by Cate Ashwood
John was quiet, listening intently.
Matt took a breath in, pulling the moisture-saturated air into his lungs before he continued. “I ended up missing nearly two months of school, had to work on piles of assignments in the evenings just to keep up with my classes, but the experience was more valuable than anything I learned at school that year. I didn’t get to do much, being a kid, but I helped with paperwork, research, volunteered with part of the cleanup… that kind of thing.”
“Sounds rough,” John said, but there was a hint of admiration in his tone.
“It was nothing,” Matt said, remembering the wreckage around him, the stunned, ruined expressions on the faces of family members when they came to identify a loved one, or as they tried to find anything salvageable in their destroyed homes. “So many people lost everything, lost their homes and their memories, their whole families. I had nothing to bitch about.”
“Takes a lotta growin’ up to learn that,” John said, exhaling as he rested his cheek on the top of Matt’s head.
“I suppose it does, yeah,” Matt agreed. “We stayed there for two weeks, maybe more, but… it started to take a toll on Mom after a while.” There were times when it seemed like the long parade of corpses would never end. Day after day, they seemed to find more. “She’d seen plenty of horrible shit in her career, but, I don’t know. Just the volume they were dealing with. And then, IDing a body that’s been in the water, or someone who doesn’t have dental records because they grew up too poor to ever go to a dentist in the first place….”
“Had to get her outta there?” John asked, seeming to understand exactly what Matt meant without needing more detail.
Matt nodded against John’s chest. “She got herself out of there, thankfully. The work wasn’t anywhere near done, and wouldn’t be for months—hell, years—but we rented a car and hit the road for a while.”
“Road trip with your momma?” John laughed softly. “I should try that with mine sometime,” he said. “Not sure if we’d both survive, but I bet we’d have a few stories to tell if we did.”
Matt tried to picture that. He’d only met Ilene once, but given how much John hid from her, he didn’t think it would go down well. “I’m not sure you’re ready for that level of bonding.”
“You might be right about that.”
John’s tone was light enough, but Matt could swear he heard a hint of sadness there too. Rather than press, he returned to the original topic.
“We ended up in Georgia after a few days. She showed me where she grew up, her old stomping grounds, where her parents and grandparents were buried.” Matt had always loved his mother, loved both of his parents, but that trip changed the way he saw her. He couldn’t say he loved her more, but he connected to her in a way he hadn’t before. “Being there, imagining what it was like for her to be a stupid teenager like I was, something in me clicked. I knew from that moment I was meant to be here.”
“That’s what made you wanna be a cop?”
Matt thought for a moment. “Part of it,” he said slowly. “After Katrina, it took some time to put the plan in motion. I had to finish high school and eventually graduate from the police academy, but I think my career path probably started a lot further back than that.” He glanced up to catch John’s eye. “Both my parents deal with aspects of law enforcement. Mom’s a coroner and Dad works at San Quentin as a guard.”
“They pushed ya toward it?”
Matt shook his head and settled against John’s chest again. “It was never pressed upon me, but that’s the kind of house I grew up in. My parents would talk about work—although now that I’m in it, I realize how much they kept me from hearing. They deal with crimes after they’ve been committed, and as a cop, I do too, but I wanted to be closer to the prevention side than they were. Police officer felt like a good fit.” With a small shrug, he added, “And now it’s led me here. Fate. Or something like it, anyway.”
“I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” John said, so quietly, Matt wondered if he’d meant to say it out loud, as if John’s own honesty had surprised him.
The words stung on some levels, but Matt had already expected John to be hesitant. “You seemed to think it was a good thing an hour or two ago….” He tried to keep his tone light, playful.
John laughed softly and tightened his arm around Matt again. “That’s true enough.”
The rain had eased again, and Matt let his eyes fall shut, imagining what it would be like to be here with John without having to hide. He’d known when he left San Francisco that there were parts of himself he would have to keep buried—parts he’d never had to hide before—but then it occurred to him that John had never been out, had always had to worry about who would see, who would suspect.
