plik

SHOW & TELL
by KM Mahoney

When Matt saw the white blur hurtling through the air in his
direction, he acted purely on instinct.

“Oomph!”

As he lay on the ground, it occurred to him that stepping into the
path of flying objects was really not in his best interest.

“Matt! Man, are you okay?”

Great. Just what I need. Matt blinked up at the blue sky, trying to
catch his breath again. Maybe if he pretended to be unconscious, the
owner of the voice would go away. Of all the people to witness his
act of stupidity, it would have to be Blaine.

Matt took a deep breath, unconscious act ruined when he winced at
the stab of pain in his chest. Amazing, how much a flat plastic Frisbee
hurt.

“Matt?” Concerned brown eyes moved into his range of vision,
obscuring his sight of a fluffy pale cloud shaped like a duck. “I am so
sorry! I yelled when I saw you, but I guess you didn’t hear the
warning, huh?”

“Nope.” Matt’s denial sounded more like a choked wheeze than an
actual word.

“Is he okay?”

“What happened?”

“Sheesh, Blaine, that was some throw.”

Suddenly a small crowd surrounded them. Matt closed his eyes again.
Maybe if he wished hard enough, they’d all go away and let him melt
into the ground in peace.

“Matt?”

Matt sighed, gave up avoidance as a lost cause, and sat up. “Yeah,
yeah, I’m okay,” he insisted, not sure exactly who he was addressing.
He nearly sent up a prayer of thanksgiving when his protest worked,
despite being a tad weak. He received a few gentle slaps to his
shoulders, some sympathetic looks, before people started wandering
away.

Blaine leaned over and extended a hand. Matt took it and let the
bigger man haul him upright.

“You know,” Blaine commented. “Most people step out of the way of
airborne objects.”

Matt just rolled his eyes at the dry tone. “Most people aren’t me,” he
pointed out.”

“Thank God for that.” Blaine flashed a cheeky grin, teeth white
against his olive skin. “One of you is enough for any college campus.”

“You know what I meant.”

Not most people were goalies on one of the top-ranked college
soccer teams. Having white, round projectiles aimed at his body
tended to be a daily occurrence. And if he didn’t get in their way, he
got chewed out by the coach. So it screwed up his instincts a bit.
They’d won the NCAA Division I Championship last year; Matt could
handle screwed up instincts.

“Want to join us?” Blaine offered.

“Hell no.”

Blaine laughed, the sound low and husky, sending a ripple of pleasure
through Matt. Damn, but he loved that sound. “Had enough of
Frisbees for one day, huh?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.” Matt smiled. Blaine knew very well that
Matt hated Frisbee golf. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t
understand the damn rules. Blaine insisted it was simple and Matt
was just weird. Matt wouldn’t argue the weird part, but he still
maintained that Frisbee golf was a stupid game and did not qualify as
a sport.

“If you’re sure,” Blaine teased gently.

“Blaine! Move your ass, man!”

Blaine waved over his shoulder and started jogging backward. “See
you later?”

“Of course you will. We live together, idiot.”

Blaine grinned again, the expression wide and happy, before turning
and heading back to his game.

Matt shook his head, rubbing at the ache in his chest. He could
practically feel the bruise forming and the damn thing was gonna be
beautiful. Red and green and all colors of the rainbow.

Unfortunately, at the moment, it wasn’t the emerging bruise causing
the ache. It was the sight of a taut ass and a sculpted back, muscles
flexing with mouth-watering definition under a tight, sweaty T-shirt.

If Matt didn’t do something soon, it was going to be an excruciatingly
long summer. Fortunately, he had a plan. Maybe not a good plan, but
it was a start, anyway.

By the end of the week, Blaine Thompson was going to be his. Either
that, or he would hate Matt’s guts. At this point, Matt was willing to
take the risk.

****

The rundown, rambling two-story house was quiet, eerily so. Blaine
wasn’t used to it. Usually the place burst at the edges, the common
rooms overflowing with athletes (often in various states of undress).
But most of the team wasn’t due to show up back at campus for a
while. Blaine and Matt were the sole exceptions. While most of the
guys had gone home for the summer, the two of them had stayed
behind. At the end of last semester, Coach had asked if anyone was
willing to stick around and help out with some of the summer camps
being run for high school students. Most of the team couldn’t run

fast enough. Coach had looked at Blaine and Matt, poised to flee in
front of the lockers, and grinned. They’d fussed and protested, but
stayed anyway.

