28. Casey
twenty-eight
Casey
I couldn't wait another goddamn second. The moment the talent show ended and people started to scatter, I locked onto Matt's arm like it was the last piece of driftwood in a storm. My fingers dug into the warm skin of his forearm, my grip tighter than necessary, but I didn't care. The look on his face when I'd finished that song—eyes wide and wet, mouth slightly open—had cracked something open inside me that couldn't be patched back together with small talk and polite goodbyes to campers.
"We're leaving," I said, not a question but a statement of absolute fact.
I pulled him away from the amphitheater, away from the chattering groups of counselors and campers dissecting performances and sharing critiques. Away from Sutton's knowing smirk and Oliver's thumbs up. My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape, and the only way to quiet it was to get Matt alone, immediately.
"Casey, slow down," Matt laughed, stumbling as I dragged him down the path that led away from the main camp area. His voice was light, amused, but I caught the slight tremor underneath—the same tremor I'd heard when he stood up in front of everyone and told me he loved me too.
The path was only dimly lit by solar lamps that cast pools of soft light every few yards. Between them, shadows gathered thick and private under the towering pines. The sound of voices faded behind us, replaced by the crunch of gravel under our feet and the whispering of wind through branches far above. I didn't slow down.
"What's the rush?" Matt asked, easily keeping pace despite my determined stride. "The night's still young. We could grab a beer with—"
I whirled around, letting go of his arm only to grab the front of his shirt with both hands and push him against the rough bark of a massive pine tree. His back hit the trunk with a soft thud, and surprise flashed across his face before melting into something darker as I pressed my body against his.
"If I don't have my bare skin against yours right now," I said, my voice a low growl against his ear, "I'm going to lose my fucking mind. Do you understand?"
I felt rather than heard the small groan that escaped him, vibrating through his chest and into mine. His hands found my hips, fingers digging in with a pressure that matched my own desperate grip.
"Crystal clear," he whispered, then tilted his head to find my mouth with his.
The kiss was ferocious—all teeth and tongue, and months of pent-up emotion given permission to exist in the open. I bit his lower lip harder than I meant to, but the moan it drew from him was worth the brief flash of guilt. His hands slid from my hips to my ass, pulling me harder against him so I could feel the ridge of his erection through his jeans.
"Your place," I gasped when we broke apart, both breathing hard. "Now. I need you inside me right fucking now. So deep that I can’t tell where you end and I begin."
Matt nodded, eyes dark and wild in the sparse moonlight filtering through the trees. He grabbed my hand this time, and we half-ran, half-stumbled down the path that branched off toward his tiny home. The main trail was familiar enough that we could have navigated it blindfolded, which was good because I couldn't tear my eyes away from Matt's profile—the sharp angle of his jaw, the slight part of his lips as he concentrated on moving quickly without falling.
The path widened as we approached the clearing where Matt's tiny home sat. The moonlight was stronger here, illuminating the sleek lines of the cabin and glinting off the metal roof. It was where we'd been spending most nights since we started whatever this was—this thing that now had a name, a declaration, a public acknowledgment.
Matt fumbled with his keys at the door, his usually steady hands shaking slightly. I pressed against his back, my arms wrapping around him, my lips finding the sensitive spot just below his ear. He cursed as he dropped the keys, then laughed as I dipped down to retrieve them without removing my mouth from his neck.
"If you keep that up, we're not making it inside," he warned, voice rough.
"Then open the fucking door."
He managed to get the key in the lock on the second try, and we practically fell through the doorway together. I kicked the door shut behind us, already reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin. The tiny home was dark except for the small light Matt always left on over the kitchen sink, but I didn't need to see. I knew every inch of this place, and more importantly, every inch of him.
"Casey," he breathed as I yanked his shirt over his head. My name in his mouth sounded like a prayer, a question, and a demand all at once.
"Yeah?" I answered, running my hands over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the metal of his nipple piercings under my thumbs.
"I love you." He said it simply, plainly, the way someone might comment on the weather, but with an undercurrent of wonder, as if he couldn't quite believe he was allowed to say those words out loud.
