by E M Lindsey
“Ha. Do you want to sleep with me tonight?”
Tony snorted and nodded. “Yeah. Though, don’t use it on the poor guy if you don’t mean it.”
“I do,” Mat said. “I…yeah. I do.”
“Then go get ‘em, because I think your boy looks ready to bolt.”
Mat swiveled around and saw Wyatt at the bar talking to Amit. After a second, Wyatt took Amit’s arm and was led down the dark corridor toward the door Mat knew led to the alley. Fuck.
“Go,” Tony urged again. “I’ll be right here to drive your two dumbasses home once you get it all figured out. Okay?”
“Okay,” Mat breathed out. “Also, if you could maybe not say anything to anyone… I mean, if you want to tell Kat, because I know how you two are, but no one else? For now.”
“Not until you tell them yourself. But for the record…” Tony trailed off.
“I know,” Mat murmured. “I do. They’ll still love me.”
“Might love you more for it. Hell, might be a little pissed they never got a chance to give ole’ Matty a ride.”
“You’re disgusting and I hate you,” Mat said, hopping off the bar. “I’ll be back in a few.”
“Take your time,” Tony called, and went back to his beer as Mat hurried down after Wyatt and Amit.
Chapter Eleven
Mat made it into the alley and around the corner, finding Wyatt and Amit just before his panic started to step in. He was twenty feet away from where the pair of them were standing, near a stack of delivery crates, and Amit looked up when he heard Mat approaching.
Mat watched as Amit leaned in to say something, and then watched as Wyatt hesitated before nodding. There was a tension Mat wasn’t expecting, and Amit gave him a sort of dark look as he passed by. It was unusual for his friend to say absolutely nothing to him, but he had a feeling Tony was right. Mat had been clearly missing signs and clearly hurting Wyatt in the process. He wished he could blame his head injury on that, but it was him being a dip-shit.
“Hey,” Mat said when he was close enough.
Wyatt’s jaw tensed and he nodded. “Look, I need to…”
“Let me just,” they began at the same time. Mat huffed a tiny laughed. “Can I go first? I just…I learned his new French phrase for you. And um, I thought maybe if I say it right, you’d have another reward for me.”
Wyatt swallowed thickly, then nodded and said barely above a whisper, “Alright.”
Mat wished he hadn’t hurt Wyatt at all, but he was hoping now this made up for it. He stepped in close—close enough to touch, though he didn’t just yet. He curled his hands into fists and took a breath. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?”
Wyatt blinked. “Everyone knows that one,” he murmured.
Mat closed the distance between them, letting his chest brush against Wyatt’s. “I don’t think you’re listening.” When Wyatt didn’t pull back, Mat dared a further touch—put a hand to his cheek and he died a little inside when Wyatt leaned into his palm. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir, Wyatt.”
Wyatt’s eyes were tightly closed, his hands stiff at his sides, and he let out a small puff of air through his parted lips. “I can’t…I can’t take this if it’s a joke.”
“It isn’t,” Mat told him. He leaned further into Wyatt’s space, pushed until Wyatt’s iron control slipped and he lifted his hands, cupping either side of Mat’s neck. “I’ve wanted you probably since the day you hooked my phone up to your speakers. And I tried to ignore it, but every single time I was with you—for learning braille, for playing fucking poker, for learning stupid French pick-up lines that would probably get me laughed right out of Québec—I wanted you more.”
“I can’t be an experiment, Mateo,” Wyatt told him. “I don’t have the strength for it.”
“I’m not straight,” Mat confessed in a soft tone. He bowed his head and let his forehead brush along Wyatt’s. “I’ve known for a long time. Since I was a teenager. I just…I guess I felt like I didn’t have a right to that identity because I’d never acted on it. My ex and I were together for so fucking long, and I was afraid of taking up space in a community that I’d never stood in before.”
“C’est ridicule,” Wyatt murmured. He reached up to touch Mat’s chin, lifting his head. Wyatt’s eyes were open, moving like always, but Wyatt’s entire attention was fixed on him. “You belong.”
“Tony basically told me to get my head out of my ass and go after you,” Mat said with a watery laugh. He stroked Wyatt’s cheek with his thumb. “I’m a mess, which you know, and I’ve pretty much plateaued in my recovery. None of this shit is particularly easy, but you seem to like me anyway.”
