22. Matteo
TWENTY-TWO
MATTEO
I step into the spray, letting the hot water rush down my body.
Our first day at camp wasn’t that eventful, but I feel like I stink enough to ward away the forest flies. Jarred took us on a seven-mile hike and, while I used to be accustomed to that, I guess a couple of months in Wyoming have knocked the endurance out of me.
I soap up my body, trying to make sure I get every inch. I’m also no longer used to outdoor showers. I nearly forgot my clothes when I walked out of my old bunk, thankfully remembering them at the last minute. While it’s late and no one’s around, I don’t exactly want to be walking around the camp half-naked.
As usual, my thoughts drift to Theo. It looked like he had fun today. He and Noah apparently hit it off because he spent the entire hike glued to Noah’s side. My jealousy at the fact that he barely glanced my way aside, I was glad to see him enjoy himself. The thought is a little ridiculous, but I’m almost relieved that he can be happy without me. It sounds narcissistic and vain, but I don’t mean it that way. I was just afraid I had a part in taking away some of his joy, that I was the one making the sadness in his eyes shine just a little brighter, so it was comforting to know that perhaps that’s not my fault.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want him to be happy with me.
I ignore my hard cock at the memory of the way Theo nearly tripped on the hike. Without thinking, I raced to his side, catching him in my arms before he could hit the ground. That brief innocent contact was enough to send my heart racing, my mind spinning, and I may have held onto him for one second too long.
I hear someone entering the wooden shower stalls, but I pay them no mind, shutting the water off. I’m ready to grab my towel hanging from a hook on the other side of the curtain when it’s yanked open abruptly.
Revealing Theo on the other side.
All the air is sucked from my lungs at the glorious image in front of me. Theo’s wearing only his towel, hanging low on his hips, every beautiful inch of his porcelain skin on display. He looks caught off guard although that should be me. His wide scandalized eyes take me in, their weight heavy on every inch of me as they cruise up my body. I can’t help it that I once again grow hard from his attention, swelling when he licks his lips like he wants to drink the water off my body.
“M-Matteo,” he stutters, not looking me in the eyes, too busy staring at my cock. “I… I didn’t know anyone was using this stall.”
I swallow harshly, fingers twitching at my side, desperate to rip the towel from his hips. “I was just leaving.”
He nods slowly but doesn’t seem to be hearing me. Instead, he takes a step into the stall. “You’re hard.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t breathe. I don’t even move. I just stand there, letting Theo inch closer and closer until he’s completely in the shower with me. “Theo. What are you doing?”
“I can’t stay away,” he admits in a whisper, eyes fluttering up to meet mine. “I just can’t.”
I know exactly what he’s talking about because I feel the same way. Although, I have been staying away and keeping my distance, or at least I’ve been trying like hell. But, if I’m being honest, I’ve failed on all accounts.
I don’t know what to do when he looks up at me expectantly like this—like he’s waiting for me to make the first move—waiting for the taut string between us to snap.
I can’t lie to him, however. I’ve tried, but it’s never worked. He always manages to pull the truth from me, intentionally or not.
“You have to,” I whisper back, taking steps until my back hits the wooden wall. “You have to because I can’t either.”
Think about Clara. Think about your vow. Think about God.
“We don’t have to do anything. You can just… you can just touch yourself. If I don’t touch you, it’s not bad, right?” he asks, trying to rationalize what’s going to happen between us.
Because it is happening. I don’t think Heaven or Hell, or God and Satan could stop us now.
“No touching,” I mumble, not realizing that I’m nodding along with him, not noticing that my hand is wandering down to my cock. I take a deep breath, setting my jaw with determination. “Close the curtain, precioso .”
He nearly purrs at my words, yanking the curtain shut quickly.
“Take your towel off. Now .”
Once again, he listens without complaint. With his freckled face and pouty lips, this beautiful man caves to my wishes easily, and happily, like the perfect toy to use and cherish.
There’s no way I could forget his body, carved out of stone, gorgeously crafted for my hands alone to taint. I want to ruin the pretty picture, stamp myself on every inch of him, and lay claim to the connection I feel.
“What do I do now?” he questions, batting those lashes at me temptingly, swaying like he can’t stay steady on his feet.
I point at the ground. “Get on your knees.”
He’s a bit confused but does what I say, slowly moving until he’s at my feet, head tipped up, his breath fanning against my cock and making it twitch. “I thought?—”
“You’re going to kneel there while I fuck my fist,” I start, bracing myself against the back wall, legs spread, practically feeling like a deity when his mouth waters. “You’re going to kneel like my perfect pet and let me come on your face.”
“ Yes ,” he hisses, eyes fluttering shut as he reaches for his cock. “Please, can I touch myself?”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “Touch yourself for me, precioso .”
“Will you keep talking?”
I chuckle hoarsely, squeezing my base to make this last. “You like my filthy mouth?”
“I love it.” His eyes snap open as he starts to stroke his length. “I dream of your words. They’re all I hear on repeat in my head.”
I raise a brow at that, twisting my hand. “You want to know what I can’t stop thinking about?”
He nods. “Tell me.”
“I keep thinking about you sliding that pretty cock into my tight hole. I picture you digging your nails into my ass while you rail me until I scream.”