The declaration hit me like a physical force, just as it had at the talent show. I froze for a second, my hands still splayed across his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms. Then I surged forward, capturing his mouth in another bruising kiss.
"I love you too," I said against his lips. "Now get your ass up that ladder. I've got plans for you."
Matt's grin was both wicked and tender as he backed toward the steep staircase that led to his lofted bedroom. "Yes, sir."
I watched him climb, admiring the play of muscles across his back and shoulders. His tattoos shifted with each movement—the massive owl on his back seeming almost alive in the dim light, its wings stretching across his shoulder blades. The familiar sight sent a jolt of need straight through me, a bone-deep want that had only intensified after tonight's revelations.
The second we made it into the loft, I went to work on Matt's clothes like they'd personally offended me. His jeans hit the floor with a heavy thud, belt buckle clanking against the hardwood. I pushed him backward until his knees hit the edge of the bed, then shoved him down onto the king-sized mattress that dominated the small space. Moonlight spilled through the clerestory windows, painting silver stripes across his naked body—across the tattoos I'd memorized with my fingers and tongue, across the piercings that glinted like secret messages meant only for me.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," I breathed, standing over him. I'd seen him naked countless times, but tonight felt different. Tonight, I knew he was mine in a way I hadn't let myself believe before.
Matt reached for me, but I stepped back, just out of his grasp. His confused frown quickly turned to understanding as I moved toward the cluttered drawer in his bedside table.
I yanked the drawer open and dug beneath a tangle of charging cables and random odds and ends until my fingers found what I was looking for—a coil of sturdy rope, soft enough not to chafe but strong enough to hold. Matt had shown it to me weeks ago, a shy admission of a fantasy he hadn't yet asked me to fulfill.
Tonight seemed like the perfect time to surprise him.
"Hands above your head," I ordered, returning to the bed with the rope dangling from my fingers.
Matt's eyes widened, but he complied immediately, stretching his arms up toward the headboard. His muscles tensed, creating valleys and ridges that begged to be traced with tongue and teeth. I noticed his hands twitch slightly—nervous energy or eager anticipation, I couldn't tell.
"You sure?" he asked, voice catching slightly.
I paused, rope still coiled in my hand. "You’re mine, aren’t you?"
His gaze locked with mine, and the raw vulnerability there made my chest ache. "Yes," he said simply. "Always yes. All yours."
Fuck. How was I supposed to maintain my dominant swagger when he said shit like that?
I swallowed hard and climbed onto the bed, straddling his chest as I began unwinding the rope. "Tell me if it's too tight," I murmured, wrapping the first loop around his right wrist.
The rope slid through my fingers with familiar ease, reminding me of the day we’d spent tying knots. Never with someone who had just proclaimed his love for me in front of an entire camp full of people. I worked methodically, crossing the rope between his wrists before securing each to the wooden slats of the headboard.
The quiet sounds filled the loft—the soft rasp of rope against skin, Matt's increasingly shallow breathing, the occasional creak of the bed as he shifted beneath me. When I pulled the final knot tight, I sat back to admire my work.
"Try to move," I instructed.
Matt tugged experimentally, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing. The headboard creaked, but the knots held firm. A slow smile spread across his face, transforming into something darker and hungrier than his usual warm grin.
"Looks like you've got me," he said, voice low and rough. "What are you planning to do with me?"
I slid backward until I was straddling his hips, the hard length of his cock pressing against the seam of my jeans. "Everything," I promised.
I stripped efficiently, tossing my clothes to join his on the floor. Matt watched with undisguised hunger, his cock twitching against his stomach as I revealed more skin. The Prince Albert piercing at the tip caught the moonlight, a glint of metal that made my mouth water.
"Fuck, Casey," he groaned as I settled back onto him, skin to skin now. "Need you."
"I know," I said, reaching for the lube in the bedside drawer. "I need you too. Need to ride this beautiful cock until you're begging."
His hips bucked upward involuntarily, seeking friction. "Already begging," he gasped. "Please, Casey."
