Matt and Jason Ch. 02

The crash woke me up... nearly giving me a heart attack.

Completely disoriented, I looked around. Okay... cool. I was in my bedroom. Huh. I'm naked. Was I...?

Matt. Shit.

Matt... and I. Shit.

Did we...? Shit.

Wait. He wasn't here. Shit.

Shit! Shitshitshitshitshit....

I threw myself out of bed, grabbed a robe as I sprinted out of the bedroom... and promptly saw Matt, squatting on the floor, surrounded by a collection of my frying pans and assorted kitchen supplies... which, single guy that I now was, had been heaped up in my drying rack to put away "later." I let out a breath of relief... one I didn't know I was holding in.

Matt looked up at me like a deer in headlights, then back down at the floor, then blushed furiously. He stood up, kitchen utensils in each hand. "Shit. Sorry bud. I was thirsty and looking for water. I came out here and was trying to find a glass without waking you up... and, shit. Sorry, man."

It was a ridiculous situation, and I started snickering. After a few minutes he shame-facedly started to join me. "Well, good morning, Matt!" I hailed him, cheerfully. "You most definitely should not turn to a life of crime."

I think he mumbled a "fuck you" under his breath, and tossed my kitchen supplies back onto the drying rack. I chose not to say anything.

For all the adrenaline rush of getting in here, now that we were facing each other, we didn't know what to say. At all. He was... fucking incredible. I couldn't help but notice that he had put on his boxer briefs, but his man-chest was there in all its glory. Shit... standing there, running his hand through his hair embarrassedly, he looked fucking... good. And I say that as a guy who has seen naked and semi-naked guys all my life, even if I never actually checked them out. His shoulders were broad, and his arms were... strong. No fake bulging muscles, just a sweet athletic frame that came down perfectly to his waist. Dark, course hair splashed across his chest, running down his torso. Man. Again, I thought the guy could almost be a pretty boy, but there was a ruggedness to him that made him seem real. Rougher. Untamed.

But seeing him like that only served as a further distraction keeping me from thinking of something, anything to say. My mind went totally blank. Shit, Jason... think. Think! I opened my mouth... and word-vomited probably one of the lamest, most half-ass statements of my entire life: "So. That was... pretty wild. Last night." Shit.

"Yeah," Matt answered noncommittally. He was watching me. Probably as intently as I was watching him.

Great.

I tried to push on. "I mean, that was... really wild. Really. Are... are we... are we, you know... good?"

"Huh? Oh... yeah. Good. Good! Yeah, totally good. I'm good. ... ... ... You... good?"

"Yeah, good here, too. I'm good. Good. Um... you good?" Shit.

Matt had the good sense to just nod without cracking a smile. Shit. What was going on? Jesus, I've been able to talk to Matt about anything. And last night, everything came so... easily. What the fuck was our problem now? I... babbled on, hoping some reasonable thought would come out. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything. It was so... wild. I mean, have you ever done anything like that before?"

"No," Matt shook his head, then roughly ran his hand across his face. "I mean, I've never even thought about that. Never so much as jerked off in front of another guy. ... ... ...You?"

"NO." I blurted out, way too forcefully. "I'm not gay!" Shit.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

Why the Hell did I say that? The tiny little crack that had opened in our conversation instantly slammed shut. I could all but see Matt recoil inwardly, instantly on the defensive. I tried to think of anything that could get us back on an even keel. "Matt, no, that's not what..."

"No, I get it. It's all so stupid. Last night was just... sorry if I freaked you out. Way overstepped. I was in a bad place, and way too drunk." He hadn't been too drunk. Neither of us were. "Sorry, let's just forget that ever happened. Anyways, I probably need to hit the road, I have to head out to my family thing."

Panic. This was spinning out of control. "Matt, I..."

"No, don't worry. It's cool." He smiled weakly at me, and the way his eyes were dancing around he looked like a caged animal, desperate to escape. Shit.

I had no idea what to do. Do I shake him and say "LISTEN TO ME!" Do I let him be? Do I tell him that last night was...

[...]

...well, what was it? I mean, in the heat of the moment.... Shit. Jesus, that was the best.... No. Seriously. I'm not gay. I've never been gay. What the hell was I doing? But at the same time, that felt... fucking amazing. In a way I never felt before. What was that?

Well, it doesn't matter because I had completely spooked him.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

Without any other clear idea about what to say, what to do, I just... kinda went with it, thinking of how to stall him. "Ok, Matt... that's cool. I'll drive you back for your car... why don't you finish getting ready, I'm just gonna make some coffee."

