Matt kept pace like a man possessed by lust itself, his strokes relentless as he chased his own release. When it finally came for him—hot spurts of seed painting my belly—I saw that dark look of satisfaction flash in his eyes.
Before I could even process the mess—or anything else for that matter—he hauled me into an embrace so tight it expelled any remaining air from my lungs. Then his mouth was on mine again—devouring, claiming—and I was lost to the whirlwind once more.
Twelve
MATT
Matt awoke with the usual snap to alertness that had always served him well in his empire of lights and luck. But today, the edges of his world seemed dipped in a more vibrant hue, the shadows chased away by the presence of the one who lay beside him. Life before Andy was a painting magnificent yet static; life with Andy was like watching the colors dance.
He turned to observe the young man beside him, a silent exhale escaping his lips as he took in the sight. Andy lay there, a vision of serene beauty amid the tangled sheets, gold-kissed by the morning sun streaming through the half-drawn curtains. His ebony hair sprawled across the pillow like dark silk, framing his face—the light casting gentle glimmers of gold in his eyes even as they remained closed in slumber. Matt marveled at how even unconscious, Andy could stir such fascination within him.
A glance at the clock told Matt he had time before his day truly began, and he intended to spend it indulging in his new favorite pastime. He leaned over, lips hovering just above Andy’s, drinking in the moment before committing to memory every contour of his sleeping companion’s face.
Matt then brushed a stray lock of hair from Andy’s forehead and began kissing him softly. His lips touched Andy’s forehead first, featherlight and reverent. Then he moved lower, pressing kisses along Andy’s temples, cheeks, and finally his lips. Oh, those lips—soft yet firm, yielding yet strong. Matt savored each touch, each taste.
Andy stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. That was just fine by Matt; he had more ground to cover. His kisses traveled down to Andy’s throat, where he could feel the pulse beating steadily under his mouth. He lingered there, tasting the faint saltiness of Andy’s skin mixed with the scent of sleep and something uniquely Andy.
Matt’s mouth continued its journey southward, planting kisses along Andy’s collarbone and down to his chest rising and falling with even breaths, to skin smooth but marked with love bites. And there, like cherries ripe for plucking, were Andy’s nipples. Cute? A word too innocent for what they sparked in Matt—a desire bordering on reverence.
Matt captured one with his mouth, his tongue teasing lightly at first, then with more purpose. The groan that rumbled from deep within Andy was music to Matt’s ears—low and husky and still tethered to dreams. Yet still, Andy did not wake.
That only encouraged Matt further. He continued teasing and toying with the nipple in his mouth while his fingers found its twin and began mimicking the same gentle torment. With every lick and nip, Matt felt a rush of satisfaction course through him. This was what mornings should be—filled with unhurried indulgence and intimate moments that turned time into something precious.
Matt lingered for a moment longer, savoring the reaction he drew from Andy’s chest. The nipple in his mouth had peaked into a rosy hardness, a testament to his skillful ministrations. Reluctantly, he released it and trailed his lips lower, plantingkisses down the toned plane of Andy’s abs, each one a step closer to the heat that beckoned him with silent siren calls.
Then he arrived at his ultimate destination. There it was—a proclamation of desire, bold and unashamed even in slumber. Matt paused, taking in the sight of Andy’s cock, a rush of amazement surged through him. Even in sleep, Andy responded to his touch with such beautiful fervor. The cock was indeed cute in its earnestness, yet there was nothing cute about what Matt intended to do next.
“Quite the morning glory you’ve got,” he murmured to himself with a chuckle. It seemed Andy’s body was just as eager to engage in their silent dialogue as Matt was.
Eyelids fluttered open above him—half-asleep, half-awake—and golden-brown eyes met his gaze. “You’re still a cocky bastard even in dreams,” Andy murmured, his voice rough with sleep and something else—desire?
Matt couldn’t help but flash a devilish grin at that comment. Oh, if only Andy knew this was no dream.
Matt chuckled around Andy’s cock before pulling off briefly. “Dreams? Oh sweetheart, this is far better than any dream.” Then he dove back in with renewed vigor, sucking and licking with an intensity that made Andy shudder beneath him. Matt could feel every tremor, every twitch of pleasure coursing through Andy’s body. When he felt the familiar tension building in Andy’s length, he doubled down on his efforts, sucking harder.
Andy came with a strangled cry, and Matt drank down every drop of his release, savoring it like fine wine. He then moved quickly but carefully, repositioning Andy so that he sat on his lap, back pressed firmly against his broad chest, their hard cocks lined up perfectly.
With Andy nestled in his embrace, Matt began stroking both their cocks with a leisurely, deliberate rhythm. Each slow strokebrought a wave of pleasure, making Andy squirm and sigh against him. The younger man was so docile like this, pliant and responsive. Matt couldn’t help but find him utterly adorable—a side of Andy he hadn’t anticipated but now relished.
“You’re full of surprises,” he said.
Andy hummed a response, a vibration against Matt’s chest that sent a shiver down his spine. With lips brushing Andy’s ear, he couldn’t resist the urge to tease. “So I’m a cocky bastard?”
A shiver racked Andy’s frame, deliciously drowsy, still caught in the tether between dreams and wakefulness. He snuggled closer, his face buried in the warmth of Matt’s chest as if seeking shelter, his voice muffled but clear enough to hear. “Not just a cocky bastard,” he murmured, “but arrogant, insufferable, insatiable, and infuriating.”
A chuckle rumbled deep within Matt’s chest, vibrating through to Andy’s cheek. He increased the pace of his stroking just a bit, enough to draw out a soft groan from Andy. The young man squirmed even more, every movement adding to Matt’s own pleasure.
“And yet,” Andy continued, his voice strained with rising pleasure, “you’re the cocky bastard who rocks my world.”
Matt raised an eyebrow at that declaration. “I rock your world?”
Andy nodded weakly, then turned to capture Matt’s lips in a kiss. That was all the invitation Matt needed. He plunged his tongue into Andy’s mouth, deepening the kiss with an urgency that matched the pace of his strokes.
Their bodies moved in perfect sync, hips grinding against each other as Matt’s hand worked them both toward climax. Each stroke was an exploration of pleasure—a map they both knew well yet discovered anew every time.
Andy shuddered first, moaning into Matt’s mouth as he came hard. The sound and feel of it pushed Matt over the edge aswell; he came with a groan that reverberated through both their bodies.
Spent but sated, Andy fell back into deep sleep almost immediately after his orgasm subsided. His breathing evened out, soft and steady against Matt’s chest.
