Oh right.
Evan tried to play it cool. He shrugged. “Not showing or telling until we get there.”
Matt's eyebrow rose. “Oh really? Now I'm even more eager to get on the road.”
“Can you do the lockup and set the alarm? I have a few more things to throw in the car.” Evan rocked his hips against Matt's, then dodged his lover's embrace. “Let's get going—we have a long ride ahead.”
“Gonna feel even longer!” Matt called at his back as Evan headed downstairs. “How do you feel about handjobs on the highway?”
Evan hurried out of the house. And out to the garage.
Chapter Five
Matt called dibs on driving first, then proceeded to sit in the driveway and honk every five minutes as Evan dicked around in the house. Then the garage. Then the house again. Matt's next plan of action was to start calling every two minutes, but fortunately for the sake of their relationship, Evan came out with the final bag and locked the door, stalking toward the SUV with a fake frown on his face.
“Honking? Really? What was next—phone calls?” Evan got in and buckled up as Matt smirked and backed the minivan out of the driveway.
“Lighten up, baby; we're on vacation.” Their first official vacation together, really; the kids were gone, they were out of the house and actually going somewhere. Matt was a little giddy.
“I'm going to bitch about your speeding the entire way there,” Evan said drily, putting on his sunglasses and fiddling with the radio until he found something that the kids hadn't preprogrammed.
Classic rock. Matt turned it up a bit to show his approval.
“Eh, bitch away. If we get pulled over, you're flashing your badge.”
“Left it home.”
Matt navigated through the busy streets of their neighborhood, careful to watch for packs of skating/biking/running kids.
“Lies. You barely shower without that thing.”
“Left it home. Told Helena to only call in cases of emergency and that didn't mean wedding complaints.”
“Ha. I really don't envy you in the middle of all that.”
“The question is actually—how did I end up in the middle? I'm a friend, just a friend.”
“You're the best man!”
“That means I take Vic out for… Wait, he's my boss and a recovering alcoholic. What the hell do I do with him for the bachelor party?”
“Club soda and an exciting night of mini-golf?”
“Not helping.”
“Yeah, I'm really not even trying here.”
* * *
Everyone and their uncle and five of their closest friends were driving out to the island for this last hurrah of a long summer. Matt didn't feel like rushing so he escaped the populated roads and did side and back excursions, enjoying the sun and the breeze as they got farther out. The trees got shorter, the vista flattened, the smell of sea air hinted, and suddenly they were seeing signs for Montauk.
“Almost there,” Matt said quietly as he flicked on his turn signal and gave Evan a poke in the ribs. He'd conked out at least two hours ago, snoring and everything.
“Whuh?” Evan sat up and glanced at his watch. “Shit, I was out for a while. You should have woken me up—I could have helped with the driving.
“I did fine. Took the scenic route.” He gestured toward the exit on the expressway. “Ten minutes at the most and you'll be unpacking the van…”
“Oh yeah? By myself?”
“I did do all the driving.”
* * *
The house wasn't anything special, nothing that would ever appear in any magazine that wasn't titled At Least It's By The Water. Matt guessed it was a sixties do-it-yourself kit that happened to be plopped yards from a clean expanse of Long Island shoreline.
He surveyed the kitchen, more sniffing for mold than actually kicking the tires on the oven. It wasn't like they were going to use it.
“It's not the Hilton,” Evan said from the doorway, doing his own slightly frowning version of a survey. Wood-paneled walls and red plaid furniture scattered over clean but yellowing linoleum floors was clearly not reflected in the price tag if Matt could judge anything by Evan's face.
And he always could.
“Nope, it's not, which means we can sleep naked and not worry about the maids coming in to empty the wastebaskets.”
Matt slapped the faux marble of the small island that separated the living room from the kitchen and tipped his head toward the narrow hallway beyond them. “C'mon—if there's a bed and a toilet, we're gold.”
Evan dropped their suitcases near the couch and followed cautiously, like maybe he should have brought his gun just in case some hippies jumped out and tried to make them try pot brownies.
“I didn't bring anything to clean this place with,” Evan began, but Matt sighed, grabbed his hand, and headed for the two flimsy doors in front of them.
