by M. K. Lee
Matthew's got a third finger in him, his free hand in a tight fist by his side with how wound up he is by the sight in front of him, how ready he is for this. Joel drops his knees back until his feet are on the bed then pistons himself hard against Matthew's fingers with a grunt, reaching between his legs to gently grip around Matthew's wrist and pull those fingers out.
"Now," Joel commands, though it's shaky and gasping and so desperate Matthew's whimpering himself. Trembling fingers snag up the condom and tear open the foil, and Joel helps him slide the condom over his head and down his shaft. He grabs the lube up to squirt a little more into his palm that he slides over Matthew's now-wrapped cock a couple of times before he's falling back against the bed and spreading his legs again.
Matthew shifts on his knees and forces a couple of breaths. This is the first time he's done this and as anxious as he is to be inside Joel, he also wants to catalogue the entire thing. He presses his hands against Joel's cheeks, slides his thumbs either side of his hole and pulls, sucking in a breath at that glistening invitation making his cock twitch just for seeing. Another shift forward; Matthew presses his cock tip right in the centre of that hole, biting down on his lip at the dull press of resistance. He curls his hips a tiny fraction and feels his tip slipping in. Another roll and it's a little deeper, and another, until there's a slick give and his cock head's breached him, already inside.
The feel of that muscle already pushing back and contracting around his head has Matthew stuttering. He glances up to check Joel's face; his gaze is down and greedily watching Matthew slip inside him. Matthew presses forward, savouring every inch that's swallowing him in, angling himself back so he can watch the way Joel is stretched wide around him.
Another inch, another flood of heat; the tightness of Joel squeezing around his cock is overwhelming but so very, very good. How is he ever supposed to want to leave this tight, wet warmth when it feels so fucking good, he thinks to himself, incredulous. And then he's fully seated, as deep inside Joel as he can go, his balls pressing flush against his ass and his hands gripping hard around his hips as he grinds that little bit more, forcing out a broken wail from Joel that seems to vibrate along his cock.
Joel gapes up at him, desperate, tilts his chin in encouragement. Matthew curls his fingers a little, rolls his hips back, moans at the drag of Joel's walls along his shaft as he pulls out of him and is helpless against the sharp, hard thrust he gives to fill him once again. Joel is nothing but encouraging, gasps and whimpers despite the fact they're barely even moving yet. Matthew gives another roll of his hips and falls forward with a groan, closing his eyes to all of it as he gets used to how Joel feels around him.
Down on his forearms for support, Matthew braces against the bed and shifts for comfort, the stirring of his cock inside Joel making them both groan. He begins a long, steady roll of his hips without breaking eye contact, watching the way Joel's mouth forms repeated ohs of pleasure with every thrust into him.
When Joel starts rolling his hips back, Matthew's head falls against his shoulder with a grunt. But then he's lifting it back up, leaning to claim a kiss, and within a few more rolls of their hips they've got themselves a steady rhythm, moan after moan between choked out encouragements at how good they feel to each other.
Matthew shifts a touch and then lets out a stuttered gasp at the feel of Joel clenching around him. He looks down at the expression on Joel's face and does it again, this time making his head fall back with a heavy moan. When Joel raises his head he mumbles to Matthew about how to angle himself up inside him, and the exploration leaves them both groaning. Matthew's positive that Joel's arch against him as he clenches is one of the hottest experiences of his life.
He's striking at Joel repeatedly now he's found the perfect angle. Joel's answering groans and whimpers becoming more broken and the wrap of his legs around Matthew's waist deepening that angle and making them both cry out all over again. And though Matthew convinced himself he'd be considerate and gentle this first time between them because he didn't think he'd know what he was doing, he's soon helpless but to grip Joel tighter, fuck him harder, chase that pleasured heat that's the only thing he can focus on.
