Pounding Skin

by L. A. Witt

  Jon closed his eyes, struggling to hold back that lump in his throat as the truth sank in with every word his RIO spoke.

  “Look, my marriage fell apart.” Nate’s voice shook a little. “And I doubt there’s ever going to come a time when it doesn’t hurt to think about Caleb cheating on me. And maybe the next guy will do the same thing. But I’m damn sure not going to resign myself to being alone for the rest of my life because I might make the same mistake twice. I mean, my dad and his first wife split up, and he’s been married to my mom for almost forty years. If he’d given up after his first divorce, I literally wouldn’t exist.”

  Somehow, the fact that this was all coming from a man whose marriage had just imploded made it all sink in even deeper. By all rights, Nate should’ve been swearing off men and love and marriage and maybe even sex for good measure. And maybe he was. But even in the middle of all that unimaginable heartbreak, he could see what an enormous mistake it was for Jon to let go of Matt.

  “Shit,” Jon breathed.

  “You need to go talk to him.”

  Jon turned to him. “I came here to see if you were all right.”

  “I’m fine.” Nate thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, I will be. Eventually. Right now, no, I’m not. But I will be.”

  “Do you—”

  “Quit stalling and go talk to him. My divorce can’t be fixed, but what you have with Matt? Maybe it can be.” Nate must’ve seen the hesitation in Jon’s eyes, because he nudged his arm. “I mean it. Go. He’s probably still at the tattoo shop, right?”

  Jon looked at his phone. “Yeah. Probably.”

  “Then go.” Nate plucked the beer bottle out of his hand. “Seriously. Go.” It wasn’t the voice of someone booting him out because he was pissed. More like Nate understood that this couldn’t wait.

  “Thanks,” Jon said. He collected his jacket and phone, and headed for the door.

  And hoped like hell he hadn’t already waited too long.

  Chapter 32

  Business had been picking up lately, thank God. Whatever marketing magic Colin and Pete had dreamed up, it was apparently working. Walk-ins were steady. The appointment book wasn’t depressingly blank anymore. Matt had three new in-progress custom pieces in his sketchbook, one of which would probably be at least twelve or thirteen hundred dollars when all was said and done.

  He had an appointment coming in later, but for the time being, he was sketching. He had the shop to himself for a while too. Lucas was at one of his other jobs. Pete was off. Colin had left to see his therapist a little while ago. The peace and quiet was nice. Gave him a chance to sketch without more distraction.

  Not that the distractions were coming from anywhere outside his own head.

  He rubbed his tired eyes, then refocused his attention on the sketch in front of him. Better than a blank page, he reminded himself. He was finally making headway on the custom half-sleeve he was working on for a repeat client, and sat up front so he’d be there if a walk-in showed up.

  He hunched over the counter, alternately running his pencil and his finger along the shadow beneath the tiger’s leg until it was smooth and natural-looking. Little by little, the design was coming together. Another hour or two of detail and refinement, and it would be ready for the client’s approval. With any luck, he’d be tattooing—and getting paid—in a few days.

  And with a little more luck, there’d be some walk-ins today. So far, none. But at least he wouldn’t jump out of his skin when they showed up. Pete had taken the bell off the door because it had been driving everyone batshit crazy. It wasn’t like they didn’t notice when the door opened, so adding a loud clang-clang-clang wasn’t doing anybody any favors.

  It was quiet right now, but people would be along eventually. So would the guy who wanted this custom piece. All Matt had to do was stay focused, and he was finally getting there. Still not quite a hundred percent, but he could sketch again. The work kept him fed and his landlord happy, and even better, once he’d broken out of that initial fog, the art kept him focused. That was what he needed these days—something to concentrate on that wasn’t Jon.

  It was a double-edged sword that Valentine’s Day was coming up, and there would be the annual stream of idiots who thought the best gift they could give their sweetheart was a tattoo commemorating their love. Barf.

  It was business, but also a kick in the balls. These idiots were writing each other’s names in blood, and Jon couldn’t even stand the idea of considering Matt his boyfriend.