“We live with teenagers and two nine-year-olds. There hasn't been a germ invented we haven't seen yet.”
“Just saying…”
“Blah, blah, blah.” Matt elbowed the doors open and discovered a grayish white tiled bathroom, with the wished-for toilet, a sink, and stall shower. A little on the small side, Matt thought, bemused and ever-so-slightly disappointed. He couldn't deny the correlation between his boyfriend's lack of inhibitions and water running.
“Smells like bleach,” Evan said, sniffing as Matt yanked him into the second room. A pleasant surprise awaited them; the simple blue-painted walls and starched white curtains on the windows framed a queen-size four-poster bed covered with a green blanket. One dresser, two electronic sconces, and an alarm clock on the windowsill, and that was the entire room. It looked like heaven.
And it didn't smell.
“Hey, this is nice,” Evan said begrudgingly, circling past Matt to walk into the room. “Best room in the house.”
“As it should be.” Matt slid his hands onto Evan's shoulders and squeezed. It was half horny beast talking and half boyfriend who just wanted to relax, dammit. Both of those halves were incredibly pleased with how interested Evan seemed in the bed.
Finding himself attracted to a man was a (mind-altering) hiccup, but it certainly didn't stop the freight train that was Matt's libido. Having sex with one person for this long also seemed to have no effect on what Matt wanted and when he wanted it.
His hands stroked up to trace the tense lines of Evan's shoulders and jawline. Slowly, his lover's body started to loosen and sway back toward him. Matt took advantage of the momentary loss of control and guided Evan against him; their height difference was mere inches, and somehow that translated into the perfect fit of Matt's hard-on against Evan's back.
He soaked up Evan's gentle sighs. He wound his hands down the front of Evan's shirt and fisted the material to bring it up just enough to brush against the warm flesh above his waistband.
Slow seduction.
Matt's mouth against the back of Evan's neck, the way their bodies fit together. The rhythmic shift of their bodies, the give-and-take. Their position—Matt cradling Evan's back against his front—was the start of oh-so-many of his fantasies for the past few months. All of them ended the same way, and he'd be a lying jerk if he pretended that this weekend wasn't the perfect time to bring his fantasies full circle.
“Did we lock the truck?”
“Hmmm? Shut up, stop thinking,” Matt groused, sucking hard enough at the spot of flesh behind his boyfriend's ear to stop conversation entirely. If Evan could form full sentences, he was doing something very wrong.
“God.” Evan tried to turn around, but Matt tightened his grip, slid one hand under his shirt to keep their bodies pressed together. The slight struggle of his boyfriend kicked off something in Matt's brain that seemed to bloom directly from his lizard brain. Slow, slow, slow, he kept thinking, even as he rocked his aching hard-on against Evan's ass.
“Let me.” Two words applied directly to Evan's ear, complete with an exploratory tongue. The resulting hip-bucki
ng response told Matt to stay the course.
“W-what?” Maybe Evan was asking for specifics, and Matt didn't want to disappoint.
“No one here,” he murmured, rocking his hips—and Evan's body—as he whispered. “No one outside that door, no one demanding our attention.” His hand rubbed circles over Evan's trim stomach, teasing the warm skin under his waistband.
“Ohhh.” Evan's shaky exhale was ridiculously hot. Matt skipped slow for a moment, trailing his fingers down to tug at the zipper of his lover's shorts. Evan flailed for a second, but Matt didn't stop. He didn't stop until he flicked the buttons open and lowered the zipper all the way, the fabric gapping to give him plenty of freedom to move.
“Come on, let's get naked.” Matt laughed quietly. He moved to pull Evan's T-shirt off.
“We should—” Evan started, but Matt cut him off.
“We should get naked and christen the bed,” Matt said. He let Evan turn to face him, completely in love with the shocked expression of want and lust on his face. “I want you so fucking bad,” he whispered as he leaned in for a kiss.
Evan moaned an answer into his mouth, one he didn't need articulated words to decipher. He tangled his heads into Matt's hair, pulling their bodies together frantically. Matt sucked on his boyfriend's tongue in enthusiastic response.