Matt grunted his assent, and walked back into my bedroom. That gave me like a couple minutes to get my thoughts together. Damn. Ok, so I was freaking out. I mean, last night blew up everything I knew about myself. And... it wasn't like someone held a gun to my head, it was all coming from... me. But I'm a guy. Guys don't do that. Guys get beaten up for doing that. Shit, did Matt think I was gonna come after him? Try to restore my honor? Was Matt gonna come after ME to restore HIS honor? Shit. But wait, that's fucked up. He's like my best friend. A best friend like I haven't had since I was a kid. Shit. Like, one of the best guys I know. He's totally got his life together. WHAT ARE WE DOING? But more than that, WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME? I've always been the guy marching out there and grabbing life by the balls. I LIKE being the guy marching out there and grabbing life by the balls. Why can't I string two thoughts together? Why am I standing here like a dipshit unable to fucking move?

[ding]

Shit. Coffee's done. How long have I been panicking?

Matt walked in, dressed. It looks like he wetted his hair down to try and get in under control. He looked at me expectantly. Shit. "Ready? I'll... um... put some pants on and we can be on our way."

Those few minutes, and in the quick five-minute drive back to Town Hall for Matt's car, were the worst few minutes of my life. I wracked my brain. Thinking for something to say. Something. Something to stop him from just... heading out into the distance. I was pretty sure if we let this awkwardness keep going, it would stick, and we'd never get past it. And whatever else, I didn't want to... well, to lose him. He meant everything to me. There... I said it. He meant everything to me.

Dammit. Time was up. I pulled up into the lot with his car. Moment of fucking truth. Say something. SAY something.

"MATT." I somewhat shouted. He nearly jumped. I put the car in park. "I just... I think... ... Um, the Copper Pot is right around the corner, and they have the best omelets in town. I know you're heading out of town, but... would you...? I mean, I'd like to... ...do you want to have breakfast with me? I'd really like to. With... you."

Matt looked at me, more deeply than I think anyone has ever looked at me. For the longest time anyone has ever looked at me. His eyes are... fucking mesmerizing sometimes. Finally, he started to crack a half-smile. Almost a smirk. And I swear something inside him started... glowing. "So kinda like a date?"

For the first time all morning, I relaxed. I remembered him saying those exact words the first time he met us at Town Hall. I remembered. And... he remembered. I gave him a shit-eating grin, and responded just as I did before. "Well, it's kinda like a date... but instead of some sweet young thing, you'll be going with this bastard," I said jabbing my thumb back at myself, "who swears too much, talks with his mouth full, and doesn't shave his balls!"

Matt leaned in, close. He conspiratorially whispered, "Those hairy balls of yours are fucking hot. If you ever shave them, I will kick your ass." Our heads fell together and we both cut up laughing.

And like that, a lot of the awkwardness between us melted away.

It felt like breakfast took care of the rest. Sitting there at the counter, there was no way we were going to discuss anything... about last night... in any detail, so our conversation fell back into our normal pattern: the give and take of two young guys living out loud. It was easy again. I mean, I totally get that there was still an elephant in the room, and we would have to get there at some point. But it felt like we were grounded again.

And I was reminded again what a great guy he was.

We finished up and walked back to our cars. We smiled at each other, and went in for a bear hug. It felt... good. There was still a certain... quietness to how we said goodbye, but it felt... expectant, rather than awkward. He promised to call when he got back.

God, I was on cloud fucking nine as I drove back to my place. My hand absently sliding back and forth across the steering wheel. A stupid grin on my face. Shit, I realized I was humming a song... and no, don't ask which song it was.

I was still feeling mighty good as I got home and threw my phone onto the charger. As I pulled off my coat, I saw... a scarf. I chuckled; it must be Matt's. Left behind as he awkwardly tried to bail out of here this morning. I sent him a text saying that I had it. The gerbil wheel spun around for a looooong time before he responded. Just a quick, neutral message that he'd try to grab it when he got back.

I sat down on my couch, and looked it over. Nothing fancy, just a wool--cashmere?--scarf, completely unremarkable. Looking It over... shit. I couldn't help but think of Matt. Being together with Matt. Feeling something inside I'd never felt before. I pulled it to my nose and breathed in....

Matt.

Matt, deep and old. The scent of Man. The fucking best man in the world.

