by E M Lindsey
So, he kissed Mat soundly and promised to be waiting for him. The pair had only exchanged hand-jobs so far, having been together less than a month, and Wyatt had been looking forward to Mat staying over at his place and being able to explore things a little further. He’d taken the initiative and picked up supplies from the pharmacy, ignoring the soft snicker in the cashier’s tone as he used his phone to help him select the right size condom and brand of lube.
What did he care? He was falling for a gorgeous, intriguing man who seemed to be falling for Wyatt right back. Things were still a little messy, but he was happy, and that was something.
Only, Mat’s story had weighed on him enough that his simmering arousal had faded into the background. Over dinner was the most Mat had ever shared about his life before moving to Fairfield, and Wyatt had a feeling there was more to be said. The fact that Mat saw a therapist and had handled his mental health was the one thing which made Wyatt less worried about the other man’s trauma, but he realized that Mat was probably afraid to tell him everything.
After confessing to his suicide attempt, Mat had gotten very quiet. Wyatt knew he hadn’t really given the appropriate response, but honestly, the thought of Mat dying before Wyatt got the chance to know him was too much to wrap his mind around. It had gutted him in a way he hadn’t entirely expected it to.
He didn’t want to let this come between them. He wanted to know all of Mat without the other man being afraid that any of it would drive Wyatt away. And he wanted to be able to share the darkest parts of himself too. He was in this—new or not, he was in this long term.
The water shut off, and Wyatt could hear Mat moving around the small bathroom. He quickly took his cock into his hand and began to stroke himself to full hardness, getting lost in the sensation by the time he heard the door slide open. Mat’s feet padded across the floor, then he came to a stuttering halt.
Wyatt could see the shape of him outlined against the bright light of the bathroom sink, and he turned his head slightly to get the best view he could manage. Mat was tall, lean, and strong. Wyatt, more than anything, wanted to feel Mat’s body pressed on top of him. Maybe even inside him. It had been a while, and Ioan had never really liked penetrative sex, so Wyatt had gone a long time without. He hadn’t ever minded, but he’d never craved it the way he was right now.
“Is that for me?” Mat asked. Wyatt felt the bed dip as Mat leaned on it with one knee, propping his hand on the mattress beside Wyatt’s shoulder. His other hand traced a fingertip down the center of Wyatt’s chest, ending at his pubic bone.
“It is,” Wyatt confirmed.
Mat hummed, leaning in to nip at the corner of Wyatt’s jaw. “I have something for you.”
“Oh, yes?” Wyatt asked. The hand not stroking himself went between Mat’s legs and gently fondled his half-hard cock there. “Do you need some help with it?”
Mat chuckled as he took Wyatt’s mouth for a kiss. “Not that. Well, yes, that. But something else.” He shuffled over so he was straddling Wyatt’s waist, their cocks brushing together hard enough that Wyatt couldn’t hold back a faint groan. Then Mat leaned down and nipped at Wyatt’s earlobe and whispered. “Bonjour, comment allez-vous.”
The words came out thick with his accent, and barely recognizable, like a foreign toddler learning beginner phrases. He couldn’t stop himself from erupting into giggles, even as Mat let out an offended squeak and dug his hands into Wyatt’s sides to tickle him.
“Sorry,” Wyatt gasped, trying to roll away from the other man. “I’m sorry. It was good.”
“It was from the stupid app, so I don’t even know what it means. Well, I know what the bonjour part is,” he clarified through his sulking tone.
Wyatt’s laughter died out as he reached for Mat’s face and cupped it gently. “It was fine. Parfait,” he added with a twitch of his lips.
“I love a parfait,” Mat murmured, and leaned in to kiss him. Wyatt lost himself in the feel of Mat’s insistent mouth, of his velvet-soft, wet tongue, which felt like it was trying to devour him from the inside. He gripped Mat by the hips and started to thrust, but after a moment, Mat stilled and pulled back. “So?”
Wyatt blinked rapidly, a little stunned by the abrupt halt. “What?”
“What did I say?”
Wyatt snorted and shook his head. “You asked—in a very formal way—how I’m doing.”