For Blaine, the protests had been all for appearance’s sake. It wasn’t
exactly like he had a home to go back to. The last foster home had
washed their hands of him when he hit eighteen. Hell, if not for the
sports scholarship he landed, he wouldn’t even be in college. No,
Blaine would be stuck in some dinky little apartment, fixing cars for a
living.

Why Matt stayed, now that was a mystery. But then, Matt frequently
confounded Blaine.

The man was a player, no question about that. But he didn’t act like
the typical player. Oh, he had that charming persona down pat,
teasing and easygoing, so comfortable in his own skin it was almost
disgusting sometimes. Nothing phased Matt. He always had this air of
complete confidence and absolute certainty about everything he did.
For someone like Blaine, always hovering on the fringes...well, he
could be man enough to admit he frequently envied Matt’s easy
charm.

They’d known each other for nearly three years now and in that time,
Blaine had learned something else about Matt. The guy was, deep
down, a big softie. Especially with his friends. Blaine couldn’t even
begin to count the number of times he’d seen Matt go out of his way
to help someone.

Blaine tossed his bag and keys in a corner, calling Matt’s name.
Silence rang through the empty house. It was nearly four o’clock, he

could have sworn Matt said he’d be back by then. Blaine kind of
counted on it; his roommate was the only guy in the whole damn
house who could cook without using a microwave. It was like magic.

With a shrug, Blaine trotted up the creaky wooden staircase to take a
shower. He was hot and sweaty and gross. And hungry. He guessed if
Matt wasn’t around, he’d have to scrounge something up for himself.

Blaine ventured back downstairs a short while later, hair wet and
torso still damp. Barefoot, his only concession to modesty his
battered jeans, Blaine made his way to the kitchen. He had just
popped the top to a can of Coke when he heard a thump from
outside.

He turned his head and sniffed, barely catching a whiff of the most
marvelous scent. Blaine groaned.

“Please, God,” he murmured. He padded through the kitchen and
shoved open the screen door. It squealed a protest, flapping on one
busted hinge.

The house might be a dump, but what the heck, wasn’t like it needed
to be perfect. It was home to a bunch of college guys. Damn near half
the soccer team, to be precise. The one major selling point of the
place, besides the insane number of bedrooms, was the backyard.
The house sat at the end of a dead-end road, butting up against the
campus baseball fields. Long ago, some enterprising college
employee had planted pine trees all along the boundaries of the
fields. Those same trees were now massive, towering and bushy,
providing a cozy little haven behind the house.

The back door opened onto a large concrete pad. Trees bordered
three sides of the pad, a steeply sloping hill the other. A cement block
retaining wall along the hill barely contained the overgrown grass and
the remains of a flowerbed, long gone wild. It made a great spot to
perch and hang out, the house and trees casting welcome shade and
keeping the area nice and cool, even on the hottest summer day.

Shortly after moving in, the guys had all pooled their money and
bought a massive grill, which held court in the very center of their
patio. It was all black and chrome, shiny and complicated and looking
like something out of a science fiction movie. Blaine wouldn’t admit
it, but the damn thing confused the hell out of him. Matt, on the
other hand, seemed completely at ease, standing there in the
smallest, tightest pair of jean shorts known to man. He had a large
spatula in one hand and his cell phone in the other, flipping burgers
with expert skill while he chatted.

“Jilly, stop it, honey, you’re being ridiculous. Of course you want to
marry Jared. You’re just freaking right now.”

Matt balanced his spatula on the edge of a small table and leaned,
snagging a plate with the tips of his fingers.

“Calm down, sweetie. Breathe. In and out. That’s it. You need me to
come over? You sure? I can. All right. Call him, okay? Promise me?
You’ll feel better if you talk to Jared. Okay, give me a call later. Love
you, too, sweetie.”

Matt snapped his phone shut, sighing and muttering to himself.

“Problems in paradise?” Blaine asked, leaning against the side of the

house.

“Hey. Yeah, seems Jilly’s pregnant.”

“Good Lord. Coach is going to kill Jared.”

“Don’t I know it. She’s panicking, he’s talking marriage, and she’s
dumping it all on me.”

“You are the one who introduced them,” Blaine pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I’m responsible for the success of their relationship.”

“Sure it does.”

Blaine sipped his soda and tilted his head to one side. He’d never
figure Matt out, not in a million years. The man just kept poking meat
on the grill, casually talking about the pregnancy of his ex-girlfriend.
Matt was weird, no two ways about it. Blaine couldn’t even begin to
count the number of former flames Matt had hooked up over the
years, many times with one of their teammates. Jared, Jilly’s
erstwhile boyfriend, was, in fact, their team captain.

