Fin & Matt (4 page)

“No.”  The single word was strangled as his fingers unfastened the button of my jeans.

Was I wearing good underwear?

Too much cologne?

I’d danced a little. 
Would he taste the sweat?
  Oh, God – the last thing I needed was swampy sweat-soaked balls.

“Fin,” he whispered.  “Where’d you go?”

I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes for a second.  “I’m fine.”

He lifted his head and shifted into an upright position.  “What’s going on?  Are you freaking out?”

“I danced.”

“So?”

“So what if I’m sweaty, you know?  Like down there or something.”

He let out a quiet chuckle.  “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“I can’t remember what underwear I have on.”

He unzipped me slowly and peeked inside.  “Gray band, light blue lycra,” he responded, looking back up.  “Nice choice.”

“What if… shit… what if I’m—”

(Not big enough)

Matt lowered himself to the floor in front of me and tugged the denim at my hips.  Once they were at my ankles, he tossed them to the side and snapped the bottom of my short briefs.  “Fin, stop.  You’re perfect.”

His kisses trailed over the tops of my thighs before his hand smoothed over the outside of my erection.  Slowly pulling the band from my waist, he traced his tongue over the head of my dick.  It was better than any book I’d read.  Better than any clip on Gaytube.

“Shit,” I mumbled, feeling Matt swallow as he lowered his mouth.  He bobbed his head a few times, finally settling on a comfortable rhythm.  “Matt, stop.”

He pulled off of me with a suctioning sound.  “You want me to stop?” he asked breathlessly.

“I mean, not really, but—”

He licked over the head and gazed up at me.  “Then relax.  Shhh.”

Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  I wouldn’t survive him.

“Matt… Matt…”

My eyes blackened and – in that moment – I wasn’t sure if ten seconds or ten minutes had gone by.  By the time I opened my eyes again, Matt had a smile on his face and was snapping my underwear back into place. 

“You taste good,” he hummed, dragging a finger over his lip.  “Did you like it?”

I breathed heavily, still trying to gasp for air.  “Matt…”

“Say yes.  You’re giving me a complex.”

“Yes,” I finished.  “Better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

“Yet.  Better than anything you’ve ever felt…
yet
.”

“I can’t… do that.”

“Fin,” he said with a laugh.  “Calm down.  I’m not going to try to fuck you.”

“Who says I wouldn’t be the one fucking
you
?” I countered.

“Do you
want
to fuck me?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”  Honestly, I didn’t.  The entire time we were kissing, all I could picture was lying on my back as Matt pushed into me.  I couldn’t visualize it any other way.  “Maybe not.  I mean, maybe, but I don’t know.”

“You
don’t
want to fuck me?”  His voice was whisper quiet.  “Now you’re really going to give me a complex.”

“It’s not that,” I returned.  “Maybe I
do
want you to—”

“To fuck you?”  He smiled and pushed an overgrown strand of black hair behind his ear.

I turned suddenly shy.  “I mean… not tonight.”

“Good.  We need something to do tomorrow,” he teased.

“Matt, I was serious before.  I want to be friends.  I realize it’s a little late now that you’ve had my dick in your mouth, but… I mean it.  I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Are you saying that you don’t want to see me?  Fin, I—”

“I do want to.  I do, I promise.  I just… I don’t know.  You’re the first guy I’ve ever – fuck – I don’t know.  I just want to be able to go to work and not have stress.  Don’t you want that?  I don’t want to wonder where you are or what you’re doing or when you’re going to leave me or if my mom will like you… I’m fucked, basically.”

“Your mom will like me,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

“Will your mom like
me
?” I asked.

“My mom hasn’t talked to me since the divorce.  They’re embarrassed.  I know she still loves me in some way, but I disappointed them.  They had this doctor for a son, working for the NFL and living their idea of a perfect life – then that same son turned out to be gay.  As we all know, God hates the gays.”  He smothered a short laugh.  “Unless everything changes with them, you’ll never know my family.”

“That’s okay.  Once you’ve met my mom, you won’t be able to get away from her.  I’m her only kid.  She… overcompensates.”

“I like her already.”

“What about you?  Brothers or sisters?”

