More, page 20
My body lost all finesse, coherent thought long gone as I came. We collapsed in a heap on the bed, exhaling heavy breaths on one another's skin.
Matthew laughed and untangled his way out from under Richard. He sat up and tugged on my arm. “C'mon.”
I lifted my head. “What? Jesus, Matthew, lie down for a few minutes. Enjoy the afterglow.”
“I am enjoying it.” He got off the bed and tugged on me again. He reached for Richard and yanked. “C'mon, guys.”
“Where we going, kid?” Richard asked.
“To take a shower. I wanna suck you both off, back-to-back.”
“Tonight?” I yawned with the word.
Matthew stilled, his eyes wide. “Of course tonight.”
Richard shot out of bed and smacked my ass. “You heard him, Luke. Get the hell up. Matthew's gonna have himself a taste test.” He dragged me off the bed.
“I'm up.” I ran past Richard. “First one in gets his mouth for round one.”
“You ass. You were faking that sleepy after-orgasm shit.”
I turned on the shower and stepped in. Matthew followed me and crowded me against the wall, kissing me like we hadn't fucked in weeks, like getting a taste of me meant more to him than anything.
Richard stepped in and ran his hands all over us in a slow wash. The cool tickle of the soap bubbles he left behind slid down my skin. I ached for more of his warm touch, for Matthew's hot mouth.
“This shower isn't big enough for this,” Richard said. “We should get in the tub.”
Matthew shook his head. He watched my mouth. “I can't hold my breath that long under water.”
I chuckled, but the sound left me in a gasp when Matthew dropped to his knees and pumped my cock to life. His full, wet lips wrapped around the crown of my dick, and my head hit the wall behind me.
The moment Matthew's tongue pushed at my slit, I lost control and almost came. His licks and sucks were more intense without the condom. And he hadn't taken my shaft all the way in yet.
I'd never last long.
Nothing had ever felt so hot and wet and tight around my dick. It was better than the first time he blew me at the Haven. Better than any other blowjob I'd ever had.
My stomach muscles tightened. I bent over him, and an explosive release I didn't think was left in me surged through my cock and balls. I gripped at his shoulders as tremor after tremor assailed my body. I may have stopped breathing for a minute or two. Matthew swallowed my cum and licked every drop off his lips.
He didn't even pause. He slid over and swiped his tongue up Richard's length.
“Fucking hell, Matthew!” Richard reached down and held his head. His fingers threaded through the dark hair.
I laid a hand on his chest. His pecs jumped as his body flexed and jerked under Matthew's attention. The uneven skin of his scar tingled the pads of my fingers. I gripped at his flesh, wanting him to feel me too.
When Matthew finally finished and came in my hand, his hair stuck to his forehead— damp from water and sweat— his lips swollen and his face flushed, he looked delectable. I kissed him and took a taste of Richard from his mouth, enjoying the flavor of someone else's cum for the first time in fifteen years.
We spent the next three nights exploring all the ways we could come inside one another. They were the best three days I'd ever spent with anyone.
And when Richard's cock pulsed in my mouth and Matthew's did the same in my ass— exploding down my throat and bathing my channel— it felt right, perfect.
It didn't make me nervous. The time had come to trust someone again. To move on. To live a different life. Why the hell had I waited so long?
And how could I keep it all from ending?
Chapter Twenty-four
The front door opened and slammed shut.
I paused the movie trailer on my laptop. I hadn't been able to focus long enough to pick out an actual movie to rent. I just kept watching one two-minute clip after another until I was certain I knew the pitch for every damn movie ever made.
Both Matthew and Richard had been working a lot. I was fidgety and bored. It annoyed me how little I liked being home alone. What had happened to the guy who liked his privacy? The guy who never needed anyone to eat dinner with, to talk about his day with, or to just sit and watch a damn movie with?
