Chapter Text
It was Adam’s hand moving his knee that snapped Mat out of it.
Adam’s hand closed around his knee, and lifted it, insistent. Mat’s ankle hooked the back of his thigh, completing the motion. Mat’s leg spread up and open, and he came back to himself so suddenly that it was all he could do not to jolt like he’d just closed his fist around a live wire.
All of it—the weight of the dense-muscled body pressing into his, pressing down on him, down against the spread-open vee of his thighs and Mat had never— He’d never had another person there quite like that, he realized. He could feel the alien pull of unfamiliar muscle and tendon stretching in brand new ways as his leg got pushed up and back towards his chest. Something that had never happened before. It all coalesced in him, then, with a stinging hot clarity.
Mat had had girlfriends. He’d had two girlfriends, exactly—which all told wasn’t too many, maybe, for a college sophomore, but— They counted.
Adam, braced above him, his mouth still red-wet from kissing, had had a fair few more. At least two, if not three times as many. And those were the girls he’d dated. Those weren’t the party girls or the Tinder hookup girls or the girls he "knew from back home.” And so. Adam had grabbed his leg with a practiced ease, in a move that Mat himself was more than passingly familiar: bringing his weight down into the open vee of a girl’s thighs.
Mat realized he was lying flat on his back underneath a guy who’d had three times as many girlfriends as him, his adductors aching with the stretch of letting him in close, and it was like cold water to the face.
Adam bending his knee up, one broad hand cupping Mat’s jaw gently, softly, slick lips nudging Mat’s open mouth, and Mat—
“Hey,” Adam said, pulling back as Mat froze up underneath him.
—Mat was just lying there.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Adam blinked at him, weight propped on his arms and looking down at Mat as he tried to struggle. Tried to get out from underneath him, but Adam wasn’t getting off him. He was heavier, and there was no leverage.
“Off,” Mat shoved at his shoulder.
He had no idea what his face looked like. Not good, probably. Adam rolled easily back onto his side, still staring, still near enough that the warmth of his skin was dense and close and touching Mat. Adam’s heat brushed up against him, unconcerned with the simple confines of his skin, no problem reaching out past them.
“What’s—” Adam’s blue eyes searched his face. “Did I do something?”
Mat was panting, and he realized he was still laying flat and sat up quickly. “It’s—not. I don’t…”
Adam’s golden brow creased.
“What?”
It could have been the way that Mat’s voice had descended into mumbles, that maybe Adam hadn’t heard. But Mat thought he could hear a touch of surprise there too, in his voice. A touch of disbelief, maybe.
Because this was Adam fucking Straker, starting winger for UMich’s D1 hockey team, the literal golden boy. Golden and warm and sinuous, body pressed up against Mat’s confidently, not a trace of bacne on his clear skin and enough notches on his bedpost that you knew you were in for a good ride.
And Mat—who stayed up late finishing his problem sets because he’d realized that hockey might not stretch too much further for him, who was a little too quiet and a little too awkward at team parties, who had stubborn pimples on his ass that he had no idea how to get rid of. Well. Who was he to say no?
Half the girls on campus would kill to be in his position. Apparently at least some of the boys had a shot at it too. And Mat just sat up and said “I don’t want to.” Stiffly, pushing dark hair back out of his eyes. “I don’t know why you— Why you even did that.”
“Ookay.”
Adam looked skeptical but unbothered. He ran a hand back through his blonde hair. It was still fucked up from Mat’s hands—
“I don’t— Why’d you think I’d want that?” Mat snapped, quick and sharp. Bile he couldn’t keep down. “I don’t.”
Adam gave him a look. Like—half confused, half annoyed. Like Mat had really thrown off his afternoon here, and Adam couldn’t figure out exactly why—Why Mat wouldn’t want to, with him.
“I didn’t mean to freak you out, man,” Adam offered, slowly.
He’d leaned in first. Pushed the linear algebra textbook out of Mat’s limp, shocked hands and let it fall to the floor. Mat’s uncapped highlighter was probably drying out under the bed.
“I thought you were into it.”
Mat ignored the incriminating ache between his legs. The half-chub that was slowly, torturously wilting away the longer he sat here on Adam’s rucked-up, unwashed sheets, with Adam’s stupid sky-blue eyes staring at him, squinting, almost.