“One brother.  Marc.  Same scenario.  I embarrassed the family with my big gay scandal and everyone suddenly lost my number.  My brother – my
twin
brother – said he was ashamed.  He couldn’t believe that I could let a guy fuck me.  Those were his words, not mine.  He was disgusted that one man could let another one fuck him.  Honestly, I’ve only had actual sex with two men and both times, I topped.  There were a few other encounters at the sauna.  I don’t know… a couple of blow jobs.  Release stuff, but nothing intimate.”

“What you did to me… that felt pretty intimate.”

“Because it was with
you
.  That’s not a line – it’s true.”

I ran my hand through my hair.  “Matt, don’t.”

“It’s not a line, Fin.  Not everyone wants to fuck you over.”

I stood, scrubbing my hands across my face.  “I know.  I also know that I’m twenty-two.  You’re thirty.  What happens when I fall for you?”

“Hey,” he said, reaching his hands to my face.  “What happens is I fall
back
.”

W
e finally made it into the bedroom sometime after four in the morning.  Stripping off his flannel and jeans, Matt slid into bed next to me and placed one hand firmly across my waist.  It was the first time I’d seen him without a shirt; he did not disappoint.  Red, somewhat sheer briefs stretched tightly across his perfect ass.  His chest was broad, sculpted with a perfect dusting of dark hair leading south before disappearing into the band of that underwear.

“You tired?” he asked.

“Exhausted.”

“You mind if I stay?”

I shook my head, swallowing dryly.  “Of course not.”

“Do you want to spend the day together tomorrow?” 

Matt’s hair was a disheveled mess, fanning out around the pillow.  He looked so beautiful in that moment; I wished I could take a photograph.  If he was really my boyfriend, I could do that.  I could photograph him a thousand times.  Knowing the fantasy may never live up to the reality, a slight frown creased my forehead.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing.  I guess I just… anyway, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he replied.  “You do too.”

“I’m too skinny.”  My hand traced over my bare chest, outlining a few ribs.  “You’re so – I don’t know – masculine.”

Matt laughed aloud.  “You’re masculine, Fin.  Jesus.”  His hand lowered across my underwear, lightly cupping over my growing dick.  “This is pretty fucking masculine.”

I stared up at the ceiling, breaking eye contact with him.  “You know what I mean,” I mumbled.

He quickly cupped one hand to my chin and turned it to face him.  “No.  I don’t.  Don’t say that stuff.  You can be beautiful and still be a man.  You know that, right?”

“Whatever.”

“Do you know what happened to me when I first saw you that day?  In the lounge?” he asked.

I turned to the center of the bed.  “What?”

“I got hard,” he said with a laugh.  “I couldn’t remember the last time just seeing someone made me hard.  You were so fucking gorgeous that I lost my ability to think rationally.  I mean it.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Go to bed.”

He pulled me close and kissed my shoulder lightly.  “I mean it.”  Taking one of my hands, he guided it to the front of his underwear.  “See?”

Shit.

I ran my thumb over the sheer material, feeling a hint of fluid pooling around the tip.  As I massaged gently, Matt let out a low growl and craned his neck back.  “Fin… fuck,” he whispered.

“Do you want me to…?  I don’t know…”

“Do that.  God, just do that.”

My hand continued to move over his (oh-my-God-enormous) cock as he writhed beneath me.  “Is this okay?” I asked, slipping my fingers inside the band of his briefs.

“Yes,” he choked.

I couldn’t help it.  I looked – well, more like stared – at it as my fingers gripped him.  The foreskin was shiny, almost purple, and near bursting.  The heat in my hand was palpable as Matt slowly ground his hips.  He had more hair than I did – a thatch of black curls around the base.  My own hair was finer, blonder; I’d contemplated having it lasered off at one point but chickened out before the appointment was made.  It seemed to be something of a hot-button topic on some of the blogs I’d followed.  I knew the bears kept theirs, of course, but that was kind of their thing.  I, on the other hand, was practically hairless everywhere – even on my backside.

“God… Fin… I’m gonna… oh shit.  I’m gonna come,” he announced.

One last pump and he did just that, leaving a ropey white trail over his stomach and my hand.  I drew a finger through it and lifted it to my lips, curiosity getting the best of me.  It was warm and salty, but not awful, per se, regardless of what some of the blogs spouted.