Joel's just as frantic with erratic rolls of his hips and the clawing of his fingers into Matthew's back where they're definitely leaving their mark. There's a constant roll of grunts and moans and slaps of skin on skin as Matthew pounds him into the bed, senseless with want. Joel's breathing starts coming out in punches. Matthew glances down and sees his leaking cock, how hard it is, how ready it is to be emptied. He goes to shift himself on to one arm so he can reach to finish him off but then Joel is arching, crying out hard, and coming with nothing but Matthew's cock punching into him. Matthew has less than a second to re-evaluate his earlier thoughts and decides that this is the hottest thing he's ever seen. And then the flutter of Joel's hole around him has him give a final gasp and thrust and he's coming, grinding himself hard up against Joel uncontrollably and digging his fingers into the bed.
Thoroughly spent, Matthew can't stop the way his arms give out on him, and he's falling against Joel's chest making him expel an oof at the suddenness of it. But Joel's soon stroking gentle fingers all over his back and pressing kisses to the side of his head and anywhere he can get to, and Matthew buries his face in the crook of his neck, waiting for his breathing to even out.
When it feels like they're both a little steadier Matthew lifts his head up, stares down at Joel beneath him wide-eyed and so completely shocked that Joel actually grins at him. "Fucking hell," he manages to blast out before angling his head up to claim a kiss from him. His fingers slide into the back of Matthew's hair and pull him down to hold him still, soft moans escaping as he kisses him and a warm hand splays against his back in claim.
It's several more minutes before Matthew can get himself up on shaky knees, grip around his base and withdraw himself. Joel smiles, lifts his hips up in invitation for Matthew to look at him. Joel's hole is so red, so open, so thoroughly fucked out it has Matthew whimpering all over again for seeing it.
Matthew shimmies his way off the bed on shaking legs and gripping on to Joel's knee for support. He pulls off and ties the condom then leans over Joel for a soft kiss and a promise to be back soon. He grabs two beers from the fridge, enjoying the coolness of the bottles against his skin, puts them on the side of the sink in the bathroom as he wets a towel under the hot tap then returns to the bedroom, his stomach rippling at Joel still laid there spent and spread eagle.
Joel grins up at him as Matthew wipes him down, pushing himself upright to shuffle back against the headboard and accept the beer from him. They clink the bottles together as Matthew sits down beside him, and Joel leans over to nuzzle against his shoulder before sitting back up with a sated sigh.
He hesitates for a second but then Matthew's lifting his arm up in invitation for Joel to cuddle up to him. Joel hums as he shuffles against him and nuzzles into his neck, smiling there when Matthew drops his arm back down around him and pulls him in. They finish their beers in near-silence, with Joel grabbing their empty bottles and turning to push them on the side. Then he's rolling over and straddling Matthew's lap and settling there, wrapping his arms around his neck and leaning in to kiss him thoroughly.
Matthew slides his hands up Joel's back then drops them to lightly hold around his hips. He swears Joel purrs against him and smiles into his mouth as he continues kissing him. "You feel. Fucking. Incredible," Joel announces later, dropping kisses along his shoulder and letting out a low hum of pleasure that's almost like an echo of the sounds he'd made earlier when Matthew was inside him. "You just... fuck... fuck," he manages, before he's leaning and kissing him insistently all over again.
Matthew darts his tongue into his mouth and moans a little himself, holding on to the back of Joel's neck to angle him just as he wants him as he explores. "I really, really liked fucking you," he blasts out all of a sudden. "You feel... it's... so fucking good," Joel groans in answer, claimi
ng a harder kiss.
They curl into each other beneath the duvet, continuing their almost constant exploration as they kiss. It's late when Matthew's curled up against Joel's chest and enjoying the circles he's trailing across his back when he stills, then buries a little deeper against him with a groan. "Your washing," he says as he remembers, though is immediately distracted by the way Joel's nipple stands to attention at his exhale of breath.
"I don't need it right away," Joel tells him with a soft stroke of fingers through his hair. "Maybe I can pick it up next time I'm over?" Matthew hums, licks out over that nipple and nuzzles against him all over again.
It takes forever for them to pull apart, for Joel to force himself to stand and half-heartedly get dressed in his borrowed clothing. Matthew shrugs into his boxers as though it's some kind of terrible ordeal and leaves Joel to use the bathroom while he moves their washing to the dryer and drops the beer bottles into the bag for recycling.
