by L. A. Witt
Jon gave as good as he got, too. His fingers were strong and unrelenting, and hot when they slid under Matt’s T-shirt. His kiss wasn’t just enthusiastic, it was demanding. Bruising, even. Matt had been in bed with plenty of women who were aggressive, but there was something about Jon’s aggression that drove him wild. He was nothing like Derek, who’d seemed almost as curious and tentative as Matt had been. No, Jon knew what he wanted, and apparently he knew how to get it—if he kept this up, there wasn’t much Matt wouldn’t do if he asked.
God, I want this. I want you. I . . . wow.
Matt shivered in Jon’s embrace. All the defenses he’d put up around his alleged heterosexuality were rubble at their feet.
And why stop at Jon’s mouth? He had this entire man all to himself. Jon was his to explore and kiss and touch, so he slid his hands down over Jon’s ass. Jon ground against him, tilting his head back with a moan. Now that his own mouth was unoccupied, Matt leaned down to kiss Jon’s neck. He let his lips skate up and down the side of his throat. He’d done this millions of times with women, but it was so different now. The shape of his neck. The contour of his Adam’s apple. The slight coarseness before his five o’clock shadow ended. The low voice—more like a deep growl—vibrating against Matt’s lips. It was all so new and exciting, and he couldn’t get enough.
Jon grabbed his hair, pulled his head back, and kissed him again, and Matt was surprised he didn’t melt right there in Jon’s arms. This had all come out of nowhere, but now that it was happening, he wanted to throw himself headlong into it and not come up for air until he was completely and utterly spent.
With Derek, it had been curiosity. Okay, a threesome in which they were both supposed to have been focusing on giving Lisa the birthday present of her life, but had gotten a little drunk, a little carried away, and a lot into each other, much to Lisa’s delight. Matt had been caught up in the moment, already naked with an obviously willing man, and decided he had nothing to lose by experimenting. The excitement and curiosity and maybe too much wine had gotten the best of him.
This time, it was straight-up desire. He wanted Jon’s dick in his mouth. He wanted to get him off. Feel him. Hear him. Taste him. No alcohol. No audience. Just a hot man who already had him pinned to the wall in a kiss that was so intense it bordered on violent, and Matt was genuinely shocked he hadn’t come right there in his jeans.
The air pressure changed and the bells on the door jangled.
“Shit.” Matt shoved Jon back, not that he met any resistance. He leaned out of the doorway as three guys around his age filed into the shop. One looked familiar, and Matt vaguely remembered tattooing him recently. Which meant he might be back for more, and the guys with him were potential new clients he couldn’t afford to turn away. Crap.
He cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, I’m just finishing up with another client. I’ll be with you guys in just a second.”
“Sure,” one said. “No problem.”
Heart pounding, Matt stepped back into the room and dropped his voice to barely a whisper. “Listen, I gotta—”
“I know.” Jon kissed him again. “Come to my place afterward.”
Matt blinked. “Really?”
“Oh yeah,” Jon breathed. “Don’t care how late it is.” He swept his tongue across his lips. “Give me your number and I’ll text you my address.”
He was forward and demanding, and some part of Matt wanted to ask who the hell he thought he was, giving him orders like that. Whatever part that was didn’t say anything, though. Matt’s mind was blown, and if Jon didn’t take charge, no one would.
“Okay. I’ll . . . um . . .” He glanced around, then took a business card out of his pocket. He quickly scrawled his cell on the back of it, double-checked he’d written the numbers in the right order, and pressed it into Jon’s hand. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Jon grinned. “I’m looking forward to it.”
* * *
By the time Matt had finished adding some text to the memorial tattoo he’d done a few months ago, worked out custom designs for the two new guys, and collected deposits for their appointments the next day, it was almost ten thirty.
Disappointment tugged at his gut. There was a message on Matt’s phone with the address, but he doubted the invitation extended to “even if you don’t get out of there for a couple of hours.” By now, Jon had probably jerked off and gone to sleep.
Except he had said “Don’t care how late it is.” Had he bargained for Matt taking this long?
It was worth a try, so he swallowed his nerves and sent, It’s late. We still on?
