Chapter Eleven
Oliver
Matt watches me the entire time, slowly sipping his coffee while I gobble up the croissant he brought me. I'm still reeling from the onslaught of emotions that one bag of chocolate, buttery goodness unleashed in my brain.
We sit beside each other at the small, four-seater dining table I have tucked in front of my kitchen.
I take my time assessing him, too. He looks tired. His eyebrows are frowning ever so slightly. It almost looks like he's not even aware he's doing it. I push my thumb lightly against the junction of his eyebrows until it’s gone.
Satisfied, I go back to sipping my coffee. Something is definitely going on with him.
Knowing Matt, and yes, I’m counting the time we only talked in snarks, he’s not big on smiles. But a calm energy surrounds him, always. He has a smirk or an amused expression ready to replace his frown every few minutes.
Right now, his shoulders are a little drooped like he's holding the weight of the world on them. What's going on in that head of his? It can't be because he hates me or hates what we did. Come on, the guy got me a croissant on a random morning right after a clearly tiring shift.
“You look tired,” I finally comment.
“Long shift,” he says, his eyes still not wavering from my face.
Their intensity makes my body heat up. I put my mug down and cup his cheek, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast against the roughness of his stubble.
He leans against me. I move my head closer, giving him all the time to pull back. He doesn't.
When our lips meet, he’s right there with me. But this time, it's not all-consuming. It's slow.
Breaths ghosting against skin. Slow teasing touches. Just whispers of softness.
I move closer to deepen the kiss and almost fall off the chair. His hand stops me and pulls me towards him until I'm straddling him. The position makes me almost taller than him. I press my lips down on his while he slowly runs his hand up my spine until it rests on the back of my neck.
My heartbeat picks up in anticipation, but he keeps his touches light. His lips move over me, insistent but slow.
I take the reins and move my tongue over his lips until he groans and opens up for me. His hand tightens around my neck for a second, and my cock lurches in excitement.
But then he relaxes, moving his hand down my back, resting on my hips. I get a distinct feeling he’s restraining himself.
Maybe he is a little too tired. I pull back. He makes a disappointed noise that satisfies something deep inside me.
“Do you want to take a nap?” I ask.
“That bad, huh?”
I laugh. “No, I don't want to start something if you’re too tired.”
“C’mere,” he demands, pulling me back into him. This time, his kiss is more determined, but nothing as starving and all-consuming as the one we shared two days ago.
I deepen the kiss, shoving my tongue inside his mouth, finally taking my time to explore. My hand is firm on his jaw. His stubble scrapes my face. I move my lips down to his neck. He leans back, giving me more access.
I taste his skin, salty and all him. I bite the soft skin below his ears, and he groans loudly. When I take his earlobe in my mouth, something breaks in him. He gets up, taking me with him. It shouldn’t be this easy to pick up a grown man barely a foot shorter than him.
He carries me to the couch, all the while kissing me softly, and pushes me down. He climbs over me, his mouth claiming mine with fervour. I let him take control. His lips are rough against my neck as he kisses and licks my collarbone, my throat.
He pulls at my T-shirt. I pull it off and throw it away. I make him take his off, too. I move my hand over the carved muscles of his abdomen, his pecs, his chest, his sharp collarbone, his neck.
He pulls up to look at me while I move my hand over his biceps, his forearms. His eyes are narrowed, glazed like a restrained animal. I repeat my path. When I’m at his chest, he takes both my wrists and moves them over my head, trapping them with his hand.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers over my skin. I shiver.
Then he’s licking down my chest. He sucks on my nipple, and I arch off the couch. I didn't know I was that sensitive. He takes the other nipple in his mouth and bites it teasingly. I groan out loud. My body feels like it’s in a warm bubble floating in the air.
He smiles at me. My stomach flutters looking at those dark whiskey eyes. I lift my head up, wanting to kiss him again. He lets me. He kisses me softly, his tongue moving leisurely against mine.
I’m fully hard now. I can feel his dick through his jeans. Let me tell you, the guy is proportional everywhere. He grinds against me slowly. My head falls back, my mouth falling open with a sigh.
