Chapter 19 #3
Matt shifts, and the gentlest of touches brushes teasingly over Nick’s length, sending a pulse of heat through his core.
He tries to arch into the touch, but Matt’s hand is gone again, drifting up to play across his abs beneath his jersey.
He touches everywhere but where Nick needs him the most, and Nick doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking.
“You’re killing me here,” he groans, giving a full body shudder as Matt brings him close to the edge for a second time, pulling away before Nick can tip over into orgasm.
A syrup-sweet chuckle slips out of his partner.
“I’m just being thorough,” Matt defends, pressing slick fingers oh-so-slowly inside Nick. Nick doesn’t know when or how Matt grabbed the lube and he doesn’t care, not if it means he gets to come soon. “You’re so hot like this, I want to take my time.”
Thorough is not the word he’d use to describe this sweet, sweet torture. “Evil,” he corrects, the word dissolving into a gasp as Matt presses right against that sweet spot.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” Matt assures him, another kiss pressed to his spine. When he leans forward, Nick feels bare skin press against him—when did Matt take his shirt off?
Everything is a haze of sensation; the whole world narrowing down to the places Matt’s touching him and the rasp of his jersey fabric against his skin.
He squirms, desperate for some kind of release, and large hands bracket his waist to keep him still, pressing the garter belt sharply into the crease of his hips.
It takes every ounce of self-control he has not to come as Matt eases into him, rocking back in the hopes of finding the perfect angle. Matt’s grip tightens.
“Don’t try to finish this too fast,” he scolds affectionately. An incredulous whine is Nick’s response.
“Matt, babe, if you go any slower, I’ll be retired before I get off,” he bites out. Matt laughs, reaching up to run a hand through Nick’s hair, tugging gently at the curls.
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. You have been such a good boy for me.” Nick is absolutely not going to acknowledge the way his cock jerks at those words, but from the flex of Matt’s fingers in his hair, he noticed it anyway. Asshole.
Finally, Matt starts to put his back into it, thrusting fully into Nick with a choked-off gasp.
Nick’s shoulders tremble as he braces himself on the bed, eyes squeezed shut, lost in the rhythm of Matt’s body.
The musician’s hands roam, still touching every part of him but his dick.
Nick has never come untouched before, and it seems Matt is determined to change that.
He’s so hard it’s painful and panting like he’s just played triple OT, doing everything he can not to dissolve into a puddle of goo.
“Matt, please, I can’t,” he gasps desperately, back arching as Matt leans over him, half holding him upright.
“Easy,” he murmurs, breath hot on Nick’s neck. “Come on, baby. You can let go, you’ve done so well, I’ve got you. Come for me, Nick.”
Matt surges forward, cock striking Nick’s prostate with perfect precision, but that’s not what tips him over, nor is it his command: when he moves, he rests his forehead against the back of Nick’s head, sliding down to press his lips to where Nick knows his name is emblazoned across his jersey.
It’s reverent, and so soft in the midst of their frantic passion that it hits Nick right in the chest, and before he knows it he’s coming with a shout that’s almost a sob, collapsing into Matt’s embrace as his muscles finally give out.
Matt follows quickly, rolling to the side and bringing Nick with him before he can fall into the wet spot.
The action sends a burst of affection through Nick’s over-stimulated body.
He curls up to Matt, half on top of him, finally looking him in the eye.
The intensity in his gaze makes Nick swallow hard.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Matt rasps, leaning in for a kiss. One hand curls in the front of Nick’s jersey, while the other settles on his thigh, fingers tangling in the garter elastic. Breaking the kiss, Nick snorts.
“If I have to switch to sock tape because I get too horny wearing garters after this, I’m gonna be so mad.”
Matt laughs, snapping the elastic one more time, just to be a dick.
“I’d say I’m sorry but that would be a lie,” he says, sounding far too smug about it.
Nick bites at his shoulder in reprimand, then lets out a long, satisfied sigh, closing his eyes.
They need to get cleaned up, he needs to put his gear away properly and feed the cat and lock up for the night …
but right now Nick doesn’t have the energy to think, let alone do any of that.
Instead he presses his face against Matt’s chest, eyes falling shut and body going limp, surrendering to the fuzzy haze of afterglow.
Maybe next time Matt can be the one wearing Nick’s jersey. The sight of that might just end Nick, but God, what a way to go.