The kiss lasted until Matt's constricted dick insisted on getting involved; he pulled back slightly.
“Unzip me,” he muttered urgently, half-lidded eyes on Evan's damp mouth.
Evan's hands didn't hesitate, divesting from Matt's hair to attack his fly before the last syllable was out of his mouth.
“Yeah, baby,” he said as his shorts were roughly opened and pushed down. The tearing off of clothes happened quickly, separately and together, things flying around the room. Matt felt like he was propelled to their first few times together—frantic and confused and yearning.
But now they each knew what the other liked. Matt knew Evan's insatiable love of blowjobs—giving, receiving, it didn't matter. Evan knew Matt liked rubbing against him until they both came—knew he liked rubbing against Evan's ass while talking ridiculous filth into his ear…that was when it was dark and they were both horny and maybe drunk…
Matt knew what he wanted right now, and yeah, they were going to christen that damn bed right now.
Chapter Six
Evan was naked for the second time that day with the intention of having sex, not something that usually occurred. He was naked in the sunlight, the flimsy curtains not curtailing the warm late-summer sun streaming through the windows. He was hard—ridiculously, painfully so—panting and feeling awkward about where to put his hands but knowing exactly where he wanted to put his mouth.
And there was Matt, just as naked, no questioning or worries written on his face. Every molecule of him was saying the same thing, every flick of his tongue against his lips told Evan where this was going.
Evan thought about the stupid hidden DVD. He thought about the men on the stupid hidden DVD, with their full mouths and their skillful hands. And he thought about them submitting to each other, the sight of which either repulsed or intrigued him—he hadn't yet decided.
He wanted to be one of those men for Matt. He wanted to make Matt moan and collapse and come. He wished he could be that aggressive “top.” He wished he could make a move right now instead of waiting for Matt.
Of course, he didn't have to wait long.
“We're not getting out of this bed the whole goddamn weekend,” Matt growled before pulling Evan against him.
The brush of their naked bodies together was still so intense. Evan stifled a groan as Matt attacked the curve of his jaw with his lips and teeth. Thinking of the stupid hidden DVD, Evan rubbed his hands over Matt's toned body, concentrating on the smooth muscles of his back and strong hips and God, his ass. Maybe repulsed was the wrong word. Maybe he was thinking of this all wrong…
Maybe he was thinking and that was the problem.
“Told you I had something planned,” he whispered as Matt reached his shoulder.
“Oh yeah? Do share,” Matt murmured against his skin, pressing his teeth into Evan's flesh until he saw stars.
“Lay down on the bed.”
“Good start, I approve.” Matt pulled away, trailing his fingers over Evan's mouth, pushing two in. Evan swayed as his mouth watered. He knew what Matt was thinking. Well yeah—he was going to be surprising today. He was.
“On your stomach,” he finished, his face burning as the words croaked out.
Matt looked surprised.
Evan felt emboldened.
“Didn't realize this resort came with a massage,” Matt joked. He crawled on the bed and settled on his stomach, careful to position his hard cock under him.
Evan felt a little dizzy. He needed—things—he needed his bag, but right now he was naked and too hard to put on his shorts without permanent injury. He remembered something from the DVD (not so stupid anymore) and took a deep breath.
“Just relax,” he whispered, climbing onto the bed between Matt's legs, just slightly open as he lifted up to keep the pressure off his dick.
“Got it,” Matt whispered back.
Evan realized he wasn't talking to Matt. Matt was always relaxed. Matt was always falling into the next thing with such ease; nothing seemed to faze him.
Taking a deep breath, Evan let his hands trace that familiar pathway again over Matt's body. He had the strangest flash of remembrance—of touching Sherri for the first time, the fear of intimacy and doing it right. They'd done it right and for a lot of years.
He could do this. He could make Matt's pleasure the center of his attention.
The massaging touch of his hands got deeper. Matt moaned under his touch, turning his head against one of the pillows. Evan's skin felt hot and cold, prickling with his own need as Matt's warm, golden flesh yielded for him.
He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss against Matt's hip bone, tracing the curve of the bone underneath skin with his teeth.
