13 Inside You
Matteo pulled his finger out of my hole slowly, the sudden emptiness making me clench around nothing.
He stayed between my legs, mouth still hovering near my cock, breath hot against the slick skin.
His eyes lifted to mine, dark and steady, pupils blown wide in the moonlight.
He licked his lips once, tasting me there, then rose up on his knees, body shifting until he settled fully between my thighs.
He leaned over me, arms braced on either side of my head, chest close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off his skin.
From this angle he looked massive above me, my best fucking friend naked and flushed, curls falling forward, shoulders broad, abs tight with every breath.
The sight of him like this, hovering, eyes locked on mine, made my cock twitch hard against my stomach, another bead of precum sliding down the shaft.
He lowered himself further, forearms caging me in, face inches from mine. His voice came out low, rough with want. “I want to be inside you.”
My heart lurched. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed, throat working. “If you want that too.”
I reached up, fingers sliding into his curls, tugging him closer. “I want it. I want you to fuck me.”
His mouth crashed into mine, hungry this time, tongue pushing deep, tasting like me and him mixed together.
The kiss was messy, desperate, all teeth and breath and need.
His hips rocked forward instinctively, cock sliding against my balls through the thin fabric of his underwear, the friction making us both groan into each other’s mouths.
When he pulled back, forehead pressed to mine, he was breathing hard. “I need the lube. And condoms. They are in the drawer.”
I nodded, chest tight.
He shifted to the side, reached over to the nightstand, and opened the drawer.
He pulled out the bottle of lube and a foil packet, setting them on the bed beside us.
Then he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and slid them down his thighs in one smooth motion, kicking them off the edge of the mattress.
His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, curving upward, the head already wet with precum.
He coated his fingers with lube, then settled back between my legs. Two fingers pressed inside, easier this time, stretching me open with slow, careful thrusts. He curled them, found that spot again, and I arched, moaning low in my throat.
“Still good?” he asked, voice soft against my neck.
“Perfect,” I managed. “Keep going.”
He did. Three fingers now, twisting gently, until the burn faded into pleasure, until my hips rocked back to meet every push. His other hand stroked my cock lazily, keeping me hard and dripping, thumb circling the head on every upstroke.
“You are doing so good, babe” he whispered, awe in his voice. “So fucking good”
I laughed, breathless. “You are killing me.”
“Good.” He kissed me again, softer this time. “I want you ready.”
When I felt loose, aching, desperate for more, I tugged at his wrist. “Matteo. I am ready.”
He nodded, pulled his fingers free, then tore open the condom packet with his teeth. He rolled it on carefully, hands steady now, then coated himself generously with lube. He lined up against my hole, the blunt head nudging my entrance, pressing just enough to tease.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he said, eyes never leaving mine.
“I will go slow.”He leaned in, face sliding to the side of my neck, lips brushing the skin just below my ear.
His breath came hot and uneven, the tip of his cock nudging against my entrance again, covered with lube.
He pressed forward gently, not forcing, just easing, the broad head parting me with slow, careful pressure.
My hands found his back, both palms flattening against the warm, shifting muscle. I gripped him as the stretch began again, deeper this time, the burn blooming into something fuller, something I wanted. My fingers dug in, anchoring myself through the slow slide.
He turned his head, nose grazing my cheek, eyes searching mine in the dim light. “Too much?”
“No,” I whispered, voice catching. “No. Keep going.”
The head of his cock breached past the ring, sinking inside with a soft, wet give.
I let out a low moan, the sound raw in my throat, body opening around him.
He kissed me immediately, mouth covering mine, swallowing the noise, tongue sliding in gentle strokes that matched the careful push of his hips.
He slid in deeper, steady and unhurried, every inch stretching me wider, filling me until I felt the press of his hips against the backs of my thighs.
I wrapped my legs around him, ankles locking over the firm curve of his ass, pulling him in tighter.
Our bodies pressed flush, his abs hard against my stomach, skin sliding wet with sweat and heat.
He moaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating between us, low and wrecked.
Matteo paused when he was fully inside, hips locked to mine, breathing hard against my lips. We stayed like that for several heartbeats, foreheads touching, chests rising and falling together. The fullness was overwhelming, perfect, every small shift of his hips sending sparks up my spine.
“Is this okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes locked on mine.
“Better than okay,” I answered, voice rough. “You feel so fucking good.”
He smiled then, small and almost shy, and kissed me again, softer this time. Then he started to move.
The first few thrusts were shallow, testing, letting me adjust to the drag of him inside me.
Each slow withdrawal pulled a quiet sound from my throat, each careful push forward sank him deep again, the rhythm building like a heartbeat.
His hand came up to cradle the side of my face, thumb stroking along my cheekbone while he kissed me, open-mouthed and languid, tongue sliding against mine in time with his hips.
The pace quickened gradually, thrusts growing deeper, heavier, until the bed creaked softly beneath us.
ThwackThwackMy cock, trapped between our bodies, flopped against the tight ridges of his abs with every roll of his hips, leaving wet streaks of precum across his skin.
The friction was maddening, the slide of his stomach against my length matching the steady rhythm of him fucking into me.
