44. Matteo
FORTY-FOUR
MATTEO
I don’t know why I’m doing this.
I shouldn’t be here, outside a crumbling motel on the outskirts of Cheyenne, hand poised and ready to knock on the door.
I drop my hand and turn. I should just go. I should just get into Marcy’s car and drive back to Smallville, forget that I ever came here… but I can’t.
Just one more time .
Those words carry my feet back to the door and force my hand to meet the weak wood. I don’t even get through a second knock before it swings open and…
One hundred and eighty-nine days.
It’s been six months since I’ve seen this beautiful face, the one that makes me want to fall on my knees and beg for forgiveness. He doesn’t look like he’s changed at all, and I’m not too sure why that hurts even more. Did I expect him to look happier? Healthier? Did I want him to look the way I’ve felt without him?
Like someone’s taken a blunt knife and carved out my insides?
His stunning blue eyes blink at me, unshed tears lingering in them. His mouth is open, ready to speak, but nothing comes out. We stand there until seconds turn into minutes… staring.
But I feel nothing but comfort, security, like the light that’s meant to guide me out of the darkness has finally returned.
I don’t know who moves first or whether it’s sheer gravity that brings us together, but when my lips find his, I’m gone.
Because he’s never stopped loving you.
He pulls me into the motel room, trembling hands already untucking my shirt and working on the buttons. Without thinking, I’m fumbling with his zipper, palming his hard cock in my hand. Our tongues clash, desperate and needy, filled with the longing we’ve tried to erase through sheer time and force of will.
We should say something. We should stop. There are so many things we should do but none of them matter when our naked bodies press together and everything in the cosmos aligns again.
“Baby…” he finally breathes, eyes fluttering shut as I walk him backward towards the bed. “Please.”
He always did look so precious when he begged. Mi precioso . Only and always mine, a fact that no number of miles or hours could erase.
When the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he falls, so do I. I drop to my knees, mouth already watering for another taste of him. He doesn’t hesitate to dig his fingers in my hair, pulling me closer to his perfect cock, begging me wordlessly for what we both want.
Nothing but bliss consumes me. His taste . How could I ever think it was possible to forget this? His heavy weight on my tongue, the little whimpers and whines that leave his lips, the saltiness of his pleasure.
“T-Tell me you have something,” he begs, thumb brushing against the bottom of my lip as I suckle his head. “Baby, Matteo, you have something, right?”
I do. I scramble for my pants, digging through the pockets until I find the two packets I stuck in there before leaving Smallville.
Did some part of me know this would happen? Or worse, did some part of me pray it would? The fact that I brought lube to this meeting is something I can hate myself for later. Right now, it’s all a subtle pang of disappointment that’s overshadowed by the relief on his face. It’s so?—
“Matteo…”
My name makes all those thoughts crumble. Theo reaches for me, and I go willingly, falling into his arms as our lips meet again and again. He takes the packet from my weak hands and rips it open, slathering his fingers with lube before flipping me onto my back.
“I’ve missed you,” he mumbles, kissing his way down my chest as his fingers find my entrance. He sweetly teases my crease, twirling his finger around my hole before pressing lightly. “I’ve missed this too.”
I gasp, throwing my head back as one finger enters me. I’m always so good with my words. I like the filthiness, I like the depravity, I like the wickedness of fucking and being fucked.
But I’m nothing but his willing servant as he opens me up, teasing my neglected cock with butterfly kisses that seem like not enough but almost too much.
“Can’t wait. Baby, I can’t wait.”
His eyes lock with mine and I hope he sees the urgency with which I need this too. Feeling him inside me again is my most sinful dream come true. No matter how much it shouldn’t happen, I’ll always say yes to him.
He must recognize the burn within me, the longing for him, because he kisses my lips once more before burying his face in my shoulder and?—
“Theo!” I shout, my toes curling and back arching as he thrusts in all at once, making me feel every delicious inch of him. I turn my head to lick his neck, digging my fingers into the hard planes of his back. “Yes— fuck —yes!”
“Missed you, missed you, missed you,” he repeats like a prayer in my ear with every snap of his hips. I can feel dampness coating my skin, and it makes me hold the back of his head, keeping him tucked away safely in my arms. “Fuck, Matteo, I love you.”
I can’t take it. With all the strength I have, all the passion in my gut, and all the love in my heart, I flip us over. His stunned face makes me pause until I see the fear clouding his waveless eyes. He thinks that I’m putting an end to this? He thinks his confession was too much?
It wasn’t enough.
I straddle his hips, making sure to cup his face in my hand as I press my forehead to his. I use my other hand to angle his cock against my hole. Making sure he can see every desire in my eyes, keeping us locked together, I slide down.
