Chapter 16
MATTHEW
Maybe, once in a former life, I’d been cosmically wronged, and this was fate’s way of making things right, because a more perfect man had never existed.
Troye’s sweetness was impossible to resist. Even when he was a full-on brat on that plane, it was easy to tell it was just because he was overwrought and not because he was a bad, mean-spirited person.
His hand tucked under the waist of my pants. Tentative fingers brushed against my cock. He’d already asked and had been granted permission, but I got the feeling he was still unsure of things. Of what he could do, or maybe it was that he didn’t know what I liked.
Troye stilled when I shimmied out of my pants. “That’s better,” I said, then I took his hand and put it on my cock. Keeping his hand in place, I arched up into the touch.
“Just like that. God, yes.” I let the pleasure rumble out of me. I wanted him to hear how much I enjoyed the feeling of his hand on my dick, of his body next to mine.
I released his hand, and he continued touching me, bold strokes like his confidence had bloomed suddenly.
“One second,” I said as I twisted and reached to retrieve the lube from the nightstand.
“Give me your hand,” I told him, loving the way he obeyed without hesitation. I squirted a liberal amount of lube into his palm. “There we go. Get me nice and wet and messy.”
I hoped I’d never get over the way he blushed. The hue of pink that colored his cheeks was quickly becoming my favorite color. I wanted to color-match it and paint my life in that shade so I could live in it.
Obsessed? Me? Never.
Troye’s touch returned. A firm hand, slippery now, wrapped around my cock, and I swore I felt his moan in the depths of my soul.
He touched me like it was an honor, with a reverence I was sure I didn’t deserve.
I sure as hell hadn’t done anything to deserve it or the way he looked up at me like I was the answer to all his problems.
His face was still tear-streaked, and the red rims around his eyes made the blue of his irises look almost supernatural.
He bit his lower lip, and a sudden determination settled into his gaze.
That’s when the grip on my cock changed slightly, and he added a twist at the top, teasing the sensitive head with the palm of his hand as it slid over the tip.
Troye leaned in and his mouth brushed my nipple.
My breath caught as his tongue poked out and teased the sensitive bud.
Inspired by my reaction, he did it again.
Then he put his whole mouth over my nipple and teased it with his tongue.
His hand kept stroking me like it was an art form that he’d invented.
“That’s so good, sweetheart.” The endearment might have been too much, but I couldn’t seem to hold myself back where Troye was concerned.
My lizard brain had latched on to him and decided he was mine, and I was powerless to argue with myself.
Not that I tried hard. If Troye didn’t want me, or this, or the whole daddy thing, then I’d have to rein myself in, but he was here in my bed, with his pretty pink ass and glassy eyes and a sweet, sultry voice that insisted on calling me Daddy.
In a word, I was fucked.
I’d always been a sucker for a pretty face, and Troye had one of the prettiest I’d ever seen.
The perfect combination of masculine, but soft.
A defined jaw and a pouty bottom lip. A five o’clock shadow and a smattering of freckles across his nose.
Swoopy hair that fell in his face sometimes and eyes like shining sapphires.
“You feel so good,” I told him again, because I could feel my orgasm gathering steam. It started low and slow, but now every muscle in my body had started to pull tight, coiling like a spring. “I’m not going to last.”
I didn’t try to stop myself from humping into the fist he made around my cock. And Troye… well, he kissed my skin like it was his job. Like he had to sample every inch of me.
I shattered like a sheet of ice dropped on the sidewalk. Sudden and explosive. I streaked my chest with cum; it pooled on my stomach, and then Troye was there, even before I’d finished, with his tongue, licking me clean, his hand still teasing my cock, milking out every last drop.
My own orgasm hadn’t even been on my mind until he’d offered, and I’d not had it in me to refuse him.
It probably would have broken his heart.
Troye seemed more settled now that I’d come, and once every drop of cum was removed by his expert tongue, he used me for a pillow and let out a breath that was so deep it might have come directly from his soul.
“Better?” I asked, carding my fingers through his hair. He was still touching my cock, gently playing with it even though my erection was swiftly fading, and it was oversensitive. I let him keep going until every bit of pleasure was gone, and I was only left with the sharp needles under my skin.
Taking his hand in mine, I gently eased it off my cock and brought it to my lips. I brushed a kiss against the back of his knuckles. “Thank you.”
Troye burrowed closer to me. Tangling our legs together, he rested his head on me, and I knew without having to look that his eyes were closed. He took a breath, then let it out in one big rush of air. “My ass hurts.”