Then he busied himself with closing up the shop. As he was coming back in from taking out the trash, his phone chirped with a response from Jon.
I am if you are.
That was promising. Matt didn’t waste any more time—he quickly finished the last few closing tasks, locked the shop, and got the hell out of there.
Fortunately, Jon didn’t live far from the shop. Not fifteen minutes after Matt left, he pulled into a condominium complex, and the GPS told him he’d reached his destination. He parked in a guest spot.
He half jogged up the walk to Jon’s condo, but stopped short of the door and gnawed his lip. Was he doing this? Making out in the shop was one thing. There’d only been so much they could really get away with there, or Colin—and the health department—would have had his head. Behind closed doors in the privacy of Jon’s place? Nothing to hold them back except Matt’s inhibitions.
He gulped. It wasn’t too late. He’d be a pussy in Jon’s eyes, but he could bow out, go home, and—
And take care of yet another raging hard-on that has Jon’s name all over it.
Fuck inhibitions. He strode up to Jon’s door and knocked.
The door opened in seconds, and their eyes met. Oh yeah. Fuck inhibitions. That man right there? Matt wanted him. Naked. Hard. Sweating. Now.
Jon hooked a finger under Matt’s belt and tugged him inside. They barely made it past the door before they picked up right where they’d left off—Jon pinning Matt to a wall and kissing him hungrily.
Shame about all the clothes in the way, but then Matt remembered there were solutions to that. He unbuckled Jon’s belt with ease, though he fumbled with the fly. Zippers were a whole lot simpler without the distraction of a thick bulge underneath. Somehow, though, he got the zipper down, and with a little more fumbling, freed Jon’s erection. They both sucked in sharp breaths as Matt wrapped his fingers around Jon’s cock.
His pulse surged as if it were his cock in Jon’s hand. Oh God. They were doing this. He was really pressed up against another man—this man in particular—and stroking his naked, hard cock. Just him and Jon with all night to do whatever they wanted to each other. Intimidating as fuck? Yes. Insanely hot? Oh hell yes.
Enough? Not even close.
Ignoring his nerves, Matt nudged Jon back a step and went to his knees. With a hand on Jon’s hip to steady both of them, he took Jon’s cock into his mouth as far as he could before his gag reflex started to protest, and then backed off a little.
“Oh yeah,” Jon breathed. “That feels good.”
Matt did it again, though slower this time, and Jon murmured a few curses. He tried to remember everything various women had done—and what Derek had done—that he’d enjoyed. And for that matter, what he’d done that had made Derek moan.
Swirling his tongue around the head made Jon tremble. Fluttering the tip just beneath the crown made him curse again. He cautiously deep-throated as much as he was comfortable, and stroked the rest of the shaft with his hand. Jon’s hips rocked slightly, not enough to force himself into Matt’s throat, but definitely enough to encourage him to do it again. And again. And again. Matt’s own cock strained the front of his pants. He was tempted to stroke himself, but then he wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
“Oh Jesus,” Jon purred. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up.”
He kept it up. Jon released a low,
guttural groan, and his cock got even thicker, even harder, between Matt’s lips. Matt wasn’t sure what to expect, what it would feel like to have Jon come in his mouth, but he wanted to find out. No one had ever choked when he’d come, so he doubted he’d would when Jon came, so to hell with it.
Abruptly, though, Jon put a hand on Matt’s forehead and tugged himself free. “Wait. Not . . . not yet.”
Matt sat back on his heels and gazed up, lips throbbing. “You didn’t like it?”
“Oh God, I loved what you were doing.” Jon offered a hand, and as he helped Matt to his feet, he added, “But I don’t want to come yet.” He kissed him, and murmured, “I haven’t even seen you naked.”
Matt shivered, arching into Jon as he did. “We should do something about that.”
“Uh-huh. Good idea.” He led Matt down the hall and they tumbled into bed together. Kissing. Groping. Panting. Fuck, this man was amazing. The first time Matt had been with a guy, he’d been a little too drunk and caught up in the moment to really focus on him, but he didn’t have that problem now. After years of refusing to even entertain the idea of what it would be like to touch and taste a man, he ran his hands and lips all over Jon like he could make up for all that lost time in one night.
