29. Casey
twenty-nine
Casey
I grinned down at Sutton, feeling mischievous. "I had a crush on Sutton first."
"Oh, fuck off. Sutton?" Matt groaned. I wiggled my hips, leaning down to kiss him, loving the way his cock shifted inside me as I did.
"But you're the one who got me. And your cock feels so good, so much better than Sutton's would have."
Matt rolled his eyes. "Sutton is a bottom, jackass. And don't ask me how I know that, I don't want to relive it."
I burst out laughing, and kissed the tip of his nose, grinding on top of him. "Don't blame him. Bottoming feels so fucking good."
Matt blinked up at me. "I want to know what it feels like," Matt said suddenly, the words tumbling out between desperate, raw moans.
I stilled again, not sure I'd heard him correctly. "What?"
His eyes met mine, pupils blown wide with desire but gaze steady and certain. "I want to know what it feels like to have you inside me," he repeated. "Want you to fuck me, Casey."
The words hit me like a physical blow, sending a fresh surge of arousal through my system. We'd done a lot of things in the weeks we'd been sleeping together, but that was one line we hadn't crossed. Not because I hadn't wanted to—fuck knows I'd fantasized about it plenty—but because Matt had never asked.
"Are you serious?" I managed, my voice hoarse. I shifted on top of him again, moaning softly at the stretch of his cock, not sure what to do.
"Dead serious," Matt confirmed, bucking his hips up to emphasize his point. "Want to feel you inside me. Want everything with you."
I sat impaled on his cock, looking down at this beautiful man—bound to his bed, completely at my mercy, offering me yet another piece of himself that I hadn't even dared to ask for. It was almost too much.
"Say it again," I demanded, even as I carefully lifted myself off Matt's cock. The sudden emptiness made me wince, but I was too focused on his words to care. I stayed between his spread legs, looking down at him with a mixture of lust and wonder. The rope around his wrists pulled taut as he strained upward, trying to maintain contact with my body as I moved away.
"I want you to fuck me, Casey," Matt repeated, his voice steadier than I would have expected given the circumstances. His eyes held mine, unflinching despite the vulnerability of his position. "I've been thinking about it for weeks."
"Weeks?" I echoed, my hand absently stroking his thigh with one hand and my cock with the other, imagining the tight grip of Matt's luscious ass around me. "Why didn't you say something?"
He gave a small shrug, the movement limited by his bound wrists. "Wasn't sure I was ready. But tonight, after the show..." He trailed off, swallowing hard. "I want everything with you. No more holding back."
Christ. If I hadn't already been achingly hard, those words would have done the trick. I glanced at the rope securing him to the headboard, considering.
"I could untie you," I offered. "Might be easier for your first time."
Matt shook his head immediately. "No. Like this. Want to be completely yours."
Fuck. The trust implicit in that statement hit me like a physical blow. For someone like Matt—a natural leader, always in control, responsible for an entire camp—to willingly put himself in such a vulnerable position... it was almost too much.
"Spread your legs wider for me."
He complied instantly, shifting his muscular thighs further apart as I slipped a pillow under his hips, raising him up. The position exposed him completely, his cock still hard and glistening with lube, the Prince Albert piercing catching the moonlight. I moved between his legs, running my hands up his thighs to his hips, then further up to trace the intricate lines of the tattoos covering his torso.
My gaze traveled down to where he was most vulnerable. I'd never really looked at Matt's bare ass with this specific intent before. Sure, I'd appreciated it—how could I not?—but now I was examining it as territory to be explored, claimed.
"Going to make this so good for you," I promised, reaching again for the lube.
I poured a generous amount onto my fingers, warming it between them as I contemplated my approach. Despite my extensive sexual history, this moment felt uniquely significant. This wasn't just another hook-up; this was Matt—Matt who had just told an entire camp full of people he loved me, Matt who was currently bound to his own bed, offering me a piece of himself he'd never given anyone.
