Bad Case of Loving You

“Tell me about the book,” I said, not opening my eyes. Oh, yeah, my body was just soaking up the potassium and sodium.

“It’s a murder mystery,” Matthew said. The mattress dipped beside me as he moved and his leg slid over mine.

“Lots of characters with backstories I don’t know. A pathetic dead body in a graveyard, some obscure literary references, and a baby with Apert’s syndrome. I could tell you about Apert’s syndrome if you’d like.”

“Tell me about Elis-van Creveld syndrome instead,” I said.

I hoped the man in the bus shelter had scored last night.

“Don’t know anything about Elis-van Creveld,” Matthew said. “Except that somebody had an unfortunate surname.”

He was stroking my inner thigh now, and I smiled as pleasure washed through me.

“Two people,” I said. “Who talked about their patients on a train.” Bedding slid off my chest and Matthew’s mouth settled on my nipple. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made love in the morning. Presumably Kendra and I had, before Henry had arrived.

I could feel the stubble on Matthew’s jawline rubbing against my chest and it was sending sparks of arousal from my nipple directly to my cock.

There were gloves on the packing case beside the bed, and sachets of lube, and my head didn’t hurt when I reached out for them.

Matthew rolled onto his back willingly and whispered,

“Yeah,” when I pressed two fingers inside him.

The bedding slid off us and he was achingly beautiful in the morning light. “Will you touch yourself?” I asked him, and he curled long fingers around his cock and began to stroke himself.

His nipple was hard in my mouth, the bar metallic against my teeth, and he moaned and squirmed on the bed as I sucked and tongued the bar.

“Fuck, Andrew, I can’t take much of this,” he moaned.

“Fuck me? Now?”

There was a condom beside the bed so I rolled it on myself quickly, and smeared lube over the latex. We were making a hell of a mess of F’s sheets.

I’d been in a screaming hurry the only time I’d fucked Matthew before, but this time I eased myself in slowly, watching his face. He tipped his head back, exposing the smooth stretch of his throat, closing his eyes. I licked a long, slow line up his neck, waiting with trembling expectation for his body to relax and accept me.

“Yes,” he whispered and I stayed where I was, buried deep inside him, watching his face.

He opened his eyes and gazed into mine.

I knew the exact moment I’d fallen in love with Kendra; we’d been sitting on the back step of her mom’s house during summer break from college. She’d been fiddling, playing Lynyrd Skynyrd covers and I’d been sketching her, trying to catch the sawing of her bow arm. I’d put down my sketchpad, entranced by the expression of joy on her face, and fallen in love with her.

It was lube that coated my fingers, not charcoal, when I fell in love with Matthew.

Moisture leaked out of one of my eyes, a drop fell down onto his chin, and he whispered, “Make love to me.”

I did, as slowly and gently as I could, giving desire as much time to build as it needed, lingering over every stroke, until Matthew closed his eyes again, overwhelmed. He wasn’t quiet, not this time, and every gasp and moan was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard, every whimper made me moan, too.

Each thrust made the bed creak alarmingly, but I didn’t care. F would forgive me this once for disturbing his morning, I was sure.

It grew warmer and the bedding slid off the bed completely, down onto the floor. Matthew was moving underneath me, lifting his hips to meet each thrust in turn, driving us both on, our cries mingling as Matthew clutched at me helplessly. I don’t know who came first, or how often, just that there came a time when my body would no longer co-operate and my cock softened, making me grab wildly for the condom as I slid out.

When I collapsed down onto the bed, hopelessly out of breath, Matthew rolled toward me, hugging me. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him back.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he said.

I nodded, kind of impressed he could speak.

He propped himself up on one elbow and touched my face gently, brushing hair back off my forehead, tracing a finger across my morning stubble, smiling at me a little bashfully.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asked when my breathing began to slow.

I stroked his forehead in turn, brushing sweat-damp hair back off his face. “Hmm, the past twelve hours have been pretty big on extemporaneous verbalizing for me, so there’s any number of things I might have said to you. However, I’m willing to guarantee any and all statements made under these circumstances, especially if they are statements of adoration.

I think the only exception to the guarantee would be manifestly wildly inaccurate claims about the size of my penis.”

Matthew chuckled and my heart melted a little more. “So, the bit last night when you shouted, ‘I’ve got thirteen inches and they’re all for you, baby’ wasn’t true?”

“No, that would be an exaggeration,” I said. “Though I could make a claim for the gist of the sentiment being true.”