The first half of the night passes uneventfully once Matt finally dozes off, but around two thirty he jerks awake with a gasp, his body drenched in sweat.
Matt isn’t the type who’s prone to nightmares. He’s seen worse things in his life than his subconscious could possibly fabricate, so even his most terrible dreams have little effect. I wonder if this is a product of the concussion.
“You okay, Matt?”
He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Fuck. What happened?”
I take a few steps away from the door. “You tell me. Bad dream?”
“I'm not sure.” He turns and lets his legs dangle off the side of the bed. “I don’t really remember. Something just feels wrong. I can’t explain it.”
“Is it your head? How does it feel? Are you still seeing double?”
Matt shakes his head. “No, it’s not that.” He sighs and stands up, stretching. “Well, whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
“So why are you getting out of bed?”
He smirks and points across the room. “Because the bathroom is that way.”
Jesus, I'm strung too tight. “Right. Bathroom. Need a hand in there?”
“I think I can manage.”
I’ll take Matt’s normal playful sarcasm after the terror of watching that fight last night. Even worse than seeing Matt take those devastating hits of Grady’s was the knowledge that I couldn’t do a damn thing to help him, couldn’t even let my reaction show.
I couldn’t help him, that is, until the terms of the fight were met.
Suddenly, Matt’s hand appears in front of me as he snaps his fingers in my face.
“What the fuck, Matt?”
“You were a million miles away just now.” He cups my cheek with his hand. “Are you okay? I'm not the only one that got beaten up yesterday, though you did it to yourself.”
I lean into Matt’s touch with a sigh, covering his hand with my own. “I’m fine … physically. I’d prefer it if you didn’t try that method of power play again, though. I don’t think I could handle it.”
Matt takes my hand in his and inspects my injuries, tracing the cuts gently with a fingertip. “This could have been more serious if I hadn’t shown up when I did.”
“I was mostly done by then,” I say dismissively.
His lips brush my torn knuckles. “Don’t do this again, Aron. Please.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and breathe in his subtle musky scent. “Tell you what: We’ll both agree that last night’s activities were a one-off. No more for either of us.”
“I can’t promise that I won’t get in a fight again.”
“No, but you can promise that it won’t be your idea.” I lean back just enough to gaze into his sapphire eyes. “Promise me, Matt. No more organized death matches.”
He pauses so long that I think he might balk at the agreement, but finally a soft smile spreads his lips, and he hugs me tight.
“No organized death matches. Promise.”
The kiss is explosive. Matt’s lips crush mine like he’s trying to meld with me, to become one. Our hands drift and explore, and it isn’t long before I feel Matt’s hard cock pressing into my hip. I grip his waist and pull him even closer until our bodies are flush. Matt moans and grinds into me while I slide my hands down to squeeze his tight ass.
“Please tell me this counts as morning,” Matt murmurs against my lips. “I don’t think I can wait until the sun comes up.”
“How’s your head?”
“It’s fucking fine. My dick, on the other hand, could use some TLC.”
