8. Xed
Chapter eight
H e’s doing it again.
Keeping as still as possible, I try to keep my breathing steady.
It’s been a week since I walked in on Matty jerking off, and every morning since then, I’ve woken up to the feeling of him pressing his hard length against me.
The first few times, he cursed and quickly left the bed, but yesterday and today, he’s gotten bolder. Stayed longer...
Pressed harder.
His hips are moving against me now, hot breath caressing my ear while his cock slides in between my crease over my boxers, and I can’t help the soft moan that leaves my throat. Matty goes completely still.
Fuck. Pretend to sleep, pretend to sleep.
“I know you’re awake.” His raspy morning voice has my dick twitching as he slides his palm over my chest, nuzzling into the back of my neck. “I’m sorry, I’m just...so fucking horny lately. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I think...maybe I should hit up Val so that this stops.”
“No.” My heart jumps into my throat as I roll to face him, meeting his hooded baby blues, heavy with sleep and lust. “Please don’t do that, Matty. She’s been out of our lives for almost a year now. Let’s leave it that way.”
He swallows, hips thrusting slightly as if he can’t help himself. “It’s been so long, though, Xed.”
Desperation flashes across his face, making my stomach drop because I know that look.
He’s seconds away from calling her up, and I can’t do that again. I refuse to sleep beside him after he’s been with someone else. My soul can’t take it. So I do the only thing I can think of and scoot closer, throwing my leg over his thigh so that our cocks are touching.
“W-what are you doing?” He squeaks, going rigid, and I bury my face into his neck.
“Helping you. If this is the price for keeping her claws out of you, I’m willing to pay it.”
More than willing. I told the truth when I told him that I didn’t watch anything when I jerked off, but my thoughts are a different story. They’re always filled with him.
He moans into my hair as I roll my hips, sliding our covered cocks together, the friction making me hard as I press my lips to his throat and suck.
“Oh, man,” his breathing kicks up, hands moving down my back to cup my ass. “God, Xed, that feels good. Please don’t stop.”
I lap at his skin, tasting salt and sweat and longing as we grind against each other, his palms on my cheeks setting the pace. It’s everything I thought it could be, all of my hopes and dreams come to life.
In the past, picturing myself with someone sexually turned me off, but with Matty, it’s like fireworks inside my head. It feels so natural when I tangle my fingers into his hair, panting against his mouth until I feel that tingle at the base of my spine.
“Matty, I’m gonna come,” I gasp, sucking on his lip when he moves faster, a groan rumbling his broad chest.
“Me, too. I’m almost there.”
His tongue pokes out to touch mine, and we’re gone. It slams into both of us at once, and it’s so much better than doing this alone. The dampness in the crotch of my underwear seeps into his from the cum spilling between us. His load is massive, some of it even slipping from the hem of his boxers, and I briefly wonder what it would feel like to have it all dripping onto me.
I feel high, like I’m floating on a cloud in the heat of summer.
Drifting, drifting.
His arms tighten around me, anchoring me back to earth as he catches his breath, a slight tremble running through his body. It’s grounding and safe.
When he kisses me, I open for him, gasping softly as his tongue flicks against mine, tentative and unsure. He’s nervous. I can feel it. But Matty doesn’t need to be anxious with me. Not ever.
So I deepen the kiss, cupping his jaw with one hand as I lick into his mouth, savoring the way he responds, a slight whimper in his throat when he suddenly pulls away and buries his face in my neck.
And it hits me then—this is my first open-mouth kiss.
There’s no one else in the universe I’d rather share it with than him.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, trembling in my arms as he sniffles. “That was...are we okay, Ducky? This doesn’t change anything, right? We’re still friends? ”
A frown pulls at my lips, and I try to raise his head to look at him, but he only clings to me tighter. “Of course we are, Matthew. Always.”
I want to say that what just happened won’t affect us, but I know I’d be wrong. My eyes drift to the sign above our window, which I stole to celebrate his first game as a linebacker for the Utes.
No Passing Zone.
Next to it is a picture of Taylor, Christian, and me all wearing his jersey. My expression as I look up at him is one of irritated fondness and something else—almost possessive.
No. I don’t think our friendship will be the same after this at all.
But I can’t find it in me to regret it.