Nineteen
Miles C
hey you landed yet?
mat
matteo russo
matteo gabriele russo
omg you’re dead aren’t you
Fucking relax, drama queen, we were just delayed
I’m here
Stuck in the airport, but here in your stupid country
Also how do you know my middle name?
your wikipedia page is a joy
THE HOTEL ROOM was very nice. It had an enormous bed, chairs that weren’t falling apart, and a shower almost as big as the whole bathroom in London.
Better still, it was all mine. Tomas and Macca had their own rooms on the next floor because we’d booked too late to get rooms closer together, but since I wasn’t used to travelling with a team that was hardly a drawback.
“We should hit the courts as soon as we can,” Tomas said as we dropped my bags on the floor by the huge TV. “Shake off the flight, get used to the surface.”
“Yeah, for sure, let’s do that,” I said. “Maybe—”
My phone buzzed and I glanced down.
room 355. i’ve only got two hours though
“Actually,” I said, tucking the phone back into my pocket without replying. “I think I’ll take a walk first. Get my bearings. Practice in a couple of hours?”
Tomas’s eyes narrowed, but he shrugged. “If you like. Might take that long to book a spot anyway. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
He left about his mission, and glad to have someone else to deal with such tasks now, I tapped back a quick reply to Miles. Be there in 5
you’re much faster than room service
Told you if you whistled, I’d come
I’d been thinking about him for the whole flight—for the whole two weeks apart if I was honest—so as overeager as it was, I freshened myself up as fast as I could and was on my way to his room before I’d even been in the hotel twenty minutes.
The plush hotel corridor was nothing like the narrow hallway outside his apartment, and I had to glance around to be sure I was alone, but nervously knocking on his door still felt achingly familiar.
Except that he must have been waiting, for it was immediately yanked open and there Miles stood in the aperture, both unchanged and yet somehow different.
His silver necklace sat atop a dark-green polo and a few strands of his wavy blond hair were falling into his eyes – dark eyes that burned like smouldering coals.
“Get in here,” he said, and I didn’t need telling twice.
As the door closed behind me, he dropped to his knees, hooking his fingers into my shorts as he went. And with an impatient, needy groan, he took my soft cock in his mouth.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed, gripping a handful of his hair and thinking of the words he’d spoken through the phone as I hardened between his lips.
Miles’s gaze flicked up, all wicked heat as he circled me with his tongue.
“Are you looking for a second coming? I haven’t even given you a first. Yet.
” He punctuated that word with a deep slide of my cock into his throat, humming as I slid back out.
“I’ve been thinking about this for days and now I can’t decide how I want you most.”
“So long as we keep the first short, two hours is enough to go twice,” I said, hungry for everything I could get.
“Fuck yes, you are something else. You’re sure?”
“Definitely. Need to get my second coming after all.”
He grinned, stroking my cock slowly. “All right, fuck my mouth.”
A shock of heat flooded through me. “I—are you sure?” I asked, before thinking of the afternoon he’d told me his fantasies. This had certainly been one of them.
“Yeah,” he said, with a slightly amused smile like he found me cute for asking. “I’ll tap your foot if I want you to stop.”
Letting go of his hair, I shifted my hands down, palms over his cheekbones. And as he took my cock back into his mouth, I was suddenly awfully aware that I’d never actually done this before.
I thrust slowly at first, feeling my way, the sensation of being able to dictate how deep I went wildly arousing – because of the power, yes, but also because he trusted me, because he wanted me to make use of his mouth for my own pleasure.
And his. Yeah, I get there really fast thinking about that, he’d said, and as he pulled out his own dick and started stroking it, I let out a shaky groan and thrust deeper into the wet heat of his mouth. His throat. My cock swelling it like a mouthful he couldn’t swallow.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I said, fingertips nesting in his hair.
He didn’t reply because I was so deep in his throat that his chin was against my balls, but he kept his eyes on me, something both appreciative and faintly mocking in that look like he was daring me to go harder.
I risked speeding up, testing his glorious lack of gag reflex, and he let out a satisfied little moan that vibrated around my cock.
He hadn’t been kidding when he said he enjoyed this, and thinking back to the other fantasies he’d listed, I said, “Oh you love this. Love taking it like a good fucking boy.”
This earned a second groan and his eyes closed, his own strokes hastening.