“So why are you still here? Magnolia Ridge, I mean, not my house,” Matt clarified. “Given the overall opinion on same-sex anything in this town, I’d have thought maybe you’d want to be somewhere a bit more liberal?”
After a long pause, time for John to think it over, choose his words, maybe, John simply shrugged and said, “It’s my home. It ain’t perfect, but it’s home. Family.” He was quiet for another long moment before saying, “Chloe thinks I got a big plan to move on outta here one day, never look back, but….” He inhaled deeply, let it out slow. “I’m not sure I ever could. Even after Momma and Daddy are gone, I’ll still have my baby sister, my little niece…. Everyone I’ve ever known.”
When Matt glanced up at him, John looked off into the distance, as if he were seeing something in the night sky, some answer to his troubles.
“And it’s gettin’ better, even here, even slowly. It’s been a long time since I heard about anyone gettin’ ripped into, gay bashin’ or whatever you wanna call it.” John paused again, looked at Matt, caught his eye. It seemed to him that John was trying to explain it to himself more than anything.
After a beat or two, John added, “New folk move in all the time. We got us our first lesbians down on DeCan Hill almost two years ago. Those girls seem to do okay. No one bothers ’em much.” He looked away again, gaze tracking a raccoon as it ran across the yard and into a bush. “But I ain’t them. They weren’t raised here, don’t have my momma with her God and her gossip, her pride.” In the end, with the kind of finality that comes etched on a tombstone, John simply said, “I’m her only son.”
Neither of them said anything for a long moment as Matt thought about what John had said.
John broke the silence eventually. “You cold? You wanna go back in?” John asked, a distant sound to his voice.
“Yeah,” Matt breathed, getting the feeling they both knew he wasn’t cold at all.
Chapter Nine
MAYBE IT was the rain, maybe it was the conversation, John didn’t know, but whatever it was, the night had made him feel sleepy, worn-out. As if the darkened sky, the thundering clouds had dropped over him, made him heavier somehow. Being with Matt like that, simply talking, getting to know him—opening up about himself—gave him the urge to burrow down somewhere and never leave. It was dangerous and he knew it, but he didn’t want it to end just yet either.
As he and Matt went inside, he said, “I’m sober enough to head home now.”
Matt turned to face him when he spoke, but John couldn’t quite read his expression. Something close to sadness rested across Matt’s brow, though, and John wanted to wipe it away.
“I’d rather not, though,” he added.
Matt smiled and pulled John closer. “Good,” he said, a soft laugh hidden under his breath. “I would’ve handcuffed you to my bed if you tried to leave now.”
John offered him a slow grin. “That sounds promising.”
With a laugh, Matt gave John a small shove toward the bedroom. “Maybe next time.”
The idea of next time was too complicated to consider, so John shook off the idea and decided to focus on tonight, focus on this time. The few paces it took them to get back to bed were quick and quiet. John let hi
mself fall back against the pillows and then pulled Matt down alongside him.
“You tired?” he asked as he trailed his fingertip down Matt’s bare chest, dipping into the top edge of his sweats.
Matt let out a shuddering breath, soft and sweet. “Not really,” he whispered, wetting his lips. “You?”
In truth, John was tired, and probably still a little drunk, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. Rather than answer, he leaned close and caught Matt’s bottom lip with his teeth. Matt sighed into the kiss, pushed his knee between John’s thighs.
John pressed deeper into Matt’s mouth while Matt shifted, skimming his palm down John’s back. The solid warmth of Matt’s hand against his skin, the way Matt dipped his fingers lower, grabbed John’s ass, made John roll his hips. Even through the soft material of their sweats, their cocks grazed together, hardening almost instantly, and John couldn’t help a small groan as he kissed Matt roughly.
Matt moved next to him, restless, almost distracted. When John realized Matt was trying to push his clothes off, he pulled back. “Guess we don’t need these anymore,” he whispered, leaning close again to bite Matt’s ear as Matt shoved his sweats down around his knees and kicked them off. John ran his rough hands up and down Matt’s body, felt the muscles jump and twitch beneath the warm, smooth skin.