“I have Arnica. I should’ve put it on you already.” I tried to get out of bed, but Troye clung to me, impeding my movement.
“It hurts in a good way.”
It turned out that was the right thing to say because my heart rate slowed to a normal speed immediately. He was quiet for a bit, but I could almost hear the gears in his head turning. “Everything seems… softer. Like it’s easier to deal with now. Why do you think that is?”
“Well, I believe it’s different for everyone, but I think sometimes a person might just need a good cry, and men are told we’re not supposed to do that.
That we’re only supposed to have big, angry emotions.
That violence is okay, but tears are not.
It never made much sense to me. And I think sometimes we need a reason to do it. ”
“But… I’m not sad…”
I pulled him closer and dropped a kiss into his hair. “There’s a million reasons to cry that aren’t sadness.”
“Like what?” Troye sounded skeptical, but I was all too happy to lie here all night and just talk to him. That, to me, was my way of crying. That was my pressure release. A sweet boy, some good conversation. The orgasm was a nice bonus, but I’d have been fine without it.
“You name it. Anger. Trauma. Repressed feelings. Shit we pushed down in the moment so we could deal with life, but it needs to come out eventually. Overwhelm. Overstimulation. Under-stimulation. Anxiety. Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?”
“Basically, sometimes there is no reason. Sometimes we just need a way to let go of shit we might not even know we’re holding on to.
We feel guilty for one thing or another, and the act of crying can release us from that.
The important thing is that you know it’s never a bad thing to have an emotion.
You can cry if you need to. There’s no shame in it. ”
He swiped at his face and let out a weak laugh. “It’s not the sexiest thing in the world.”
“Well, to you maybe, but I think you’re pretty when you cry.”
Troye looked up at me, his nose wrinkled in disbelief, only increasing his adorable factor tenfold. “You do?”
“I do. I’m a big, mean, nasty daddy, and I loved seeing you cry. It meant that you felt safe enough with me to let go, and that’s such a gift. Thank you.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll take your word for it. And you’re welcome, I guess.”
Maybe he’d believe me with time. And even if he didn’t, that was okay.
“Are you ready for that shower? I know I could use one.” I loved sex and intimacy, but I definitely loved not being covered in lube and cum all night long.
Troye sighed, but it wasn’t loaded this time. He seemed loose-limbed and content, and I was almost loath to make him move. I was about to suggest that I just towel us off and we could shower in the morning when he propped himself up and looked at me.
“Will there be kissing allowed in this shower? And touching?” Hunger danced in his eyes and I laughed quietly.
“What sweetheart wants, sweetheart gets,” I teased, booping his nose gently with my finger.
He preened and practically sprang up out of bed. “I could get used to hearing shit like that. You better be careful.”
Without waiting for me, Troye slipped into the adjoining bathroom and flicked the lights on. “Holy shit.” He poked his head out of the bathroom and looked at me with wide eyes. “How many people live here? A whole hockey team could shower in there. Well, if they didn’t care about personal space.”
“Believe it or not, I bought the house with the bathroom like that. I’d planned to renovate it and make the bathroom smaller.”
Troye cut me off. “Don’t you dare. I’ve never had a shower with more than one showerhead before.” He vanished back around the corner and I eased myself out of bed. “How do you work this thing? There’s so many buttons.”
Before I could tell him to wait, the shower started up, water rumbled through the pipes, and I heard the spray hit the tile. And then Troye screamed.
“Holy fuck, that’s cold. Where’s the hot?
Help! Fuckfuckshit.” The sound of the water intensified and by the time I entered the bathroom, Troye had managed to turn the shower on, all the heads, but the water was clearly on cold and in his panicked state, he couldn’t figure out how to change the temperature setting.
Reaching into the shower, I adjusted the temperature for him and, once it was running hot, I entered. Troye slid his cold body against mine and shivered against me, his teeth chattering together.
“You could have waited for me.” I wound my arms around him and turned so that he was getting as much of the hot water as possible.
“Mmm, I dunno. This is okay. Maybe getting cold was worth it.”
My hand slid down his back and further until they came to rest on his ass. I gave his tender cheeks a gentle squeeze. “Brat,” I admonished, but there was only affection in my voice.
“You like me like that.”
“You know, I really do,” I admitted without hesitation or shame, and I was rewarded with Troye’s body snuggling impossibly closer to mine and his quiet voice, suddenly tentative again.
“I like you like this too,” he told me.
To which my only response was to hold him tighter, tell him thank you, and kiss his hair.
And wonder how we’d gotten here so fast.