“No, I— I don’t want—” he stopped and started, the million permutations of how he might end each sentence rolling around in his head and refusing to depart across his tongue. “I mean, you wouldn’t like it if— if a guy was climbing all over you and like, just, like. I don’t know.”
One sandy eyebrow ticked up. Adam’s devastated hair was slowly deflating, but his lips didn’t get any less pink-and-bitten. Mat tried not to look at them.
“Like,” Mat tried again. “You wouldn’t let another guy drive, right?”
Adam’s eyes flicked over him. Gauging him, and Mat’s gut twisted. It wasn’t—Suddenly, he couldn’t. Couldn't fucking handle it. Mat ducked his head, letting his hair fall into his face. He chewed the inside of his lip.
“Matty,” Adam’s voice was kinda smiling. “Man, you sayin’ you wanna be on top?”
Mat flinched. “I—”
“‘Cause you can be on top,” Adam said. His hand landed on Mat’s thigh, thumb pressing to the tender inside, leaning in towards him.
His fingers hooked the back of Mat’s knee, where it was sensitive and ticklish, made him want to kick. Adam lay back, reeling Mat to follow like a fish on a line, and Mat ended up with one knee on either side of Adam’s waist to pin him. Adam’s fingers spread out wide on his kneecaps.
“I. Um—”
“Yeah,” Adam kept smiling, palms sliding up Mat’s thighs. “Better, right?”
Mat could feel Adam’s hips shifting every time he moved, feel the rise and fall of his stomach as he breathed. Adam’s face was wide-open and smirking a bit, and his fingers flexed, digging down against Mat’s thighs.
“Yeah, come here,” Adam said, chin tilted up. “Come on, kiss me.”
Mat’s mouth felt useless, his heart pounding high in his throat. He was looking at Adam’s lips. Still pink, and smiling.
“Come on Matty,” Adam strained towards him a little. “Be nice. Don’t make me beg.”
As clean and sudden as ice splintering under his feet, something in him snapped. Mat’s fingers made fists in Adam’s sweatshirt, the vinyl M wrinkling under his grip as he held on, pulled, and brought his mouth down against Adam’s harder than he could ever remember kissing anyone before. Hard enough that their teeth scraped, and he winced, almost jerked back except Adam’s hands were on the back of his head, keeping him from getting away. Pulling him closer.
Mat pushed into him, crushing him down against the bed, hearing the breath puff out of Adam’s body on a sigh, almost a moan. Adam’s hands were greedy, all over him. Asking for more, and Mat licked against his mouth, needing to hear him moan for it again. His knees squeezed into Adam’s sides. The kiss turned deep and filthy, spinning out, like they’d never stopped.
“Fuck,” Adam’s hands tightened on the back of his neck, his shoulder. “Matty. Fuck, you’re getting me hot.”
“Yeah?” Mat breathed, trailing down to the corner of Adam’s jaw, the soft skin of his throat.
“Shit yes,” Adam shifted restlessly, squirming a little, breathless.
Mat rested more of his weight down, tasting the warm salt of Adam’s skin. His fingers mapped the taper and jut of his waist, the smooth dip of his spine, climbing up the back of Adam’s shirt. He felt almost blind with it—so focused on the sensation of skin under his hands and mouth, the shape of Adam’s body and the density of it. The texture, the rapid up and down movement of his chest. Opening his eyes felt redundant. Unnecessary. Too much.
There was more than enough to take in like this—Adam panting and making small, needy noises, tilting his head searchingly until Mat raised back up to kiss him again. Giving Adam what he wanted, because Adam was being— He was just so—
“Does that feel good?”
“Yes,” Adam gasped. “God, yes, Mat. Can you—touch me?”
Mat opened his eyes and focused.
“Not—You don’t have to,” Adam spoke quickly. “I— This is. I like this. This is great.”
“Okay,” Mat said, and put a hand over Adam’s chest when he tried to surge up. “But you want me to—to touch you?”
“If that— If you want to,” his voice was low, eyes dark and sincere. Mat’s throat felt hot. “What do you want, Matty?”
He wanted to duck his face. He didn’t want to say anything, wanted Adam to just know, instinctively, through the press of Mat’s hands, how hard he was kissing him, that the heat between them was developing its own gravitational pull. Two objects drawn together by mutual force.
