by Cate Ashwood
“This isn’t gonna work if you—” John’s words caught on a moan as Matt wrapped his fingers around John’s cock, stroking his length with a firm grip as he scraped his teeth against John’s neck. When John’s steps staggered, Matt was tempted to pull him to the floor and take him right there in the hallway, but the house was small and the bedroom was right in front of them. They made it through the door—but just barely—before Matt turned John around and dropped to his knees.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he looked up at John. Even in the dim light, he could see the desire on his face and the way his eyes tracked Matt’s movements. Matt leaned forward, never breaking their gaze, and licked away the bead of precome that had gathered at the tip.
John let out a shuddering breath as he dropped his hands to Matt’s head and threaded his fingers through Matt’s hair.
“Christ,” John whispered.
Matt could feel John’s body tremble under every touch.
John’s eyes were set on Matt’s still, his gaze intense, full of want. “Don’t stop,” he whispered, part plea, part demand.
Without another thought, Matt took John deep into his mouth. He reached up and cupped John’s balls, trailed his fingers back to stroke against John’s taint.
John let out a long, slow sigh and muttered something—a curse, a prayer, Matt couldn’t hear it and didn’t really care. The sound of John’s voice sent a shock through Matt, causing him to increase the pressure, the suction, and the speed. He sucked John down, pulling him into his throat as far back as he could manage until John’s hips rocked forward. That gentle hint of movement, the honest-to-God whimper from John, made Matt’s cock swell. He wanted to tell John to do as he wished, to fuck his throat any way he could, but instead he moaned around John’s length because that’s all he could do with his mouth stuffed full.
Even without words, John seemed to take the hint. His grip on Matt tightened, and his body began to move, fucking into Matt’s mouth. The sounds were coming freely now, and with every noise that fell from John’s throat, Matt’s lust intensified. His whole body was bowstring tight, his muscles tense, waiting to taste the splash of salty bitterness across his tongue.
But it never came. John pulled Matt off his cock and dragged him to his feet before covering Matt’s mouth with his own. John kissed him hard. It was frantic and a little sloppy, finesse worn away by hunger for each other. Sliding his tongue into John’s mouth, he searched out the taste of him—tonight it was whiskey and the barest hint of cigarettes.
The kiss was over almost before it began. “Get on the bed.” John’s tone was barely controlled, and commanding enough to make Matt’s stomach flip in anticipation. John underscored his words with actions, manhandling Matt to the bed, on his knees with his face shoved down on the mattress, ass in the air.
“Fuuuck.” The word was muttered on a strained sigh, heat streaking through Matt as John held him open, using his tongue to paint a thick stripe across his rim. He reached around with one hand, stroking Matt’s cock, his thumb teasing the slit on each stroke. Matt was on sensation overload, wet heat at his entrance, John licking and sucking and rubbing him into a sobbing mess. Panting against the blankets, his fists clenched in the fabric. He pushed back, begging with his body.
“Condoms?” John asked. He sounded far away, barely audible over the rush of blood in Matt’s ears. Matt tried to answer, but it came out as more of a grunt. Still, John seemed to understand. The mattress dipped, and a moment later Matt felt the cool drizzle of lube against his entrance and John’s fingers working it into him.
And then John’s fingers were gone, replaced by the blunt head of his dick.
He pressed Matt’s knees wider and blanketed him, covering Matt’s back and lacing the fingers of one hand together against the sheets. It felt like every inch of skin they owned was touching, and even so, Matt couldn’t seem to get close enough. With one powerful thrust, John pushed all the way inside. He stilled and Matt gasped through the burn. It had been so long… too long, and instinctively Matt tensed. John let his free hand drift to Matt’s lower back, fingers splayed, reassuring him like he was some sort of inexperienced blushing virgin.
He really wasn’t.
“Go,” he growled.
