I parted his cheeks and turned back on the toy. I watched the muscles of his back and neck flex as he turned his head toward the noise, looking over his shoulder to find the source despite his blindfold. I dragged the vibrating rod over his hole and watched as he reacted. His back arched and his mouth fell open, a breathy gasp escaping at the first contact. My eyes stayed trained on him as I did it again. His reactions were hypnotizing and breathtaking, and I wanted to drink in every moment.
I wanted to memorize the way he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth when he heard thesnickof the lube bottle cap opening and the sight of goosebumps rising along his spine as I dripped lube over his pucker. I watched with undisguised hunger as I pushed the toy past the ring of muscle and into him, watching as the hole stretched around the thin toy. I couldn’t wait to watch that same hole wrap around my cock.
It had always been one of my favorite sights, and with Matt, it was even better.
I gently pulled the toy out, taking note of his reactions. I angled the toy to brush his prostate, and he let out the most beautiful sound. It was music to my ears, and my cock throbbed at the sound. I needed to touch him. The toy wasn’t enough to sate the hunger I had for my boyfriend. I didn’t thinkanythingwould ever be enough to satisfy that hunger.
I leaned down, biting one of his ass cheeks, and I shifted the vibrator in doing so. I must have hit a really good spot,because his moan was loud enough that I was sure the neighbors could hear it, even though the apartment had thick walls. I’d never heard them getting into anything, and they’d never once complained about the noises coming from my apartment. “Bend your knees,” I instructed as I pulled the toy from his ass. “I want to see your hole better. I need better access.”
Matt shuffled on the bed, pushing himself up to where his ass was presented beautifully toward me. His hole was wet with lube, and fuck, it was tempting me. I stroked my cock a few times to take the edge off, the vibrator still buzzing in my hand. Matt shifted on the bed, and I could practically feel the impatience radiating from him. I stroked myself again, moaning at the contact.
His whine was almost obscene.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I asked.
“Need more.”
“Need more what?” I asked him. I used my other hand to thumb over his hole, teasing him. “Patience?”
Matt grumbled incoherently, a grumble that was more sexy than frustrated. When I did it again, the whine was more pronounced. “Noahhhh. Please.”
“Patience,” I reminded him, leaning down so my breath grazed him. “I’m going to take care of you.”
Before he could whine again, before he could beg more, I circled his rim with my tongue. He shuddered, and once I added the toy to my licks, the room was filled with lustful noises. I worked him over with tongue and toy until he was begging again, practically sobbing. He was begging for my cock, begging to cum, begging for a hundred different things. He cried out to God more times than I’d ever heard him do in his life.
It was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced, watching him fall apart.
And the sound he made when I pulled the toy out and turned it off, stopped touching him, left him dangling on the edge of his orgasm would be in my spank bank for the rest of my life. It was the kind of noise that would haunt my wet dreams. I would spend the rest of my life chasing the feeling that singular noise gave me. Hell, I’d be content spending the rest of my life drawing that noise from his lips.
And when I put on the condom and pushed into him, I knew that Iwantedto spend the rest of my life chasing it.
Matthew Bennett was everything to me. He was my past, my present, and my future.
I wanted to spend every night with him. I wanted the little moments with him, and I wanted moments like this. Buried deep in the heat of his channel, bringing him to orgasm and chasing my own. I wanted to fall asleep beside him, wake up with him drooling on my chest every morning, cook meals together, everything. The realization hit me as hard as my release did, causing my heart to stutter and my head to clear. It was like a moment of epiphany, of understanding what I had been put on this earth to do.
I’d been made to love Matthew Bennett.
17
Ididn’twanttokiss Noah goodbye on Friday morning, because I knew I wouldn’t be there when he got home.
Our time had ended.
It was time to move back into my apartment. Not that it would take much moving. I didn’t have a lot of stuff at Noah’s. I could fit it all in a few grocery bags, and most of that stuff wasn’t even going back to my apartment. I had my overnight bag with the clothes I’d grabbed when I’d been allowed to go home for essentials, the few things I’d bought the day after the fire, and the ducks Noah and my friends had bought me in an effort to make up for the ones I couldn’t bring from my apartment.
I didn’t have a reason to wait for him to get home, and we’d decided the night before that it was probably better if I didn’t. Waiting for him would just prolong our sadness and make it hard to load my stuff into my car and drive back across town to my own place. It was easier to make a clean break, to kiss him before he went to work and leave not long after. At least I didn’t have to leave my key behind.
Instead, I’d given him a key to my place as well. The keys were signs of our promise to discuss moving in together when it got closer to the end of my lease. We might have miles between us, but we wouldn’t have locked doors. It wasn’t like we would come and go from one another’s spaces, but we would have the ability. It was just one topic from a long list we’d discussed the night before, lying in bed and trying to put off morning.
But morning came anyway, and now I was at my apartment, sitting alone.
Nothing had changed in the month I’d been gone, except there was a thin layer of dust on the entertainment center. Even the rubber duck I’d left on the side table when I’d left the night of the fire was still there, slightly off kilter, sitting next to my phone charger. There wasn’t even a lingering smell of smoke, and I’d been so worried that there would be. Instead, there was the smell of fresh paint in the hallways, wafting down from the affected floors. I kept looking around at everything, at the place that a month ago had felt so much like home, and it feltwrong.
It felt wrong knowing that Noah wouldn’t be coming through that door.
It felt wrong, looking at my kitchen and not seeing the whiteboard with our menu for the week written out.
It had been a little more than a month, and I’d gotten too comfortable. How was I supposed to go back? Time and emotions didn’t work that way. Even what I felt for Noah wasn’t going back in time. It was something new and different, flavored and informed by our shared past but formed as adults. Formed as men.