"Tell me if anything hurts," I instructed, circling his entrance with one slick finger. "We can stop anytime."
"I'm not going to break," Matt said with a hint of his usual confidence, though it wavered as my finger pressed more firmly against him. "I'm too fucking horny."
I took my time, tracing the tight ring of muscle, applying gentle pressure without pushing inside. Matt's breathing quickened, his abs tensing and relaxing as he adjusted to the new sensation. When I slipped just the tip of my finger inside, he gasped, his cock twitching against his stomach.
"Good?" I asked, stilling my movement.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Different. But yeah. Good. More."
I worked my finger deeper, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. There was none—only a fascinating mixture of concentration and pleasure, his lips parted, eyes half-closed but still fixed on mine. When my finger was fully seated inside him, I curled it experimentally, searching.
"Oh, fuck!" Matt's back arched off the bed, his wrists straining against the rope. "What the—do that again."
I grinned, having found what I was looking for. "You mean this?" I pressed against his prostate again, circular motions that had him writhing and cursing.
"Please," he gasped. "Casey, more. Need more."
Who was I to deny such a polite request? I slowly withdrew my finger, then returned with two, the stretch more pronounced this time. Matt hissed, a sound of both pleasure and adjustment.
"Breathe," I reminded him, stilling my fingers until I felt him relax around me. "That's it. Just like that."
I worked him open carefully, scissoring my fingers, occasionally brushing against his prostate to keep pleasure outweighing the unfamiliar intrusion. His cock leaked steadily onto his stomach, creating a small puddle that glistened in the dim light.
"Another," Matt demanded after several minutes of this treatment. "I can take it. Want to be ready for you."
The eagerness in his voice sent a fresh wave of arousal through me. I added more lube, then pressed a third finger alongside the others, moving with deliberate slowness. The tight heat around my fingers was intoxicating, a preview of what my cock would soon experience.
"Fuck, you're tight," I murmured, working my fingers deeper. "Going to feel so good around my cock."
"Then do it," Matt urged, his hips moving now to meet my thrusting fingers. "I'm ready. Casey, please. Fuck me with that pretty cock."
I wasn't entirely convinced he was physically ready—this was his first time, after all—but the desperation in his voice was hard to resist. I withdrew my fingers, reached for the lube again, and slicked my cock generously. No condoms—we'd established early on that my latex allergy meant we'd be bare, and we were both clean. The thought of being inside Matt with nothing between us made my cock throb painfully.
"How do you want it?" I asked, positioning myself between his spread thighs. "Like this, or should I flip you over?"
"Like this," Matt said immediately.
I nodded, hooking my hands under his knees to push his legs up and back, exposing him further. The position must have been an unfamiliar stretch for him, but he didn't complain, just looked up at me with a mixture of trust and desire that made my chest ache.
"I'm going to go slow," I warned, guiding the head of my cock to his entrance. "Tell me if it's too much."
The first press forward met resistance, his body tensing instinctively against the intrusion. I stilled, waiting for him to adjust.
"Relax," I murmured, running a soothing hand down his thigh. "Breathe out as I push in."
Matt nodded, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly as I pressed forward again. This time, the head of my cock slipped past the tight ring of muscle, and we both groaned at the sensation.
"Holy fuck," Matt gasped, eyes wide.
"You okay?" I managed, fighting the urge to thrust deeper into that incredible heat.
He nodded jerkily. "Yeah. Just—fuck. Full. Give me a second."
I held perfectly still, though it cost me considerable effort. The sight of Matt beneath me, bound and impaled on just the head of my cock, was almost enough to make me come on the spot. His muscular chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, a flush spreading across his skin from his neck to the compass tattoo.
After what felt like an eternity, he nodded again. "More," he whispered. "Slow."
I pushed forward incrementally, watching his face for signs of discomfort, prepared to stop at the slightest indication. But Matt just kept breathing through it, his body gradually accepting more of me until, finally, I was fully seated inside him, our bodies flush together.
