The low rumble of a motorcycle engine had an almost electrifying effect upon Joel; one minute he was relaxing on his bed reading, the next he was stood, poised in the darkness of his bedroom, having leapt from the bed and switched off his reading lamp in one fluid movement that said a great deal about how many times he’d executed it in the past.
He crept to the window, and peered through the narrow gap in the drapes. Although he knew there was little chance of being spotted against the dark of his bedroom, there was a possibility that the white of his face might be caught by the light from the street light a little way down the street.
The Harley drove into view, and Joel’s heart began to pound: it was the bike he had been waiting for. He placed one hand flat on the wall to steady himself, and took a deep breath.
The big bike was slowed, and then guided up the driveway of the house opposite to Joel’s, the engine was cut, and silence once more reigned the night. The rider rocked the bike back on its stand and swung off the saddle. Long, muscled legs flexed in the worn black leather pants, and a washed out T-shirt clung to a broad chest and shoulders. The rider ran a hand through his wind-tousled hair, and then strode into the house.
Joel watched for a few moments longer, then went and lay back down on his bed.
Matthew Wilding had caused some consternation when he moved into the old Sheringar house on Elm Drive. He was young and single: two traits that, while not wholly meriting condemnation on their own, caused deep suspicion and censor when coupled with the fact that he drove a huge motorcycle and wore black leather.
He was rumoured to work somewhere downtown, but no one knew for certain – and no one felt inclined to be neighbourly and go over to introduce themselves and find out.
“A ruffian,” Joel’s mother had said darkly, shaking her head.
“Bringing down the value of the neighbourhood,” agreed Mrs Cademy from next door.
The two of them were peeping through the net curtains in Joel’s front room, spying on the house across the street where their new neighbour was working on his bike on the driveway.
Joel had slunk upstairs to his bedroom and done his own bit of spying – but with an entirely different motivation.
Joel had realised at a fairly young age that he was gay. It didn’t bother him; he was pretty relaxed about the fact. Only keeping it from his mother had been a cause for concern. Joel wasn’t exactly sure what she would do if she ever found out – it could go one of two ways: either she would be furiously angry with him and accuse him of pretending to be gay simply to embarrass, humiliate and get back at her for his father leaving them, or she could cry and blame herself for his abomination, assuming it was somehow a failure on her part. Therefore it was easier if she never found out.
So Joel had been discreet– not that he had a great deal to be discreet about; he wasn’t a virgin, but only just. It wasn’t lack of opportunity – it was just that Joel hadn’t really found anyone he was particularly attracted to. His one experience of going all the way had been a fact-finding mission as much as anything. The other boy had been older and more experienced...a good teacher, but that was it, and Joel hadn’t cared enough about him to want to continue the relationship
He had to smile a wry smile, however, at the fact that the person he had finally become attracted to was as unattainable as the stars in the sky.
He thought it was probably the very bad boy image that his mother decried, that so attracted him to Matthew Wilding. The thought of being pressed to that leather-clad body sent Joel’s hand racing for the zipper on his jeans.
Although he knew his infatuation was pointless, Joel was nevertheless unable to get Matthew out of his head. He became obsessed with finding out all he could about the man, and especially where Matthew went in the evenings.
This latter proved difficult. Even if Joel cycled as fast as he could to follow Matthew, on the one hand there was every chance that Matthew would notice him, and on the other was the fact that by the time Joel had got to the end of the street where it met Wychwood Street, Matthew would be out of sight.
Joel was frustrated for a few days, thinking about his problem, and then he hit on a solution.
Just before the time that Matthew usually left his house, Joel mounted his bicycle and went to the end of the street, where a convenient old elm tree was situated. From behind it he had enough cover to be hidden from a casual observer—especially one riding a motorcycle—and, more importantly, he had a good view both up and down Wychwood Street.
The growl of the Harley’s engine made Joel shrink back into the shadows, his heart pounding and his stomach somersaulting. Matthew barely paused at the end of Elm Drive, then turned right on Wychwood and sped up. Joel watched him until Matthew turned again at the corner of Wychwood and Charleston Avenue and disappeared.
The following night Joel was pretending to make a phone call in the phone booth about fifty yards down Charleston Avenue, in sight of the turning from Wychwood. He watched Matthew turn in and drive past him, then continue down Charleston before turning right onto Ingleside Street.