  Not that Matt was bitter. He understood now why Troy hadn’t been able to live with him anymore. Knowing he was good enough for a drunken groping session, but not good enough for Matt to admit his attraction out loud?

  Yeah, buddy. I get it now. I totally get it.

  He shook the thought away and kept sketching.

  The air pressure shifted, and Matt looked up.

  And froze.

  Jon stepped into the shop, his brow pinched and his eyes fixed right on Matt. “Hey.”

  Matt sat straighter. Guard up, he said, “Hey.”

  The door rattled closed behind Jon, and he took a couple of steps closer to the counter before he stopped. There was still some space between them. Not nearly enough, as far as Matt was concerned.

  Jon swept his tongue across his lips. “We, um . . . We never did figure out my tattoo.”

  Fury rose in Matt’s chest, and he barely kept it reined in as he got up. “You sure you want something that permanent from me?”

  Jon winced. Matt actually felt kind of guilty for letting so much venom fly, but he didn’t apologize for it.

  Awkward silence stretched out, but Jon didn’t catch a clue and leave. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Okay, you’re right. I’m . . . I’m not here for a tattoo. I just want to talk.”

  “Why?” Matt asked through clenched teeth.

  “Because I fucked up.” Jon took a step closer. “I really fucked up.”

  Tell me something I don’t know.

  Matt bit his tongue.

  Jon must’ve taken the silence as an indication that he should keep talking. “I’m sorry, Matt. That’s . . . I’m not even sure what more there is to say.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” Matt nodded sharply toward the door, hoping the anger hid how much it hurt just to look at him. “Get out.”

  Jon planted his feet. “Wait, just . . . Matt, please. Listen to me.”

  Matt shifted his weight and tightened his jaw.

  “I fucked up,” Jon said again. “I’ve always been so afraid of getting hurt, and then watching what happened to Nate and Caleb . . .” He swallowed hard. “I panicked. When I said things were still casual between us, it wasn’t because I don’t feel anything for you. It was because I was scared. And I still am. I . . . I shoved you away because I was terrified of what it would be like to lose you.” He winced. “I know that doesn’t make sense, but . . .” He was quiet for a long moment.

  Matt didn’t offer anything. He was still hurt and angry, but Jon’s words made more sense than he probably realized. Matt knew what it was like to be in love with someone and have it blow up. It must have been even more terrifying to Jon because he’d avoided relationships for so long, and because he’d just watched Nate’s seemingly perfect marriage implode.

  Jon pulled in a breath. “You remember when we were talking one night, and I suggested a threesome with another man?”

  “Uh.” Matt arched an eyebrow, not sure how this was going to soften him up. “Yeah. I remember.”

  Jon shifted his weight. “At this point, I wouldn’t even want to try a threesome because there’s no way I could focus on anyone who isn’t you.”

  Matt’s lips parted.

  “You’re all I want,” Jon whispered. “In my bed and in my life.”

  “But I thought . . .” Matt swallowed, not sure what he wanted to say, never mind how to say it. “I thought you didn’t want . . .”

  “I know.” Jon sighed a
nd pressed his hands on the counter, shoulders hunched like he was just barely keeping himself upright. “I was wrong. I was fucking stupid.”

  Matt gnawed the inside of his lip, not sure what to say.

  Jon took a deep breath. “The thing is, I’ve always seen relationships as something to tie me down or clip my wings. As soon as I settled down with someone, I was as good as grounded.” He lifted his gaze. “But with you, it feels like the exact opposite.”

  “It . . . really?”

  “Yeah.” Jon hesitated, features taut like he was trying to find the words. Then, finally, he met Matt’s gaze. “You asked if I was sure I wanted something as permanent as a tattoo from you.” Jon reached for Matt’s cheek, and his fingers were slightly damp, but still warm. “To be honest, I don’t know how I ever thought I only wanted something temporary.”

  Matt wanted to melt right there at his feet. “Really? But you . . . I mean . . . I thought . . .”

