Chapter 16
MATTHEW
The last twenty minutes . . . the last hour, really, going back to that kiss in my shop .
. . had been mind-opening. It was the oddest sensation to feel as if you were having an out-of-body experience while simultaneously being completely present in your skin.
One moment I felt like an observer hovering above, watching this moment unfold, and the next I was one hundred percent in my body, experiencing every single zip and zap of energy zooming through my system.
I’d felt the spark of every kiss, the flash of need, the brush of fingers and lips.
I’d welcomed the want, the desire, the lust burning through my system.
I’d felt all of it wholly and completely, and for the first time in months, I felt alive.
Like I was something more than the shell of the man I’d been, holding on to grief because it was the only thing I had left of her.
Ruthlessly, I shoved that thought away, determined not to turn down a path that would take me out of the moment. I wanted this, goddammit. I wanted to know what this thing was between me and Louis. Between me and another man. To answer the question of attraction once and for all.
As if kissing him wasn’t enough.
As if rubbing myself against him, flicking his nipples, grabbing his ass . . . as if my aching erection wasn’t enough evidence of my attraction.
I hooked my finger more firmly behind the waistband of his briefs and drew them down, resolute and determined.
My movements were confident, yet as I revealed each inch of him, my breath hitched and stuttered with the monumental weight of the moment.
There would be no going back, no denying my attraction after this. Because fuck, I was enjoying this.
For a split second, time stood still. My hands froze, eyes locked on the sight of his cock jutting proudly from his body.
And proud his dick should be, because it was a thing of beauty.
Never in my life had I given another man’s cock a passing thought, let alone contemplated the attractiveness of its appearance.
A dick was a dick. I used mine to piss. I used it to get off. Upon occasion, I’d used it to give pleasure. Most days I gave it a quick scrub in the shower, tucked it away in my boxers, then didn’t give it much thought for the rest of the day. It was just a part of my body.
But another man’s dick . . . well, suddenly that was something else entirely.
It warranted more study. I wanted to see it from all angles, to admire all the ways it was both the same and different than mine.
I wanted to touch it, to hold it. Did I want to taste it?
I wasn’t sure about that yet, but I thought . . . maybe.
My eyes flicked up to Louis’s. He gave me the smallest of nods, the corners of his mouth tipping up, his eyes warm.
I looked back down, and with only a slight shake of my hand, I reached out and cupped him.
The underside of his shaft rested in my palm while my thumb wrapped around the top.
I gave it the tiniest squeeze, my eyes shooting back up to his face at the sound of his gasp.
His eyes were closed, lips parted, head tipped back slightly.
I loosened my grip and gave him a stroke, drawing my hand toward me then back down to his base again. My eyes couldn’t decide where to land. I was fascinated by the sight of his length in my hand but didn’t want to miss his facial expressions as I tentatively stroked him.
His face, I decided. I wanted to watch his face.
So with my eyes trained on his, I concentrated on how he felt.
Velvet-wrapped steel was an apt description, I thought, once again marveling at how I’d never noticed this about my own dick.
But I supposed I’d only ever concentrated on how being stroked had made me feel on the inside, rather than the literal feel of skin against skin.
I gave him another long stroke, marveling at the shudder that went through him and at the way his brows drew up at the same time.
Another stroke elicited another whimper, and I was officially addicted.
No longer worried about the fact that I was holding another man’s dick in my hand for the first time, my focus zeroed in on Louis’s pleasure.
I wanted more of those whimpers. I wanted moans and groans and unrestrained need.
I wanted him a little out of control. I wanted him messy. And I wanted to make a mess out of him.
With Louis as my focus, my confidence returned.
The moment I released him, his eyes flew open, wide with confusion, or maybe concern.
But when I slowly drew my hand up and spit into my palm without breaking eye contact, his breath hitched and his eyes darkened.
I took his shaft back in my hand and gave it a twist to spread the saliva around.
Giving his hip a squeeze with my free hand to steady him, I stroked my other hand in a steady motion, again watching his face for his reaction.
When he took his lower lip between his teeth, I picked up the pace, my hand shuttling over him in smooth, confident movements.
Experimenting, I added a twisting motion at the head and was rewarded with another whimper.
Encouraged, I continued stroking and twisting, pleased when his whimpers synced with the motion of my hand.
“Wait.” His hand shot out, stopping me mid-stroke. With eyes trained on mine, he reached over and began to unbutton my jeans. My breath hitched as he lowered my zipper, but I didn’t remove my hand from his dick, and I didn’t stop him when he pushed my pants over my hips.
“Trust me, Matty,” he said as he slipped the tip of his finger beneath the waistband of my boxers and slid it back and forth teasingly. “I’m going to make it good for both of us.”
