20. Matt
twenty
Matt
W e stumbled through the door of my house, droplets from our wet swimsuits christening the wooden floor, and Casey transformed. The sweet, flirty guy who'd been teasing me all day on the lake vanished, replaced by someone hungrier, more deliberate. Before I could even kick the door shut behind us, his hands were on my chest, shoving me backward with surprising force, his eyes dark with intent.
The emergency that had interrupted us had been a minor one — just two girls who'd wandered back to their cabin and hadn't shown up for head count, but we hadn't had another moment alone since it had happened.
"Whoa—" I managed before my ass connected with one of my kitchen chairs. The wooden legs scraped across the floor, a harsh counterpoint to Casey's ragged breathing.
"Been thinking about this all fucking day," he growled, a sound so at odds with his delicate features that it sent a shock straight to my groin. His pastel hair was still damp, hanging in his eyes, making him look wild and untamed.
I reached for him, but he dodged my hands with a dancer's grace. "No. Not yet."
My house felt even smaller with Casey stalking toward me, his slim figure somehow filling the space between the kitchen counter and the chair where I'd landed. The windows were thrown open to the forest beyond, summer air carrying the scent of pine through the screens, but all I could focus on was the musky scent of Casey's skin as he bent over me.
His fingers found the hem of my rash-guard, sticky and wet against my skin. "Off," he commanded, tugging impatiently. I lifted my arms and let him peel the clinging fabric up my torso and over my head. It landed with a wet smack somewhere behind him, forgotten.
Casey's gaze raked over my chest, lingering on my pierced nipples. He brushed his thumbs over them, sending sparks shooting through my nervous system.
"Fuck, Matt," he breathed, "you have no idea what these do to me." His fingers traced the outlines of my tattoos. "Or these."
I was about to tell him exactly what his fingertips were doing to me when he dropped to his knees between my spread legs. His hands found the waistband of my swim trunks, tugging insistently.
"Lift," he ordered, and I obeyed, raising my hips so he could drag the wet nylon down my thighs. My cock sprang free, already half-hard.
My swim trunks joined my rash-guard on the floor. I sat naked on the kitchen chair while Casey remained clothed, his eyes devouring me. The vulnerability of it–—me exposed while he remained covered–—sent an unexpected thrill through me. I was used to being the one in charge, the camp director, the responsible one, but there was something intoxicating about Casey taking control.
"Now you get to watch," he said, rising to his feet. He took two steps back, just out of reach, and began to peel off his own rash-guard. Unlike my hurried undressing, Casey took his time, revealing himself inch by pale inch. The fabric rose, exposing the flat plane of his stomach, the subtle definition of his abs, then higher to reveal his chest, slender but toned.
I swallowed hard, my mouth dry as sand. Casey knew what he was doing, his eyes never leaving mine as he let the rash-guard drop.
"Like what you see?" he asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
"You know I do." My voice came out rougher than I intended as I palmed my cock, showing him how hard he made me.
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his swim trunks, pushing them down his hips with excruciating slowness. The bright blue fabric slid down to reveal the sharp cut of his hip bones, then the thin trail of dark hair leading down from his navel, and finally his cock, flushed and hardening under my gaze.
When he stepped out of the trunks, kicking them aside, he turned around, giving me a view of his ass—round and perfect, like it had been sculpted specifically to torment me. He glanced over his shoulder, catching me staring, and wiggled his hips in a little shimmy that made me groan out loud.
"Goddamn, Casey." My hands moved of their own accord, reaching for those hips, needing to grab and squeeze and pull him into my lap.
He danced away. "No touching. Not yet."
"You're killing me," I complained, but there was no real protest in it. The game was too good, the anticipation building like electricity before a storm.
"Hands behind your back," he ordered, and I complied, gripping the back of the chair to keep myself from reaching for him. The position pushed my chest forward, my pierced nipples hardening in the cool air, my cock standing at attention.
Casey stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. He circled behind me, his breath hot against my ear. "Good boy." The praise shouldn't have affected me the way it did, a shiver running straight to my groin. “I’m gonna use that big dick like my own personal dildo.”
My cock jolted in my lap, eager to be a part of this plan.
"I think about you all the time," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "Your hands, your cock, those fucking piercings." His fingers traced the owl on my back, following the lines of ink that mapped out the spread wings. "When I'm alone in my bed trying not to make noise while I touch myself? It's you I'm thinking about."
My cock throbbed at his words, pre-cum beading at the tip. I gripped the chair harder, knuckles white with the effort of keeping my hands in place.
Casey came back around to face me, dropping to his knees once more. His eyes flicked up to mine as he reached toward the kitchen counter, where the large jar of lube I’d bought him for his birthday still sat. He unscrewed the cap and dipped his fingers into the clear gel, coating them liberally.
For a moment, I thought he was going to touch me, but instead, he reached behind himself. His lips parted in a silent "oh" as he began to work himself open, turning so that I could watch one slender finger disappearing inside his body.
The sight of Casey on his knees before me, preparing himself for my cock while I sat helpless and aching, was almost too much. I shifted in the chair, my breath coming in quick, shallow pants.
"Casey, please—"
"Patience," he murmured, adding a second finger, his eyes fluttering closed as he stretched himself.
He turned, and with his free hand wrapped his fingers around my cock, giving it one long, slow stroke from base to tip. I hissed through clenched teeth, the touch almost painful after so much anticipation.
Casey leaned forward, his hair falling into his eyes, and without warning, took me into his mouth. The wet heat enveloped me, his tongue swirling around the tip, teasing at the piercing that ran through the head of my cock.