“This is good,” he whispered, placing a kiss just under Adam’s chin. “Touching you is— Um. Yeah. Also good.”
Adam’s head tilted back. Offering. Mat tried a slight edge of teeth, and his fist curled tight in Adam’s shirt at the breathless noise that came out of his throat. It didn’t make sense, how hard that noise drove into him, how good Adam felt underneath him. How easy it was to touch him—squeezing at the dip of his waist, trailing over the flat plane of his stomach and feeling it flinch away, then push up, forward, eagerly. Matt put his hand high on Adam’s thigh, the crease where it joined to his body, just to the right of his dick, which was hard and straining in his shorts.
It was just Adam. Familiar as an old hoodie—worn in. They’d seen each other at their worst: impossibly hungover and spitting drunk, leaned over to throw up in the bushes outside of one or more indistinguishable frat houses, bleary-eyed after an ill-advised all-nighter. Mat had seen Adam laugh so hard that diet coke shot out of his nose, had seen him quiet and purple under the eyes after his first college girlfriend cheated on him. Adam had seen Mat cry, both before and after a multivariable calc midterm.
He wasn’t even sure why Adam had leaned in to kiss him. Why today, of all the days they'd sat on Adam's bed together with a textbook open between them. Except—well. It’d been right, hadn’t it? This thing between them was—
Good.
It was good. The little gasp Adam let out when Mat moved his hand to cover him. The intense heat under Mat’s palm. How the gasp quickly turned into a groan. Good.
“Matty,” Adam’s hand clutched the back of his neck. His hips pushed up. “Come on.”
“What?”
“You gonna tease me, or touch me?”
“I—” Mat swallowed. He didn’t want to say this, either, mumbling into the side of Adam’s neck. “I never— Um. I don’t—”
Adam’s hand squeezed at the back of his neck.
“Here.”
His other hand snaked down to cover Mat’s, crushing it to his cock harder than Mat would’ve dared. Adam’s hips pushed up into it, he sighed out roughly, and heat shot down the back of Mat’s spine, just watching it. He felt suddenly like he needed something to slip between his teeth. Something to bite down on.
He ground down against Adam’s body instead, one thigh firm and athletic and perfect between Mat’s own. His cock rode up against the stupidly toned cut of Adam’s hip, and it felt— Fuck. Jesus. The only reason he didn’t implode right there was that Adam was panting for it too.
Mat tried to keep his fingers gentle, reaching for Adam, squeezing his hard cock and taking kisses from his hot mouth. Mat had had girlfriends. He’d kissed them. Touched them. Wanted something from them. But not like this. Not where he had to keep reminding himself not to grab too roughly. Not to go too far.
His left hand kept clenching and unclenching at the nape of Adam’s neck, blunt fingers scratching through short hair. Every time Mat rubbed him Adam’s hips rolled up, his thigh lifted, and Mat ground down without finesse, groaning roughly, no control.
“Jesus, Mat,” Adam panted, and pushed both hands up the bottom of Mat’s shirt. “Please, c'mon, please.”
Mat pulled his t-shirt off with one hand while Adam’s fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweats and pushed them down his thighs. Nakedness suddenly seemed like the best idea ever, and he was pulling Adam’s underwear off with his shorts before he could even think about his nerves.
Adam’s cock stood up hard against his stomach, his stupid abs bared and tensed as he wrestled his sweatshirt off over his head. Mat felt dizzy and overheated just looking, and he went for familiar ground when he saw it—kissed up Adam’s chin to his mouth as soon as the collar of his sweatshirt cleared it. His hands slid up, up over Adam’s wrists tangled in his shirt, and pinned them still above his head. Adam actually whined, arching up against him. One long, irresistible line of heat.
“You like that?” Mat murmured, studying the pink flush of Adam’s cheeks. “Like being underneath me.”
“God,” Adam’s chest heaved. “Shut up. Why are you so hot?”
Mat blinked.
He bit the inside of his cheek not to say “How many people have you said that to?”
It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t like the answer. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t like the answer—because it was none of Mat’s business, anyway. Maybe Adam really did just want him to shut up and was telling him nicely. Mat had to imagine he’d heard much better dirty talk.
Adam’s wrists pushed up and Mat let go, let him wrestle out of the sweatshirt while he put his mouth to Adam’s chest, the dip between his pecs, dragging his tongue over one stiff nipple. Adam’s fingers threaded through the mess of Mat’s hair, groaning softly when Mat gave him a bit of teeth.
