Page 44 of Matteo's Mettle
“Really, Matteo?” Trent scoffs. “A boy of your own?” His tone seems to imply that he finds that concept ridiculous. Then he says, “It doesn’t matter. We should talk.”
It feels like I’ve stepped into a scene from a poorly scripted soap-opera. The inevitable ‘ex-lover realizing that they’ve made a terrible mistake’ moment. But, as amusing as that might be on paper, I can’t help the stab of uncertainty I feel.
I can’t help but worry that there’s a possibility that Matt might prefer to go back to the man he has so much history with, after all.
Interrupting my thoughts, Matt laughs. An honest-to-God laugh of amusement. “If you think this man is my boy, you’re an idiot,” he says, shaking his head. “London’s my Daddy, Trent. And he’s a damn sight better at it than you ever were.”
As he defends me, it’s like I can actively see him getting closure on those painful years of his life. I can’t deny the relief that sweeps through me at that. I nuzzle his neck, kissing him on the spot just behind his jaw that I know makes him all hot and bothered. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
Trent just looks puzzled. “What?”
Matt shrugs. “I don’t know why you’re here after nearly three years of radio silence, and, honestly, I don’t care.” He turns his head to smile at me. “I’m in love. I have an amazing Daddy who treats me right and loves the way I look.”
“Especially in a onesie,” I add, and to my delight he giggles.
“Especially in a onesie,” he repeats in agreement.
“But…” Trent starts, then stops. Matt and I look back at him almost in a synchronized movement. The man standing in front of us seems to slump in resignation. “So, if I told you that I made a mistake-”
“I’d agree with you.” Matt’s response is firm, but he still manages to surprise me with his undercurrent of kindness. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Not when I know how inherently compassionate he is. “Trent, we weren’t good for each other. You were right to end things. If you hadn’t…” he trails off and shakes his head. “It’s been a long time. And if you’re not happy, I’m sorry to hear that. I am. You’re not a bad person, y’know?”
My sweet, forgiving boy.
He forges on, and it strikes me that he’s probably been thinking about what he’d say to this man -his first Daddy- if ever he got the chance. “You realizing that you were wrong doesn’t mean I’m going to walk away from the life I’ve rebuilt, but I would appreciate the apology. You did me a favor by letting me go, even if it took me a long time to see that. I’m doing you a favor now by telling you the truth.”
There’s an awkward silence between us all until Trent lets out a sad sigh and nods. He has the grace to appear genuinely apologetic when he looks back up from the ground. He meets Matt’s gaze first, then mine. “I’m sorry for disturbing your night,” he says, and it’s a far cry from the bluster and pomp of his initial attitude. I still don’t really have it in me to scrounge up even a lick of empathy for him, but Matt has that covered.
“It’s going to get better, Trent. But whatever closure you’re looking for here? You’re not going to find it beyond knowing that I’m happy.”
* * *
I pin Matt to the door the second we’re inside and his former Daddy is gone. My lips are on his in an instant, my hands tugging off his jacket and yanking at the buttons of his shirt. I don’t care if I tear the damn thing, I’ll buy him a new one. I need him naked.Now.
He laughs when I pull away to continue fighting with the material, and the sound is lighter and more carefree than I’ve ever heard him. “Daddy…I’m too old to fuck against the front door.”
I can’t even bring myself to admonish him for the language. I wrench his shirt off, buttons pinging and clicking and clattering across the tiles at our feet, then drop to my knees to mouth at his cock through the thick, black material of his dress pants.
“You’reperfect,” I tell him, my brain scrambled with need and pride and the resurgence of all the joyful, flirtatious feelings from dinner. I rub my face into his growing hardness, lavishing him with more praise. “The best boy, partner, lover…hell, you’re the bestpersonI could ever imagine.”
His hand threads through my hair, caressing the top of my head and I look up to see him staring back at me with amusement and adoration in equal parts. “You know, if I knew that telling Trent where to shove it would earn me this sort of reaction, I would have called him and done it ages ago.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh, and I shake my head. “It’s not just that…but that was hot as fuck, by the way.” I don’t care how silly I feel making this declaration in this position. I have the fleeting, slightly feverish thought that if I had a ring, I’d probably propose, but despite the endorphins I’m feeling, I know we’re not ready for that yet. But one day we will be, I’m sure of it. “These last few months have proven that we can work through challenges together, and every moment away from you has been awful. Tonight felt like the start of something new again. Something exciting.”
I allow him to pull me back to my feet and I cup his bearded jaw with my hands. “And then, whether you realize it or not, just now on the front lawn?” I jerk my chin in the vague direction of the driveway, “You chose me. You could have listened to him. You could have had the age-appropriate Daddy you have a decade of history with. But, instead, youchose me.”
His eyes soften and glisten with tears. “London,” his voice is croaky, but he’s smiling at me. “I’ll always choose you.”
Then we’re kissing again, with the same intensity as before but at a slower pace. My manic energy is building into raw need and we make out while attempting to fumble our way towards the bedroom, shedding shoes and clothes (and his underwear and my panties, which involved a lot of hopping and laughter from both of us) in our wake. Glancing behind us, it’s like a miniature disaster zone, the trail of a small, if passionate, tornado.
When we finally tumble into bed, we’re finally naked and I waste no time coating my fingers in lube and stretching Matt out. But, for as badly as I need to be inside him, connected with him at the most intimate level, I don’t want to rush this. Instead, I plan to make love to him.
I guide him onto his side and press in behind him, lifting his thigh up and back over my hip so I can slide inside him at just the right angle. He sighs out my name, his hand reaching back to pull my face in towards him for an awkward, sloppy, utterly perfect kiss.
I set a languorous pace, rocking my hips slowly, dragging my cock out and in while I murmur everything and anything I’m thinking and feeling into the shell of his ear.
“You like that?”
He moans.
