The smell of fresh dough mingled with the smell of his body wash, a soft, clean smell that was so distinctly him. He’d been using the same body wash since high school, and every time I smelled it in my bathroom or on the sheets, I felt that thing again. That rightness. I nuzzled into his neck and inhaled.
“Distracting,” he whispered.
“I could be more distracting,” I warned him before kissing his neck. He angled his head to the side to give me better access. He stopped kneading the dough and relaxed back into me. “You have to keep kneading.”
His hands began to move again, stalling momentarily as I bit down on the column of his neck. I guided his hands back to work and rolled my hips against him. The quiet moan he rewarded me with was everything. The walls were tumbling down. I could feel them being deconstructed with every touch of my lips to his warm skin, and I needed more.
I dragged my hands up his strong arms and wrapped them tightly around his torso. I could feel his erect nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. He was so responsive, and I wanted to milk every possible response from him. I tweaked one of his nipples, and he moaned again.
“Think the dough’s good to rest,” he breathed out.
I stopped kissing his neck long enough to look at the dough. “Looks good,” I agreed, guiding him around to face me. My eyes looked over his flushed face and landed on his spit slick lips. “Looksverygood.”
I started to lean into him, desperate for a taste of those shiny lips of his. He pulled away, grin on his lips. “We need to cover the dough,” he reminded me.
He stepped away from me. I groaned. “Tease.”
“Nope,” he answered with a grin. “After we cover it, we have to let it rest. Takes some time, remember? And we can’t start the cheese sauce until later…” His voice trailed off as he moved toward the sink. I watched him for a moment before catching the hints he was dropping. We had time while the sauce simmered and the dough rested.
I jumped into action, making quick work of rolling the dough into a ball and putting it in the wooden bowl I’d pulled down from the cabinet. By the time the dough was in place, he had a wet towel ready to go. He covered it and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, dragging me in for a rough kiss. My mouth opened to his tongue immediately. I reached to grab the front of his shirt and guided us both backward to the wall.
We hit it so hard, I felt the canvas artwork I had hung there shake.
Matt laughed into my open mouth, and I felt all the walls crumble down. I could feel every bit of that connection between us, every ounce of feeling I had toward him. The way I felt about him was terrifying. It was so foreign, and I didn’t know if it wasthe ghost of what we once had haunting me, tricking me into thinking that this time things could be different, or something entirely new. Or maybe it was a combination of the two. I didn’t know, and I couldn’t figure out how to detangle the complicated threads of emotion.
But when he plunged his tongue into my mouth, I realized it didn’t really matter right then. Later I could sit with all the introspection in the world. I could figure out what I felt for him, and I could take my time untangling everything. But now? God, now all I wanted was to feel him against me.
I made quick work of pulling the shirt from over his head. It was dirty anyway. There was flour across the front from where I’d been playing with his nipples. Better to leave it on the kitchen floor, especially since it left me free to explore the lithe muscles of his body.
I managed to pull my lips from his and began kissing along his neck again, kissing down to his collarbones. I spun him around so his back was against the wall and fell to my knees. I wanted to taste him,neededto taste him. I needed to hear the responsive moans and groans that came when I wrapped my lips around his cock.
I looked up at him, drinking in the expanse of chest and the way his lips parted as I mouthed over his denim covered bulge. “Noah,” he whispered.
“Hmm?” I hummed as I began to unbutton his pants. “Everything okay, baby?”
“Y-yeah,” he stammered out as I nudged down his jeans. The head of his cock peeked out from the top of his gray boxer briefs, a temptation I couldn’t refuse. I flicked my tongue over the head, and he let out a shaky moan. “Very, very okay.”
I smiled and freed him from the confines of his underwear. I was aware that we had a time constraint. The dough needed to rest for thirty minutes, and we did have sauce simmering on thestove. Sauce that would eventually need our attention so it didn’t burn. No, as much as I wanted to take my time, pull him apart at the seams and put him back together over and over again, I couldn’t.
I swallowed him down, working him over with my mouth and tongue. The small kitchen filled with the sounds of his grunts and groans, and I was determined to pull out more. Every sound went straight to my dick, but I did nothing to ease the pressure building in my own jeans. No, this was all about Matt. His hands tangled into my hair, and he began to thrust into my mouth. They were shallow thrusts at first, and I wrapped my hands around his bare ass. I nudged him forward, encouraging him to fuck my face.
The shallow thrusts grew deeper as he drove himself down my throat. Spit and precum dripped from the side of my mouth, and he kept pushing harder, making me gag. My eyes glossed over, and I moaned around his length. We worked in tandem, chasing his pleasure. I could feel when he was getting close, felt his cock pulsing in my throat. I needed his release. I needed to taste his cum on my tongue.
“So close,” he moaned, telling me what I already knew, what I could read in the thrusts of his hips.
I needed to send him over the edge. My hand moved up his bare torso, groping at his chest and thumbing over his nipples. My other hand tugged at his heavy balls, and a few moments later, his hips stuttered. His seed released down my throat, and I swallowed down every drop. I kept sucking him as his legs buckled, kept going until he started to soften in my mouth.
When I finally pulled off him, he slid down the wall and pushed me back onto the linoleum floor. His lips captured mine as his body weight pinned me in place. I felt his hands at the button of my pants. His warm hand slipped beneath my boxersand wrapped tightly around my shaft. It only took a few short strokes before I spilled over his fist, moaning into his mouth.
He wiped his hand on my shirt, not breaking the kiss. We made out until we were both hard again, thrusting against each other. We made out until the smell of burning hit my nostrils.
“The sauce,” I gasped, pushing him lightly off me. “We have to—”
“Right.” He rolled over, landing on the floor with a thud. I looked down at my ruined and rumbled shirt, at both of our pants hanging open with our hard cocks out, at his bare chest and rumpled hair, and laughed. He joined me, and I felt a warmth course through me that was a welcome relief from the last few days.
He was the first one on his feet, and he reached down to help me up. We tucked ourselves away. He washed his hands and stirred the sauce, lowering the heat, while I took off my cum stained shirt. I started toward the bedroom to throw our clothes in the dirty laundry.
Hours later, we had dirty lasagna plates sitting on the coffee table, and he was quiet again.