“More than that,” Wyatt told him. He licked his lips, then leaned toward Mat’s ear. “Bien que je sois aveugle je vois tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes.”
Mat took in a shuddering breath. “Do I get to know what it means?”
Wyatt’s hand moved to Mat’s face, his thumb finding his mouth, then tracing his lips. “Yes. Let me show you?”
“Okay,” Mat breathed out, then braced himself as Wyatt leaned forward, and finally closed the distance between them.
A surge of uncertainty and fear hit him in the seconds before their lips met. It hadn’t been that long since Mat had been with anyone—Ruby had spent the night at his place two days before she ended things, and it was fine. Being with her had always been fine.
But then his lips touched Wyatt’s, and the alley began to spin. He panicked a moment—at the utter difference between kissing any of the past women he’d been with, and kissing the one man he’d let himself want for far too long. Wyatt’s hands were stronger, rougher as they clutched at him. His face was sharper—the five o’clock shadow scraping along his cheek, his lips firm yet yielding, his tongue pushing past Mat’s lips like it belonged in his mouth. This wasn’t Mat’s first kiss with a man, but it was the first kiss he’d ever craved down to his very bones. The smallest groan escaped him, which Wyatt swallowed eagerly as their bodies pushed together.
Mat could feel Wyatt against his thigh, his cock twitching, his hips thrusting as his body begged for friction. Mat’s face was white-hot with desire and a little fear because ultimately, he had no idea what he was doing, but he’d give his life for this—for just a taste.
“God,” Mat gasped against Wyatt’s lips. “I fucking want you.”
“Yes,” Wyatt sighed out, and his hand pushed up into Mat’s hair, leaving it disordered and as fucked as he felt. The building was cold against his back, and Wyatt’s body was searing hot, and Mat felt a sudden desperation to be anywhere else—anywhere he could touch this man and not be forced to stop.
“Come home with me,” he finally gasped out, and he was rewarded with another frantic kiss, another push of Wyatt’s hips against him. “Please, let me take you home.”
“Yes,” Wyatt said again, and he sank his teeth into Mat’s lower lip before finally pulling away. “If you really want me, take me home.”
Mat was beyond grateful Wyatt had agreed to getting a car home instead of riding with Tony. As convenient—and cheap—as riding with his boss would have been, the sexual tension was through the roof. Mat’s lips were still tingling from where Wyatt had his own pressed against them. He could feel Wyatt’s phantom touch on his face, the warmth of his body.
Apart from a few drunken make-out sessions and a couple of rescue kisses, Mat had never done anything physical with a man. He was nervous about it, but the fact that it felt so right buoyed his confidence. The fact that Wyatt was still pink in the cheeks and refusing to keep space between them in the car solidified his belief that Wyatt wanted him too.
It was dark out, and there were no internal lights on in the driver’s Kia, so Mat shifted as close as he could get, and gently laid his hand over the bulge in Wyatt’s jeans. Wyatt startled, making a curious noise, but he didn’t pull away. In fact, after a second, he laid his hand on top of Mat’s and ground the heel of
Mat’s palm into his dick.
“Good?” Mat murmured into Wyatt’s ear. He knew he was insecure, and more than lost, but Wyatt’s guiding touch was grounding.
“Mm,” was all Wyatt said aloud, but the twitch against Mat’s hand said enough. He rubbed gently, not enough to get Wyatt worked up, but enough to telegraph his intentions. He wanted more than a sweet kiss goodnight. He wanted to dive-in head first because he’d spent the last year ignoring how badly he wanted this, and he was tired of being deprived.
He was half in love with Wyatt already. He knew the feeling—he’d had it before, and he couldn’t deny it now. He’d slowly gotten to know Wyatt, had let him in even when he’d tried not to, and he couldn’t escape it.
Mat was going to tell the others, and soon. He wasn’t going to hide this. Things were finally starting to calm down in Fairfield with the people he loved, and maybe now it was his turn to find happiness.
“Are you alright?” Wyatt asked suddenly. He pulled Mat’s hand away from him, but instead of letting go, twisted their fingers together.