Matty. I vaguely remembered him calling me that the other night, but I’d been in the middle of a sexuality-induced panic, so it was a little hazy.
I liked it now, though. No one had ever given me a nickname before.
I was always Matthew. It fit my serious personality.
A few had tried Matt over the years, but it hadn’t stuck.
Matty, though . . . I didn’t think I’d like it coming from anyone else, but somehow it felt right coming from Louis.
He slid the back of my boxers down, his hands skating over the curve of my ass before sliding around to the front and pulling them down until my cock sprang free, proudly proclaiming just how damned attracted I was to him.
“Jesus, Matty. Your cock is . . .” His words were breathy. Reverent. As if he’d just received the most precious gift. “Can I touch you?”
I nodded, and he didn’t hesitate, reaching forward and drawing his fingertip up the underside, causing me to shudder. He took me in his fist and stroked, slow and firm, sending another shudder, this one more forceful, through my entire body.
“Step forward.”
I did as he asked, taking a small step forward so that our dicks were slotted next to each other, side by side.
He released me, then gently pulled at my wrist so I released him as well.
He pulled my palm up to his mouth and licked a swath across it, eyes full of lascivious intent.
He repeated the motion a couple of times, slicking up my hand with his saliva before lowering it back down until it was wrapped around both of our cocks.
Then, with his hand wrapped around mine, he moved me so that I gave both of us a stroke at the same time.
The feel of my hand gliding up and down both of our cocks . . . the friction of our dicks rubbing against each other . . . his warm hand wrapped around mine . . . it was almost too much to bear. I groaned loudly, the feel of it so fucking exquisite it was impossible to remain quiet.
Louis guided me through two more strokes, then released my hand in order to cup my balls and squeeze gently. I hissed as I was assaulted by this new sensation, but managed not to let my knees give way.
“Keep stroking,” he encouraged, massaging my balls with expertise.
I did as he instructed, helpless to do anything else, my eyes trained on the sight of our dicks cradled in my palm.
“Faster,” he whispered, and I complied, my hand sliding over our cocks in earnest now.
My forehead found his, our panting breaths mingling as we both looked down, eyes locked on the sight of our dicks as I worked us over.
“Yes, keep going. God, that’s so good.” The desperate way he said it had my balls drawing up and my hand moving faster.
Determined to get him over the finish line first, I moved my free hand up from his hip and grazed my thumb across his nipple.
“Fuck, Matty.” His knees buckled slightly. “Jesus. Do that again and it’ll be over.”
I didn’t hesitate, flicking my thumb across his nipple over and over again as I stroked our cocks faster and faster, my hand practically a blur at this point.
Maybe it was overkill—he’d said it would only take one more flick—but I didn’t just want him to come.
I wanted us both to lose our fucking minds.
“Oh shit, Matty. Fuck. Goddammit. I’m coming. I’m . . .”
Liquid heat flooded my hand then I stiffened, my cock pulsing in time with his as my orgasm barreled through me. I slid my free hand around to his back, grunting and groaning, desperately trying to keep both of us upright against the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to drown us.
As my dick pulsed one last time, Louis dropped his head to my shoulder, sucking in air as if he’d just run a marathon.
I could sympathize; I was having difficulty catching my breath as well.
We stayed like that for several moments, my hand stilling as we gasped for air and my heart rate fell to a more reasonable pace.
Louis lifted his head, pushing his glasses back up as he focused his attention on my face. There was a question in his eyes, and I thought maybe a hint of vulnerability too. “How do you feel?”
How did I feel? Part of me wanted to pull him into my arms and hold him.
Kiss him. Maybe take a nap with him and go at it again after.
Another part of me felt like my world had tilted on its axis.
I wasn’t sure that was necessarily a bad thing, but I generally didn’t like change and couldn’t help but worry about what would come next.
I let out a breath and answered honestly. “I don’t know.”
He cocked his head as I searched for a way to describe my thoughts.
“I feel . . . like we need a shower,” I hedged, looking down at our softening cocks, messily resting in my hand. There was a small splatter on the floor where some of our release had landed. I let go of our dicks and began attempting to step out of my pants and boxers.
“You said ‘we.’ Am I invited to participate in this shower?”
I paused with one foot free and the other still tangled in my pants. “Did you think I was going to use you and kick you out?”
He shrugged, the movement seemingly casual. “I thought you might want some time to process.”
I yanked my foot free and kicked my pants aside so I could step back into his space.
I tipped up his chin and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
My entire system felt like it was in turmoil, but I definitely didn’t want him anywhere but right here with me.
“I am processing. But I don’t want to do it by myself anymore. ”
“Okay.”
“That’s it. Just ‘okay’?”
His lips curved up in a smile. “Okay. Let’s go shower.”