  “Yeah, I tried not to because I was stupid, but you were right.” Jon cautiously reached for Matt’s hand. “While I wasn’t looking, this turned into something else. It turned into something a hell of a lot more than casual a long time ago, and that scared me. A lot. Enough that it took losing you to make me realize how much I really want you. And . . .” He hesitated, lowering his gaze. “How much I love you.”

  Matt’s heart somersaulted. “You . . .”

  “I mean it,” Jon whispered, and cupped Matt’s cheek. “I love you, Matt. More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone.” He swallowed hard. “That’s all there is to it.”

  Matt stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, struggling to comprehend the words. As they sank in, though, he smiled and drew Jon closer. “I love you too.”

  Jon released a relieved breath, stepped around behind the counter, and gathered Matt in his arms. Matt buried his face against Jon’s neck, and for the longest time, they just held each other. No kissing. No groping. Right now, it was nothing but pure relief to be back in Jon’s strong, warm arms.

  “I am so sorry,” Jon murmured into Matt’s hair.

  “I know.” Matt took in a long breath through his nose, goose bumps prickling at the familiar scent of the man he’d missed sleeping next to. After a moment, he drew back. “I’m sorry too. For—”

  “Don’t.” Jon cupped Matt’s face and tenderly kissed his forehead. “I’m glad you did. Otherwise God knows how long I could’ve fooled myself into believing I didn’t feel like this. I needed you and Nate to kick me in the ass.”

  “Nate?”

  Jon nodded, laughing self-consciously. “Yeah. I went over there tonight to see how he’s doing, and when he found out what happened, he read me the riot act.”

  Matt chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to thank him.” He paused. “How is he doing, anyway?”

  “He’s doing.” Jon smoothed Matt’s hair. “It’ll take time, but I think he’ll be okay.”

  “Good. Good.” Matt grinned. “So what do we do now?”

  Jon ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of his lip. “You tell me.”

  “Well, we—” Matt glanced around, remembering where they were. “Shit. I . . . listen, I have an appointment coming in soon.”

  “Keeping busy, eh?” Jon asked with an uneasy smile.

  “Yeah, business has been picking up.” Matt slid his hands up the front of Jon’s shirt. “But I’ll be done by about seven.”

  “Come by my place?”

  Matt searched his eyes. “You don’t mind waiting?”

  Jon combed his fingers through Matt’s hair. “If I know you’re coming, I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

  Something fluttered in Matt’s stomach, and he couldn’t help smiling. Jon had waited for him that first night, hadn’t he? And they’d been strangers then.

  Matt smiled. He touched Jon’s face, leaving a smudge of graphite on his cheekbone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Jon smiled too. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Chapter 33

  Jon had waited for texts on pins and needles before. When his dad had surgery. When a tornado had swept through his brother’s town. Today wasn’t a crisis like those had been, but the feeling was sure similar.

  Just like the very first night they’d spent together, he was worried Matt would get cold feet and bail. Except the stakes were higher this time. If Matt hadn’t shown up the first time, Jon could’ve gotten himself off, gone to sleep, and continued on his merry way as an unrepentant slut.

  If Matt didn’t show up tonight . . .

  Shit, he didn’t want to think about that. This was new territory for him. Relationships and breaking up and making up. All he knew was that he wanted Matt here, and he was terrified that text wouldn’t come. That as soon as he’d left the shop, Matt had come to his senses and decided to stick to his guns.

  But then . . .

  On my way.

  Jon released his breath and nearly dropped the phone as he sagged against the back of the couch. Matt was still coming. Thank God.

  And finally, fifteen minutes after the message had come through, the doorbell rang. With his heart in his throat, Jon went to the door and let him in. And then, in silence, they faced each other in the small foyer.

  “Sorry it took so long.” A shy smile played at Matt’s lips. “I came as soon as I could.”

  “I’m just glad you’re here.” Jon finally closed the space between them and gathered Matt in his arms. He kissed him softly and pressed him into the wall, just to support them both. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

  “You better believe I was.” Matt held him tighter and carded his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been losing my mind without you.”