“You going to go comfort her later?” Blaine asked with a blithe
nonchalance that he didn’t really feel. The thought of Matt cuddling
his former girlfriend didn’t sit well with him for some reason. Blaine
shoved the feeling away with practiced ease.

“Hell no,” Matt said. “That’s Jared’s problem. I’m going to try to eat
my weight in burgers, then spend the next few hours napping on that
lounge chair over there until I’m red and crispy.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Got enough food for two?”

“I even dug out the second lounger.”

“Sweet.”

Blaine trekked inside for more drinks before wrestling with the
lounge chairs. The green one had a hole near the bottom that you
had to watch, so your feet didn’t fall through. The blue one was kind
of rusty, legs screeching in protest when he unfolded the damn thing,
and he nearly had to go to battle to set it up. Blaine smashed his
finger, cursed, and promptly proceeded to drop bulk of the chair on
his foot. Finally, he got it opened up and steadied.

“Gotcha,” he muttered with satisfaction, stepping back to survey his
work. “But Matt’s getting you.”

“You know, I learned in Psych class that talking to furniture is not a
good sign.” Matt’s low voice rumbled right in his ear, warm breath
wafting across his neck. Blaine took a hurried step away,
uncomfortable with Matt crowding his personal space that much.

It was only after he stepped away that Blaine questioned the action.
Since when was he so uneasy around Matt? They often got up close
and personal during practice. Hell, he’d showered with the guy.

Maybe Matt had a point. Maybe Blaine was losing it.

Burying the odd feelings, Blaine took the offered plate. “Looks good,”
he said inanely to fill the silence.

“Yep.”

Blaine watched out of the corner of his eye as Matt settled into the
blue lounge chair, his lean body covering up the weird flower pattern.
The chair creaked and groaned under Matt’s weight. Matt ignored
the ominous sounds, swinging his legs up and getting comfortable.

The air hung thick and heavy between them. Blaine took a big bite
out of his hamburger, ketchup squirting over his fingers, and tried to
ignore the tension. So damn weird. Matt kept glancing over at Blaine
with a puzzled expression. Blaine couldn’t blame Matt, either.

Eventually, the gentle sounds of rustling evergreen branches and the
cool rush of breeze through the humid, thick air started to seep into
Blaine’s muscles. He began to relax a bit, the sun warm and soothing.
Stomach full, nice and comfortable…yeah. Time for a nap. He was
getting nice and sleepy –

And then Matt moved. It was just a little shift as he dropped his plate
to the ground and settled back. Matt spread his legs wide, propping
one foot on the chair, sighing with contentment. The motion made
his chest rise and fall, but Blaine barely noticed. His gaze was quite
firmly stuck on the view, so tantalizingly showcased in Matt’s tight
shorts. There was a hole, right there, and Blaine could just make out
a bit of skin that he would swear was cock. If Matt moved just a bit –

Blaine turned and froze, pinned beneath electric blue eyes and a
slight smirk. Oh, shit. He’d been caught ogling his roommate. Not
good. Not good at all.

“I’m gonna –“

“Like what you see?” Matt murmured, still staring at Blaine. The heat
in his expression caught Blaine off-guard and he blinked a few times,
mind blanking.

Matt hummed, that low sound he made when he was teasing
someone. It was enough to snap Blaine out of his stupor. He jumped
to his feet like someone had lit the fabric under his ass on fire.

“Where you going?” Matt asked, turning his head to follow Blaine’s
retreat.

“Have to piss,” Blaine muttered.

“Don’t run off on my account,” Matt replied.

Blaine ignored the comment. He made it nearly to the door when a
hand on his arm halted his progress.

“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out,” Matt said. “You okay,
man?”

“Sure. Sure, fine. Like I said, I need to take a piss.”

Matt hummed again, the sound maddening, scraping against Blaine’s
already irritated temper.

“Look, if you’re gonna keep teasing me –“

“Who said I was teasing?” Matt demanded with a bit of irritation,

using his grip on Blaine’s arm to swing Blaine around. “I was flirting.”

“Flirting?” Okay, no way was that high-pitched yell his. No way on
earth.

Matt’s loosened his hold, the touch becoming a caress as he ran
lightly calloused fingers down Blaine’s arm. He licked his lips, raking
his gaze along Blaine’s body before coming to a stop on his crotch.

“Look all you want,” Matt said, voice husky. “I’ll show you mine if you
show me yours.”

Blaine reared back, shaking Matt off. “What the hell, man?”

“Oh, come on, you know you want to. It’s hardly the first time I’ve
caught you sneaking peeks. Not like I haven’t been looking back,
either. And damn, babe, what a view.”