“Sometimes,” Matt whispered, swallowing hard around the word. “Sometimes it feels like I could come just from you touching me.”
“Yeah?” John asked, letting his hand drift farther down Matt’s body, fingertips light and teasing as he brushed them against the dark thatch of hair above Matt’s cock. When Matt nodded in response, John said, “Me too.” He trailed his tongue against the pulse in Matt’s neck, parted his lips to suck gently there. He wanted to mark Matt, claim him, but he didn’t let himself. Instead he took Matt’s mouth in another hungry kiss as Matt pulled John over him.
Settling between Matt’s thighs, John rolled his hips again, grinding Matt’s bare erection against his. He could feel Matt’s breath beating out against his cheek as John pressed closer, grinding himself against Matt now, needy, almost frantic.
When Matt slid his hands down John’s back, pushing at the remainder of John’s clothing, John hissed a curse and rose up on his knees. Even as he slid out of the bottoms, letting them tangle around his ankles, he couldn’t help a long, appreciative look at Matt. The light tan to his skin, the flush of his cheeks, full lips waiting to be kissed again. All for John. At least for the night, though he was starting to believe it was for as many nights as John would allow.
Just as the thought—being with Matt, making this thing between them real, making it right—ran through John’s head, a flash of lightning blazed outside, close enough to light up the room. Thunder exploded only seconds later, shaking the roof, the windows rattling. And how fitting was that? A storm raged right on top of them, synchronized perfectly with the one in John’s head. Maybe even in John’s heart.
He ran his hand down Matt’s body again, stroked Matt’s cock, slicked his thumb over the crown, and drew a shudder from Matt. He nearly asked Matt if he liked it, but the way Matt rocked into the touch, the way he groaned, answered the unspoken question. John moved lower on the bed, leaned in against Matt’s chest. “Know what I wanna do?” he whispered, trailing his lips over the taut muscles, the warm, salty skin. When Matt only whimpered, John went on. “I wanna hole up with you somewhere for as long as we can stand it.” John grazed his teeth across Matt’s nipple as he stroked Matt’s cock again. “Wanna see all the different ways we can make each other come.” He let his breath out in a hot rush as he shifted lower, lips barely brushing against Matt’s ribs as he spoke again. “Wanna fuck you so hard you feel me inside you for days.”
Matt let out an actual whimper before saying, “I think you already accomplished that tonight.” He took another deep breath and looked down at John, grinding his hips against John’s body. “But right now, you’re driving me outta my fucking mind.”
With a grin, playful and predatory, John said, “Good.” He nipped Matt’s skin, then soothed the spot with his tongue before slowly moving higher again. He kicked off his sweats, which were still tangled by his feet, and then straddled Matt’s hips. “I sure do like to look at you,” he said quietly, tracing Matt’s breastbone with a fingertip as he wrapped his other hand around both of their cocks, started slowly stroking them together.
Matt thrust gently into the tight heat of John’s hand, his breath coming in soft pants as precome slicked their erections. “Right now, I’d rather you fuck me than look at me,” Matt said, his voice sounding strained, hinting at desperation.
John simply shook his head and smiled as he let his hands fall away. He reached over to the nightstand and found the lube, grabbed a condom. “Can’t I do both?” he asked, dropping the condom on Matt’s chest. As he drizzled some lube over his fingers, he added, “Or something close to it?” He let Matt watch as he reached behind himself, getting ready.
“That works,” Matt said, his eyes dark and hot as he fumbled with the condom for a beat before unwrapping it and putting it on.
“Good,” John whispered, rising up higher before leaning in for one more kiss. He steadied himself with a hand on the headboard and then slowly lowered himself onto Matt’s cock.