Mat indulged himself with the freedom to touch, leaning against Wyatt, and he let his head fall against the other man’s shoulder. He was never deprived of affection by his found family, he wasn’t touch starved, but he was starved for an intimacy that he hadn’t had since the early days with Melissa. This was more, and it was deeper, and he was fairly sure it went beyond want and right into need.
“I’m a little overwhelmed,” he confessed, squeezing Wyatt’s hand, “but I want this. I want you.”
“It will be your first time, eh?” Wyatt asked as he stroked his thumb along the bend in Mat’s wrist. “With…someone like me.”
Mat chuckled, turning his face into the sleeve of Wyatt’s shirt to muffle the sound. “Yeah. With someone like you. I’ve fantasized about it, though.”
Wyatt sucked in a breath. “Ah, ouais? Tell me about it?”
“Shit, maybe not here,” Mat offered. “But when we get to my place…”
“I can accept that. Then I’ll tell you all the places I thought about putting my hands…my lips…my tongue…”
“Fuck,” Mat groaned, turning to bite gently down on the fabric that stretched over Wyatt’s shoulder. “I want you so much.”
“And you’ll have me,” Wyatt promised.
They went quiet after that, tangled up in each other as much as they dared in front of a stranger. The drive was long and expensive, but soon enough they were standing at Mat’s door and he was fumbling with the key. Wyatt had a hand on his shoulder and followed close behind as Mat felt around for the light switch.
“It’s pretty small. Just a little one bedroom, but it’s pretty tidy. Um,” he glanced around and saw little bits and pieces of things that were probably a hazard. His running shoes were laying out, his throw rug had a corner that turned up, his coffee table had a top that extended well past the legs. “There might be some hazards.”
“How about,” Wyatt said, then wrapped his arms around Mat from behind. He was a lot shorter, so his nose pressed between Mat’s shoulder blades and breathed hot enough that Mat could feel it under the fabric of his shirt, “we take this to the bedroom, and you can give me the tour another time?”
“Yeah,” Mat said, and he turned in Wyatt’s arms, gathering him close. He leaned his head down, nosing along Wyatt’s cheek before capturing his mouth in a nuzzling kiss, a gentle swipe of tongue along his lip to tease. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
He led the way to the bedroom door which was a few feet from his little kitchen, and he left the light off. The faint glow from the street lights was enough to illuminate the bed, and to show the silhouette of Wyatt’s face. Mat’s hands went back to the other man’s waist as he dragged their bodies together in a slow grind.
“It’s been a really long fucking time for me,” Mat confessed. “Ruby dumped my ass a while ago.”
Wyatt chuckled as he stood on his toes to nip at the crook of Mat’s neck. “And it’s been even longer for me, but I’m glad I waited.” His hand snuck around and cupped Mat’s ass over his jeans. Mat’s dick throbbed, and he pushed his hips against Wyatt’s, bending at the knee to match their heights a little better, and he groaned when he felt Wyatt’s dick respond.
“Me too. Um…bed?”
“Yes,” Wyatt said, and he let Mat draw him the few feet from the door to the full-sized bed that was half made from the night before. The sheets were cool as Mat eased Wyatt down first, then hovered over him, and his hand crept up the front of Wyatt’s shirt, exposing his stomach, which had a fair dusting of hair from chest to belly.
“I like this,” Mat said, dragging his fingers through the coarse curls. “That you’re hairy.”
Wyatt chuckled. “Good. And you? Are you hairy?”
“Want to find out?” Mat asked, then guided Wyatt’s hand to the hem of his shirt.
Wyatt made a small, desperate noise, both hands fisting in the fabric before pulling it up. Mat gave him a little help, though not much, and he closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath as Wyatt dragged his palms from the tops of Mat’s shoulders, all the way down to his hips. Wyatt’s hands were pale, a stark contrast against Mat’s light brown skin and fiercely dark ink. He couldn’t stop staring at Wyatt touched him, learning each groove, each dip, each scar. His cock was pressing hard against his jeans, and he fought the urge to press his hand to it, to give it just a bit of the friction it was craving.
“You’re beautiful,” Wyatt murmured, his fingertips curling around Mat’s hips.
Mat swallowed thickly, letting out a sharp breath as Wyatt’s hands moved toward his zipper. “There’s not much to me,” he offered. And he knew he was attractive, but he didn’t have the overwhelming beauty of Sam, or the intense presence of Derek and Sage.