“Did you just taste me?” Matt asked, his chest heaving.  “You’re so fucking hot.  Kiss me.”

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his before quickly pulling away.  “Let me grab a washcloth.”

“Stay.”

I shuffled out of bed and into the connecting bath.  “One second.”  I studied myself in the mirror, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles at the sides of my eyes before soaking a washcloth with hot water.  I wrung it out, the stinging liquid nearly burning my skin.  “Shit,” I grumbled.

Matt was lying with his hands behind his head, a wide grin stretched over his face.  His briefs were pulled back up, just inches below the sticky mess I’d left behind.  Climbing into bed, I carefully erased all evidence of my first hand job.

“You’re good at that.”

I jerked my hand in jest.  “Lots of practice… on myself, of course, but the logistics are the same.”

He twirled a piece of my hair, staring at it as he pulled it from my scalp.  “Your hair is amazing.  Anyone ever tell you that?”

“My mom,” I teased.  “Good thing she doesn’t count.”

“So, about tomorrow.  Well, I guess it’s
today
now, right?  You want to do something?”

“Actually, I told my mom I’d have breakfast with her.  That’s happening in—” I looked at my phone.  “Five hours.”

“Breakfast with Mom.”  Matt nibbled my ear lightly as his arm wrapped around my back.  “Can I crash it?”

A shot of panic raced up my spine.  “You want to meet my mom?”

I could feel his head nod in the crook of my neck.  “I do.  Is that a big deal?  Come on, Fin.  I know you’re scared, but even if you don’t see us as dating, we’re still friends, right?  Friends meet the parents, don’t they?”  His lips gently suckled into the hollow of my throat.

“Friends don’t typically kiss,” I muttered.

“You want me to stop kissing you?”

I rolled onto my back and pulled him up for a quick tongue lashing.  “No.  Don’t ever stop.”

♂♂

After a long shower (together), Matt and I dressed and called the car to be brought around.

“Valet service,” he said with a pause.  “Nice.”

“It’s extra.”

“I bet it is.  This place is insane, Fin.”  He looked around.  “A Starbucks?”

I looked down at my well-worn boots.  It was embarrassing.  I’d done nothing to deserve what I had.  I just… did.  My father worked eighty-hour weeks so that I could have fucking groceries delivered if I didn’t feel like walking.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Don’t be weird.  I just haven’t had a decent place in a while.  I live in a studio in the Gate District.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s what I can afford right now.”  He shrugged.  “Things will get better in a few years.”

The car pulled in and I opened the door for Matt.  He leaned over and kissed me before climbing into the seat.  It was a small gesture, but I took my time walking around the car, desperate to shed the shit-eating grin plastered across my lips.

He held my hand while I drove, lifting to kiss my knuckles before we pulled into a parking space.  The restaurant was one of my mother’s favorites; she loved the croque madame and no one made it like Scape, according to her.

She was sitting, studying her lipstick in the tongs of a fork, when we arrived. 

“Baby,” she bellowed, not looking up from her fork.  When she did, she corrected herself, “Or should I say babies plural?  Are you Matt?”

“God, Mom,” I responded, my face flushing.  “What if it wasn’t him?”

“Well, it is him, thank God.  Right?  I mean, it is him, isn’t it?”  She whispered the last sentence.

I nodded.  “Yes, Mom, this is Matt.”

“Hi,” he said, outstretching his hand.

She batted it out of the way.  “We’re MacAuliffes.  In case you don’t know what that means, we’re huggers.  Come on, honey.  Bring it in.”

Matt embraced her tightly, even giving her a sweet rub across her shoulders before letting go.  “It’s great to meet you, Mrs. MacAuliffe.”

“Chloe.  Or Mom.  Whatever you prefer.”  She winked at him.

“Jesus, Mom,” I scoffed.  I placed the napkin on my lap just as Matt squeezed my hand under the table.

“God, Mom, you’re embarrassing us,” Matt returned.  Sarcasm looked good on him; she was melting in her seat.

She placed both hands on the table and leaned in.  “What did you boys do last night?  And don’t leave out anything.”

“Well—”

“Your father and I rented
The World’s End,
” she interrupted.