The rain outside fell heavily on the roof, slashed at the windows, but otherwise the room was nearly silent. John could only hear the stilted rhythm of Matt’s breathing, the small sound that escaped John’s throat as he settled against Matt, took Matt all the way in. “Fuck,” he finally whispered, his voice rough as gravel, the single word tight as it left his mouth.
Matt only nodded in response. Maybe it was all he could manage. His brow was furrowed, as if he were in pain, as if he were the one being stretched, filled.
John let his hand fall to Matt’s chest, played his fingers in a restless motion over Matt’s muscles as he started a slow, heavy pace, rising up and falling again. With each motion of John’s hips, a small gasp escaped his lips, drying them as the warm air rushed past. His eyes had slid shut at some point, but when he opened them again, glanced down, Matt was looking at him, a myriad of emotions playing across his face, and John couldn’t name even one of them.
When Matt reached up, wrapped his fingers around John’s neck, John leaned in close, let Matt pull him into a long, hot kiss. The head of his cock grazed Matt’s stomach with every motion, Matt thrusting up into John as John ground down against him.
John pulled back for a breath and whispered, “You’re almost too much for me.” He meant it in every way possible. Almost was an understatement, really.
Matt didn’t respond, but John caught the warm flush that spread up Matt’s throat—over the words or the sensations, John could only guess.
After another long moment, John picked up the tempo, moved faster over Matt. His breath hitched tightly in his throat as he felt his release surging through him. With more effort than should have been necessary, John trailed his hand lower and wrapped his fingers around his own cock, stroking himself in time with their clumsy, heated rhythm.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Matt said, the words sounding forced, his breath coming in heavy pants. He watched for a beat or two and then glanced up to catch John’s eye again. He didn’t say anything else, but John could see Matt’s muscles tense, watched the way Matt moved under him, watched him losing control.
John rose up and fell back again, groaning loudly when Matt thrust into him, as if he’d been holding back until now. John almost regretted their position, wished he could be under Matt, wanted to feel the full force of his body, his strength as Matt fucked him, but it was too late for that. They were both on the verge of release, and there was no way John would stop now.
“Christ, you feel so good, baby,” he muttered, the words barely coherent as he drove himself back harder, taking Matt’s cock deep inside.
Through gritted teeth, Matt replied, “Say my name.”
Something about Ma
tt’s commanding tone, his refusal to be another nameless fuck that John could simply walk away from, sent a shock of heat through John, a sharp tremor of want he’d never felt before. “Matt,” he whispered. “You feel so fucking good, Matt.” And with that final word—Matt’s name on his lips—John let out a sudden cry, gasping for breath as he came hot and wet across Matt’s chest.
Everything in him wanted to collapse on top of Matt, wanted to pause and savor the sensations, but instead he rose higher and fell back harder, drawing a hungry groan from Matt. “You gonna come for me?”
Matt shifted under him again, his fingers pressing in against John’s hips as if to steady him, hold him there. John ground against him, trying to give him what he needed. He let his head drop back, as if looking to the sky, as if in prayer, and Matt offered one more small thrust—probably all he could manage from his position—but it seemed to be enough.
With another harsh gasp, another curse that sounded almost reverent, almost awestruck, Matt came deep inside him.
John stilled for a long moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Matt’s throat. “I hope you weren’t planning on a round three tonight,” he joked, his voice rough, skin heated with sweat. “I’m not sure I could take it.”
“The night’s almost over,” Matt said in response.
And goddamn it if he wasn’t right. For the first time in a long time, John didn’t want the sun to rise.
SOMETIME IN the early morning, just as the sky began to lighten, just as dawn seemed to push the storm clouds back to wherever they’d come from, John lay awake next to Matt. He watched Matt sleep for a long moment, watched the subtle, steady movements of Matt’s body as he inhaled and exhaled. He had to swallow hard, remind himself of why it was a bad idea to linger.
In truth, that was all John wanted to do. He wanted to let Matt wake up next to him, wanted to fuck him again, talk a little more, make breakfast together like normal folk do on a Sunday morning when they’re first getting together and all they want is to be with each other.