Mat nibbled at the crook of Wyatt’s neck. “Maybe that was on purpose. Maybe I’m a fancy boy. Ever think of that?”
“Hmm, I’m not so sure about that,” Wyatt said, his hand going to flick the metal in Mat’s nipple.
Mat let out a soft hiss, grinding against Wyatt. “That’s discrimination against the pierced and tattooed. Ink doesn’t mean lack of style or class, you know.”
“I do know,” Wyatt assured him, this time in a more serious tone. He cupped Mat’s face again, feeling the edge of his frown with his thumbs, and he felt bad. “I was only teasing. I love everything about you. All the ink on your body, all the metal in your skin.”
Mat shuddered lightly. “You…ha. Okay. I don’t really know what to say to that.”
“How about kiss me, then. And when you’re through kissing me, put your fingers inside me. And then your cock,” Wyatt said boldly. The words felt foreign on his tongue, but he had never meant anything more sincerely.
Mat had no problems with that, it seemed. He groaned and thrust against Wyatt again before doing exactly what he asked. His kisses were nothing like Wyatt had ever experienced—soft and gentle, but with an edge to them so unlike any lover Wyatt had taken in the past. For a man who had never explored another man’s body, Mat seemed to know him like they’d been lovers for most of their lives.
His hand skimmed down Wyatt’s side, gripping his cock only for a moment before dipping lower to touch his balls, then the space behind them. His finger eventually pushed between his cheeks, rubbing a slow circle around his hole, and a moan ripped from Wyatt’s chest with how much he wanted this man.
“I don’t actually know what I’m doing,” Mat confessed.
Wyatt laughed softly, pushing up on his elbows carefully so they didn’t bash their heads together. “It’s not that complicated. I’ll guide you, but I want to clean myself out first, okay? Because I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me.”
“Jesus,” Mat gasped, then grabbed Wyatt’s face with one hand and pulled him into a desperate kiss. “Okay. I can do that. I think. Though I’m so close, I feel like I might blow my load right here.”
“Then we try again after,” Wyatt assured him, reading the insecurity in his tone. He leaned in for a last kiss, then made his way to the bathroom to take care of himself. Sex was messy business and he’d never really been bothered by the byproducts of it, but he didn’t want to scare Mat off. He wished he had the supplies to do a more thorough job, but he felt good enough by the time he stepped out of the shower, and he gave himself a cursory wipe down before heading back into the room.
It was brighter than before, the light on the desk turned on and up, and Wyatt felt a rush of affection because he knew Mat had done that for him. Wyatt could see the outline of his lover on the bed, not much different from the position he was in before, and he quickly made his way over.
“Still good?” Wyatt asked.
“Better than,” Mat told him. He reached for Wyatt, pulling him close and crashing their mouths together. The frantic kissing got them both worked up, their throbbing erections brushing together with every thrust of their hips, and Wyatt knew then what Mat was talking about. A few more minutes and he’d be long-done before they got to the good part.
Rolling onto his side, Wyatt fumbled with the bag on the floor until he found the lube, and he turned to press it into Mat’s hand. “Use a lot. It’s been a while for me.”
Mat let out a shuddering breath which was cut off by the sound of the lube cap clicking open. Wyatt’s eyes fell closed, enveloping him in total darkness, leaving him nothing more than sound a
nd sensation. He tuned in to the sound of Mat pouring the lube on his fingers, felt the way Mat’s hand gently parted his legs, lifting Wyatt’s knees toward his chest. He heard the hitch in Mat’s breathing, the shaking way it escaped his lungs, felt the way his skin temperature increased where it was pressed against the backs of Wyatt’s thighs as he settled there.
“Ready for me?” Mat asked.
“Ouais, yes,” Wyatt groaned. He shifted backward, seeking touch, wanting it more than anything.
Mat swallowed so thickly, Wyatt heard it catch in his throat, but then a firm digit pressed against him. The lube was already warm from Mat’s skin, and it was slick and liberal as it dripped down his crack. The sensation wasn’t entirely pleasant, but it was immediately eclipsed when Mat pushed his finger inside.