My brain flooded with memories of that scent, my face crushed against the crook of his neck as I rammed my raging hard cock deep inside him. The fucking feel of his hole grabbing my cock, crushing it with obscene power as I fucking nuzzled against him. His hands clawing at my sweaty back... God, I think I have scars. That smell of Matt, and sweat, and man, and fucking, as he snarled out wordless vulgarities in my ear. Fuck. FUCK.

I fell heavily on my couch. My hands instinctively ripped my pants open as I grabbed my cock. I breathed him in again, that smell setting off alarms inside my head. Matt. Sex. Matt-sex. I gripped my cock, wet with precum, thinking about being inside him. That fucking tightness. Fuck. That feeling of being with him. His scent. I roughly pulled down my Jockeys and jerked myself. Hard. Fucking hard. Gripping my cock as hard as his ass had. Fuck. His smell. My hand twisted roughly on my dick. Smell. Fucking raw. Fucking Man. I pounded furiously. God, I had pounded his ass harder than anything in my life. Fucking brutal. His smell. I fucking pounded. Pounded. POUNDED.

I screamed as I shot cum all over me, splashing across my sweatshirt. Hard enough to maybe splash Matt's scarf, crushed against my face. Fuck.

FUCK.

This was going to be a long couple of days.

I fucking threw myself into workouts. I was almost afraid of going to the gym and seeing how I reacted around sweaty, athletic guys. Would I throw some major wood? Would I be caught staring? I hit my routines so hard I didn't give myself a chance to think about anything else. Breaking my body was my way of relaxing, and through sweat I gradually grounded myself.

To be safe, I showered at home.

Sunday afternoon, I sent Matt a text, hoping to connect. I couldn't help but notice it was left on read. For hours. I checked back obsessively, but there was no reply. It could be completely normal, I mean... he had gone to an event with his family, and maybe it was impossible to respond. But all the good feelings I had had since he drove off went into the toilet. What did it mean? What was he thinking?

And worse, I was a man of action. All this... thinking was fucking wearing me out. And not knowing what to think. And rethinking. And fucking thinking about rethinking. FUCK. Goddamn... all this fucking uncertainty, like we were kids in junior high or something, was fucking eating me alive. I had no fucking idea what to do in this kind of situation. Finally, I said fuck it, and shot him another message. "You ok bud? We ok?"

After a couple of minutes, he responded. "Yeah everything cool"

That's... it?

I was just this side of being pissed. I answered back right away. "Look man, I know this is weird. It feels like we keep going hot and cold. Can we just talk? I swear, no funny business. Just talk?"

His clipped response came in: "Yeah." Well, it was something. After pressing him, he invited me over to his place Tuesday night. More private that way. But we were clear: no sex, just talking.

It was a start.

Tuesday was a fucking nightmare. I had days to stew about what I wanted... what I was thinking... and it didn't help at all. Again and again, my attempts to think rationally about everything were torpedoed by memories of being with him. I tried to mentally splash cold water at myself whenever I started drifting into thinking about what it had been like to be with him, but I don't' know that it helped. All day, I obsessively watched the clock, to the point that the other guys at work started razzing me about it. If only they knew....

Finally, I finished up and sprinted out the door. I Googled Matt's address and broke about 14 traffic laws to make my way over there.

I got to his door. Nervous as fuck. I still had no idea what to say, other than a determination to actually talk to the man, and not babble like an idiot.

He opened the door.

And... I babbled like an idiot.

"Er, um... hey there big guy... long time no see!" Shit. Where the fuck did that come from? Christ, I sounded like my douchebag uncle.

Matt chuckled lightly, and let me in. I moved in for a hug, while Matt extended his hand to shake. Fuck. We flip-flopped, me extending my hand nearly right into his gut as he moved in to hug me... then we both stood there befuddled. We looked at each other and started laughing, in spite of ourselves.

Matt broke the confusion by reading over and grabbing my shoulder companionly. And gently rocking me. We kept laughing. And I looked at him. Fuck. I was just here to talk. But Matt's laughter brought out a... a fucking light inside him. He was alive, so fucking alive. Him with all the smarts and the looks and the sense of humor, and the... life. Fuck. FUCK. And my stomach was fucking turning over. Fuck. Matt was.... God, he was....

He was Matt. Fucking Matt.

I reached over myself, taking his scruffy jaw in my hand. I loved the feeling of his beard. Fuck. I really loved the feeling of his beard against my skin. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Here to talk. Just to talk. We were going to...