Warm arms slide around his middle, and kisses are pressed between his shoulder blades as he's held close. "Thank you," Joel whispers, and Matthew's stomach gives another ripple. Joel turns him in his arms and backs him up against the counter, kissing him hard.
The urge to ask Joel to stay is pushing against the back of his throat. Matthew tries to judge from Joel's expression if that would be welcome or not then curses at himself for even considering pushing things. Then Joel's pulling him into a warm hug, whispering the sweetest of sleepy things into his ear, and they're standing at Matthew's doorway with neither one of them seeming ready for Joel to leave.
"Early start tomorrow," Joel says eventually when they've been holding hands and hips and just staring for far too long. "Got a lab inspection with head office." Matthew nods, gives a flicker of a smile and is powerless against the urge to lean in and kiss him a final time. Joel pulls him into his arms once again then pulls away abruptly, rolling his eyes at himself and grinning.
"See you soon?" Matthew asks, then bites on his lip as though that can force the words back in, in case they've come out as needy as they feel in his own head. Joel huffs and nods, turning away from him.
"You're lucky I'm leaving at all," he calls over his shoulder. "Fucking me like that? Don't know how I even managed to drag myself from your bed."
Matthew lets out a burst of laughter, not caring if the neighbours heard that, or Joel's comments, or even the sounds that had to have been coming from his bedroom earlier. He waits until Joel's at the top of the stairwell and waving before he waves back, ducks inside, and leans back against the door with a groan of satisfaction rippling right through him.
Chapter Eight
Another week passes busily between work and studying, and although Matthew can think of little else all week other than seeing Joel again he doesn't push it. Even though he wants to, even though last Sunday when Joel had a weekend away with his old uni friends Matthew spent the entire day cleaning and rewriting assignments, and almost pacing with the urgency of wanting to see him again. This thing's supposed to be easy, supposedly not all-encompassing. Certainly not supposed to leave him pining for someone he's not even supposed to be caring that much about.
But when the only thing Matthew finds himself looking forward to every day is hearing from Joel he knows he's in trouble. He's too dependent on this, far too expectant. What if Joel had come back from his weekend away and told him he'd met up with someone? That they needed to stop what they were doing because there was someone else? The thought horrifies Matthew, though not as much as the realisation of just how much Joel's come to mean to him in such a short space of time. And then Matthew's counting up the weeks, surprised to find it's been more than three months already. He doesn't know if that realisation makes him feel better or worse.
This calls for drastic action, Matthew tells himself, frantically typing out a message to Sarah and asking if this Saturday they can stay in at hers, watch a film, get obscenely drunk enough for him not to have the energy to miss Joel this Sunday if he's already made other plans. But to his surprise Sarah's answer is coy and non-committal, doing nothing but arouse his suspicion. When she calls him an hour later she apologises, saying she's going away to some sort of retreat thing that is so out of character he howls with laughter down the phone, as Sarah tries to answer haughtily then bursts into laughter at herself as well.
But then a couple of things happen. Martin, Matthew's line manager, announces an impromptu proper work night out which involves a sit down meal and a tab behind the bar that likely means Matthew's not going to be seeing this side of Saturday morning. And then he gets a message from Joel that Matthew decides is ludicrously sweet, laced with shyness, and makes him beam. "I know we haven't done this before," it reads, "but if you haven't already made plans I was wondering if you'd like to come over to mine on Saturday night and stay. You'd be at mine on Sunday anyway. I just thought I could return the dinner favour. Only if you want to though—no pressure."
As Matthew's rereading the message for the third time another comes through that makes him laugh out hard, forgetting he's sat at his desk. "Aside from that: gives you ample recovery time in between each time I make you come." Matthew realises a second later that a, the message isn't that funny, and b, laughing hysterically whilst grinning foolishly at his phone is going to get him some attention from the colleagues sat around him.
"New girl?" Pete says, as if on cue, peering over the divider between their desks.