"Fuck," I breathed, overwhelmed by the tight heat surrounding me. "Matt, you feel incredible."
"Casey," he moaned, my name sounding like a prayer on his lips. "So full. So good. Fuck, I had no idea."
I leaned forward, changing the angle slightly, and captured his mouth in a deep kiss. The movement caused a small shift in my position inside him, and he gasped against my lips. I nipped his bottom lip. "As good as this feels, I'm the bottom still," I whispered, and he let out a gruff laugh, raising his lips to kiss me again.
"Move," he urged when we broke apart. "Please, Casey. Fuck me. Need to feel you."
I withdrew slowly, almost to the tip, then pushed back in with the same careful deliberation. Matt's legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper, encouraging me without words. I established a gentle rhythm, each thrust a bit firmer than the last as he adjusted to the intrusion.
"More," Matt demanded, straining against the ropes to get closer to me, push me deeper. "Harder."
I picked up the pace, driving into him with more force. The headboard began to knock against the wall, keeping time with our movements. Matt's cock bounced against his stomach with each thrust, still rock hard and leaking.
"Fuck, Matt," I groaned, angling my hips to hit his prostate with each stroke. "So tight. So perfect around my cock."
"Love you," he gasped, the words punched out of him by a particularly deep thrust. "I love you so fucking much, Casey."
The raw emotion in his voice threatened to unravel me completely. I drove into him harder, my control slipping as pleasure built at the base of my spine.
"I love you too," I admitted, the words easier now than they had been at the talent show. Here, in the privacy of his loft, with our bodies joined as intimately as possible, the truth flowed freely. "So fucking much, Matt. You have no idea."
His response was a stream of filthy encouragement, begging me to go harder, deeper, to make him feel it tomorrow. His words grew increasingly incoherent as I found the perfect angle, hitting his prostate with each thrust.
"Casey," he warned suddenly, his voice tight. "Going to—fuck—going to come. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
I maintained the rhythm, watching in fascination as his cock jerked without being touched. A moment later, he cried out, back arching off the bed as ropes of cum erupted across his stomach and chest. His body clenched rhythmically around my cock, the added pressure nearly sending me over the edge.
"Fuck, Matt," I gasped, slowing my movements to let him ride out his orgasm. "Did you just—"
"Don't stop," he pleaded, still trembling with aftershocks. "Want to feel you come inside me."
Those words—combined with the sight of him bound and covered in his own cum, his body still gripping me like a vise—were my undoing. I thrust once, twice more, then buried myself deep as my orgasm crashed through me. I came hard, filling him with pulse after pulse, marking him from the inside in the most primal way possible.
As the pleasure subsided, I carefully lowered myself onto him, mindful of my weight. We lay there for several moments, breathing in tandem, my cock still buried inside him, our sweat and his cum making the slide of skin on skin both intimate and slightly gross in the best possible way.
"Fuck," Matt said, his voice raspy with exertion. "Why didn't we do that sooner?"
I laughed, the sound muffled against his chest. "You never asked. Besides, I like stuffing you inside me."
"Can we do that again? Maybe not immediately, but soon."
I lifted my head to look at him properly, taking in the flush on his cheeks, the dazed satisfaction in his eyes, the slight disarray of his usually perfect hair. He was fucking beautiful, and he was mine.
Matt flexed his wrists in their bonds, a reminder that he was still secured to the headboard. "I think it's time to untie me. My hands are going numb."
I laughed again, carefully withdrawing from his body—an action that made both of us wince—and reached up to undo the knots. As I freed him, I couldn't help but marvel at how much had changed in the span of a single evening. One talent show, one song, one public declaration, and suddenly everything was different.
As Matt rubbed his freed wrists, I caught his gaze. "No regrets?" I asked, needing the reassurance.
His smile was slow and certain, filled with a warmth that made my chest tight. "Only that I let you worry enough to write that song."