The next few days saw Joel get further and further away from home as he tracked Matthew. Every night he went a little beyond the point where he had last seen the man, and then he would watch until he once again lost sight of the Harley when it had passed him. His tracking took him away from the parts of town that were familiar to him, and into areas Joel had only ever heard about: rough areas, areas where Joel kept hold of his bicycle and kept his head down.
Until one night Joel finally saw Matthew pull up the big bike and dismount. He parked the machine at the end of a row of similar big, take-no-shit bikes, then made his way to a door over which a neon sign flashed intermittently: “Danger Zone.” Only it actually flashed “ a g r Z ne”, the bulbs on the other letters dead and lifeless.
Joel pressed himself against the wall he was lurking by, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He’d expected to feel a sense of accomplishment, that he’d discovered Matthew’s destination, only he didn’t. He felt dissatisfied; he wanted more. He had actually taken a step down the street towards the brick building before he realised what he was about to do. Had he seriously thought about walking in through that door, into that club...a club that was obviously a biker hangout?
Horrified at himself, Joel grabbed his bicycle and peddled furiously away.
For the next two nights, Joel forced himself to stay in his room, even when the Harley roared into life across the street. He had achieved his goal, he told himself; there was no need to go back to that dive on the other side of town. And he didn’t trust himself...didn’t trust himself not to walk up to that door and step inside, into that den of iniquity, as his mother would have called it.
But what if he could somehow blend in? Look the part? As if he belonged in such a place? He could creep in, scout around a bit, see what Matthew was doing, whom he was with...and then probably get spotted as an outsider and get his ass handed to him on a plate.
Don’t be stupid, Joel told himself. Don’t go looking for trouble in a place you know very well there is every chance you will find some. But the more he told himself that, the more the rebel part of Joel thought he sounded just like his mother.
The decision was made for him when Joel walked past a local thrift store and saw a pair of biker’s leather pants in the window; the fact that they were his size sealed the deal. He snuck them home in his school bag and hid them at the back of his closet.
That night, after he was sure his mother had gone to bed, Joel got out the leather pants and ran his hands over them. They were soft and worn, well-used, and there was a faint scent of engine oil clinging to them. He put them on, then dug out his oldest, scruffiest T-shirt and put that on too; then he looked at himself in the mirror.
He didn’t look like a biker; he looked like Joel Redmond in second-hand leather pants, an old T-shirt, and a tatty pair of trainers. He didn’t have that aura about him that Matthew Wilding did, and the clothes didn’t sit on him like he had been born to wear them. But to anyone else he might just pass, especially in the dark of the club, and if he kept his head down.
As he gazed at himself in the mirror, it occurred to Joel to wonder whether it was the very leather itself he was attracted to, rather than the man who wore it. He slid a hand over the smooth material encasing his thigh, then up again and over his crotch. Nothing, no hint of a thrill—aside from the usual twitch his cock always gave when he caressed it—which meant it must be Matthew himself.
Joel thought about Matthew in his leathers, and this time his cock rose fully and pressed against the inside of the pants. Keeping his eyes on his reflection, Joel reached down and undid the zipper, then reached in and pulled his cock out. It looked very pale against the black of the leather and Joel’s hand moved over it slowly, sweeping from balls to tip before taking a firmer grip.
Watching himself in the mirror, Joel half closed his eyes and imagined that Matthew was standing behind him, and that it was his hand on Joel’s cock, a hand slightly bigger than Joel’s own, as, although they were much the same height, Matthew was broader built, with wide shoulders beneath his studded leather jacket. Matthew’s other arm would be around Joel’s chest, holding him steady, and his breath would be warm on that sensitive place below Joel’s ear. Joel’s hand sped up until, with a muted cry, he came, the white come arching from the end of his cock to spatter onto the carpet at his feet and over the black leather pants.
Joel hastily cleaned up the mess, then took off the leathers and stowed them away again in the back of his closet.
Later, as he lay in bed, Joel began to wonder just what sort of a lover Matthew Wilding would be. He would be dominant, of that Joel was sure. He would be strong and passionate. Joel smiled to himself. He would be experienced; he would know exactly what to do to Joel to make him come hard, crying out Matthew’s name. But at the same time there would be a tender side to him...he would hold Joel after they’d had sex, spooned around Joel’s back, holding him close, his lips on Joel’s hair as he murmured endearments....