I uncapped the lube and poured a generous amount onto my fingers, reaching behind myself. Matt watched, lips parted and eyes dark as I worked myself open, my movements deliberate and practiced. I knew he loved watching this part—loved seeing me prepare myself for him. His cock jutted up between us, flushed dark and already leaking pre-cum onto his stomach.
"You're so fucking hot," he whispered, straining against the ropes just enough to test their hold. "Can't believe you're mine."
"Believe it," I said, adding a second finger and hissing at the stretch. "Told the whole fucking camp, didn't I?"
The memory of standing on that stage, guitar in hand, singing words I'd never thought I'd have the courage to say out loud—it sent a fresh wave of need through me. I'd been so scared, so certain I was making a massive mistake. And then Matt had stood up, walked to the stage, and taken the microphone, and everything changed.
"You did," Matt agreed, voice tight with emotion and arousal. "Most beautiful thing I've ever heard."
I couldn't handle the tenderness in his eyes, not when I was trying to maintain control of the situation. So I slid a third finger in, perhaps a bit too quickly, using the sharp edge of pleasure-pain to ground myself.
"Shut up and let me fuck you," I growled, withdrawing my fingers and reaching for the lube again.
I slicked up his cock, paying special attention to the piercing, making him writhe beneath my touch. Then I positioned myself over him, one hand holding his cock steady, the other braced on his chest for balance.
"Look at me," I commanded as I began to sink down.
Matt's eyes locked with mine as I took him in, inch by agonizing inch. The stretch burned in the best possible way, the Prince Albert adding an extra dimension of sensation as it dragged against my inner walls. I didn't stop until I was fully seated, his cock throbbing inside me, filling me so completely I could barely breathe.
"Fuck," I gasped, adjusting to the fullness. "So good."
"Casey," Matt moaned, the sound desperate and raw. His hands flexed in their bonds, instinctively trying to grab my hips. "Please move. Need you to move."
I lifted up slowly, then dropped back down with enough force to make the bed frame creak in protest. Matt's eyes rolled back, a stream of filthy encouragement falling from his lips.
"That's it, fuck, ride me," he groaned. "Take what you need, Casey. Use me."
I established a rhythm, rising and falling on his cock, angling my hips to hit the spot that sent sparks shooting up my spine. The room filled with the sounds of skin against skin, with our mingled curses and moans, with the increasingly urgent creaking of the bed.
"Beg for it," I demanded, slowing my pace to a torturous crawl.
"Please," Matt gasped immediately, no hesitation. "Please, Casey. Harder. Need to feel you come on my cock."
I rewarded him by picking up the pace, riding him with renewed vigor. "Fuck me, baby," I ordered. "Use those hips."
He thrust upward to meet each of my downward movements, establishing a counterpoint rhythm that had both of us panting. Sweat slicked our skin, making the slide of our bodies easier, more fluid. I leaned forward, changing the angle again, and was rewarded with a broken moan from Matt.
"Love you," he gasped, the words sounding torn from somewhere deep inside him. "Fuck, Casey, I love you so much."
Those words—still so new, still so raw—pushed me closer to the edge. I reached between us to stroke myself, matching the rhythm of our bodies.
"Love you too," I admitted, the confession easier in the heat of the moment, with Matt bound and vulnerable beneath me. "So fucking much, Matt. Drives me crazy."
His thrusts grew more erratic, a telltale sign he was getting close. "Casey," he groaned. "Gonna come soon. Can't—fuck—can't hold back."
I slowed again, a wicked idea forming. "Not yet," I said, stilling completely with him buried inside me. "Want something else first."
Matt whimpered—actually whimpered—a sound I'd never heard from him before. His chest heaved with exertion, sweat glistening on the compass tattoo that covered his left pectoral.
"Anything," he promised, desperation clear in every tense line of his body. "What do you want?"
I leaned forward until our foreheads touched, until I could feel his breath mingling with mine. "Tell me again," I whispered. "Tell me what you said at the show."
Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by a softness that contrasted beautifully with the raw sexuality of our position. "I love you, Casey," he said, voice steady despite his physical state. "I've loved you since the first day you walked into that job fair and yelled at me for being too outdoorsy."