Chapter Twenty-Six
Matlock
I couldn’t fucking breathe.
Something was different about him tonight.
His hands were frantic, almost desperate, clawing at me as if he were trying to crawl inside my skin.
His breathing was ragged, his body trembling with an urgency I’d felt from him before, but never quite like this.
Rawer. More desperate. Like he was drowning, and I was the only thing keeping him afloat.
Simon had been pulling away from me in small, deliberate ways. Maintaining a careful distance when he passed me in the house, as if he were afraid of giving in if I got too close. I told myself it was the stress of the trial, the weight of everything pressing down on him, but I knew better.
He was protecting himself.
Building walls. Creating space between us as if he were preparing to let me go. As if he’d finally had enough of my bullshit. But today something had shifted. I didn’t know what, but something had broken loose. Something had changed.
And I didn’t fucking care.
Whatever he was offering right now, whatever this was, I was taking it. I wasn’t going to question it. Wasn’t going to give him time to think, to second-guess, to withdraw. If I asked, he might remember all the reasons we shouldn’t be doing this.
He might reconsider.
He might remember.
That he wasn’t mine, not really.
But he’ll always be mine.
I spun us around, pressed him against the door, and kissed him as if I were starving.
Like I’d been holding my breath underwater, and he was the air I needed to live.
My tongue pushed into his mouth, claiming, tasting, and he opened for me immediately, gasping, yielding, his hands fisting in my shirt as he pulled me closer.
God, he tasted good. Like coffee and desperation, and... Simon.
I pressed him harder against the door, my body covering his, my cock already hard and aching as I ground against him. He moaned into my mouth, and the sound went straight to my cock.
“Fuck,” I growled against his lips. “Fuck, Simon.”
“Tony...” His voice was breathless, needy, and his hands were everywhere: my chest, my shoulders, sliding down to grip my ass and pull me tighter against him.
I couldn’t get close enough.
I kissed him harder, deeper, my hands moving down his neck to his chest, his waist; I grabbed his hips, yanking him forward so I could feel every inch of him pressed against me. His cock was hard through his pants, and I groaned at the feel of it.
“I need you,” I said, my voice rough. “Right fucking now.”
“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, Tony, please.”
I didn’t wait.
My hands moved to his shoulders, shoving his suit jacket to the floor.
I grabbed his shirt and ripped it open, buttons scattering across the floor as I tore the fabric from his shoulders.
His skin was warm and smooth under my hands, and I ran my palms over his chest, his stomach, feeling the way his muscles tensed and flexed under my touch.
Beautiful.
He was so fucking beautiful.
I leaned down and bit his neck hard enough to leave a mark, and he cried out, his head falling back against the door.
“Mine,” I growled against his skin. “You’re mine, Simon.”
“Yours,” he breathed. “Always yours.”
I kissed down his throat, his collarbone, his chest, my hands working at his belt. I got it open, popped the button on his pants, and shoved them down his hips along with his underwear. His cock sprang free, hard and leaking, and I wrapped my hand around it.
“Fuck,” Simon gasped, his hips jerking forward into my grip.
I stroked him slowly, watching his face—the way his eyes fluttered closed, the way his lips parted, the way his breath came in short, desperate gasps.
“Look at me,” I ordered.
His eyes opened, hazy and dark with need.
“I want you to watch,” I said, my voice breaking on the words.
He wanted the world. He wanted me to claim him, to stand beside him in the light, to be brave enough to love him openly.
I couldn’t give him that because I was a fucking coward.
Too afraid, too broken by my own ghosts.
But this... fuck, this I could give him.
This surrender. This was mine to give; something I’d never given to anyone.
Something that was only for him. This wasn’t the first time I took his cock in my mouth, but it was the first time like this.
“You’re the only man I’ll do this for. The only man I will ever get on my fucking knees for. ”
Then I dropped to the floor. A heavy thud echoed in the silence as Simon’s eyes went wide, and his hands flew to my shoulders. “Tony—”
I didn’t give him time to finish. I took his cock in my mouth, swallowing him down in one smooth motion, and he shouted, his hands fisting in my hair, his hips bucking forward.
I groaned around him, the taste of him flooding my senses, salt and musk and... Simon. I sucked him hard, my tongue working the underside of his cock, and he was shaking, trembling, his thighs tensing under my hands.
“Oh God,” he gasped. “Oh God, Tony, I can’t—”
I pulled off with a wet pop, looking up at him. His face was flushed, his eyes wild. He looked beautifully wrecked.
Perfect.
“You’re not coming yet,” I said, my voice rough. “Not until I’m inside you.”
He whimpered—actually whimpered—and the sound made my cock throb.
I stood, grabbing his face and kissing him again hard, possessive, claiming. He kissed me back just as desperately, his hands fumbling with my belt, my pants, shoving them down my hips.
My cock sprang free, and he wrapped his hand around it immediately, stroking me with firm, sure movements that made my vision blur.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “Simon—”
“I need you,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please, Tony, I need you inside me.”