Yeah, right! Joel pulled himself up short with a shake of his head and a wry laugh. It was all conjecture, and that was all it would ever be—at least as far as Joel was concerned. Matthew probably went through girls like they were a dime a dozen: leggy blondes with short skirts and clingy blouses, the sort Joel’s mother called “tramps.” But then, Joel had never seen a girl at the house across the street...never seen anyone except Matthew himself...dressed in his leathers...or old, tatty jeans and a ripped T-shirt if he was working on the bike.... Joel drifted into sleep.
He had intended to carry out his scheme the next night, a Friday, in the hope that the club would be busier then, being the start of the weekend, and that as a consequence it would be easier to slip in unnoticed. However, he was thwarted by a call from Mr Soloman, the owner of the store where he worked part-time at the weekends. Mr Soloman was ill, and asked if Joel could work the evening shift for him. So it was not until the Saturday night that Joel was able to put his plan into action.
Wearing his normal clothes, Joel left the house with the leathers and an old T-shirt secreted in a carrier bag. Then he got on his bike and peddled towards his destination.
The Danger Zone was a lot busier than it had been the last time Joel was there. Bikes were constantly coming and going, and at least two dozen motorcycles were parked out front. Several men hung around their bikes, talking and smoking, while a gaggle of girls tried to look casual and not as if they were trying to attract the bikers’ attention.
Joel had cycled to within a block of the club, chained his bike up in an out of the way corner and then, safely hidden behind a conveniently placed dumpster, swapped his neat blue jeans for the leather pants, and his T-shirt for one less neat. He could do nothing about his sneakers and just hoped that no one would notice them in the gathering dusk outside and the dark interior of the club itself.
His steps slowed, however, as he crossed the dusty area in front of the club, and the men’s conversation trailed off and then halted as they turned to watch him. Joel almost turned tail and ran, but then he spotted Matthew’s bike, and he mentally squared his shoulders. Ignoring the giggling girls and the faintly hostile men, he walked to the door.
Just as he was about to stretch out his hand and push the door open, one of the men spoke to him.
“You lost, kid?”
Joel swallowed and turned slowly round. “Erm, no. I’m, erm, looking for Matthew Wilding,” he added, hoping that the man wouldn’t offer to get Matt for him.
The man gave him a considering look, and then abruptly jerked his head in the direction of the club. “In there.”
Joel nodded his thanks, and pushed open the door to the club. He was met by a wall of noise. Music from an old-fashioned juke box wove through a cacophony of voices, the chink of glasses and, from somewhere out of sight, the occasional click of pool balls. There was a heady mixture of smells in the air: the hoppy smell of beer, the acrid tang of cigarette smoke, sweat and a hint of engine oil mingling with musky perfume. The club was dimly lit, just as Joel had hoped, and, as unobtrusively as possible, he started to inch his way around the place.
He was ignored by everyone, and as he became less worried about being spotted as an outsider, Joel relaxed and began to hunt for his quarry.
There was one large main room, off which opened several smaller rooms. In one there were a couple of pool tables, in another was a widescreen TV showing some bike racing. Joel’s eyes scanned the room, concentrating on spotting Matthew, and so intent was he on his search that he didn’t spot trouble heading his way.
“Hey, kid.” The voice was not overtly threatening, but nor was it friendly. It held that hint of menace that told Joel instantly that he had to be on his guard: the tone of voice used by school bullies the world over. The speaker was a man slightly shorter than Joel, wearing the black biker pants that seemed to be the uniform of the club, and a grubby, white wife beater that revealed a full sleeve tattoo on one arm and a half sleeve on the other. He had a narrow, pock-marked face and a scrubby goatee beard.
At his shoulder stood another man - a looming, huge, bearded man, who looked as if he worked out bending iron bars. He grinned at Joel, revealing a set of teeth that could have been used as a dire warning to children of the perils of not brushing after meals.
“Not seen you around here before,” the man went on.
“Erm, no, I’m, erm, new,” Joel managed to stutter, taking a step back. It was a mistake, for he backed into a wall and now the man had him cornered.
“New? Very new, I’d say,” the man said with a sharp look, his eyes running up and down Joel’s body. “Maybe you should buy us a drink and we c’n get acquainted, what d’ya say, Bear?”
The man called Bear grinned again. “I’d say mine was a large Jack Daniels.”
