Faith and Fidelity (9 page)

The kisses became greedier. Matt sucked Evan's tongue into his mouth, tightened his grip on his neck. He pulled away, panting. “Is it okay... I want to touch you... ”

Evan closed his eyes, swallowed hard. “Yesss... please.”

Matt knew what he wanted, knew he wanted to feel Evan's body under his. He let his hands drop down to Evan's shoulders, squeezed softly, reached for the collar of his shirt and helped him pull it off. Let his fingers drift over his chest, felt every muscles’ curve, felt his heart pounding through the white cotton T-shirt. Reached for the hem and without hesitation pulled the shirt over his head.

Oh yeah. Skin, that's what he wanted to feel... to taste... like his dreams, awake and asleep. He loved that part on a woman, that curve between the shoulder and neck. He leaned forward now and filled his mouth, moaning into the open kiss. Fuck yeah. He moved his mouth across Evan's throat, thinking this was different, this was rougher, saltier, sexier than anything he'd ever tasted. Like a man possessed he kept moving his mouth over Evan...

His solid jawline, his beautiful mouth—
yeah, Matt, fucking beautiful and you can't get enough
— all the while Matt registered Evan's hands frantically moving up and down his back, clasping his head as he moved back down his throat.

I wish he was a woman
, Matt thought wildly,
wish I could rip his clothes off and fuck him with my mouth, with my dick
... He pressed more kisses down Evan's chest, pushing him down on the mattress, moving to kneel between his legs.

He couldn't ignore the massive, painful hard-on pushing against his pants. He needed to move against Evan, wanted to move inside him but he didn't know how to get to that point and the frustration made him crazy.

Matt moved to lie on top of Evan, supporting himself on trembling arms. Looked at his sweat-sheened face and haunting blue eyes. “Tell me to stop.”

Evan reached up and ran his fingers across Matt's mouth. “Don't you fucking dare.”

Permission granted. Matt moved until their lower bodies were touching. Cocks pressed together— Evan's legs scissored between Matt's. For a second neither one could move because it felt so good just to be touching... and then they just couldn't stop the inevitable.

The moans were impossible to tell apart. Matt's arms strained as he thrust against Evan, wishing he could do more, but God it felt so good, so good...

He knew it wouldn't be long; he couldn't stop his hips from slamming into Evan, pushing him into the mattress. He wanted to be inside him so badly, it was all he could think about, and then he felt himself losing control. Blinded by the tantalizing release of orgasm, Matt began grinding his hips, feeling the end coming.

“Ohhh!” He exploded, rocking himself into Evan's pelvis, hearing somewhere in the distance a moaning sob. His arms gave out and he fell slightly to the side, his face against the mattress.

Matt laid there, breathing his way back to reality.

Pulling himself on his elbows, Matt turned his head. Evan laid there, his arm thrown over his face, shaking. He was making these tiny gasping shuddering sounds that sounded like they were being torn from his chest.

Oh shit.

“Hey, hey... ” Matt pulled himself completely off Evan, rolled onto his side. He didn't know what to do. Should he touch him? Would that make it worse?

Evan took a deep breath, moved his arm. He turned his head to face Matt.

“You okay?” Matt asked softly, worriedly scanning his face.

“Yeah. It just felt... ”

Matt held his breath.

“Strange... to be touching someone... else.” His voice broke, and Matt watched his eyes get bright. “I'm glad it was you though.”

“Thanks.” He didn't think he could say more with this enormous lump in his throat.

Evan scooted a little closer, so their bodies were touching. Matt smiled at that, rested his head near Evan's, an arm over his midsection. They lay there for a long time, silent but comfortable.

“Was it all you hoped for and more?” Matt finally said, trying to break the quiet.

That got a small laugh out of Evan.

Matt pulled up on one elbow.

“What now?” Evan asked, staring

“I'd say get cleaned up. And get some dinner. I'm starving.”

“I meant long-term, but that all sounds pretty good.”

“I thought we should start small.”

Evan smiled up at Matt. “You're not going to let me be maudlin are you?”

“Nope, sorry. I just got rid of about eight weeks worth of tension. I feel great.” He leaned down and they kissed again, long and slow. “Hmmm... I like kissing you.”

“That part we seem to be pretty good at.”