I was also on edge because my search for Abigail Conner hadn't gone all that well. She had died ten years earlier. Widowed at twenty-five, she had never remarried. I was unable to find who her home and personal effects had been left to. I imagined Danny Conner's college journal had long ago been lost to a landfill.
“Hey, Richard,” I called out. “Thought you were going to be late.”
A loud thud echoed from the hall. A repeat of the same sound followed. Shoes smacking the wall after they were kicked off.
“Fuck.”
Matthew.
But the tone sounded wrong. More pissed off, frustrated.
I got off the couch. “Kid?”
Matthew hurried past the open archway. He made it halfway up the stairs by the time I stepped into the hall.
“Matthew?”
He hesitated for a moment, his back to me, his hands clenched into fists, and then he started up again. I froze for ten seconds, then sprinted after him. My feet caught the stairs two at a time. I glimpsed the side of his face before he slammed the door to his room shut.
“Matthew, what's wrong?” Broken. I sound broken. And worried. And about to panic. I knocked. “Did I do something? Did something happen?”
The door's lock clicked in place. My mouth fell open. I raised my hand to the doorknob and turned. Sure enough, he'd locked me out.
I leaned against the wall and slid until my ass hit the hall floor. I raced through the past few days. What could I have done to hurt his feelings?
Nothing.
A loud thud echoed in the silence.
I jumped up and banged on the door. “Matthew, are you okay?”
“Leave me alone.”
I slumped back to the floor.
I'd wait.
Wait for Matthew to come out.
Or Richard to come home.
Or for me to land on the perfect words to get him to open the goddamn door.
The front door opened an hour later. My head smacked back against the wall, and I let out a long breath. I hadn't been able to move from the floor next to Matthew's door, the sounds of Call of Duty filling the quiet until he turned it off and the deafening silence began.
After a few minutes, Richard came up the stairs. “What's going on?” He sat next to me. “Are you okay?” He gripped my biceps and turned me to face him. “Are you sick?”
“Something's wrong with Matthew.” I waved my hand toward the closed door. “I knocked and called for him, but he won't answer me or come out. I think something happened to him.”
Richard looked at the door. “What happened?”
“How the hell should I know? He came home and ran to his room. I knocked and asked him what happened. He locked the door and told me to leave him alone. He was upset, pissed even.”
“Pissed? Jesus. I've never seen him angry, let alone pissed off.”
“He played his Xbox for a while, but it's been quiet since then. Every once in a while I hear him curse or slam something.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Not like him at all. You know me; I don't know how to handle these kinds of things. I've been trying to think of what to say.” I banged my head on the wall again.
Richard slid his hand behind my head and rubbed. “And?”
I shrugged. “I couldn't even get him to open the damn door. I don't know what's wrong and even if I did, I don't know how to make people feel better, or what to say.”
“But you can listen. You've been doing that. Maybe that's all he needs. For us to be here and— ”
Glass shattered behind the closed door.
Richard sprang to his feet and knocked. “Matthew? What's going on? Did you hurt yourself?”
Nothing.
The color drained from Richard's face. “Open the door.”
Nothing.
I stood, ready to slam my weight against the door, which would hurt. The interior doors of Richard's townhouse weren't the cheap shit I'd had at every place I'd ever rented.
Richard sucked in a breath and opened his mouth.
The door flew open.
Matthew didn't make eye contact with either of us. “I'm okay. Jeez. I just need to be alone. Is that all right?” He swung the door closed, but Richard's hand stopped it.
Matthew let go and threw his hands up in the air. “I got fired. Okay? When I went on my break, my register came up short. My new asshole boss confronted me. Right in front of the other guys and the customers. He said he knew I did it. He said he was right about me and my kind. I lost my temper. I screamed at him. And got fired!”
Richard placed a hand on the smaller man's shoulder. “Shit. You didn't deserve that. It wasn't your fault.”
“I wouldn't steal. I wouldn't. That homophobic asshole was just looking for an excuse.”