But John didn’t pull out to thrust. He stayed right where he was, buried in Matt’s body, and rocked them together. Even without a breath of space between them, John’s cock moved inside him, the action of John’s hips grinding against him lighting up every nerve ending he had.
The burn faded, only to be replaced by profound pleasure radiating from his core and heating him from the inside out. It was exquisite and overwhelming, and as subtle as the movement was, fire surged through his veins. He was hovering, frustrated and needy, right on the edge. He didn’t even know of what. His mind was muddled, and all he could conceive of was John and the way John made his body sing.
When he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, when the desire became too much, John moved.
He levered his body up and pulled out, dragging the head of his cock almost free before plunging back in.
John tightened his fingers between Matt’s. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rumble against the back of Matt’s neck.
“God you feel good,” Matt muttered, his brain-to-mouth filter dead, buried. “Didn’t think I’d get the chance to do this again.”
“Neither did I,” John gasped, the words drawn out, punctuated with his movements, filling Matt from the inside out.
“You have no idea what you do to me, how crazy you make me.” Matt’s hands tightened on John’s. The feeling of him being inside had taken over, and Matt was operating on primitive instincts.
All he knew was the urge to be owned, claimed. “Harder… please… fuck me harder.” Matt didn’t care that he was begging.
John gave him what he needed, everything he needed, snapping his hips forward, propelling Matt heavily into the mattress.
“God yes. Just like that. Don’t stop. Please, God, just don’t stop.” Matt couldn’t shut up, couldn’t make his mouth obey. The begging became a litany of nonsense words as John set up a ruthless pace.
Matt was breaking apart, John shattering him into a thousand pieces. He was completely wrecked, and he had no idea if anything had ever felt so good.
Or if anything would ever feel as good again.
And then suddenly, Matt was proven wrong when John released the tight grip he had on Matt’s hip and wrapped it around Matt’s cock instead. The firm pressure of his grasp, the callous-roughened skin of his palm, and the way John’s body seemed to fit with Matt’s… it all culminated in pleasure so deep it threatened to pull him under.
After that it didn’t take long. John stroked him, saturating him in bliss and throwing him headlong over the edge. Matt’s orgasm slammed into him, ribbons of thick come spilling over John’s fist and onto the blanket as Matt groaned out John’s name.
A moment later, John grunted and pushed deeply one last time into Matt, rocking against him just as he had in the beginning. In the periphery of his consciousness, somewhere beyond him and John and the smell of sweat and sex, Matt could make out the rumble of thunder and the sound of the rain, still pounding on the roof. Slowly, the movements stopped and John leaned forward, plastering himself against Matt’s back and pressing a kiss against the back of Matt’s neck. Matt hummed contentedly, more satisfied than he remembered being in a long time.
“You’re a chatty bottom,” John teased, nipping at the back of Matt’s neck, a light bite against Matt’s skin. “That was….” John trailed off without finishing the thought. He didn’t have to. Matt knew exactly what he meant.
Matt let out a breathy laugh, too tired for more than that. “Yeah, well, round two, your ass is mine. I’ll try not to talk too much for you.” Matt panted, hoping belatedly it wasn’t too presumptuous. The last time they’d done this, there’d been the promise of a second time, but John had taken off before that could happen.
Although this time he had a reason to stay the night.
“Cigarette first, then we can negotiate the details of round two,” John said as he shifted off Matt. “Though, less chatter will be on the list of demands.” He shot Matt a grin before standing up and stretching, John’s body all sinewy muscle bathed in shadow.
Matt rolled out of bed, moving slow and languid, and went to the dresser to grab a set of sweats for each of them.
When they were dressed, Matt followed John to the backyard.
The moon hidden by the storm clouds left the backyard blacker than charcoal. The soft glow of light coming from the inside of the house was the only thing illuminating John, who stood near the railing. The heavy rain had cooled the night air a bit, but it was still muggy as fuck. Matt couldn’t have cared less.