He loved Jon’s broadness. His strength. Jon wasn’t a huge guy, but there was nothing delicate about him. Every inch of him was solid and powerful, and Matt couldn’t get enough of sliding his hands over him, kissing him, even biting him here and there.
It wasn’t just that Jon was a man, and therefore different from every woman Matt had ever touched. It was him. The kind of arrogant, kind of uncertain pilot who gritted his teeth through a tattoo he didn’t want, all in the name of pride, and had bumbled his way through a conversation about another tattoo that he also didn’t want, all in the name of reconnecting with Matt. He was intriguing as all hell—Matt didn’t just want to memorize his body, he wanted to get to know him.
Tonight it was all about the physical, though. All about touching, tasting, and figuring out what it took to make Jon come hard enough to wake his neighbors.
Jon rolled him onto his back and pinned him there, just like he’d pinned him to the wall. Matt had never thought that kind of thing would turn him on, but holy fuck, it did. The sheer strength, the aggression, the roughness—oh God, more.
Still kissing him, Jon cupped Matt’s dick and rubbed it through his pants, and that turned Matt’s whole body into a trembling mess. He tried to tell him not to stop. Okay, maybe stop and unzip his fly so they didn’t have all those clothes in the way. But don’t stop.
His mouth wouldn’t work for anything but kissing, though, so he just pressed into Jon’s palm and moaned.
Jon broke the kiss with a couple of slurred curses, and started on Matt’s neck. As he did, he murmured, “So much I want to do, I don’t even know where to start.”
Matt closed his eyes and tilted his head to expose as much skin as possible to Jon’s hungry lips. “Tell me. What you want to do.”
“Everything,” Jon growled. The heel of his hand rubbed up and down Matt’s clothed dick, and Matt couldn’t help pushing back. Jon nipped his earlobe. “I just want . . . there’s so . . .” He shivered, squeezing Matt’s dick harder, and panted, “I want you to fuck me.” The desperation in his voice aroused Matt in ways he’d never felt before.
“Oh God,” was all Matt could say.
“Been thinking about that since I left the shop.” Jon nipped Matt’s earlobe again, harder this time. Then he paused and met Matt’s gaze, his expression serious. “You don’t have to, though. Not every guy is into anal. So it’s okay if you decide you’re not.”
“I’m good. We’ll see about bottoming, but I know I like being on top.”
Jon bit his lip and squirmed, rubbing Matt’s erection harder. “And I’ll bet you’re damn good at it, too.”
Matt laughed. “Guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?”
“Oh fuck.” Jon squeezed Jon’s cock. “Don’t make me beg.”
Any other night, Matt would’ve done exactly that, but he was too turned on and too overwhelmed to do anything except moan, “Yeah.”
Jon gave him another deep, bruising kiss, and then lifted himself up on his arms. “Let’s get these clothes off.”
Matt stripped out of his clothes like they were on fire, and Jon wasn’t any slower. As soon as they were naked, they moved in for another kiss, but Jon stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I’m gonna get a condom.” With that, he leaned toward the nightstand.
Matt sat up. His pulse was racing with arousal and anticipation, but also some nerves. Except it was ridiculous to be nervous. It wasn’t like it was his first time having anal. Not even his first time with a man.
Just my first time with you.
Jon came back and pushed a condom into Matt’s hand in the same moment he pushed his tongue into his mouth, and they kissed hungrily as neither of them got any closer to actually putting the condom on. Not even when Jon pleaded, “Fuck me,” in between kisses. Matt groaned something that he hoped came across as “I will as soon as I can stop kissing you for five seconds.”
But they didn’t stop kissing. Matt loved the way Jon kissed, and even the prospect of riding his gorgeous ass wasn’t enough to pull him away from his talented, enthusiastic mouth.
Abruptly, though, Jon pried them apart. “I can’t wait.”
Matt was stunned for a second by the lack of Jon’s lips against his, but then he remembered the foil packet in his hand. He tore it with his teeth, and as he put on the condom, Jon grabbed the lube off the nightstand. As soon as the condom was in place—Matt still couldn’t believe he’d had the manual dexterity to put it on—Jon slathered lube over every inch of it.
