Chapter 6 #2
Nick’s posture immediately goes stiff, his smile too tight at the corners. “Now that’s a story for at least three more beers, and I’ve got a game tomorrow.”
“Oof,” Matt says with a sigh. “One of those, huh?” Under the table, his hand squeezes Nick’s knee. “On the, uh, subject of that … we should really talk.”
Of course. That was the whole purpose of this meeting, after all. And once again, it seems Matt is a braver man than Nick.
“Sure, but … not here?” He looks around pointedly—in the last ten minutes he’s seen at least four people do a double-take at him. “We could go back to my place?”
He watches Matt’s eyes widen, then his lips purse, and he nods. “Yeah, okay. Text me the address and I’ll follow you?”
“Sure.” They drain their drinks and head out, and Nick spends the whole short drive back to his apartment rehearsing what he’s going to say.
“I’m flattered, but I’m not looking for anything right now,” he mutters under his breath for the dozenth time, pulling into his parking spot.
“I need to focus on the season, but we can stay friends. No—I need to put my hockey first, but if you want we can—Shit. I’d like it if we could still…
” He trails off, tugging at the brim of his cap. “Shit. Okay. I got this.”
He meets Matt by the elevator, swiping his keycard to open it and beckoning him inside.
He isn’t the top floor, but for as long as the ride feels like it takes, he might as well be.
He and Matt stand there in silence, and Nick has never been more viscerally aware of the security camera mounted in the corner.
An impatient yowling greets him as soon as he opens his front door, and Nick bends down to catch his little menace.
“Hello, baby girl. I’m sorry I’m late. But I brought you a new friend.
” Turning to face Matt, he keeps Dolly tucked against his chest. “She can be kinda mean to new people, so, like, sorry in advance.”
Barking out a laugh, Matt shakes his head. “Will she bite me if I try to pet her?”
“Only one way to find out.” Nick moves closer, shifting Dolly to hold her out a little towards Matt. The musician raises a tentative hand, waiting for the cat to sniff it. When, after a beat, she shoves her head into his hand in a demand for pets, Matt beams so bright Nick’s whole chest seizes.
True to form, Dolly doesn’t tolerate the attention for long—when Matt shifts to scratch beneath her chin she hisses, extending her claws, and Nick swears and fumbles. He’s barely able to crouch before she flings herself out of his arms. “Sorry, she’s just … like that.”
“It’s fine.”
Nick straightens up, almost bumping his head into Matt’s shoulder; without the cat between them they’ve drifted even closer, like asteroids caught in the same orbit. Nick’s breath hitches. This close, Nick can smell the citrus-sharp tang of Matt’s cologne, and it makes him dizzy.
He couldn’t say who moves first, but it doesn’t matter because they crash together, Nick’s fingers sliding through Matt’s hair, Matt’s hand slipping into the back pocket of Nick’s jeans.
Nick gasps into the kiss, feeling a muscular thigh press between his own, sweet friction against a rapidly hardening bulge.
His touch is like tiny lightning strikes arching through Nick’s body.
Matt kisses his way down Nick’s jaw to his throat, biting gently, and Nick is embarrassed to hear himself whimper.
“Nick,” Matt whispers breathily, trailing more kisses across his skin until Nick pulls him back up to slam their lips together. Matt pulls away again, lust-clouded brown eyes meeting vibrant green ones. “Nick, is this okay? Do you want…?”
His hands hover lightly on Nick’s hips, like he knows he should step back but can’t bring himself to stop touching.
Though his blood is moving rapidly southwards, Nick has enough sense in his head to understand the question, to know that the right thing would be to stop now while Matt—sweet, kind, beautiful Matt—is giving him this out.
But not enough sense to actually do that.
He curls his fingers around Matt’s belt and drags him back in, biting his lower lip playfully. “Oh, I want,” he whispers, smirking into the kiss. Ignoring the little voice screaming in the back of his head, he takes a step back, tugging Matt with him. “Bedroom’s this way, hot stuff.”
The cat flees as they stumble into the bedroom, door slamming shut with a nudge from Matt’s ass.
Nick grins against his mouth, pulling that adorable sweater over the other man’s head, leaving him in a black tank top with some logo for a band Nick doesn’t know, his hair sticking up haphazardly.
With a playful look, Matt nudges him backwards, pushing until Nick’s falling to the mattress with Matt crowding on top of him, fumbling with the button on his jeans.