“We'll work at the rest of it, okay? I'm pretty sure with some practice I can convert some of my A material.” With that, Matt got up and started to pull off his T-shirt. “I'm gonna use the shower first. Then I'll call the Italian place up the street and get us some food.”

We're working at the rest? Converting A material— well, shit. This isn't a onetime thing is it
, Evan thought. Then he laughed, amazed. “Does anything faze you?”

Matt shrugged. “I could have walked away from this about a hundred times, Evan. Could have lost your number the second I realized that I was attracted to you... Fuck yeah, I'm fazed. But I'd be a liar if I said I was sorry. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Evan didn't move for a few more moments, watched as Matt stripped down to his shorts, then walked into the bathroom, with a backward grin at Evan. Listened to the water in the other room. He closed his eyes and let that wash over him.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“You were like on Mars or something. Everything all right?” Matt stood over Evan, hair wet from the shower and changed into a pair of black cotton shorts and blue T-shirt. He sounded suspicious and a little afraid.

Evan blinked up at him. He decided he wanted to just spend a few hours looking into Matt's face. “I'm fine.”

“I thought we had an agreement on the maudlin shit.”

“Yes, sir.” Evan sat up, got off the mattress, bumped into Matt.

“Hmmm... ” Matt didn't hesitate in taking Evan into his arms and kissing him. “Go take a shower,” he whispered against his mouth. “We'll eat and then... ”

“Practice?” Evan laughed, holding the other man close. Yeah, that felt nice. Matt's hands massaging his back, his skin hot against Evan's.

“Hmph. Practice sounds good.” Smirking, Matt reluctantly let go. “Food choices?”

“Whatever. I don't care.” Evan walked toward the bathroom, grabbing his bag on the way.

“You need clothes?”

“Brought some.”

From the kitchen, menu in one hand, phone in the other, Matt whistled. “It's always the quiet ones. You slut— you knew we were coming back here.”

Laughing, Evan went into the bathroom and shut the door.

He stood under the spray, washing away the tension, sweat, and... fluids... trying not to think too much. Matt was right. He was freaked but he wasn't sorry.

The door to the tiny room opened and Matt peaked his head in. “Uh hello? I pay for my water.”

“Sorry!” Evan called, going along with the joke, rinsing off the rest of the soap. The little stall smelled good— exactly like Matt— and a tiny voice in Evan begged him to invite the other man in. He turned the water off, pulled aside the curtain part way.

“Jesus. I'm glad I went first. Is there any hot water left?” Matt was smiling, leaning his hands against the sides of the stall. He gave Evan a hard stare. “Remind me that I need a bigger shower stall.”

“And why is that?” Evan asked, playing along.

“Only room for one.”

“Hand me a towel?”

Matt moved to a small hamper next to the toilet, pulled out an oversized navy towel. He threw it to Evan, then stood close, watching him emerge with it tied around his waist. “Being a little modest I see.”

“I'm playing hard to get.”

Evan dried off and went to grab his clothes off the toilet. Caught Matt's now frowning face.

“What?”

“How much weight have you lost?” Matt asked harshly. He reached out to trace the hip bones that jutted out above the low slung towel. “You should be what? One ninety? Two hundred?”

Evan bristled a bit. “One ninety-five. I've been lifting a lot, trying to get into shape.”

“Get into shape? As opposed to what?! You're in great shape and you're also fucking underweight. You must be down twenty pounds. You're lucky you haven't hurt yourself.”

“Matt, I appreciate your concern... ”

“But you're fine? Right? No. You bitch that everyone hounds you about your eating habits and now I can see why. This isn't healthy.”

Evan looked away. His face burned. “It happened after the... funeral. I just couldn't seem to keep anything down. The weight came off— and I just haven't put it back on. I
am
fine, I swear.”

Matt didn't look convinced. He roughly moved his hands over Evan's arms and chest, as if taking inventory of each protruding rib and edge of bone. His touch gentled as he reached Evan's face, soothing away the furrow in his brow. “You need to eat more. And I need to eat less. Deal?”

Leaning forward, Evan touched his forehead to Matt's cheek. He let his hands mimic Matt's, stroking his torso with needy hands. “You feel fine to me.”

“Oh yeah. Your spindly little arms could barely reach around me.”

They stood there for a moment. Matt hated the way Evan treated himself— as less than an afterthought.

“You should take care of yourself for Christ's sake. Your job is dangerous— you need to be 100 percent.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'm not joking.”