“Come here,” Adam pulled Mat’s hair until he climbed up the length of his body. Heated fingers traced down his spine, edging under the waistband of his boxers. Mat shivered.
“Can I?” Adam asked, face close and open. Mat kissed him, pushing forward, letting Adam’s hands pull the fabric away.
He grabbed his dick as it sprang free, self-consciousness creeping back in, the cage of his hand protective. Mat wasn’t a virgin, and he wasn’t, like, embarrassed about his dick or something, but—this was Adam. They’d be, like, seeing each other after this—still had the same teammates, the same parties, the same friends who’d be wondering what the hell was going on if they suddenly couldn’t be in a room together. Fuck, this was, like, the opposite of hit it and quit it. The venn diagram of their respective social lives was basically a circle, and they were going to have to be normal, somehow, despite permanent knowledge of each other’s cocks. No take backs.
Adam didn’t seem too conflicted about it. He reached for Mat’s dick with easy, practiced confidence, stroking him tight and quick to start, and Mat groaned low in his throat at the feel of it, leaning into the touch. Adam grinned—Mat knew even with his eyes closed. He could feel it against his mouth.
“You’re so hard,” Adam murmured.
Mat could only grunt.
Adam’s naked cock pushed up against his stomach, blood hot and leaking at the tip, and Adam said in a low voice, almost a growl, “Me too.”
Mat’s hand squeezed Adam’s other forearm where it rested against the bed, pinning it down. He kissed Adam’s jaw, his mouth, and rolled his hips into the perfect grip of his hand, just fucking it while Adam’s hips came up against nothing—his cock red and needy and fucking neglected, just barely getting some friction whenever Mat’s hips came down. Waiting on Mat to give him more, or not to.
It was enough to drive Mat crazy. Adam lying there. Taking it.
He pulled away with a gasp of air through teeth, gripping himself harshly, needing it to last. Adam was gasping too, glassy eyed, staring up at Mat a little dazed and red in the cheeks. Waiting on Mat’s next move. Like Mat had any idea of what he was doing here.
“Come here,” Mat managed roughly, pulling Adam into place. “Tell me it feels good.”
He gripped both of them together, Adam’s cock sliding against his, their legs tangled and faces too-close together. Sharing the same air.
“Matty,” was all Adam groaned, putting his hands on Mat’s waist, almost his ass. Mat burned with the thought of those fingers slipping down—something that felt dangerous and bad and good just to think about, worse than his hand on his buddy’s cock, their balls pressing together, their mouths bruised from too many hungry, starving kisses.
“Fuck,” Adam kept saying underneath him. “That’s good. Don’t stop.”
Mat couldn’t if he tried.
It ended wet and messy between them, with Adam’s cock twitching and spurting, Adam’s mouth red and open. He was groaning like an idiot with his eyelids low but not closed—watching himself shoot off in Mat’s fingers. One knee had climbed the back of Mat’s thigh and hooked it, keeping them close together.
Mat slumped, pushing his hips forward restlessly, groaning out loud. His forehead slid against Adam’s shoulder, and he could feel Adam breathe. Felt him shift his weight to get a hand in on the action.
It was just a handjob, Mat thought, giving in to the coaxing press of Adam’s palm at the small of his back, the slick grip circling his cock. It’d been a while since he’d had sex beyond his own right hand. It would’ve felt good from anyone.
Mat leaned down and kissed Adam’s mouth, pretty sure it was the last time he'd get to.
Adam let out a soft, pleased noise about it as he tightened up against him, heel digging into the back of Mat’s thigh to egg him on. Mat’s scalp prickled out with heat, spreading down his spine. He couldn’t stop the harsh snap of his hips, his fingers curling into fists against the sheets. Losing control. All over Adam’s stomach.
Pressing harder into the kiss, Mat took every second he could before it had to end. Adam was already easing underneath him, hunger and tension bleeding out of his body, and it made the kiss sweeter, Mat leading it completely, Adam letting him.
Adam’s head tilted for him, and their sweat cooled, and eventually Mat couldn’t stretch it out any longer. He broke for a breath, then ducked down and stole one last, chaste kiss. A second last one.
Adam laughed gently against his mouth, lips curving, and Mat finally made himself lean away instead of back in again.