“The Edgar Wright one?” I asked.  “With the robots?”

“Yes.  Hilarious.  Dad fell asleep.  I watched it twice.”

I turned to Matt.  “My mom’s a big Edgar Wright fan.”

He shrugged.  “I don’t know him.”

She gasped.  “You don’t
know
him? 
Shaun of the Dead
?”

He shook his head.  “Sorry, no.”

“
Hot Fuzz
? 
Scott Pilgrim
?”

“Nope.”  He lifted his water glass to his lips and took a short drink.  “You’re saying I
should
though, right?”

“For shame, Finlay,” she scolded.  “Take this man home and have a marathon.  This afternoon.  Hell… now.  Just go now.”

I laughed quietly.  “Maybe later.”

“Matt, I fear you’re in for a long night,” she teased.

“I welcome it.”

“You are gorgeous,” she blurted.  “Simply gorgeous.  No wonder why Finlay hasn’t been able to talk about anything else.  Not as gorgeous as my baby, of course, but pretty damn cute.”

My face heated, surely flushing a bright red.

“No, you’re right, Chloe,” he said sweetly.  “No one is more gorgeous than Fin.”

Fuck
me
.  She was toast.

She clutched her hand over her chest.  “Paddy and I will adopt you.  Would you like to come live with a strange older couple on the Mississippi?  It sounds horrible right now, but we’ll feed you.  We have lots of booze and you’d never have to work again.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  “Mom… I want to see him again.  Can you please stop?”

“I love booze,” Matt teased.  “And not working sounds awesome.”

He squeezed my hand again before resting it just above my knee.  I could feel his thumb drawing lazy circles there, slowly advancing north. 

Oh God.

“We went dancing,” I blurted, quickly moving his hand back to his lap.  “You asked what we did last night.  We went dancing.  I mean, Emily and I went dancing and then we saw Matt.  He was there and—”

“You danced!” my mom finished.  “Is Matt a good dancer?”

“Yes,” I lied.  I’d never seen him dance.  I’d seen him at the bar and outside in the alley where I’d proceeded to let him pull my belt loops and kiss me against a wall.  “He’s a great dancer.”

She sighed.  “He certainly looks like a great dancer.  Matt, do you eat meat?”

“Um, yes.”

“Do you like Beef Bourguignon?” she asked.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

“I think so.  Is that the one with the wine?”

She turned to me.  “I make the best Beef Bourguignon, right, baby?”

“Yes, Mom,” I mumbled.

“After the movies, come.  Please.  Tonight, I’m making it for Dad.  He’d love to see you and meet your new man.”

“Mom, he’s not—”

Matt leaned over and kissed me (right on the mouth).  “We’d love to.”

♂♂

“Can we swing by my place really quick?” Matt asked.  “If we’re going to go to your mom’s, I need a change of clothes.”

“Sure.”

His fingers entwined with mine as we pulled into a small lot behind an ancient, squalid brick building.  “This is it,” he mumbled.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The carpet in the hallway was like an old casino rug; wild colors hiding dank stains below.  Inside was (a little) nicer – hardwood floors, at least – but tinier than the spare bedroom at my parents’ house.  There was a kitchenette with barely enough room to move.  A single sink for dishes.  A loveseat in the quasi-separate living space.  A gray, prison-like bathroom housing a single-stall shower and pedestal sink.

“Where do you sleep?” I asked.

He pointed to the loveseat.  “It pulls out.”

“Jesus, Matt.  You’ve gotta move out of here.”

“Five more years,” he replied.

“No, Matt.  I mean now.”  I looked around again.  “You’ve got like ten things.  We’ll take them to the Goodwill and you can move into my place.  My couch pulls out too.  You can sleep there if you want.”

He smiled.  “If I’m going to stay with you, I don’t want to sleep on the couch.  But… that’s a null point because I’m not moving in with you.”

“Oh.”

He leaned over and kissed me gently, a wet sound arising from our lips.  “Not because of you, Fin.  It’s because I don’t need fixing.”

I gestured to the small apartment.  “Oh, yes, you do.  This here? 
This
needs fixing.  Even if we
did
fix it?  The neighborhood is still shit, Matt.  I don’t feel safe with you here.  Stay with me.  You can save your money.”