Wyatt made a quiet, disbelieving noise as he lifted to his knees, then carefully pushed the button through the hole, and dragged the zipper down with a soft shffft. His hand parted the folds, then dragged Mat’s jeans down to his knees before moving to the slit in his boxers. “Are you hard for me?”
“I could cut fucking glass,” Mat admitted, his voice strained.
Mat’s dick was so hard, it was peeking out through the flap, like it was searching on its own for some friction. When Wyatt’s hand closed around his shaft and stroked, Mat’s eyes rolled up in his head. It was hardly his first hand job, but the fact that it was a man—the fact that it was Wyatt—made it feel like so much more. He was too close.
“Let me,” he said after a second, stalling Wyatt’s hand. More than he wanted to be touched, he wanted to get his hands on the other man. He wanted to strip Wyatt bare and explore him in the same way. The light in the room was dim, but it was just enough for him to see every dip and curve in Wyatt’s body, and he wanted it all laid out before him. “Please?”
“Yes,” Wyatt told him. His body went pliant, giving up any sort of fight as Mat pulled Wyatt’s shirt off, tossing it to the end of the bed. His jeans were next, then his socks. Mat couldn’t help but kiss the inside of Wyatt’s ankle, dragging his hand up his hairy calf, and he marveled at the differences—the roughness of his skin, the taut muscles. Whenever he imagined it, he’d touch himself and wonder if it would be the same as touching another man. Part of him also worried back then that his attraction to men wasn’t real—maybe it was just some fantasy lodged in his brain and when it came down to it, he’d find out he’d been lying to himself all this time.
But that wasn’t the case. Not with Wyatt flushing pink beneath him, easing down to the pillows and spread out just for Mat. His heart lodged in his throat as he let himself touch, as he brushed his fingers over the waistband of Wyatt’s boxers. He knew that in a moment, there would be no turning back. Wyatt was just as hard, his erection straining at the fabric, and Mat wasted no time pulling it out.
“Is this for me?” Mat said, curling his hand around Wyatt’s cock. He was uncut, the head just barely peeking out of the foreskin, and it was so wet. He couldn’
t deny how strange it felt to hold another man’s dick, but none of his anxiety rose to the surface the moment he had Wyatt in his hand. Wyatt wasn’t as soft, wasn’t as yielding as the women Mat had slept with, but he liked that about him. He craved it.
He dipped his head in, nosing along Wyatt’s chest before opening his mouth to lave his tongue over Wyatt’s nipple, feeling it peak under his lips. Wyatt grinned, thrusting his cock against Mat’s hand, and Mat picked up his pace. “Is this okay? I feel a little out of my depth here.”
“Yes,” Wyatt said from behind a soft chuckle. “I think you know exactly what to do with these parts.”
Mat laughed a little as he tightened his hand and began a firmer stroke. “God, look at you,” Mat groaned as he watched his hand fly over Wyatt’s cock. With each stroke down, it exposed Wyatt’s head a little more, and he had a sudden urge to move lower and take the cock into his mouth.
“Do you like it?” Wyatt breathed out, groaning a little as Mat worked him up.
“I do,” Mat told him. “Yours is different from mine. I’m cut.”
Wyatt’s hand moved between them to verify that once more for himself. His palm was a little smoother than Mat’s, and his grip firmer, surer. He circled Mat’s bulbous tip with his thumb, then dragged fingers down the shaft before closing his hand into a fist and giving him a firm, fast stroke.
Mat couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into Wyatt’s gasp. “Fuck, like that. Just like that.” He picked up his own speed, loving the way Wyatt arched into him, the way his cheeks went mottled pink, the way his brow dripped with sweat. His hips thrust with every stroke Mat gave him, and Mat could hear the gasping in Wyatt’s chest telling him he was getting close.
“Ah,” Wyatt said as he tried to match Mat’s rhythm. “I don’t…I don’t think,” Wyatt struggled to say. “I won’t last long.”
“Me either,” Mat answered him. Not only had it had been a while, but he’d wanted his for so long, he knew wasn’t going to be able to hold off even if he wanted to. His balls were already tight, that rushing feeling in his gut building higher and higher. “I want…fuck, harder. Faster,” he begged.