“Huh,” Adam blinked up at him, still smiling, mouth very red. “Wow. Hi.”
Mat chewed the inside of his own lip. “I, uh— sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Adam’s fingers trailed gently down the outside of Mat’s bicep. “I liked it. You’re a good kisser.”
I can’t be the best you’ve had, Mat almost said, biting his lip to blood against it. Jesus, Adam didn’t deserve that—didn’t need the sharp edges of Mat’s insecurities cutting him up just because Mat had realized what he wanted, but didn't understand why.
Mat rolled off into the cold half of Adam’s bed, pressing the dry backs of his knuckles against his eyes. He heard Adam moving and the shift of fabric, and he jumped at the touch to his stomach. Adam was wiping him down with a t-shirt—Mat held out hope that it wasn’t his own.
“Are you okay?”
Mat cringed internally.
“M’fine,” he bit out, still hiding behind his hands, pressing down hard enough to see stars. It was unfortunate because he couldn’t kick Adam out of his own room. Mat was going to have to walk-of-shame the three blocks back to his place.
“Sure, yeah,” Adam drawled. “You don’t look like you’re freaking out at all.”
“Jesus,” Mat hissed under his breath. He cracked an eye and located his sweatpants, mercifully clinging to a corner of the bed and within reach. He hooked them and pulled them on. “Sorry for taking a minute to catch my breath.”
Adam frowned at him. “I was just asking.”
“Yeah,” Mat rubbed his dirty hands off against his sweats. “You know, for someone who’s been around, you’re kinda shit at enjoying the afterglow.”
“Oh, for someone who’s been around?” Adam’s blue eyes sharpened to ice. “I guess I should take more pointers from virgins, then, since I’m so bad at it. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For being your first.”
Mat’s cheeks burned. He stumbled a bit getting out of the bed, finding his shirt.
“Yeah,” he said roughly. “I can tell it meant a whole lot to you.”
Adam’s expression folded, like he’d heard something in Mat’s voice. Jesus, this was embarrassing. He made to hightail it out of the room, but Adam stood and caught his wrist before he could.
“Matty.”
“Fuck off,” Mat said. “I don’t actually care, dumbass.”
“No,” Adam held on, and he was taller and used to moving people with the sheer force of his body, which was lean and totally naked. He got in Mat’s way, crowding him until he looked up, meeting Adam’s eye. “No, because I meant it.”
“What?”
“I fucking meant it,” Adam said viciously. “Obviously, it meant a lot to me.”
Mat rolled his eyes. “You know I’m not actually a virgin.”
Adam brought their foreheads together.
“Not anymore,” he mumbled, like a dumbass.
Mat tried to fight him, but it was weak and he was pretty sure Adam could tell. Mat was maybe pressing into the heat of his body, just a little.
“I fucking wasn’t before this, either,” Mat complained. Adam wrapped both arms around him and held him tight, mouth close up to Mat’s ear.
“You were a gay virgin,” he whispered.
“Shut up,” Mat said, suppressing a shiver. “I’m gonna walk out again.”
“Aw,” Adam—nuzzled him. “But then who’s gonna cuddle me?”
Mat huffed a laugh, feeling his cheeks get a little hot. “Cuddling. I knew you had an ulterior motive here.”
Adam crowded him further, until his knees hit the edge of the mattress. His hands slid up the back of Mat’s shirt.
“Hey, my plan ended with kissing you,” Adam said quietly. “I guess I’m not that good at keeping things PG-13, but in my defence, you weren’t either. Don’t mean I didn’t mean it.”
“I know. I know, I—” He swallowed. “I’m sorry I kind of called you a slut, earlier.”
“Good,” Adam said. “That was mean.”
Tentatively, Mat reached his hands to Adam’s hips. He didn’t need this. It would probably be honestly better—simpler for everyone, if Mat did what he should and walked out without looking back. Forgot how Adam’s hands felt on him, how Adam’s body felt underneath his, the knowledge of how he kissed, and let everything go back to normal.
“I’m sorry,” Mat repeated, quietly. Adam’s face was very close to his. Mat could see the uneven texture of his skin, the few acne scars on his cheek.
“It’s okay,” Adam said, and tilted his head. “You can make it up to me.”
The possibilities that unfurled at the end of that sentence made Mat a little dizzy to contemplate.