Every muscle in my body wanted to move in and hold the man. What did Richard want to do?
He spoke, his voice tight but soft. “No, you wouldn't. We're here to listen, if you'd like to talk about it.”
Matthew shook his head. He stared at the floor again. “Not like this. I get worked up when I feel like I'm failing. I don't want to be around anyone like this. Not you guys.”
Richard gave a nod. “Okay. We'll be downstairs when you're ready to talk.” He gave Matthew's arm one last squeeze and turned away.
“No, it's not okay.” The words came out more pissed than I intended.
Richard spun around.
Matthew's gaze rose from the floor. There was anger and fear and hope in those dark eyes.
Why couldn't I walk away? If I wanted time alone, I wouldn't want them to bother me. Why couldn't I give the same to Matthew?
“We'll be here when you're ready,” Richard said. He looped his hand around my arm and encouraged me to move with him.
I stood my ground.
“Give him space,” Richard added. “He'll come down later.”
No. Matthew needed one thing to feel better. I reached out, settled a hand at the back of his head, and brought his mouth to mine.
He held still for a moment. Then he kissed me back. His arms snaked tight around me, and he fed me everything he could with his kiss. A bolt of desire shot through me as he pressed his groin to me. His dick firmed more with each roll of his hips. He humped at me again and again, strong, powerful stabs of body against body.
Richard's arms circled my waist. He pulled Matthew and me into the hall. “In our room.” His voice was low, desire beneath the trepidation.
With his help, we made it to the bedroom and undressed. Matthew wouldn't let go of me. His mouth gave mine no reprieve. He needed me, needed us. He needed to feel alive.
If nothing else, I could give him that.
I wrestled his body to the edge of the bed and flung us down, pushing hard against him. I sucked and bit at his neck. I twisted a nipple until the point felt sharp to the tough flesh of my fingers.
He bucked underneath me with unrestrained force.
I knew what to do.
I got on my hands and knees. “Fuck me?”
“Luke. Yes.” His hands never left me. His body trembled.
I reached around and gripped his forearm. “It's okay, Matthew. We're gonna make you feel better.”
“Yes,” he said, and a desperate moan followed.
Richard retrieved lube from the nightstand. He slicked Matthew's shaft, then my ass. He held Matthew's hips with gentle hands as he lined him up. I lowered my head.
Matthew plunged into me. There was no finesse or grace about him. His movements were sloppy and forceful. His dick slipped out of me more than once, and each time he groaned, grabbed himself, and shoved inside me again. He had never been so fierce with anal sex before. My ass was glad it'd been getting a lot of play lately.
Richard stretched out beside us and placed a hand on Matthew's hip. Only after Matthew climaxed did Richard wrap a hand around his own neglected erection. I came as I watched his large hand work in a quick jerk.
Matthew collapsed onto my back. “Thank you.”
Richard drew the smaller man into his arms and held him. His lips lingered over the pale skin at Matthew's temple.
I pressed close on Matthew's other side. Together we'd make him feel safe.
I awoke the next morning with Matthew snug against me. He looked peaceful. I buried my nose in his dark hair, breathed in his scent— the spice, the faint mint that somehow always lingered— and enjoyed the man in my arms.
But it was early, and Richard's empty side of the bed nagged at me. I hurried in the shower and descended the stairs.
Richard stood in the darkened kitchen, leaning against the sink. The dim stove light reached the top half of his face. His eyes glowed like a cat on the prowl at night, caught in the beam of a car's headlights. They glared at me. Already dressed for the day, he held a coffee cup in his hand.
He stalked to the table and yanked out a chair.
I poured a cup of coffee and sat across from him. I didn't shy away from confrontations. I'd done nothing wrong.
He didn't speak until I swallowed the last of my coffee. I wasn't a shy man, but I also wasn't a man who liked to talk about anything involving emotions. And whatever he thought I'd done wrong had everything to do with the emotional state of the man I left sleeping upstairs.