“Better make that two, then. Come on, kid,” the man slapped an arm around Joel’s shoulders, “bar’s this way.”
He started to lead Joel in the direction of the bar, and Joel had no choice but to follow. The last thing he needed was to cause a scene, and any reluctance to buy the two men a drink seemed likely to result in one. He wondered desperately how he was going to get out of the mess he had gotten himself into.
“There you are, Joel!” said a voice.
Joel turned with surprise, and then his surprise turned to relief, for Matt was making his way towards them.
The man’s arm dropped abruptly from Joel’s shoulders. “Oh, hey, Wild Man. Didn’t know you knew the kid.”
“No? But you were making him welcome anyway, Carbutt?” Matt asked with an easy smile that did nothing to hide the steel beneath his words.
Bear had melted away in the crowd, quite a feat for such a big man, Joel thought, and now the smaller man began to edge away as well. “Yeah, man, that’s right. Erm, no harm done, we was just joshin’ with him. Didn’t mean anything by it.” Carbutt disappeared as well.
“Hey, thank...” Joel began, turning to Matt.
“Out! Now!” Matt hissed at him, his face like thunder. Joel followed meekly as Matt made his way to the door.
Outside, the man who had spoken to Joel before called out to them. “Hey, Matt, found the kid okay, then?”
Joel watched Matt force a smile. “Yeah, Luke. He’s having some trouble with his bike.”
The man grinned. “Well, he’s found the right man to ask for help. You back later?” he asked as Matt turned away.
“Yeah, should be.”
“See ya then.” The man raised a hand in farewell, and then went back to his conversation with his companions.
Matt led the way down the row of bikes, his expression so forbidding that Joel didn’t dare speak. They reached Matt’s bike. “Get on!” Matt ordered.
Joel blinked stupidly at the bike for a few seconds until it sunk in what Matt was telling him to do. “Oh, it's okay, my bicycle’s just around...”
“GET ON,” Matt growled with such menace that Joel had swung his leg over the saddle before he really knew what he was doing. Matt mounted up in front of him and seconds later the Harley roared into life. Joel convulsively grabbed hold of Matt with both his arms and his thighs...and his cock sprang into life as his proximity to Matt—albeit a very angry Matt—sank in.
Matt pulled away from the curb in front of the club, and sped off in the direction of Elm Drive. He pulled the bike up in front of Jackson’s Hardware Store, about a hundred yards from the end of Elm Drive. Thankful that Matt hadn’t taken him to the door of his house, Joel got off the bike. Before he had a chance to say anything, Matt laid into him.
“What the fuck were you doing there?” Matt stormed at Joel, his hazel eyes almost green with fury. “No,” he went on, “don’t tell me, I already know. Don’t think I’ve not noticed you spying on me, following me about, but the Zone is no place for you. Stay the fuck away from there.” Matt turned the bike engine back on.
Burning with humiliation, Joel turned to go, but before he could step away, Matt seized hold of his arm and jerked him back around.
“When I want you, I’ll come for you!” Matt said forcefully. “And you’d better be ready,” he added.
Seconds later the Harley was a blur in the distance, leaving Joel staring after it with his mouth hanging open. He stood there several moments, trying to make sense of what had just happened, of what Matt had just said...of what Joel thought he had said, but surely he couldn’t have? He must have misunderstood, because surely Matt hadn’t meant what Joel thought—hell, hoped desperately—he meant.
His mind full of Matt’s words, Joel turned his feet in the direction of home, and began to walk.
He picked his bike up the following day, catching the bus downtown to as near as he could get. He didn’t go closer to the Danger Zone than he could help, and when he heard the roar of a bike engine, he kept his head down and prayed he wouldn’t be recognised.
He still couldn’t make up his mind just what Matt had meant by his words, and he turned them over and over in his head for days until he was distracted with them and tortured by them. Perversely, now that there was a possibility that the object of his desire might actually be interested in him, Joel found himself wondering if he would really dare to go to Matt’s bed if offered the chance.
But when the Harley pulled up in front of him a week later as Joel walked home from the school bus stop, and Matt leaned over and said, “I’ll pick you up in front of Jackson’s, tomorrow at eight,” Joel found himself nodding, his heart beating like a jackhammer and his stomach full of butterflies.
Better be ready...better be ready...better be...
