Chapter 24
MATTHEW
He begged me to ruin him, but I was the one being destroyed. His body was made for mine. The way he fit in my arms, against my skin, pressed to my chest. The way his ass took my cock, gripping it like it was meant to be there, like he wanted to keep it inside him forever.
Troye trembled beneath me, and I fucking loved the way he shivered when I kissed the back of his neck. The sounds he made when I slid inside him, splitting him open. He was an angel, and I’d ruined him. Debauched him. Made him filthy and messy and mine.
Mine.
I wrapped an arm around his chest and pulled him tighter against me. Troye, no longer able to grip the couch, reached back and did his best to hold on to me. His fingers scrabbled for purchase, blunt nails scratching at my skin.
He tried to speak, but all he managed were noises. Mewls and whimpers mixed with my groans and growls and created a symphony that I could listen to forever.
“You feel so good.” I spoke the words against his skin, letting my lips gather the salt of his sweat. “So perfect for me.”
Troye whimpered at the praise. Right from the day we met, I’d figured out pretty quickly that he loved being praised.
Over time, I learned that he liked it best when he felt he’d earned it.
And sometimes it took some convincing for him to believe he deserved the praise I heaped upon him.
But the longer we were together, the more he trusted me, the more he believed the things I said to him.
Troye turned his head and raw need flashed in his eyes. We kissed. Messy and imperfect. Our mouths didn’t quite line up, and it was more tongue and breath than anything, but I felt that kiss down to the marrow of my bones, through every nerve and in every cell of my body.
He brought me to life with that kiss, and my body responded by holding him tighter, fucking him harder. My hips snapped, and I drove my cock deeper. Faster. A bead of sweat trickled down my back, and Troye’s fingers were digging into my arm, leaving dents that I hoped would never fade.
Our kiss had devolved into two men not kissing but sharing that intimate space.
Faces pressed close together. We sometimes remembered that we’d been kissing, and we’d try again.
Lips would meet, tongues would clash, and I’d fuck him even harder.
My release was building like a storm gathering strength on the horizon.
I knew Troye was close too from the desperate sounds he was making.
The way his ass tried to take me deeper, the way he tried to talk, but all he could manage were the words Daddy and please.
I wrapped a hand around his cock and let him fuck my fist as I drilled into him. From the moment my hand came in contact with his dick, he was a goner. His body tensed from head to toe, and his ass clamped down on my cock like a vise.
His cock throbbed and twitched, and he came, coating my couch, my hand, my fingers, his cock.
It seemed to have no end. He just kept coming.
Even when there was nothing left to leave his body, he was still shattering.
Oversensitive and spent, too stimulated now for it to remain enjoyable for much longer, Troye was literally out of his mind with pleasure.
My orgasm tore through me like a lightning strike.
Hot and fast and furious. It kept going like thunder, rolling and rumbling, unleashing all that pent-up power until there was nothing left.
My pace slowed and then stopped, and I just stayed there and held him.
Breathed in and out against his skin, felt the way his chest heaved as he worked to catch his breath too.
There was a whine of protest when I pulled out, but he softened in my arms like he was finally able to relax. I reached down and gently probed his hole. It was soft and wet, and Troye arched his back, trying to get me to go deeper, to play with him some more.
“You’re insatiable,” I told him, kissing his shoulder. I was sweat drenched and, for the moment, sated.
“Not my fault. You feel so good.” Troye shifted in my arms, turning himself more toward me.
Sliding off the couch, he put his feet on the floor, stood, and turned the rest of the way, facing me.
He wrapped his arms around my neck, fingers sliding through my hair and tickling my scalp, and he pulled me in for a kiss.
It was slow. Languid. We were unhurried in our intimacy. Troye’s cock was pressed against me, only half hard, like mine. I would never get over the way he kissed me. So open, so relaxed, like he could do it all day and not get tired or bored.
I turned and sat on the couch, my legs no longer willing to hold my body upright.
Troye followed me down, straddling my lap.
The intensity of our kiss increased when his cock pressed against mine.
Mine still wasn’t quite back in the game, but it wouldn’t take long with the way Troye was kissing me like he wanted to inhale me. Or crawl inside me.
And then there was his cock, insistently sliding against mine. The more we kissed, the harder his cock got, and the harder his cock got, the more ferocious and intense his kiss became.
He stopped suddenly, his body going still, and then he reached over and grabbed the discarded lube. He squirted some in his hand, then stroked his cock, getting it nice and slick. He did mine next, making sure we were both slippery and wet before he went back to kissing and grinding.
My hands slid down his back and I cupped his ass, but I didn’t interfere with him. Didn’t pull him closer or urge him to go faster or grind harder. I just kissed him and held him and let him chase his pleasure.
We kissed until my face ached, and I didn’t complain when we kept on kissing.
We were breath and tongues and sweat. Our kisses were slow declarations of affection.
Each one a promise and a prayer all wrapped up together.
Troye was everything I ever wanted and had never been able to find, and I couldn’t imagine a future without him in it.
He was in all my plans now. All my fantasies and daydreams. When I thought about where I’d be in a year, five years, ten years, he was there with me. Still perfect. Still mine.
Troye whimpered against my mouth, and the rhythm of his grinding changed to something more urgent. His lips parted, his body jerked, and he ground harder like he needed to squeeze every last bit of pleasure out of his body.
He came again. His orgasm was softer than the first and when he was done, he collapsed against me.
chest heaving. He curled up in my arms, buried his face in the curve of my neck, and just stayed there, limp but not lifeless.
The aftershocks rippled through him, making him tremble and twitch, and I held him.
Stroked my hands up and down his back and toyed with his hair and just loved him up while he came back to himself.
It took a few minutes, but he sighed when he did.
“I think I need a shower,” he said, but made no effort to move out of my arms. Not that I’d have let him.
“I think you’re fine right here for now.”
He snuggled closer like he was trying to burrow into me. “Who knew you were secretly snuggly? I sure as hell didn’t when I sat on your lap on the plane.”
“That was before I knew you.”
“I’m so glad I got us kicked off that flight. I think it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I still can’t believe they haven’t found my luggage. I bet it’s going to end up at one of those lost luggage auctions. Which means someone is going to get my hotdog dachshund undies.”
My laugh caught me off-guard and it bubbled out before I could stifle it. “I’ll buy you a new pair. Send me the link.”
Troye didn’t always indulge in underwear with silly prints, but I loved that he was willing to embrace his whimsical, silly side. There was no way in hell that I’d ever be able to make taco cat underwear look good, but it was effortless for him.
“You don’t have to buy me underwear.” Troye huffed, trying to sound annoyed but not quite succeeding.
“You don’t like the idea of me buying you underwear? Or do you like it too much?”
Troye pushed back and looked at me. His eyes narrowed and his mouth forced into a scowl he didn’t mean. “How do you do that? Get out of my brain.”
“Ah, so he likes it too much. Tell me more about that, sweetheart.”
“Ugh. I can’t even with you. You’re so… gah.
You know I can’t help but do everything you ask when you call me sweetheart.
” Troye spent a few minutes quietly drawing shapes on my chest. Hearts.
Circles. Stars. More hearts. After sex was when Troye was the most open.
All his guards were down, and it usually took a while for him to build them back up.
But every time we were together, they seemed to stay down longer and longer.
Maybe one day he wouldn’t be guarded around me at all.
Troye was quiet when he finally spoke. “I like the idea of you buying me things like that for the same reason I like stealing your clothes. It makes me feel like I belong to you.”
Cradling his face in my hand, I tipped it up and made him look at me. I wanted him to see the truth of it in my eyes. “You do belong to me. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”