"New guy?" Simon asks, rolling towards him on his chair when Matthew shakes his head. Matthew hastily locks his screen and makes up, of all things, a story about some guy sending Sarah a dick pic and her forwarding it to him for his opinion. This keeps them all occupied for a few minutes of idle speculation and Matthew worries about how easy the lie came to him. But when everyone else has lost interest he quickly types back a reply to Joel saying he loves the idea, asking what time he should come over.
Saturday morning arrives and as Matthew was expecting, his body is a nightmare landscape of pounding head, rolling stomach, and dry tongue. He groans, drags himself from his bed to greedily swallow water and painkillers before crawling back into it and throwing the duvet over his head. Matthew sleeps another couple of hours and wakes marginally better, grumbles his way through a shower and presses his fingers to his stomach, determining if food will help or hinder his recovery.
Dressing quickly Matthew leaves his apartment, heading for a cafe that he's visited on numerous hangover occasions like this one. On the way he's mentally going over a list of the things he's having on his all day breakfast, and he's just up to adding extra rashers of bacon to his imaginary order when his world crashes to a halt.
He's not had any messages from Joel yet this morning which is sort of unusual, but in his awareness of the need to try and rein in his growing feelings for Joel, Matthew's been trying not to overthink it too much. But when he passes the coffee shop a couple of doors down from the cafe he's heading to, he comes to a stumbled stop outside the window, breath catching painfully in his throat at the sight of Joel. Sitting practically on top of him on the sofa is a guy he doesn't recognise.
Matthew's stomach gives a painful jolt that's no longer anything to do with the amount of alcohol he drank last night. He feels sick. The guy, who he can't help but decide is much more attractive than himself, is leaning in, and seconds later he's cradled in Joel's arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck.
Matthew watches for another tortuous minute as Joel's visible shoulder rolls in a gesture Matthew knows is from him running a comforting hand over the guy's back. He takes a step backwards, swallowing rapidly against the bile pooling in his throat, apologises to the person he bumps into because he's not looking, then turns a little too swiftly on his heel.
In a daze, Matthew walks around his local corner shop, far too stunned to deal with the noise and brightness of an actual supermarket. He picks up a pack of bacon, some eggs, a few other things to make a meal out of then trudges his way home, white noise rushing
in at him from all sides. The bacon and eggs on toast mop up the alcohol, but he's still adrift, stunned, winded from what he's seen.
Matthew goes over a dozen scenarios in which he confronts Joel, blocks his number, refuses to answer his door, breaks down in front of him, moves apartment. Each one ends with him alone and hurting, and he feels so very lost he doesn't know what to do with himself. Out of habit he reaches for his phone to message Sarah. There's a message there waiting for him from Joel and it freezes him in his tracks, still staring at it several minutes later before a shaky thumb swipes out to open it up to read.
"Hey," it opens with, easy as anything, "hope you're not feeling too rough this morning. I didn't want to message you too early because I presumed you'd be sleeping it off. I'm sure I can think of a thing or two tonight to make you feel better when you get here—I'll be home from about four but probably not ready until six—but if you don't mind entertaining yourself (in whatever way you want—especially if I can watch if it's the naked kind of self-entertainment) then you're welcome to come here earlier whilst I do a couple of things. See you soon."
Matthew stares at the message and rereads it several times, anger surging through him at the lack of an explanation for what Joel's been doing this morning. He goes back and forth at the source of his anger. Joel, because he's hurt him, and himself, because he's expected too much and allowed feelings to get involved in something that was only ever supposed to be a bit of fun. And at least for him, a learning curve.
But whatever Matthew's telling himself, he is hurting—he's really hurting. He can't help but let his mind wander to Rebecca, his gaze drifting to the places she used to occupy in this very apartment. The way she'd left him, torn and broken, adamant he'd never care about anyone else ever again.
They'd been together in a turbulent mess for about two years. Lived together for more than half that time, and had made plans together for the future within these very four walls. Talked about marriage, kids, all the things associated with normal. Then one day, a clear autumnal one with the leaves already topaz and russet, Rebecca announced out of the blue that she was leaving. No signs of difficulty, no obvious ongoing problems. Just decided that she was living a lie because she didn't love him, that apparently she'd been working up the courage to tell him that for months.