“I so want to kiss you some more,” he said, lips inches from Matt’s, “but then we’ll start making out again, and I won’t get . . .” He gave Matt’s dick an emphatic squeeze.
Matt groaned. “Keep doing that, and you’re gonna get me off.”
“Well, in that case.” Jon grinned and let him go. They exchanged a quick kiss, and then Jon turned onto his hands and knees. Matt wanted to sit there and stare for a moment, taking in the sight of that lean, powerful body just waiting for his cock, but every second he stared was another second he wasn’t buried inside him.
He knelt behind Jon, heart pounding and nerves fluttering in his stomach. The familiar tattoo on Jon’s right butt cheek did weird things to Matt’s pulse. It wasn’t the first time he’d been with someone wearing his ink, but it was hotter this time. Like he’d marked Jon. Claimed him. Made tonight a foregone conclusion. As if all those fantasies he’d tried to ignore while laying down that ink had actually come true.
Blood pounded in his ears. He couldn’t get inside Jon fast enough, but he took his time, guiding himself in and pressing in slowly. He’d had anal with enough women—and one man—to know better than to just force himself inside. Slow and easy, at least to start.
Jon wasn’t having it, though. He braced against the headboard and slammed himself back, impaling himself on Matt’s dick and taking every inch in one deep thrust.
“Oh fuck!” Matt grabbed Jon’s hips as he tried to catch his breath.
“Don’t hold back,” Jon moaned. “I can take it. Trust me.”
Apparently he could, so Matt fucked him for all he was worth. He grabbed on and thrust hard, his hips slapping against Jon’s ass, and Jon rewarded him with low, ragged groans. A shudder ran up Jon’s spine, and he clenched around Matt’s dick, and Matt’s eyes rolled back. He wasn’t usually the type to go off quickly, but he was so turned on, so overwhelmed . . .
“Oh my God,” he murmured, fighting to keep his rhythm even as every thrust drove him closer to coming. “So not gonna last. Fuck. I’m—fuck!”
Jon rocked back against him even harder, grunting each time he took Matt’s cock, and he did . . . Christ, something with his hips. Rolled them? Matt didn’t know. He just knew it was amazing. Mind-blowing.
Enough to put any thoughts of holding back right out of his mind. He wanted to come. Needed to. He was . . . he was going to come in Jon. After years of denial and days of fantasizing, nothing in the world was hotter than knowing he was about to—
His orgasm knocked him forward with a helpless moan. He shoved Jon down onto his forearms, and kept thrusting, kept trying to get as deep inside him as possible as he came harder than he had in ages. “Fuck . . . oh, fuck . . .” One last shudder, and he slumped over Jon. “Oh my God.”
“You sure you haven’t done this before?” Jon slurred.
“Never said I hadn’t fucked anyone before.” Matt kissed the sweat-dampened side of Jon’s neck. “Just new to fucking men.”
Jon gave a soft huff of laughter. “Practice has done you well.”
“Aside from not lasting long?”
Jon turned his head a bit. “Who said we were done?”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Matt pulled out, and paused to nip the back of Jon’s shoulder before he got up. “Be right back.”
“Be right here.”
Matt’s legs were wobbly as hell. Damn. He’d had the kind of sex that left him struggling to walk before, but this time, he felt downright drunk. His knees were rubbery, his balance all over the place, his head spinning. Good God, he felt amazing.
With some effort, he made it into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. As he washed his hands, he met his own gaze in the mirror. Oh yeah, he was a wreck—sweaty, flushed, hair messed up, lips swollen from kissing. He grinned at himself. Fuck yeah.
He dried his hands and returned to the bedroom. As he approached the bed, he had to pause and take in everything laid out in front of him. The rumpled sheets. The pillows scattered all over the place. And of course, in the middle of the bed—Jon. He’d turned over onto his back, and he lay there, grinning up at Matt as he slowly stroked his thick, hard cock.
Matt’s mouth watered. He joined Jon in bed, nudged his hand out of the way, and closed his fingers around that prominent erection. “I should probably do something about this, shouldn’t I?”