Joel jerked awake and thought condoms, he had to have condoms. Surely that was what Matt had meant by ‘ready’? Maybe. Joel had bought them before, trying to ignore the storekeeper’s wink and “who’s the lucky girl?” comment. There was a store, at the opposite end of the town to where his mother usually shopped, and the following day, after school, Joel rode the bus there. And back, with the packet of condoms weighing like they were made of lead in his jacket pocket. He might not even need them. Might have misconstrued Matt’s words. But there was no harm in being prepared, in being ready.
Joel showered thoroughly, making sure every bit of him was squeaky clean and ready for...anything. Then, towel wrapped around his waist, he made his way to his closet and took stock of his choice of clothing. Aside from the bike leathers—which Joel had already mentally crossed off the list—most of his clothes were neat, plain and middle class. In the end, for want of anything better, Joel pulled on his most faded denim jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and then, thinking how cold he had been on the back of the bike, he pulled his jacket out....
On the back of the bike...that thought prompted another more serious thought. Matt lived across the street; if he was intending to pick Joel up on his bike, then where were they going? Surely he wouldn’t pick Joel up outside the hardware store, just so he could bring him back to Elm Drive? And the fact that he had suggested meeting Joel there made Joel think that maybe Matt realised they had to be discreet as far as Joel’s mother was concerned; this in turn led to the thought that Matt seemed to know rather more about Joel than Joel had assumed.
It was all such a muddle in his head, and Joel sat down on the bed and bit his lip. For a few seconds he seriously considered not going to meet Matt, but then his wild side reared its head, and he got up and slung his jacket over his shoulder.
His mother was watching one of her soaps on the TV in the kitchen. Joel called out to her that he was going out to meet some friends, and then quickly fled before she could give him the third degree about who he was meeting, where, and what time he would be back.
There was no big Harley parked outside Matt’s house, and Joel could only assume that Matt had left earlier, when he’d been in the shower.
There was no bike parked outside Jackson’s either, but then Joel was a few minutes early. He stood, uncertain, and trying to look nonchalant; he was too close to home and known to too many people. He wished he’d suggested to Matt that they meet further away, somewhere someone wasn’t likely to spot him getting onto the back of a motorcycle and feel it their duty to call Joel’s mom and tell her what they’d seen.
The roar of a Harley caused Joel’s stomach to clench and his heart to pound. Matt arrived from the direction of the Zone, and Joel assumed he must have been there prior to coming to pick him up.
Matt drew the Harley up to the pavement, and then, engine idling, he looked at Joel, one eyebrow raised. Joel knew another moment’s indecision, and then he grasped his courage with both hands and went to the bike and got on. Matt waited until Joel was settled and then he set off, doing a neat U-turn in the street and heading out of town.
He only spoke to Joel once, to call over his shoulder, “Okay?”
Joel nodded, and then realising that Matt couldn’t see him, he called back, “Yes, fine, thanks.”
He was. It felt good to be on the back of the bike, clinging tightly to Matt, the wind ruffling his short hair. The scenery flashed by so quickly, it felt to Joel as if he were travelling at a hundred miles an hour. Everything seemed so much closer, so much more intense, and Joel himself felt more a part of his surroundings than he ever had, closed up in a car, looking at everything through a pane of glass.
They soon left the town and its lights behind, and now they whipped through the dark landscape, just the two of them, their way lit by the lone headlamp of the Harley, the beast that carried them. Occasionally cars would pass by them going the opposite way, and Joel resented their intrusion.
He wondered how far they were going to go, and whether this was all that Matt had in mind: a ride through the night, and then back home, but after about twenty minutes Matt turned off the main street and onto a narrow side street; another five minutes and he turned down a rough driveway, slowing the big bike as he eased it over the ruts and potholes. At the end of the driveway they stopped, and from the light cast by the Harley’s headlight, Joel could make out a small, neat wooden house with a long porch running along the front.
When Matt switched off the Harley’s engine, the sudden lack of noise was almost deafening to Joel; then Matt turned off the headlamp and they were plunged into darkness. Joel remained on the bike, until Matt said, “We’re here,” in a faintly amused tone of voice. Then Joel dismounted and looked around him as Matt himself got off the bike and tucked the key into his jacket pocket.
Joel turned to Matt and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so he found out just what it felt like to be pressed against Matt’s leather-clad body, as Matt seized Joel, and, pulling him close, proceeded to kiss him breathless.