There was some resistance, then Wyatt felt his body open up to welcome the intrusion. Mat groaned, his hand holding the back of one of Wyatt’s thighs gripping almost painfully tight. “Shit, that’s,” Mat said.
“Mm,” was the only noise Wyatt could force out. He found himself thrusting back against Mat’s hand, wanting him to speed up, to add more girth, to fill him.
“I’ve got you,” Mat murmured. “I’m…I want this to be good, I want to be good for you, Wyatt. I never want you to regret this moment.”
“I couldn’t,” Wyatt managed to gasp out. He groped for Mat, finding his arm and pushing a little harder on it. “More. It’s okay to give me more.”
Mat didn’t hesitate, adding a second finger, and after a beat, a third. Wyatt was near mad with want by this point, and he sat up halfway, scrabbling for Mat’s shoulders. “Enough. I want you.”
Mat’s fingers disappeared, then Wyatt heard the sound of the condom wrapper tearing. He fell back to the pillows again, leaving his legs spread and his cock twitching against his stomach. If he touched it, it would all be over, so he fisted his hands in the sheets and waited.
Mat’s hesitance returned, his movements stuttered and unsure. His hands gripped Wyatt’s legs by the thighs once more, and Wyatt felt the press of his dick where he wanted it most. “If I hurt you…”
“It’s always a little uncomfortable,” Wyatt told him, reaching to curl his hands around Mat’s wrists so he couldn’t pull back. “And then it isn’t. Then it’s so good, and with you, it will be so perfect. So please. I want this. I want you.”
Mat let out another shaking sigh, then cleared his throat. “Okay. I…alright.” One hand disappeared from Wyatt’s leg, then he felt the press of fingers against him once more before he was being stretched wide. Mat wasn’t long, but he was thick, and it stretched Wyatt further than he had been in a long time.
“Oh,” Wyatt groaned. He breathed out, trying to relax himself as Mat—slow and steady—pushed himself in.
“Okay?” Mat asked, his voice strained and rough. His hand traced a touch down Wyatt’s jaw. “You look uncomfortable.”
“It’s…a lot,” Wyatt said, struggling for words.
“I get it. It feels,” Mat said, and then went quiet.
Wyatt had a feeling he was struggling just as much for coherence, but it wasn’t necessary right then. It was a lot, but it was also exactly where he wanted to be. Instead of answering him, Wyatt spread his legs further, drawing Mat lower to press their chests together. The pressure on his dick shot sparks of pleasure up his spine, but he tried to ignore them as he sought out his lover’s mouth.
Mat kissed back willingly, eagerly, his tongue matching the speed of his stuttered thrusts. Wyatt moved his own hips, encouraging Mat to let go, to not worry so much if he was doing things right. They were here—they were both in this—and it was so good.
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Mat muttered against Wyatt’s lips.
Wyatt realized he’d been speaking aloud, but in French. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t more important than feeling Mat throbbing and pulsing inside of him. “I’m going to come,” he said, suddenly realizing he was reaching the edge.
Mat stiffened, then he pulled back and before Wyatt could drag him back down, a warm, calloused hand closed around his cock. Mat’s thrusts were uneven, but his hand was still coated in lube, and it slicked over Wyatt’s length. His head spun, his ass clenching, his thighs squeezing tight around Mat’s hips. His entire body went hot, his face flush with his climax, and he stuttered upward, spilling all over Mat’s knuckles.
Mat stroked him through it, murmuring soft words, but they were hoarse and tense, and Wyatt realized Mat was at the edge. He breathed out, then clenched down, and it was all Mat needed to crash over. He released Wyatt’s dick, his hands hitting the mattress, his forehead resting between Wyatt’s pecks as he ground his hips in a circle. It struck Wyatt’s prostate twice, making his limp dick twitch with the sensation. When Mat finally stilled, Wyatt felt him turn his head and press a kiss next to his nipple.
“Holy shit,” he breathed.
Wyatt laughed, dragging his hands into Matt’s hair and scraping blunt nails along his scalp. “Thank you,” he said when he found his voice.