“So beautiful,” he repeats, his eyes trained on my face.
Then his hands are pulling down my trousers. With my newfound freedom, I pull his head down, my hand combing over his hair. I kiss him again urgently. This time it's all teeth.
I help him remove my trousers.
Then he has his hand on my dick. My mouth goes slack.
He teases me with slow touches, like he’s memorizing its shape.
He leans on one elbow, his face intent on my cock. He slowly moves his thumb over the head, and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan. He watches as a drop of pre-cum smears over it. He uses his thumb to spread it around.
If I could get harder, I would have. “Do something,” I demand.
“Impatient, baby?” He shakes his head. But he pushes my underwear out of the way. He kisses down my body until his head is right above my cock.
He licks it like a popsicle while I stare at him in amazement. When he finally takes me in his mouth, my body lurches. I lean back on my elbows, watching him expertly suck my dick. He takes me to the back of his throat like a pro. “Fuck. Yes, that's good,”
It’s weird to explain, but I’m having an out-of-body experience watching his beautiful mouth take me apart while my body experiences the most intense sensations. I lose the power of speech, or at least speech that makes sense, as his mouth covers me.
I’m aware I’m blabbering something, but it all comes out as a disjointed mess.
Then he moves my thighs over his shoulders, exposing my hole. He continues to torture me slowly with his expert mouth, his soft lips stretched over my dick, looking like the picture of sin.
I move my hand over his hair, trying to encourage him to increase his speed, but he holds my wrist and pins it against the couch. Once I’m left a huffing, sweaty mess, he pulls away and kisses the head sweetly.
He moves down, teasing my balls, and he frees my hand to pull my legs up higher. Then he licks a stripe down my hole, and I almost black out from the sensation of his rough tongue against my skin.
“Oh fuuuck,” I groan. He rolls his tongue against my hole again and takes my dick in his hand. “Fuck, yes, love that. Love your mouth.”
He doesn't heed my nonsense and continues licking me. When I’m all pliant, he shoves his tongue up my hole.
I arch off the couch. It's difficult to focus on anything other than the sensation of his hands moving over me. Fast. Hard. Insistent. And his tongue fucking me.
I feel his finger slip beside his tongue, brushing against my ring. He pushes, and it enters easily. He slowly pulls it out and pushes it back in. A tingle rises from my ass up to my spine. One finger turns into two, while all I can do is whimper.
He takes my dick inside his mouth again, his fingers moving with expert precision. He curls his fingers, and my body jolts in shock. He does it again and again until I’m shivering and shouting out his name.
“Fuck, you're good at that,” I pat his head, appreciating a job well done.
He laughs. “If you’re still talking, my skills clearly need work,” he says, and he swallows my dick again, hard and fast.
My soul leaves my body. Every nerve ending lights on fire as his fingers rub against my prostate. I feel a tingle in my spine.
As if he knows what’s coming, he slams his mouth on my dick, taking me to the back of his throat, and I’m done for.
I come inside his mouth with a loud groan. I lie there, sated.
He softly kisses my abdomen, my chest, and then my lips.
My brain comes back online when I hear a zipper. Matt takes his cock in his hand and fucks himself with his fist intently, his eyes on my face.
“I can help,” I say, my hand moving over his, wanting to touch him but lacking the energy to really do anything.
“It's okay, I'm already there,” he growls. He comes on me, painting my neck and chest with his cum.
He smudges it more when he falls on me, his face buried in my neck. I pat his hair in commiseration.
He laughs against my throat. When he pulls up, his breath ghosts my lips. He kisses me slowly.
By the time I realize we just made sweet love, he looks half asleep, and his weight is drowning me. I like him against me, but my body can’t hold him up for more than a couple of seconds.
I elbow him until he moves to the side. Then I get up, groaning low, and find my T-shirt. I use it to clean us both before lying back down next to him.
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me back against him. His breath evens out instantly. God knows the guy needed a good nap. As a good Samaritan, I'm always glad to help.