It was glorious, and Joel returned the kiss with a need all of his own, feeling no trace of embarrassment, no awkwardness, just a desire to be as close to Matt as possible and to taste the man, to duel with Matt’s tongue and to wind his arms around Matt’s body and breathe in the scent of him, feeling the ends of Matt’s hair tickling his face as it blew in the soft night breeze.
One of Matt’s hands dropped to Joel’s ass and hauled Joel even closer, and he slid a leg between Joel’s legs and pressed his thigh against Joel’s hard cock. Joel groaned into Matt’s mouth, pulling at the edge of Matt’s T-shirt until it untucked from the bike leathers, and then he pushed his hand under the thin material, revelling in the feel of Matt’s skin beneath his fingers.
Things were getting so heated that Joel wouldn’t have cared if they had dropped to the dirt yard in front of the house and had sex there and then, but Matt broke away. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a good while,” he said breathlessly. “Come on, let’s take this somewhere more comfortable.”
He turned and led the way to the house. They climbed the porch steps together and then Matt reached up to the lintel over the door and brought down a key.
“Whose place is this?” Joel asked, curious.
“Mine,” Matt said shortly, fitting the key into the lock and opening the door.
“But I thought...” Joel began. Matt kissed him to shut him up, and then pulled Joel into the house, kicking the door closed behind them, and led the way through a large front room and through to the back of the house where he opened a door off a narrow corridor into a room where a large brass bedstead stood in a shaft of moonlight. Joel hesitated at the door, but Matt caught hold of him again, and before Joel knew what was happening, he was flat on his back on the bed, with Matt’s body pinning him there.
Despite his earlier desire, Joel began to feel that things were happening just a little too fast, but before he could put his concern into words, Matt backed off.
“Too fast, huh?” he asked with a rueful smile.
Joel felt a wave of relief run through him. Matt must have felt his tension and realised what was wrong. “Just a bit...if we could take things a little slower?”
Matt grinned. “Oh, I can take it slow...have you begging me to fuck you before we’re through,” he purred, but there was humour in his voice.
Joel smiled. “Maybe not that slow!”
Matt gave him a lingering kiss, then drew back to say, “I’m sure we can manage a happy medium between us, okay?”
Matt kissed Joel again, slowly and deliberately, at the same time sliding his hand beneath Joel’s T-shirt.
The feel of Matt’s hand on his skin electrified Joel. He moaned, arching up in the touch, which became even more intense as Matt’s fingers closed around one of Joel’s nipples and squeezed.
Joel tipped his head back, and Matt took the opportunity to kiss and nip his way down the column of Joel’s neck, swiping his tongue around that sensitive spot just below Joel’s ear.
“God, you taste so good,” Matt murmured as his tongue continued its voyage down Joel’s neck and began to tease around the edges of his T-shirt.
Joel was busy mapping the smooth muscles of Matt’s back, all silky power beneath his questing hands. He stroked down the small nubs that marked Matt’s spine, and then slid one hand down beneath the waistband of Matt’s leathers until he felt the swell of buttocks.
Almost mutually they decided that less was definitely more, and broke apart to strip off their clothing. Joel’s eyes never left Matt’s as he toed off his sneakers and carelessly tossed his T-shirt, jeans and underwear to the floor. The moment they were both naked, they came together again in the middle of the big bed, their bodies tangling as they tried to press as much of themselves against each other.
It was heated and heady. Joel felt like he’d never felt before. Everything was so much more intense with this man he had barely swapped twelve words with than it ever had been with anybody else he had been with. It was as if he were constantly short of breath, his heart pounding and his skin hot and wet with sweat.
When their cocks collided they both let out a gasp of pleasure, and Joel was glad that it wasn’t just him that seemed to be so lost in what they were doing. Joel surged up to meet Matt’s thrusting cock, sliding their lengths together, slicked by their pre-come.
One of Matt’s hands wormed its way between their bodies and began to tease Joel’s nipple, while Joel’s hands went to Matt’s buttocks, squeezing and moulding them as he pulled Matt closer, harder until he felt the telltale signs of his impending orgasm, then he pushed Matt away.
“What?” Matt asked, looking down at Joel with eyes hazed with pleasure.
“If we don’t stop this, I’m going to come,” Joel explained.