Mat groaned as he started to pull back, and Wyatt bore down to make it a little easier. He was bone-tired, and the thought of moving was beyond him, but luckily Mat had no qualms. He padded across the room, returning a moment later to wipe up their mess with the wet corner of a towel. Wyatt let Mat shuffle him over when it was done, then climbed under the sheets and turned so he could be the little spoon.
“Is this okay?” Mat asked as Wyatt’s arm wound around his waist.
Wyatt buried his face between Mat’s shoulder blades. “It’s perfect.”
“Parfait,” Mat answered.
Wyatt chuckled, nodding his forehead against Mat’s flush-warm skin. “And for you?”
“How was it?” Mat asked, and Wyatt made a noise of affirmation. “I don’t really have the words. It was different, but in the best way.”
“Because I’m a man?” Wyatt asked.
Mat laid his hand over Wyatt’s and pressed down, making Wyatt hold him a little tighter. “Because it’s you.” He was quiet a while, and Wyatt moved his hand to Mat’s chest to feel the way his heart began to slow into a careful, steady beat. He absently tapped the rhythm out against Mat’s pec, and kept his nose pressed lightly against his skin, basking in the musky fragrance of them joined together. “It wasn’t ever like that with her. With Melissa,” he clarified, and Wyatt couldn’t remember if Mat had used his ex-wife’s name before. “I mean, the first time was ridiculous because we were both virgins, and we obviously got better. But I guess I didn’t realize how much of a connection we were lacking until now.”
Wyatt’s heart hurt for Mat. He couldn’t say the same for himself—not in that respect. He and Ioan had been passionate and glorious at first. It wasn’t until a few years into the marriage that things started to change. Sex became a chore, conversation became obligation. Somewhere along the way, they’d lost each other, and hadn’t been able to find their way back.
Of course, it made sense, after knowing the truth about Ioan. Wyatt was never truly his taste, and to this day, he didn’t understand why Ioan had chosen him. And Mat was right on one account—it had never been like that before. Wyatt knew passion, but he had never known this, and it was all due to the man in his arms.
“I’m grateful for you,” Wyatt murmured.
After a second, Mat shifted, turning so they were pressed chest to chest. Mat wound his long leg around Wyatt’s hips, pushing them together in a way that would have tortured Wyatt had he not been so sated. “What did you say to me at the shop? When you came to visit?”
Wyatt wracked his brain, then laughed softly, his head shaking. “Ah. Si le verbe aimer n’existait pas, je l’aurais inventé en te voyant,” he said, remembering exactly what he had murmured into Mat’s ear. He flushed, knowing it was far too soon to imply something like that, in spite of how much he felt it.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Mat started, sensing Wyatt’s hesitation.
Wyatt took
a breath, then shook his head. “If the word for love did not exist,” he said, and he felt Mat’s grip on him tighten, “I would have invented it seeing you.”
He heard the sharp intake of Mat’s breath, and when he thought maybe he’d gone too far, Mat surged forward and kissed him. “Thank you,” he said.
Neither had been really a declaration of love, but Wyatt could feel purpose and affection in that kiss, and he knew Mat understood exactly what he was saying. They weren’t in love yet, but they could get there. God willing. If they only tried.
Mat hadn’t really left Fairfield since setting foot there six years before. The first few years, his head had still been such a mess that travel wasn’t advised, and after that, he simply had nowhere else to be. His family was there, his work was there, and apart from the occasional road trips with the guys, he’d never felt the compulsion to explore outside of his little bubble.
Now, with his passport and plane ticket in hand, he felt a bubbling anxiety in his gut. Luckily, leaving the country with Wyatt was less complicated. When they got there, they’d have to part, but it wouldn’t be for long. He hoped. The line for security was the worst part, but he had his paperwork from his doctor to inform the TSA agents that there was a reason the metal detectors went off when they scanned his head.
They still searched him, but not as invasive as it could have been, and soon enough the pair were sitting by the gate with a couple of coffees.
“I didn’t realize you had a doctor’s note,” Wyatt said as he stretched his feet out.
Mat laughed. “Actually, Tony told me to get something from my GP. The side of my head was crushed in the accident. I have wires and some mesh, which helped put it back together. You didn’t feel it?”
Wyatt laughed. “I don’t think I was looking for it.”