“It would feel so good,” he murmurs to himself. “So good, baby.”
Fuck, when he calls me baby… Shit, it makes me feel special. Like I’m more than just a dirty secret—more than just a mistake—like I’m his.
All I want to be is his.
“Would you stretch me out with your fingers first? Play with my hole until I was wide and gaping for you?”
He jacks himself quicker, nodding with every word I say, pants leaving his desperate lips. “Matteo, the things I’m thinking?—”
“Tell me,” I growl. This is what I want, what I’ve wanted for a while. I want to see him let go. I want to see himself let go like he never has for anyone else.
Not even his wife.
“I think I want to….” he trails off, and his flushing cheeks betray him. He’s still a little shy, a little embarrassed at what he’s saying, and I need that to stop.
“You get me so hot, Theo,” I tell him, meaning every single word. I want him to hear the sincerity in it, to cut through this lustful haze and realize how serious I am. “There’s nothing you could say that I wouldn’t like. There’s nothing you could be that I wouldn’t worship. Anything, Theo. I want to know every thought in your head.”
“I’ve never been with a man,” he starts, slowing down his hand, admitting this with a little wariness. “But I looked some things up.”
“What did you look up, precioso ?”
“This man, he… Licked the other. He spread his ass and ran his tongue against his hole.”
My heartbeat quickens. “And you want to do that to me?”
“I think you’d taste so good,” he admits, chewing his lip. “I want to be inside you. Every part of me. My tongue, my fingers, my dick. All of it.”
“Picture it,” I demand, wanting nothing more than to reach down and fist his hair in my hands, but I can’t. No touching. If we don’t touch, then we’re not doing anything wrong. “Close your eyes and tell me more.”
“I’d want to be the best you ever had. I imagine claiming you in a way no one has before. I think I want to…”
I speed up my hand, my breaths coming out stuttered, every single piece of me ready to burst. “Say it. Theo, say it.”
“I think I want to put my whole fist inside you.” He whines, squirming as he gets closer and closer. “Because that way you’d feel me forever.”
“Fuck, yes!” I shout, giving myself one more tug. “Theo, open your mouth.”
That’s not crossing a line, is it? There’s still no touching.
“Give me your cum, baby,” he begs with desperation in his voice, frantic need in his eyes, his whole body on the edge. “Please, Matteo, please. I want it so bad.”
I cave. I reach down and grip his auburn hair in my fingers, angling his face back so roughly he lets out a whimper. I aim my cock directly at his mouth, open and waiting. “Drink it, precioso. ”
We both crest and fall at the same time. His release coats my shins while mine pours down his throat. I keep my eyes fixed on his face, on the way my cum splatters against his pretty pink tongue, on the way he moans like a man possessed the second he tastes it. It doesn’t all make it into his mouth, and I want to roar in triumph when his tongue flicks out to try and catch the bit that dribbles down his chin.
I can’t resist petting his face, soothing the little shudders he lets out. I stick my thumb in his mouth, and he sucks it wantonly, and I can so vividly picture it being my cock instead.
“What do you say?” I ask, pulling my thumb out slowly, wanting to beat my chest when he tries to chase it.
“Thank you, baby,” he says so sweetly, the most serene smile on his lips as he leans his forehead against my wet thigh. “Fuck, thank you.”
We rest there for a moment, both of us just enjoying coexisting. I run my fingers through his hair as he rests his cheek against me. Both of our bodies are still thrumming from our climax, breathless.
“Matteo?”
“Yes?”
“We can’t do this again.”
The way he says it makes my heart crack. It’s so resigned, so bitterly true, and so entirely shattering.
“I know,” I whisper, using a finger on his chin to tip his head back. “I should…”
But I don’t know what to do. I have no fucking idea, and I don’t think I truly have since the moment I first laid eyes on him.
“I should leave,” he says, but he still doesn’t move. “I should go back home… To Clara.”
The sound of her name leaving his lips makes me see red. I’m his baby. Not Clara. Not the beautiful, intelligent, kind?—
“Maybe you should,” I tell him, knowing that it’s what’s best. “You should go.”
He looks up at me, eyes watering. “You want me to leave?”
“Fuck, no.” I shake my head as I fall to my knees in front of him, cupping his face in my hand. “Theo, we can’t do this.”
“Kiss me, Matteo,” he begs, hands clawing at my wrists. “Just one more time.”
I can’t resist his hopeless cry. I lay my lips over him, snaking my tongue into his mouth, tasting the remnants of my cum. I kiss him until I can taste the salt of his tears. I kiss him until the winter chill makes me freeze. I kiss him until we’re the only two people left in the burning world we’re ignoring.
I pull back, wiping a sliver of my saliva from the corner of his lip. “I’ll buy you a plane ticket.”
“Don’t need you to,” he mumbles, running his fingers through my close shave. “I’ll be gone by morning.”
He gets up, grabs his towel, and leaves without another word. Although I hate it, it’s for the best, right?
A song plays in my head as I change and head back to the cabin. Turning off the lights and climbing into bed, the tune grows unbearable. As I close my eyes, dreaming of freckles, sunshine, and home, it’s threatening to unravel me.
This was the last time.