Matt shivered.
Evan followed the path with his tongue, breathing in the taste of salt and the faint tang of soap. He traveled to the small of Matt's back, hairs tickling his tongue. Matt groaned. Loudly. Evan dug his hands into Matt's thighs, stroking and rubbing at Matt's legs until he moved them apart just enough…just enough.
“Uh,” Matt started to say, but it was garbled into a moan. “You don't have to…”
They'd never gone quite this far. Faint brushes of fingers. Matt's occasional press of his dick against Evan's, slurring dirty words in his ears until they both forgot just how foreign “that” was. Evan never had the courage to instigate, no matter how good it felt when Matt ventured “there.”
He knew without being told that Matt had gone “there” with women. There were allusions; there was the simple expectation that Matt had pretty much done everything one could do that was (mostly) legal with a woman (or two). For all he knew, Matt and Jim—No, he wasn't going there, not at this moment.
Boldly, Evan pressed his palms against Matt's ass, opening him more intimately than they'd ever been before together.
“Want to,” he exhaled, leaning forward before he lost his nerve and his need to do this.
Matt stiffened, but he didn't pull away; he just sorted of melted under Evan's fingertips, a perfect expression of trust that welled emotion up in his chest.
Eyes closed, Evan's tongue followed more intimate curves of Matt's body. After you've swallowed a guy's come a few hundred times over a year and a half, was this really the grossest thing ever? Evan thought as he felt the ridges under his tongue. The heat and musky scent distracted ever so slightly so he moved his hands, feeling that familiar connection again.
Matt was moaning. Or rather Matt was cursing and moaning into the pillow. Evan liked that.
Evan liked the way he pressed his tongue deeper—warm, a little wet—and Matt flinched like he was electrocuted with pleasure. That was him in control; that was him doi
ng something to blow Matt's mind.
A little deeper. Maybe curving his tongue. (Because oral sex—he did that. That was this. He'd pleasured a woman for years. No complaints. He could adapt.) Maybe tightening his fingers, pushing Matt a bit more into the bed. Maybe flicking his tongue now, moving away and back again to tease.
Matt's cursing got louder.
Evan trembled when he came up for air, his thumbs replacing his mouth as he kept the pressure up against Matt's sensitive opening.
“You don't…” Matt huffed, but Evan didn't let him finish. He pressed his thumbs deeper, and Matt nearly came off the bed in a restless twitch.
“Want to,” Evan whispered, and he wasn't lying. He really wasn't.
They still didn't have what they needed for more, so Evan leaned down again, his tongue joining fingers as Matt pushed back.
Pushed back. Evan was so hard and desperate himself he leaned against Matt's sweat-dampened calf, in urgent need of flesh to connect to his dick.
“Oh God, baby, yeah, yeah,” Matt choked out, and Evan's neck protested, and his tongue burned, and his dick fell into a perfect rhythm against Matt's leg, and it was perfect. Stupidly perfect and as hunger inducing as every time Evan was on his knees.
Matt humped the bed, Evan humped Matt's leg, and in a few seconds/minutes/hours it all came to a ridiculously perfect moment when Matt stiffened under Evan's fingers and tongue, poised in an orgasm that the smell of sent Evan into his own frenzied rub.
And it was done.
Done all over the damn bed and Matt's leg, but Evan wasn't moving from where he was—face against the slick skin of Matt's back, draped under him like a blanket.
“I take back every sarcastic comment I ever made about you being a Puritan,” Matt said, his voice gravelly and cracked. He reached back to touch Evan's hand, reassuring and gentle.
Evan took a deep breath. “Wait'll you see the whips and chains I hid in the cooler.”
* * *
There wasn't actually bondage gear in the cooler, but there were steaks. After a shower and about a gallon of water each (Evan brushed his teeth after they unloaded the SUV—yeah, he was bursting with sexual pride at the hazy satisfied look on Matt's face, but he was still Evan), they found the '60s-era grill on the beach side of the house and filled it with charcoal. They didn't discuss what happened in the bedroom earlier, but Matt couldn't stop grinning or brushing his hands over Evan whenever they passed.
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