John lit a cigarette, and Matt watched the tip glowing orange in the darkness as John pulled the smoke into his lungs. They stood there, just a foot apart, looking out over the lawn, the rain pelting down in sheets. The thunder and lightning had subsided, and now all that was left was the downpour.
John finished his cigarette and snubbed it out in the ashtray Matt had left there from the party. He lowered himself onto the porch swing and started to shift it back and forth, his bare feet pushing off the floorboards.
Matt sat beside him, closer than necessary, his thigh just touching John’s. There was something romantic about that spot. When Matt had moved in, he’d fantasized about taking naps on it, swinging in the shade on a weekend afternoon. But sitting there with John, the two of them still catching their breaths as the rain tapped against the covering overhead… that was so much better.
“Why here?” John asked after a long stretch of silence, shifting slightly so he could lean against the arm of the swing, so he could see Matt better. “Seems like a long way to go for a job.”
His hushed voice was like a caress in the darkness, and without thinking, Matt leaned closer. He hadn’t been sure if John would tolerate the contact, and relief washed through him when John stretched his arm along the back of the swing in something close to an invitation.
“They were hiring,” Matt answered. “And the timing made sense. I hit a wall one day with working in San Francisco. Bad call. It haunted me for a while, and I knew I needed a change of pace.” He hated to think of those dark days, even now, but talking about it with John didn’t feel quite as painful as it usually did.
John let out a slow breath and shifted again. He pulled Matt closer, let Matt stretch out against him and rest his feet on the other arm of the swing. “What happened?”
Suddenly distracted, Matt had lost track of the conversation. “With the call?”
“Yeah,” John said, the word barely a whisper, an exhale that brushed against Matt’s skin as he rested with his back to John’s chest.
“Gang initiation,” he said. Before Matt could go on, John slid his hand down Matt’s chest, a reassuring weight, a comfort, as if John already knew what Matt was going to say. “We’ve got a few gangs in San Francisco, and one of the more popular methods of getting in is to take out a member of one of the rival crews. It can get bloody, but for the most part I’ve become desensitized to it.”
“This was different?”
“Yeah.” Matt swallowed, trying to ignore the images that replayed in his mind every time he thought about that night. “Instead of taking out some low-level thug from the other side, this guy grabbed the little brother of one of the major players.” He had to pause before going on. “Innocent kid, not more than eight. Beat him to death and hung him from the underside of a bridge.”
“Shit,” John muttered. He tightened his hold on Matt, just slightly, just enough to steady him. “I can’t wrap my head around that kinda thing.”
“Yeah.” Matt leaned his head back against John, let out a sigh. “Wasn’t the first dead kid I’ve seen and, unfortunately, it likely won’t be the last, but this one stuck with me. I couldn’t get his face outta my head.” He let his words hang there for a moment, let himself move past the emotions that still welled up at the memories, the strange sense of loss he’d experienced. “I needed to get outta there for a while, and finding an opening in a small town seemed like a safer bet than staying in the city.”
John was quiet for a minute before he asked, “What made you choose Georgia? Whole lotta small towns between here and there.”
John was right, of course, but he’d wanted more than just a small town. He’d wanted distance. With a shrug, Matt said, “The South is in my blood. Ever since I visited when I was a kid, I’ve always wanted to move here someday.” For some reason, saying that to John didn’t feel nearly as crazy as when he’d tried to explain to his parents. “When the position opened up here, I jumped at the chance.”
“I could see that,” John said thoughtfully. He trailed his fingers in a lazy pattern over Matt’s chest, so slow and random it seemed as though he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. “You got any kin around here?”
Matt shook his head. “Not really. My mom’s family was from here, but they’re all long gone.” He let his eyes slide shut for a moment, enjoying the simple sensations of John touching him, John’s breath falling softly against his hair. “She was an only child, and my grandparents died before I was born. Mom doesn’t get back all that often, but she said the South was home, where we belonged. She moved to California to be with my dad, said it was the only compromise in their marriage that cost her something.”