“I love you too,” I whisper against his lips, devouring his cry as my ass meets his hips. “ Te amo, mi precioso .”
I don’t fuck him the way I have in the past. My movements are sensual and slow, trying to convey everything my bursting heart can’t. Everything is forgotten with him, everything is inconsequential, everything but his entire soul in the palms of my hands becomes irrelevant.
“I-I never stopped,” he confesses, echoing the sweet words in his letter. “Please, Matteo, I never stopped. Believe me, believe me?—”
I cut him off with my lips, running my fingernails down his chest, knowing that red streaks will be left in my wake. “I know, precioso . I…” I curse under my breath, jaw clenching when he lifts his hips and brushes against the most sensitive part of me. “I’m sorry.”
He wraps his hands around my back and rolls us, once again on top, keeping us connected. With desperation in his exquisitely expressive face, he hikes my leg over his shoulder, deepening our position, and making my eyes roll to the back of my head. “Say it again.”
“I’m sorry,” I cry, now the one in tears. He leans down, kind and forgiving lips kissing them away. “I never meant to?—”
He shakes his head, nipping at my ankle, holding onto my thigh as he pounds into me with animalistic desire. “I’ll always forgive you, Matteo. I’ll always come back to you. I’ll always love you.”
He drops my leg and smothers me, urging me to lock my legs around his back, beautifully forced to take what he’s giving me. When he tips his chin up and runs his tongue along my bottom lip, I growl with heady need. I bite down on his bottom lip, tugging it between my teeth until he whines, soothing the spot I abused a second later. He grips my hair so hard I think he might yank out a few strands, but he pets me after quelling the ache.
Back and forth—brutality and tenderness—so much whiplash that everything starts to become fuzzy. All I feel is his cock, his hands, his lips, all jumbled into a euphoric haze. All I hear is his whispered ‘ I love you’ and ‘ I forgive you’ and ‘ I missed you’ .
I haven’t felt this complete, this seen, this special in one hundred and eighty-nine days.
“Baby, I need you to come,” he begs against my lips, his chest slick with sweat against mine. He takes my cock in his hand, teasing my foreskin the way he remembers I like, twisting at the head until I scream out my release. It coats his hand, his chest, and he roars. “I love— yes —love you!”
A deep sense of satisfaction overwhelms me as he fills me. The missing piece of me has been returned. Overflowing with him and trapped under the weight of his body is where I’ve always belonged.
He kisses me through my drop down to reality, mumbling soothing promises in my ears, promises we both know he can’t keep.
I’m here for you.
I’ll be with you.
I never want to be without you.
It’s like the memory of our one perfect day together slams into me. The day he took off work and we couldn’t control ourselves. The day we spent happily in bed, giving in to the magnetism between us, whispering secrets only meant for our ears alone.
That beautiful moment didn’t last long and neither can this.
When I become choked up, overcome by the reassurance he can’t give me, he pulls back. “Baby,” he breathes, frantically wiping away my tears. “What?—”
“I have to go,” I say quickly, sniffling as I move him off me. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, holding back a sob when I feel the reminder of him dripping down my thigh. “I’m sorry.”
“Matteo,” he says, reaching for my back, keeping me tethered to him. “Please, don’t.”
I shake my head, brushing him off as I stand. “Now you know, Theo.”
“What do I know?” he asks, coming up behind me and using a hand on my shoulder to spin me around. “What do I know, Matteo? That I love you and you love me? That we’re meant for each other? That we can’t be without this?”
I get dressed quickly, barely able to stand not being able to spin on my heels and beg him to forgive me once again. I can hear the tears in his voice as he pleads for me to stay, to love him, to choose him, but I don’t.
“For fuck’s sake! Stop!” he yells, desperately trying to hold onto my arm as I reach the door. “Why did you let me go?”
I finally give in—like I always do—and really look at him. Naked, vulnerable, and beautifully mine. Every part of him was destined to be sullied and tainted by my hands. Our story was never meant to have a happy ending. Our lives were predetermined to cross for only the sweetest moments before parting ways.
“You’ll always be mi precioso ,” I tell him, gently removing his hand. I raise one fingertip to see if I can count the freckles on the bridge of his nose one last time. I lean in and kiss them, the warmth on his skin makes me want to tear up once again. When I pull back, he looks so lost and confused, and I detest the fact that I caused that. “Now you know I’ll always be yours.”
I leave him speechless as I exit the motel. I can hear him screaming for me as I get into the car, starting the engine, and peeling out of the parking lot before he has a chance to get dressed.
Please, chase me. Make me give in. Force me to stay.
I drive. I drive until I reach the exit of Cheyenne and pull over at a gas station.
Then and only then—alone and wishing that I were anyone else—do I cry for the life we could have had if things were different.