“So? Then come...unless you’d rather...”
Matt left the question unasked, but Joel nodded. “Yes, I’d much rather...if that’s okay?”
“Okay? Are you crazy? I’ve been wanting that ass of yours for weeks.” Matt dropped a kiss on Joel’s mouth and then rolled off to one side.
“I...there’s some condoms in my jacket pocket,” Joel began, before a dreadful realisation washed over him...lube, he had forgotten to get lube. He couldn’t bear the thought that they were this close, only to be thwarted by his lack of thought, but Matt was speaking
“’S okay, already sorted. Wasn’t sure if you’d...have the chance to get anything.” Matt opened a drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a tube of lube and a packet of condoms.
Joel felt a surge of relief wash over him.
“How d’you like to do this?” Matt asked, waving the tube of lube at him.
“Oh, erm...” Joel began, confused. The only time he’d had need to use lube, his partner had simply flipped Joel over, pushed a pillow under his hips and then used his fingers and lots of lube to stretch Joel until he was ready. Joel wasn’t sure what other positions such an act could be done in, or even if he was meant to do the job himself, but what he did know was that he didn’t want to lose sight of Matt’s face. Wanted to feast his eyes on the man.
“I will just say that I like to watch faces,” Matt went on, before Joel had a chance to pull his scattered thoughts together.
“Oh, okay then. That suits me too,” Joel said, relieved and pleased with the decision Matt had made.
Thinking hard about what position would best suit the activity, Joel slowly brought his knees up towards his chest, watching all the time for any sign on Matt’s face that might betray the fact that he was doing things wrong. The only thing he saw was pleasure, and desire.
Matt uncapped the lube and spread a generous quantity on his fingers. The next moment Joel felt the cool slickness around his entrance as Matt circled his hole, dipping just the very tips of his fingers against that ring of muscle that guarded it.
Matt gazed down at Joel, his eyes intent and focused on Joel’s. “I can do this slow,” he said softly, “or I can do it quick?”
Joel’s cock was already hard against his belly, bobbing and twitching with need, leaving shiny trails of pre-come on his flesh. Joel gasped a breath, understanding just what it was that Matt was asking. “I think,” he said, casting a look down at his cock, “that quick may be better. I’m not sure how long I can....”
“Sure thing,” Matt said.
And the next moment a finger was pressed hard against Joel’s entrance. Joel was so ready, so keen to have Matt fuck him, that he was relaxed enough for the finger to breach him with little resistance.
Matt let out a quiet groan. “God, you’re so ready for this, I think I could fuck you right now.”
But instead he made sure of Joel. Adding a second finger to the first only after he had made Joel cry out and arch up when he stroked over Joel’s sweet spot. The third finger made Joel grit his teeth, but he forced himself to relax and soon the fingers were pumping in and out of him with ease, and once again Joel felt himself on the brink of orgasm.
“Matt!” he said urgently.
Matt withdrew his fingers, and while he was rolling on the condom, Joel took the time to breathe his way through the crisis and bring himself down to a level where he didn’t think he would come the moment Matt entered him. Even so, it was such a thrill to feel the tip of Matt’s cock pressing against his entrance that Joel had a real fight on his hands to stop himself coming. His eyes squeezed shut and his hands curled into fists, screwing the bed covers into knots.
“Breathe, Joel,” Matt ordered.
And Joel realised that he had been holding his breath. He opened his eyes to find Matt grinning at him. The humour did more to ease the pressure than anything else and Joel was able to calm himself.
Then Matt pushed into him with one smooth thrust, driving so deep into Joel that he felt as if Matt became part of him. Holding himself on his forearms, Matt began to thrust slow and even, withdrawing nearly all the way, and then plunging back in until Joel could feel Matt’s balls against his buttocks, every stroke unerringly targeting Joel’s prostate, causing waves of pleasure to run through his body. Joel slightly lowered his legs and wrapped them around Matt’s thighs.
It felt good. It felt better than good, it felt amazing, wonderful, the best thing Joel had ever experienced. His hands uncurled from the bedcovers and went to smooth down the contours of Matt’s back and buttocks, urging Matt on, harder and faster, his eyes fixed on Matt’s.
The strokes became wilder, less smooth and co-ordinated. “Ready?” Matt gasped.