“Does she say if it was worth it?” John asked, his tone mostly teasing.
Matt tipped his head back, just enough to glance at John. He couldn’t help but grin. “She does, yeah.” When he settled again, he added, “They’re rock solid. I can’t see either of them having many regrets. Not about each other, anyway.”
“No one else here? No family friends or…?”
“Well,” Matt said, letting out a breath. “I have some distant relatives, people I never met, or only met once back when I was a teenager, but….” He’d had this same conversation with his mother. Matt found it amusing that he’d have to say the same thing to John. “Mom keeps telling me to look them up, look up some of her friends from when she was in high school, but they’re strangers. Just seems weird to me.”
John snorted a laugh. “That’s only ’cause you’re not from around here.” He shocked the hell out of Matt then and pressed a small kiss into his hair before going on. “My momma’s high school sweetheart’s nephew looked us up when he came through town. Never even heard of him, but he was still invited to Sunday dinner.”
There it was. This crazy town. “That’s like, Southern hospitality on steroids.”
John laughed so hard, he closed his arm around Matt and hugged him. “Steroids and then some,” he said as he settled back down, relaxing his hold on Matt. “Your momma wasn’t from Magnolia Ridge, was she?”
“Oh. No, my grandmother was from Valdosta, and my grandfather was from Alpharetta. Mom was born there, just outside of Atlanta, back when Alpharetta was a small town.”
Matt couldn’t see him from his position, but he could feel the motion as John nodded, could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. “Yeah, I got some cousins out there. Shoot, old Robby Junior and his buddy Kenny are in Alpharetta. We go huntin’ together couple times a year.” After a moment, as if John had connected a few dots, he asked, “You didn’t move out here, sight unseen, did you?”
“Kind of,” Matt said, almost embarrassed to admit it. “I’d never been to Magnolia Ridge before, and, Jesus, not a lot comes up on a search, but I’d been to Georgia before.” That had to count for something, right? “When I was seventeen, my mom and I headed south to help out after Katrina hit. She took a leave of absence and worked out a home-school deal for me so we could help with the cleanup and recovery.” He turned a little, just enough fold himself more comfortably against John.
“In Georgia?” John asked. “Not a lot of cleanup down here after that….”
Matt huffed a laugh. Sit
ting with John like this, being so casual and yet intimate at the same time, distracted the hell out of him. “No, sorry, we started out in Louisiana, volunteered there, and then went on a little road trip.”
“Your momma a cop too?”
“Coroner,” Matt answered quietly. “She went to help ID the bodies, but it was… difficult.” Matt remembered her working all day, helping with what felt like an impossible task that would never end. He remembered the sounds of her crying at night when she thought he couldn’t hear. “Even though her family was gone and we’d never known anyone in New Orleans, she said nothing was more important than helping out her neighbors when they needed it.”
“Sounds about right,” John said quietly. “She sounds like good people.”
Matt nodded. “She is.” The rain had gotten heavier, but Matt didn’t want to go in yet.
Maybe John didn’t want to either.
“You came with her?” he asked.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to, at first. I was just about to enter senior year, and I didn’t wanna miss out on spending time with my friends.” He hated to admit that, but it was the truth. “Actually, pretty much anything sounded better than flying across the country to help my mom ID bodies for the last scrap of the summer and the first month of my senior year.” He paused for a moment and then said, “I guess I’m not exactly good people.” He was mostly joking.
John tugged lightly at Matt’s hair. “You were a kid. And you still went with her. That counts for a lot.”
Regret still swelled inside him. He’d been a prick teenager, and it had taken a lot of convincing on his mom’s part to get him to agree to come. He’d seen footage on TV, but it hadn’t really affected him. He didn’t understand the devastation, being so distant, until he’d seen it in person. “Eventually she wore me down and booked us two tickets out. We started in the areas the hardest hit, and the second I laid eyes on the devastation, my whole outlook on the world changed. It was instant.”