A laugh escaped Andy before he could stop it. “No, you’re not chopped liver. You’re more like… caviar.” He paused, considering his next words carefully. “Expensive and acquired taste. And maybe just a bit… overbearing.”
Matt couldn’t help it; laughter bubbled up from deep within him, rich and unrestrained. “Overbearing?” he echoed with mirth. “You wound me, pup.”
Andy’s smile wavered as he bit his lip, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his jest.
Dinner concluded with an array of decadent desserts—velvety chocolate mousse, crème brûlée with a perfectly torched top, and a selection of artisanal cheeses. Once the plates were cleared and the bill settled, they made their way to the car waiting outside.
During the drive, Matt couldn’t help but notice Andy fidgeting in his seat. His fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh, and he glanced out the window with a distracted air. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was on Andy’s mind—the earlier passion simmering between them had left its mark.
“Relax,” Matt said softly, leaning closer to Andy. “How about we take a stroll? Walk off some of that food.”
Andy’s eyes lit up with relief. “Yes,” he replied quickly. “That sounds perfect.”
They stepped out onto the bustling Strip, the neon lights casting vibrant hues across their faces. The air was warm and alive with energy—the heartbeat of Vegas pulsing around them.
As they walked side by side, Matt watched as Andy’s tension melted away. He seemed to come alive amid the spectacle, his eyes wide with wonder as they passed by replicas of world wonders and cascading fountains dancing to symphonic melodies. They strolled past luxurious storefrontswhere mannequins posed in high couture behind glass walls and through throngs of tourists eager to capture memories with their cameras.
Matt watched Andy drink in the sights with childlike glee—a stark contrast to his usual fierce independence—and something within him softened. The noise and clamor of Vegas fell away; all that mattered in that moment was the joy radiating from the young man beside him.
As they approached a street magician pulling coins from thin air, Andy’s laughter mingled with the collective gasps and applause around them—a sound so pure it drowned out even the heartbeat of Vegas itself.
“This place is something else,” Andy murmured, eyes wide with wonder as they passed a street performer juggling flaming torches.
“Vegas is many things,” Matt agreed. “But it never fails to entertain.”
They continued their leisurely stroll, weaving through crowds of tourists and locals alike.
Andy stopped to admire a particularly skilled magician performing sleight-of-hand tricks for an enthralled audience. Matt found himself captivated not by the magician but by Andy’s unguarded expression—a mixture of innocence and curiosity that seemed almost out of place in this city of sin.
As they walked farther down the Strip, Matt reached out and took Andy’s hand in his own—a bold move that earned him a surprised glance from the younger man but no resistance.
An hour later, as they stepped back into the quiet opulence of the penthouse, Andy made a beeline for the bathroom with the urgency of a man escaping a burning building.
“I’ll just go clean up and get ready,” he threw over his shoulder, not meeting Matt’s gaze.
Matt’s smirk deepened, a lazy grin spreading across his face. His body hummed with anticipation, every nerve ending tingling with the promise of what was to come. He sauntered to the fridge, retrieved a bottle of water, and unscrewed the cap with a slow twist of his wrist.
The cool liquid slid down his throat, refreshing yet doing little to quell the heat pooling in his belly. He settled himself on the plush leather couch, flicking on the TV more out of habit than interest. His mind was far from the mindless chatter of late-night talk shows.
Minutes ticked by, turning into a half hour. The anticipation gnawed at him, impatience curling through his veins like wildfire.
He stood abruptly, tossing the empty bottle into the trash with a flick of his wrist. The need for a shower clawed at him as much as his desire to see Andy again. Striding toward the bathroom, he shed his clothes piece by piece—a calculated trail leading to his destination.
Pushing open the door, steam billowed out to greet him. The sight that met Matt’s eyes was nothing short of breathtaking.
Andy stood under the cascading water, its droplets tracing paths down his lithe form, accentuating the curve of his spine, the sleek muscles of his back, and the tantalizing swell of his buttocks. His skin glistened under the soft light, every muscle taut and defined, the flush that colored his cheeks spread down his neck and across his chest. His back was arched against the tiled wall, one hand braced for support while the other disappeared between his legs, his finger probing intimately. Eyes closed in concentration, lips parted in silent moans, Andy worked himself with a delicate precision that sent heat surging through Matt’s core.
Matt’s breath hitched in his throat at the sensual tableau before him. His body stirred with a pulse of raw, visceral need.There was something fiercely erotic about witnessing Andy in his most private moment, surrendering to the pleasurable torture he inflicted upon himself.
Matt leaned against the doorframe, watching Andy’s frantic movements under the shower spray. His lips quirked into a smirk, enjoying the show far too much to interrupt immediately. Then finally, he said, his voice cutting through the rhythmic patter of water against tile, “Are you planning on doing that forever?”
Andy jolted as if electrocuted, eyes flying open and locking on Matt’s. His face turned an even deeper shade of crimson. Matt’s smirk widened into a full-fledged grin. “Because if you are,” he continued smoothly, “I might just join you.”
“I-I’m almost done,” Andy stammered, his voice wavering with embarrassment. “Just… just wait a bit.”
Matt snorted, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer. “How long isa bit? Another half hour?”
Without waiting for an answer, he stepped into the shower, water cascading over his broad shoulders. He couldn’t help but marvel at the stark contrast between them—his own hulking frame next to Andy’s slender, toned form. The difference in height alone made it seem like he could easily envelop Andy with just one arm.