Joel was. More than ready. Trapped between their bellies, Joel’s cock had been pressed, squeezed and rubbed, slick with sweat and pre-come. He had been fighting off his orgasm for too long, and now it felt like he might explode if he didn’t come soon.
Matt dropped his mouth to Joel’s in a hard, demanding kiss as he thrust one last time into Joel: deep, deeper still and then Joel came. Letting out a cry that had Matt’s name at the centre of it, his hands clenching tight on Matt’s buttocks as he tried to draw Matt even further into himself. Matt himself stilled for a second and then with one last bucking thrust into Joel, he let out his own cry of attainment, his forehead pressed to Joel’s.
Joel held him close. Wrapping his arms around Matt and drawing their bodies together, despite the fact that they were both dripping with sweat. However hot he was, Joel wanted nothing more than to be pressed as close to Matt as possible.
They lay twined together for several minutes as their breathing slowly returned to normal. Then Matt disentangled himself. For one awful moment Joel thought that was it. Matt was going to get dressed and take Joel home, and that would be that. He was a quick fuck and now it was over. The hurt that thought caused made Joel realise just how much he wanted his relationship with Matt to be more than that.
But Matt padded out of the room, naked, and a few seconds later Joel heard the sound of running water. Matt returned with a cold, wet cloth, tossing it onto Joel’s belly with a wicked grin. Joel screeched as the cold cloth slapped onto his heated skin, and then he sighed with pleasure at the coolness. He cleaned himself up, wiping the smeared come off his stomach.
“Here,” Matt said when he had finished, holding out his hand for the cloth.
Joel passed it to him, and then lay back and closed his eyes. His body ached, and he felt a little sore around his entrance. Matt had not been gentle, but Joel had no complaints.
Matt returned and lay back down on the bed, and then he rolled Joel onto his side and spooned behind him, one arm possessively around Joel’s waist. It was the perfect end, exactly how Joel had imagined in his dreams, and he settled back into Matt’s embrace with a sigh of pure pleasure.
“What time do you turn into a pumpkin?” Matt queried sleepily.
“If I say midnight, will you laugh?” Joel asked.
Seconds later Joel heard Matt’s breathing deepen, and realised the man had fallen asleep.
Joel woke to find himself alone. Full of panic he lit the face of his watch and found to his relief that it had just gone ten forty-five. The sound of a shower running got him clambering out of the bed and, following the noise, he found the bathroom.
Matt was a blur behind the shower door, and Joel suddenly had the urge to join him. He slid the door open just enough to squeeze through, and then pressed himself to Matt’s back. Matt turned and kissed him wetly. “Was just going to come and wake you,” he said.
“No need. I’m up.”
Matt glanced down at Joel’s half-hard cock. “So I see,” he said with a grin.
Joel noticed Matt’s cock had also started to rise, and without any thought, he dropped to his knees in the cramped stall and took it into his mouth.
Joel had only done this on a few occasions, and each time he had felt awkward, always conscious of his teeth, of not gagging, always wondering if he was doing it right.
With Matt, Joel felt no worry at all. Matt fitted him, felt good in Joel’s mouth, and he sucked and licked at Matt’s length until Matt was fully hard. Joel cupped Matt’s balls with one hand, and reached round and grasped one of Matt’s buttocks with the other.
Even when Matt warned Joel he was about to come, Joel kept the length in his mouth, keen to taste Matt, to swallow him down so that he had a small part of Matt deep inside him.
Matt brought Joel off with his soapy hand, pressing himself to Joel’s back and biting down on Joel’s shoulder hard enough that Joel knew he would have to cover the mark. But he was glad of it; he felt as if Matt had somehow claimed him with that bite.
Later, as he was combing his hair in front of the bathroom mirror, Matt appeared behind him, his face serious. Joel watched Matt’s reflection, a cold feeling in his stomach and his earlier fears returning.
“You know...well, this isn’t gonna be easy...”
Joel’s dread grew. Matt was going to give him the brush off.
“You and me,” Matt went on.
Joel felt a glimmer of hope stir.
“I won’t kid you. I can’t do all the dating and holding hands in public bit, but what I can, I’ll give you...I just thought you should know, in case, you know, it isn’t enough for you.”
Joel’s relief was incredible. He smiled at Matt’s reflection and then turned to face the man in the flesh. “I guess I’ll be happy with whatever you can give me, Matt,” he said.