“Huh,” Nick says breathlessly, “been a while since I’ve done this on an actual bed.”
Matt pauses, then glances up with something soft and almost sad in his eyes. He rocks forward to press a slow, tender kiss to Nick’s lips and cups his jaw. “I’d better make it worth your while,” he says. “How d’you want it, gorgeous?”
However I can get it, Nick almost jokes, swallowing the words back at the last second.
He leans up just enough to let Matt remove his T-shirt, shuddering as the musician finally touches bare skin.
“God,” he says on a sigh, “if it wasn’t a game day tomorrow, I’d already have your dick in me.
” He presses them together pointedly—why the fuck are they both still wearing jeans?
“I can be gentle,” Matt says, mouthing at Nick’s throat. “Take it slow. I’ll make it good for you, baby.” He looks up, pupils blown wide with arousal. “Let me? Please?”
Nick’s breath hitches. Gentle. That’s … never really been an option for him. Not since—And he’s not going down that route, not right now.
But his point stands. A strange thrill rushes through him, some kind of emotion clawing its way up his throat. Can he do that? Can he trust this man to take him gently, not leave him with an ache that’ll mess up his game?
It’s a risk he shouldn’t be taking.
It’s an offer he can’t refuse.
With a shaky exhale, Nick nods, watching delight fill Matt’s features.
In a blink, Nick’s naked, looking up at an equally bare Matt.
Holy Christ, this man is gorgeous! Powerful thighs are braced either side of Nick’s hips, cock standing proudly from a nest of dark hair.
The tattoo beneath his ribs that had so captivated Nick at the concert turns out to be a wolf, abstract black lines giving the illusion of motion as it leaps up towards Matt’s sternum.
He takes the opportunity to kiss it when Matt leans over him, digging through the bedside drawer for lube and condoms.
“Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” Matt requests, claiming one more filthy kiss before he slides further down Nick’s body.
Matt’s hands are skilled at more than just playing guitar because pleasure bursts behind Nick’s eyelids as those long fingers ease into him. It’s painstakingly slow, Matt using so much lube that Nick would laugh if it didn’t feel so fucking incredible.
The closest he’s come to this since moving to Vegas is being able to fuck with the lights on in a hotel room on the few occasions he’s hooked up with an opposing player, someone he doesn’t have to worry about seeing his face.
But even in those encounters, there’s distance.
It’s physical, nothing more—each of them desperately hunting their own climax, their partner’s barely an afterthought.
Matt is the complete opposite. His entire focus is narrowed in on Nick.
While he opens him up, he gives teasing little touches and licks to his cock, his abs, his nipples.
Matt finds erogenous zones Nick didn’t even realize he had.
And through it all, he keeps eye contact, his gaze searing into Nick’s, so there’s no mistaking who he’s in bed with. No pretending.
He feels strangely exposed, lying there and letting someone have their way with him. Trusting someone to have free rein of his body. Admiring the flex of Matt’s muscles as he rises up on his knees, Nick’s tempted to turn the tables, to flip him over and take his fill.
Next time, he thinks, even though there really shouldn’t be a next time.
As Matt starts to press into him, Nick moans low in his throat. “Come on,” he urges, wiggling his hips impatiently, but Matt grips him tight, holding him still, and Nick’s cock gives a traitorous twitch of excitement.
Matt smirks. “Now that’s something to play with later,” he drawls teasingly with another pointed squeeze of Nick’s hips. “I promised slow, let me give it to you. Patience.”
“Not one of my strong suits,” Nick retorts, grinning. When Matt laughs, it sends sparks dancing up Nick’s spine.
“It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
He’s not wrong. Any thought of trying to be a brat about it dies in Nick’s head once Matt really gets going, fucking him with slow, steady strokes.
Nick’s head tips back, heat building low in his gut.
He moves to wrap a hand around himself, but Matt bats him away, gripping him just the right side of too tight.
“Jesus, you’re so hot,” he murmurs, pressing deeper inside Nick, leaning forward to press their mouths together clumsily.
“M’close.” Matt speeds up, hips moving with a rhythm that manages to be powerful yet still gentle, each burst of pleasure edging Nick closer to breaking point.
Emotion swells up inside him which is nothing to do with his impending climax—he’s not sure what he was expecting when he pulled Matt into his bedroom, but for the musician to be so damn sweet to him hadn’t even crossed his mind.
He clenches his fingers in Matt’s hair, drawing out a low moan, rocking into each thrust with a breathless whimper.