Evan pulled away and went back to getting his clothes. “I'll be fine.”

Matt squeezed his mouth shut, headed for the door. “Uh, I'm going to put some music on. You got any preferences?”

“Nah.” Evan didn't look up. Pulled on sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt. “Whatever you want.”

“Look— I'm sorry if I went a little overboard... ”

“Stop. It's not that. I had a stupid fight with Helena this week. She told me how full of shit I was, when I said I was fine. She's right. I don't eat or sleep enough. I've let my kids down...

“Now hold on— you're the best father I've ever seen. Those kids adore you.”

“Loving my kids isn't enough, Matt. What you saw last weekend was the first time in a year that we spent that kind of time together.”

“Hey, Evan— what the fuck are you beating yourself in the ground for?! Your wife died. You and your kids are in mourning. It takes a while to get over a blow like that.”

“I used to be better— ”

“Stop.”

Evan sighed. “I would have made a fantastic martyr right?”

“Jesus would've given you a medal himself.”

Evan walked out the bathroom, past Matt. Threw his bag back by the door. “When are you getting a couch?”

“Tomorrow. It's a pullout. Leather— very sexy.”

“Why do I get the feeling like you're going to kick my ass every time I get like this?”

“You are a perceptive, perceptive man.”

Smiling, Evan threw himself down on the mattress and stretched out. “And what's my job in this relationship?”

Matt walked over, dropped next to Evan, slid his hand under the black shirt. This time he wasn't feeling for ribs. This time it was personal business.

“You're going to keep me from drinking too much by giving me something else to do with my time. And mouth.”

“Ahh.”

“Deal?”

“Ah— deal.”

Since kissing was what they did best, Matt pinned Evan to the mattress— hands on Evan's wrists held over his head, leaning between his legs, teasing him with gentle brushes, pelvis to pelvis— and used every oral trick and tip he'd ever been privy to. He'd kissed a whole lotta girls in his lifetime, and Evan was on the receiving end of his wealth of knowledge. Sucked Evan's tongue into his mouth. Bit his lips, then licked away the sting. Moaned his own desire back into the other's man mouth. Matt could feel himself getting hard again, could feel that same frenzy from before seizing his brain.

Evan broke their kiss, smiled up at Matt. Apparently he wasn't alone in his excitement. “I take it this is A material,” Evan said.

“Tip of the iceberg.” Matt didn't wait for the crack he assumed would follow; he went back to work. Enjoying the taste, the freedom of kissing Evan and not being tentative. Tentative wasn't something that Matt Haight was good at.

Then the doorbell rang.

Reluctantly, Matt separated their mouths. “Uh, food's here.”

Evan started laughing. “Are you going to make it down in your condition?”

“Shit.” A few minutes later, with a sweatshirt tied artistically around his waist, Matt headed down the stairs, whistling. He paid the shivering delivery guy— healthy tip— and went back to the apartment with the bag of food. He walked up slowly, thinking suddenly of how long it'd been since he'd had a woman here. How long it'd been since he'd made love to someone, enjoyed their company, shared a meal? Months, maybe a year? A few women here and there, pickups at the bar. A couple of hours of drunken screwing at her place or a motel. No exchange of last names. No future.

His last long-term relationship (in Mattspeak that meant, what? Six months?) went back even further. He had a stunning knack for getting involved with the wrong women— married women, needy women, women who wanted the suburban husband/baby package that Matt had no interest in. Women who were destined to fail at keeping Matt entertained, amused, and aroused for longer than a few months.

At the door, he paused. Evan had so many qualities that appealed to Matt. Smart, funny, honest. He always said what he meant. He didn't judge. Matt snickered. And he was a cop. Yeah, he just couldn't seem to stay away from that world. The attraction had frightened Matt. But giving in to it made the fear small, made it less important. When they were together, he forgot that this wasn't anything he'd known before.

Evan lay quietly on the mattress, watching the ceiling, counting the tiles. His mouth and jaw stung from Matt's aggressive kisses, his rough skin. Evan was ready to go again. Matt had unleashed something dormant, something that had come roaring back after thirteen months of silence. Evan's sex drive had disappeared after Sherri's death. Nothing aroused him, nothing drove him to touch himself under the cover of night. He thought about her all the time, kissing her, making love to her. But his body didn't respond.