Easy then to lose myself to the sensations: the sight of him kneeling there while I used him, the wet gulp of his throat, the spit dampening my hands, hot and slick.
The whole thing was so raw and visceral and was driving me wild.
“Fuck, Miles, this is—”
I thrust in hard and his throat convulsed, and whether gag or cough, I pulled out though he hadn’t tapped my foot.
Worried as I was, the sight of him kneeling before me—cheeks flushed, lips a vivid red, damp patches on his polo shirt—was extremely arousing.
He still held his cock, and saliva dripped from his chin, but with a hasty swallow, he looked up and opened his mouth, come-fuck-me stare heavy-lidded with need.
It was less invitation than plea as he went on stroking himself, his breath coming quick, and goddamn did I oblige, slapping his tongue a few times with the head of my cock before sliding it back into his mouth.
He groaned as I hit the back of his throat.
Fuck, he loved this. Really loved this. And if this was how he wanted me to come it was not going to be difficult.
Not while his eyes begged. Not while his lips were wet and pink and wide open.
Not while I was fucking his throat, every thrust soon eliciting a deep moan as he stroked himself faster and faster.
“God yes,” I said, sure he was close. “Do it. Come for me. Come while I’m in your throat.”
His moans grew more ragged. His eyes fluttered closed.
“That’s it. Take it like a good boy and come for me.”
As though that was the last straw, he came with a sudden, intense cry muffled by my dick, the vibration of it adding to the sheer arousal that was watching him get off to this.
I thrust deep into it, gripping the back of his head as I came in his throat, and it was all I could do to keep my own cry from rattling the damn windows.
“Wow,” I said when I found my voice again. “That was . . .”
“Really fucking hot,” Miles finished, a little breathless. He lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face like he was on court, and grimaced when he realised he’d come on it. “I’ll be right back,” he said, clearing his throat and heading to the bathroom, already stripping off the shirt.
While he cleaned himself up, I pulled off my own clothes and dropped naked onto the untouched bed, the setting new but the feeling of ease entirely familiar.
He joined me when he returned, flopping onto the covers beside me all soft hair and long limbs and that easy smile.
“Hi,” he said, fingers finding my bare chest.
“Hi,” I replied. “How you doing?”
“Much better after that.”
He went on gently sliding his hands over my skin as though marking my contours, so I dared to tangle our legs together, pulling us closer.
“Is this our thing now?” I asked, keeping my tone light as though I wasn’t hungering for still more touch, hungering to hold him and kiss him and live inside his skin. “Hooking-up in hotel rooms?”
“Since we both live in them now, I guess so, yeah. How’s the new team?”
“They’re pretty great actually. I told you about Tomas.
He’s . . . good for me, I think. Focussed on my head as much as my game.
And Macca is our requisite straight guy.
He’s fun. Don’t know him that well yet, but he’s got an interest in strength and conditioning, and his massages are brutal in the best way. ”
“Macca?” He gave me one of his suspicious looks. “You Aussies are so ridiculous at nicknames that I can’t even begin to guess what his actual name is.”
“Ben.”
Miles laughed, and by god had I missed the sound, missed the way it lit up my heart. “Sure, why not? Why don’t you have a stupid nickname? Shouldn’t you be Matto—Oh, I guess because both your names already end in a vowel.”
“Yeah, my parents call me Matty sometimes,” I said, “but that’s about it. You could be Callo.”
“No thank you! You do that and I’ll kick you out.”
He jabbed me in the ribs, an attack that soon became a friendly wrestling match interspersed with kisses and laughter, until I hooked his knee from beneath him and landed him on his back. Pinning him to the bed, I said, “I win, so I get naming rights.”
“Not how it works,” he said, half-heartedly trying to buck me off.
I bent to kiss him, the thrill of being able to possess this part of him never ceasing. “It is now, Princess.”
Miles’s laugh was a gentle hum against my lips before he lifted his head off the pillow to kiss me harder. Hungrily. While beneath my hands, his fingers curled to hold mine.
When I pulled back I did so slowly, the kiss lingering, our lips sticking like they didn’t want to part. And when they did, those dark eyes stared into me like they had that last day in London, a hint of fear and awe there that tore at my chest with sharp, burrowing claws.
“So.” I swallowed hard. “You asked about my new team, how’s your old team? Is it nice having them back?”