“He told you about that asshole from college? Jake?”
“He did,” I said.
Richard removed his hand from the cup and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his strong arms in front of him. His stare pierced me so long I almost started to speak, and then he continued. “He told me after he talked to you. I don't think he liked the idea of one of us knowing personal shit about him without the other knowing too.”
“Makes sense. He said he didn't want to keep anything from us.”
“That's why I brought it up. He's the kind of man who needs to get things out in the open. He needs to talk them through, get them off his chest.”
“I'm not blind.”
“You weren't seeing so clearly last night.” He stared at me, his arms still crossed, his body still. “After he told me about that fucker, I noticed a difference in him. He seemed more connected to us, more relaxed, more open, both in and out of bed.” Richard drummed his fingers on his biceps, the muscle in a state of permanent flex. “I won't let you push him away from us.”
“What the hell do you think I've done wrong?”
“You can't just let him fuck you and make all the bad shit disappear.”
“Really?”
He surged forward. His hands smacked the tabletop. “No, you can't.”
I shook my head. “He's up there sleeping. He looks pretty blissed out to me.”
“And in an hour, when you and I are off to work and he wakes up alone, what then? I don't think he'll be feeling all that blissed out. He'll be feeling like shit, and he won't know what to do about it. If we'd talked last night, maybe he could have gotten past it, thought about his next step while we were there to listen and support him, remind him how good he is. Now, today, he'll sit here feeling like a loser, a failure.” Richard stood and scooped up his empty cup. He dropped it into the sink. I heard the glass crack on contact. He didn't flinch. “I hope you have a good day, Luke.” He walked out. The front door opened and slammed shut.
Shit. Not likely.
Sure enough, every time I turned around, I pictured Matthew curled up on the couch, flipping through TV channels, not knowing what else to do. By the end of the day, I seriously considered going home and sitting on him until he talked about it— whether I wanted to hear it or not.
Though I was pretty sure I did want to hear it. I sat in the hallway for over an hour the night before trying to figure out how to get him to talk to me. I'd wanted to know what was wrong. I'd wanted to be there for him.
Richard was right. We should have waited and listened.
That meant I had making up to do— with both men.
Chapter Twenty-five
When I finally made it home, I dashed for the kitchen. I longed to see Matthew bounce around the room as he made dinner, his iPod on his belt, a smile on his face.
I wasn't awarded that vision.
The room was dark. The aroma of spices and fresh herbs didn't linger in the air. Pots and pans didn't cover the stovetop. I couldn't find one hint he'd even been in the room. Richard's broken coffee cup still lay in the sink.
I sank into a chair.
Solid footsteps sounded behind me.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“He left a note. He went to his mom's for dinner.” Richard sat beside me. He reached out and took my hand in his. “I was angry, but I didn't handle it right.”
“You wanted to make sure he'd be okay. You care about him. I get that.”
“I care about you too.”
“I know. I care about you. And him.”
Richard caressed the back of my hand with his thumb. “I know that's hard for you to say. I know it isn't something you want to feel, but— ”
“No, it is. At first, it wasn't. Not at all. But now... I wanted him to talk to me last night. I just couldn't leave him alone. I had to do something.”
He kissed me. Strong coffee flavored his mouth. He usually didn't drink more than a cup or two in the morning. He probably needed the caffeine. His side of the bed had barely looked slept in.
The heat of his strong body and the passion of the kiss made me dizzy fast, made the familiar tightness in my pants return. He could get me hard no matter what else I felt.
I'd get the man off and send him to bed. It was the least I could do.
Richard jerked back. “I want you both to move in with me, permanently.”
It took a moment for my swimming head to shake off the desire. “Stay?”
“Stay. Indefinitely. Stop pretending you'll be looking for an apartment at some point. Move all your stuff here. No talk of this place as mine anymore. It'll be ours.”