His abs flexed hard with each deep thrust, muscle shifting under sweat-slick skin, the sight of it making my breath hitch.
Sweat gathered on his brow, a single bead sliding down his temple as he moved, eyes never leaving my face.
He looked wrecked and beautiful, curls damp against his forehead, lips parted, breath ragged.
I moaned his name, hands sliding down to grip his ass, urging him deeper. He groaned in response, hips snapping forward harder, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the quiet room.
Thwack
Thwack
Every thrust drove him into the hilt, the angle perfect, brushing that spot inside me until pleasure coiled tight and bright behind my eyes.
He kissed me again, messy and desperate, tongue stroking deep while his cock did the same. His hand left my face, sliding down between us to wrap around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, firm and slick with my own precum.
The sensation was too much, too perfect. My legs tightened around him, heels digging into his ass, pulling him impossibly closer. His abs flexed again with every heavy roll, sweat dripping from his brow onto my chest, the heat of him everywhere.
I moaned his name, hands sliding down to grip his ass, fingers digging into firm muscle, urging him deeper.
He groaned in response, hips snapping forward harder, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the quiet room.
Each thrust pushed my cock harder against his abs, the pressure mounting until it felt like I might come from that alone.
My legs tightened around his waist, heels pressing into the small of his back, pulling him impossibly closer.
He shifted slightly, changing the angle just enough that every slide dragged against that sensitive place inside me while my length rubbed firmly against the tight plane of his stomach.
The dual sensation was overwhelming. I felt every inch of him stretching me open, filling me completely, while the friction on my cock built toward something explosive.
My balls drew up tight, the base of my spine tingling with the warning of release.
Matteo must have felt it too. His thrusts grew sharper, more urgent, breath coming in ragged pants against my neck. “You are so hard,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Are you close?.”
I nodded, unable to speak, hips rocking up to meet him. My cock slid faster against his abs, the heat of his skin and my own precum creating perfect friction. One more deep thrust, one more grind, and I shattered.
I came with a broken moan, spilling hot and thick across his stomach, ropes of white painting the ridges of his abs, dripping down the sides. My body clenched hard around him, pulsing with every wave, the sensation ripping through me until my vision blurred.
Matteo groaned low in his throat, feeling me tighten around him. His rhythm faltered, thrusts turning erratic, chasing his own edge. “Fuck, Adrian…that’s hot as fuck.”
He buried himself deep one last time, hips stuttering, and came inside me with a shuddering moan, the condom catching every pulse as he filled it. His body shook above me, arms trembling where they braced on either side of my head, forehead pressed to my shoulder while he rode out the aftershocks.
We stayed like that for several long moments, breathing hard, bodies sweaty.
Slowly he eased out, careful, both of us wincing at the loss.
He peeled off the condom and dropped it into the small trash can beside the bed.
Then he grabbed a towel, wiping us both down with gentle strokes; first my stomach, then his abs where my cum still clung in sticky streaks, then between my legs where I felt tender and open.
He lay back down beside me, pulling me into his chest without a word.
His arms wrapped around me tightly, one hand stroking slow circles on my back, the other threading through my hair.
I curled against him, head tucked under his chin, leg thrown over his hip, the steady thud of his heart against my ear.
After a long silence he spoke, voice soft and rough. “That was… I did not know it could feel like that.”
I smiled against his skin. “You were amazing.”
He let out a quiet laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Was that good for you?”
I lifted my head just enough to meet his eyes. They were soft, searching, still a little dazed. “It was more than good. It was perfect.”
He kissed my forehead, lingering there. “I am glad.”
We stayed tangled together, the room quiet except for our breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. His hand kept moving in slow, soothing strokes down my spine. I felt sore in the best way, full and claimed, safe in a way I had never felt before.
The moonlight shifted across the bed, painting silver lines over his shoulder. I traced lazy patterns on his chest with my fingertip, feeling the steady rise and fall. My mind drifted, quiet for once, no spiral, no doubt. Just this. Just him.
He pressed another kiss to my hair, lingering there like he never wanted to let go.
I closed my eyes, body heavy, heart full. The night wrapped around us, soft and warm, and for the first time in weeks I let myself believe that maybe this could be real. Maybe we could be real.
I lay there with his arm around me, his breathing slow and steady against my neck, my body still humming from the way he had filled me, held me, undone me.
The room was quiet now. No jokes. No pretending.
Just the two of us tangled together in the dark, skin warm, hearts slowly finding the same rhythm.
This was supposed to be fake.
That was how it started. A favor. A performance. Something easy and temporary. But nothing about the way Matteo held me felt temporary. Nothing about the way my chest tightened when he shifted closer felt like acting.
I stared into the dim room, thoughts circling slowly, carefully. Was this what pretending had turned into? Or was Matteo the kind of man who could cross this line without meaning to stay on the other side of it? The kind who could touch, fuck, hold, and still walk away calling it a mistake?
His arm tightened around my waist in his sleep, pulling me closer without waking. The instinctive intimacy of it made my breath catch.
I did not know the answer yet.
All I knew was that this stopped being safe the moment it started feeling real. And whatever we were now, whatever we had just done, there was no going back to the lie the way it used to be.
If this was still pretending, it was the most dangerous kind.