering if we could talk."