I grabbed his hips and spun him around, pressing him face-first against the door. He braced his hands against the wood, his back arching, his ass pushing back toward me.
“Stay there,” I ordered.
I stepped back just long enough to grab the lube I’d been carrying for days from my pocket, hoping for a moment just like this, and slicked my fingers. I pressed one against his hole, and he gasped, his body tensing.
“Relax,” I murmured, leaning forward to kiss his shoulder. “Let me in, baby.”
He took a shaky breath and relaxed as I pushed my finger inside. He was tight and hot, and I groaned at the feel of him.
“More,” he gasped. “Please, more—”
I added a second finger, stretching him, working him open, and he moaned again, low and desperate, his hips rocking back against my hand.
“That’s it,” I crooned. “Take it. Take what I give you.”
“Tony,” he whimpered. “Please, I’m ready. I need...”
I pulled my fingers out and slicked my cock, positioning myself at his entrance. I gripped his hips, holding him steady, and pushed inside in one slow, relentless thrust.
He cried out, his back arching, his hands scrabbling against the door.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “Fuck, Simon, you feel so good.”
He was tight and hot and perfect, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from coming right then and there. I held still, giving him time to adjust, my hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise.
“Move,” he gasped. “Please, Tony, move...”
I pulled back and slammed into him, and he shouted, his whole body shuddering.
I fucked him hard and fast, my hips snapping forward, driving into him over and over. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with his moans and my grunts and the desperate, frantic rhythm of our bodies.
“Mine,” I growled, leaning forward to bite his shoulder. “You’re mine, Simon. Say it.”
“Yours,” he gasped. “I’m yours, Tony.”
My left hand slammed against the door near his head. With my right hand, I reached over and wrapped it around his cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts. He was leaking, dripping, and I used it to slick my hand, jerking him harder.
“Come for me,” I ordered. “Come on my cock, baby.”
He cried out, his body going rigid, and he came hard, his cock pulsing in my hand, his ass clenching around me. The feeling of him tightening around me was too much. I thrust into him one more time and came with a shout, my vision whiting out, my whole body shaking with the force of it.
I collapsed against his back, both of us panting, trembling, our bodies slick with sweat.
“Fuck,” I breathed.
“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice hoarse.
I pulled out slowly, and he whimpered. I turned him around and kissed him, soft this time, gentle, my hands cupping his face.
I pulled him close, wrapping my arms around him, holding him against my chest. His heart hammered against mine, and I buried my face in his hair, breathing him in. We stood there in the entryway, naked and spent, his body trembling slightly as he clung to me.
He tilted his head up, searching my face, and I saw the question in his eyes, the vulnerability, the need for reassurance. I couldn’t give him the words. Not yet. But I could give him this: my arms around him, my body shielding his, my presence solid and real.
I kissed his forehead, lingering there, and felt him relax against me.
“Come on,” I murmured against his hair. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I guided him toward the bathroom, my hand never leaving the small of his back. The shower was warm when we stepped inside, steam rising around us like a cocoon. Simon leaned against the tiled wall, his eyes half-closed, and I grabbed the washcloth, soaping it slowly.
I started with his shoulders, my movements deliberate and gentle. The frantic urgency from moments before had evaporated, replaced by something quieter, more reverent. I washed his arms, his chest, watching the soap suds slide down his skin. When I reached his ribs, he shuddered, and I paused.
“Okay?” I asked softly.
He nodded, his eyes opening to meet mine. “Yeah. Just... sensitive.”
I continued, more carefully now, my touch almost tentative. He took the washcloth from me and returned the gesture, his hands moving across my shoulders with the same tender care. There was no urgency in it, no possession. Just two people taking care of each other in the quiet aftermath.
When we were done, I turned off the water and wrapped him in a towel, patting him dry with more patience than I knew I possessed. He did the same for me, his fingers lingering on my chest, over my heart.
We moved to the bedroom in silence, the house dark except for the moonlight filtering through the windows. I pulled back the covers, and Simon climbed in first, his body still damp, his movements slow and boneless. I followed, drawing him against me immediately.
He settled into my chest, his back against me, and I wrapped my arms around him, one hand splayed across his stomach, the other curling around his shoulder. He fit against me perfectly, like he’d been made for this exact space.
“Stay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised, and I meant it.
At least for tonight, I meant it.
His breathing slowed, deepened. I felt the moment he surrendered to sleep, his body going completely lax against mine. I held him tighter, my chin resting on the top of his head, breathing in the scent of his shampoo mixed with the soap we’d used.
For the first time in months, the constant tension in my chest eased. The war inside me between what I wanted and what I was willing to admit, quieted to a dull roar. Here, in the dark, with Simon sleeping in my arms, I could almost believe that this was enough. That I was enough.
I closed my eyes and let myself have this moment of peace, knowing it wouldn’t last. Knowing that morning would bring back all the complications, all the reasons why this was impossible.
But for now, with Simon’s heartbeat steady against my palm and his body warm and trusting in my arms, I let myself pretend that we could have this forever.