I don't know who started it, but our lips collided... in a kiss that could have dropped a charging rhino. Or maybe it was like a pair of charging rhinos colliding... fuck it, metaphors were the last thing on my mind. Matt's mouth was all fucking over me, his tongue rammed so far down my throat I could barely breathe. I fought back, gnawing at him and grabbing his face hard enough to rip his beard out. Fuuuuuck... it was fucking good. Fucking masculine. Days' worth of sexual frustration exploding inside us, demanding release. Knowing that whatever one of us threw down, the other could take it. Freedom. Freedom from being good. Freedom from being civilized. Freedom from what anyone else thought. Fucking FREEDOM.

We explosively came apart, desperate for air. Panting, I asked, "Didn't you... just... want to...talk?" Matt didn't answer other than to slam into me again, as he started manhandling my coat off of me.

Ok. So, I was cool with that.

As my coat fell to the floor, I grabbed at his shirt--he was still dressed like he had come straight from work. The thin fabric didn't work with me, and in a second there was a shearing, ripping sound as I realized I had torn it open. Fuck it. My hands slid inside, electrified by his hairy chest. Then, my left hand kept sliding around, making it to the small of his back, then under his belt, then straight down to dive through his hairy butt crack. Matt moaned loudly into my mouth, vibrating my tonsils. Matt countered by running his hands down to forcefully massage my crotch, and in a flash we were racing each other to undo each other's belts.

I won.

Fuck he was hard. So fucking hard. He was leaking cocksnot everywhere, and goddamn I loved the wet feel of it on my fingers. He fished my dick out, and we started coarsely rubbing them together, dick against dick, our hands trembling from hormonal overload.

I couldn't stand it. I dropped to my knees and buried my face in his hairy crotch. FUUUUUUUUCK. His musk fucking lit up my brain. God-fucking-damn, he smelled so fucking good... like man, like fire, like fucking SEX. I took his cockhead in my mouth, and drove down as hard as I could, sucking him down as far as I could go. Somewhere above me, Matt belted out "Oh FUCK yeah! YEAH! YEAH MAN SUCK ME!" I grabbed his ass cheeks for support, and sucked him for all I was worth.

Matt could barely keep up with the sensations flooding his brain. His cries of encouragement got deeper, more guttural, and finally broke into a long obscene wail. He grabbed my head for support, roughly running his fingers through my hair... not to guide me, not to tell me what to do like I was some clueless woman, but just to maximize the experience. To feel me. I slammed up and down, up and down, again and a-fucking-gain. Desperate. I tried going all the way down, and gagged myself. I pulled back; I tried again, and gagged myself again. I spat him out, coughing. My spit ran down his shaft and splattered to the floor. But I was way to horned up to back down. So I went after his balls, sucking them down in turn, rubbing my nose under them, breathing in the scent of his ball sweat.

Matt was fucking out of his mind, desperately to haul down his pants and Jockeys with one hand, while clutching me with the other. My hand roved all over his hairy skin, feasting on the sensation of him. He was the hottest motherfucker I had ever known.

I went back to working his cock over, rolling my tongue across his rim. He started face fucking me as much as he could, and I started jacking his spit-slick shaft in time with his thrusts.

It was loud, messy, sweaty, and smelled like sex.

Finally, Matt wrenched himself out of my mouth, glaring at me with naked hunger. And I knew I was in for a fucking wild ride.

Matt all but threw my ass onto the couch, and violently stripped off my pants--so hastily that one pant leg was stubbornly caught on my foot. He hauled off and fucking SUCKED me, harder than I had ever been sucked in my life. I howled; and for a moment, I was almost afraid the motherfucker was going to bite my dick off. God, he was fucking into it, going at me harder than any woman I had ever been with. Harder than any woman ever could. And I fucking threw back my head and howled my fucking pleasure to the sky. He slammed his mouth up and down, faster and faster. I had no idea how he did it... I'm thick as fuck. But he kept cantilevering his face, again and again, rotating down, and jacking me roughly as he went. Faster and faster, and faster and faster.... "WAIT!" I bellowed. "I'm getting too close!"

Matt held back, still jacking me, but slooooowly as the tingling in my balls died away. He ran his face through my bush, and started nuzzling my balls. Ohhhh fuuuuuuuck. As he did so, his hands slid under my shirt and started massaging me, reaching up across my torso, and started roughly kneading my hairy pecs. I wildly pulled off my shirt and undershirt, thankfully without ripping them as well.