"Fuck!" I growled, my hips bucking involuntarily. Casey took it in stride, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked harder, taking me deeper. He may have been inexperienced with anal, but he’d certainly sucked a cock before.
I watched, mesmerized, as his head bobbed between my thighs, his slender throat working as he swallowed around me. All the while, his other hand remained behind him, his back arched so I could see his fingers moving in and out, preparing himself for what was to come. The sight was obscene, beautiful, and utterly captivating.
Casey pulled off me with a wet pop. He looked up at me through his lashes, his lips swollen and red, his eyes dark with desire.
"You're so fucking hot like this," he said, his voice husky. "Letting me take control." He leaned in again, licking a stripe up the underside of my cock, making me shudder. "The big, strong camp director, waiting for me to let him touch."
He added a third finger behind himself, his face contorting with pleasure and discomfort. I could only imagine how tight he must be, how it would feel when he sank down onto me.
"Casey," I rasped, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears. "Need to touch you. Please."
He shook his head, pink strands dancing across his forehead. "Not yet." He took me back into his mouth, this time taking me deeper, his throat constricting around the head of my cock as he swallowed.
I was teetering dangerously close to the edge. I forced myself to breathe, to focus on the cool air from the open windows, the distant sound of birds in the forest—anything to distract from the overwhelming pleasure threatening to end things before they'd properly begun.
When Casey pulled away, his chest heaving with exertion, his cock hard and leaking against his stomach, I knew I was in trouble.
"Ready for me?" he asked, and there was a vulnerability behind the bravado now, a question in his eyes that went beyond the physical act we were about to share.
"More than you know," I answered, and I meant it in ways that surprised even me.
Casey rose from his knees, his slender body unfolding like some exotic creature, all angles and pale skin in the afternoon light streaming through my windows. His eyes never left mine as he climbed into my lap, thighs bracketing my hips, his weight settling on me with deliberate pressure. His lips found mine, hungry and demanding, tasting faintly of the salty musk of my cock.
My hands itched to grab his waist, to pull him closer, but I kept them locked behind the chair, honoring his earlier command. Casey smiled against my mouth, sensing my struggle.
"So obedient," he murmured, his voice a vibration against my lips. His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging just enough to send pinpricks of pleasure-pain down my spine. "I like that about you, Matt. Everyone thinks you're this big, tough guy in charge of everything, but here you are, letting me call the shots because you’re so desperate to fuck me, isn’t that right?"
He rolled his hips, his cock sliding against mine, slick with pre-cum and lube. The friction pulled a groan from deep in my chest, my thighs tensing with the effort of staying still.
"Maybe I want to see what you do with control," I said, my voice rough with desire. "Maybe I like seeing this side of you."
Casey laughed, a bright sound at odds with the darkness in his eyes. "Sure you do. But I bet you're dying to grab my ass right now and shove me down onto your dick. To use me like your own little cocksleeve?"
He wasn't wrong. The rounded curves of his ass were right there, temptingly close, and I could imagine how they'd feel in my palms as I forced his tight hold down on my cock. Casey read the answer in my face and grinned, leaning in to nip at my bottom lip.
"Not yet," he whispered. "First, I want to feel this—" he reached between us, wrapping his long fingers around my cock, "—inside me. And I want to move so slowly it tortures you."
“Casey,” I warned.
“You called me impatient earlier. This is just a little lesson in how patient I can be.”
Our mouths crashed together again, the kiss deeper this time, tongues sliding against each other in a promise of what was to come. Casey tasted like summer—like sunscreen and cherry ChapStick, like everything I loved.
"Ready?" he asked, breaking the kiss to look into my eyes. For all his bravado, there was vulnerability there too—a question that went beyond the physical.
"Fuck yes," I breathed. “But—”
He silenced me with another kiss. "I've been thinking about this all week," he said. "Fingering myself in the shower every morning, imagining it was you."
Casey shifted, rising above me. With one hand braced on my shoulder, he used the other to guide me to his entrance. I felt an intense pressure as the head of my cock pressed against his lubed hole, his body resisting for a moment before beginning to yield.
Our eyes locked as Casey began to sink down, taking me inch by inch, his heat and tightness enveloping me, stroking me. The piercings created a little resistance, and his lips parted, a soft "ah" escaping him as the first piercing popped past the tight ring of muscle. The snug heat enveloping me was almost too much to bear, especially after the teasing and anticipation.
"Fuck," I hissed, fighting the urge to thrust upward. "You feel amazing."
Casey's thighs trembled as he lowered himself further, taking more of my length. His face was a study in concentration and pleasure—eyebrows drawn together, bottom lip caught between his teeth, a flush spreading from his cheeks down his neck to his chest.
When he'd taken about half of me, he paused, breathing deeply. "You're so big," he gasped, a mix of complaint and compliment. "The piercing... I can feel it."
"Too much?"
He shook his head, pretty pastel hair falling into his eyes. "No. Perfect. Just need a minute."
I wanted desperately to touch him, to run my hands up his thighs, to support him as he adjusted to my size. As if reading my thoughts, Casey reached behind me and grabbed my wrists, bringing my hands around to rest on his hips.
"You can touch now." His voice hitched as he sank down another inch. "I need you to."
The permission unleashed something in me. My hands gripped his slim hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, steadying him as he continued his descent. The feeling of finally touching him after being forced to watch was electric, our skin connecting with a spark that ran straight to my core.
"That's it," I encouraged as Casey worked his way down, taking more of me inside his tight heat. "You're doing so well, taking me so good."
The praise seemed to spur him on. With a determined expression, Casey sank down the rest of the way, until he was fully seated in my lap, my cock buried to the hilt inside him. We both groaned at the sensation, our foreheads coming together as we breathed each other's air.