  “Me too.” Jon touched his forehead to Matt’s. He was hard and horny, but for a second, he just needed to let his world get back on its axis. Matt was here. Orgasms could wait. He just needed a few moments to let it sink in completely that Matt was here.

  Matt cupped his face and whispered, “I can’t even tell you how much I missed you.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can relate.” He gave Matt’s belt a gentle tug. “Come on.”

  Matt grinned, and let himself be led down the hall.

  They were still fully dressed—coats, shoes, and all—as they tumbled into Jon’s bed. Jon was on his back, which meant his hands were free, so he grabbed handfuls of Matt’s clothes, as much to keep him close as to start pushing things off and out of the way. He didn’t make much progress undressing him, though. He was too distracted by Matt’s mouth. His body. His hands. He and Matt ground together, kissing and clawing at each other in between gasping for breath, and weren’t getting any closer to naked.

  Matt’s hips twisted. A shoe thumped on the floor. A second later, he twisted the other way, and the other shoe fell too. Somehow, Jon found the presence of mind—not to mention the coordination—to toe off his own shoes.

  Every time he met Matt’s gaze, a cold-electric ripple of panic and relief shot through him. Panic as he realized how close he’d come to losing this man. Relief that somehow he hadn’t. He desperately wanted to be deep inside him, fucking him as hard as Matt could take him, but mostly he needed exactly what he had right then—Matt, in his arms, holding him and reassuring him with every kiss and touch that, yes, he loved him.

  Little by little, they shed their clothes, but Jon barely paid attention to that. He just wanted Matt. The nakedness was incidental.

  How stupid did a man have to be to think what they had was anything casual? Jon had had plenty of sex in his life, but he’d never felt like this before. There wasn’t another man alive who’d ever made Jon’s heart skip just by looking at him, or who could narrow the world to the single point of contact between lips and skin.

  After God knew how long, the last of the clothes hit the floor, and Jon sank down onto Matt’s naked body without a scrap of anything between them. Had Matt’s skin always been this hot? Or was he just hyperaware of it after s
leeping alone?

  Didn’t matter. He loved the heat and sweat and the way Matt’s pulse pounded just beneath the skin when Jon kissed his neck. Jon skated his lips up and down the side of Matt’s throat, then down to his shoulder, where he pressed his teeth in. The resulting moan made him shiver. He’d always gotten off on making another man lose his mind, but it was so much more with Matt. He craved Matt’s pleasure like he never had with anyone else. He needed Matt’s release more than he needed his own.

  “Tell me what you want,” he whispered. “I want you falling apart tonight. Anything you want.”

  “I want to fuck,” Matt slurred between kisses. “Want . . . want your dick.”

  Jon shivered hard. “You do like bottoming, don’t you?”

  “Uh-huh. So much.”

  As much as Jon liked bottoming too, he loved nothing better than making Matt come unglued, and if Matt wanted his dick, then Jon was more than happy to oblige.

  “How do you want it?” he asked. “Want me to bend you over and—”

  Matt shoved him onto his back, climbed on top, and came down for a kiss. “I want you just like this,” he moaned against Jon’s lips.

  Oh. Yeah. This works. Holy hell.

  “You better grab a condom, then.”

  “Mmm . . .” Matt kissed him again. “Good idea.” But he didn’t get up. Didn’t stop kissing Jon. Didn’t stop rubbing his thick cock against him. Jon groaned, raking his nails up Matt’s sides. Much more of this and a condom would be a moot point. And Jon wanted—needed—to fuck him.

  He gently pushed Matt’s chest. “Condom. Now.”

  Matt apparently didn’t need to be told twice. He retrieved a condom from the nightstand, and with some clumsy effort from both of them, they put the rubber and some lube on Jon’s cock.

  Matt straddled him. Jon steadied himself with one hand and Matt with the other, and Matt carefully lowered his hips. They both groaned as the head slipped inside him. One stroke, and Jon was already out of breath. A few more, and Matt was a cursing, panting wreck—exactly the way Jon loved to see him.