“This is bullshit.” Blaine tried to bluster his way through the situation,
not entirely sure what he was feeling. His stomach was in knots,
emotions in a massive, chaotic, turbulent mess until he couldn’t
separate one from the other.

Matt ignored the tone and stepped closer. All right, time for more
drastic action. Blaine tried to push past Matt and go back into the
house.

“Let me know when you sober up,” Blaine snapped.

Matt grabbed his wrist, the grip firm, painless but unbreakable. “Oh,
no, you don’t. I’m done chasing. And you’re done running away.”

Blaine probably resembled a panicked deer, but he couldn’t help it.
He stared helplessly at Matt, mouth opening and closing a few times
before words emerged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,
man. Let me go. Now.”

“No.”

Matt ignored the enraged glare and Blaine’s fruitless tugging. The
way he figured, since Blaine hadn’t slugged him yet, Matt was golden.
He rubbed his fingers across the smooth skin of Blaine’s wrist, using
his hold to pull the bigger guy closer. Blaine came, protesting all the
way.

“Blaine?” Matt stared, tightened his hold. “Shut up.”

Then he did what he’d been wanting to do since first laying eyes on
the stocky wingback. He leaned in and mashed their lips together.

As first kisses went, it didn’t exactly rate as the best. But Matt didn’t
care. He loved it. It was awkward and messy and Blaine kept trying to
shove him off. But the lips under his own were soft, mouth hot and
moist, and it was Blaine, damn it.

Blaine reached up and clung for one brief and glorious minute. Then
he put both hands on Matt’s shoulders and shoved, hard.

Matt staggered back a few steps. He came up against the rough,
white rock retaining wall and braced himself, licking the taste of
Blaine off his lips.

“That was –“

“Since when are you gay?” Blaine demanded.

“Since always,” Matt said, tilting his head. “Thought you knew that.”

“Come on, man! You’ve had a parade of girls running through this
place for as long as I’ve known you. Hell, what about Jilly? Huh?”

“All right, so I did date Jilly. But that was ages ago. I was a freshman
and still in denial. Erickson’s aren’t homosexuals.” He couldn’t keep
the mocking lilt out of the last sentence, hearing his mother’s voice
resounding in his head.

“But you’ve had girls. Since then, I mean.”

Matt shook his head. “They were just friends. It’s easier sometimes,
being friends with girls. They like it ‘cause they don’t feel pressured. I
like it ‘cause I don’t have to worry they’re going to think I’m coming
on to them.”

Blaine just stared. Matt took pity on him, the confusion written on his
face and reached out to grab Blaine’s hand.

“It’s still me, Blaine. Swear. I haven’t changed.”

“Maybe I have,” Blaine said softly, staring at his feet. “I can’t...I can’t
do this, Matt. I’m not like you. I’m not gay.”

“You sure about that?” Matt kept his tone gentle and low, trying so
hard not to push. It wasn’t easy, though.

If he did say so himself, Matt had pretty fucking accurate gaydar.
Beyond that, he knew Blaine, inside and out. Had watched the guy
for years, lusted after him just as long.

Blaine shook his head, looking so very lost. Matt couldn’t stand it. He
closed the last remaining distance between them, draping his arms
over Blaine’s broad shoulders. He rested his forehead against
Blaine’s, closing his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Matt whispered. “Promise. You can do this.”

“I can’t.”.

The desperate plea in Blaine’s declaration finally cut through Matt’s
shield. He dropped his arms to his side and stepped back, rubbing at
his chest. He ached, all through. Maybe he’d been wrong, maybe
Blaine didn’t want him.

“I guess I’ll just –“

“No, wait.” Blaine took a deep breath, emotions flickering across his
face too quickly for Matt to follow. Then Blaine took another breath
and nodded, seeming to come to a decision.

Motioning for Matt to stay where he was, Blaine braced his hands on
the wall Matt had used for support mere moments ago. The wall was
tall and Blaine’s arms bulged, muscles shifting and bunching, as he
hopped up onto it and sat. The move put them close, close enough
that Matt could breathe in Blaine’s musky scent, the smell of sweat
lingering under soap and man.

“Do you know why I decided to stay on campus this summer?” he
asked.

Matt shook his head.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go, really. My parents died when I was
six. I’ve been in and out of foster homes most of my life. Getting that
soccer scholarship was the best thing to ever happen to me. I
wouldn’t be here, at college, without it. And I can’t mess this up,
Matt, I just can’t. It’s all I’ve got. I don’t have a family, nowhere else
to be. I was different enough, growing up in the system. You have no
idea what it can be like, at school, at the places I’ve stayed. You’re
always on the outside. I can’t do that again.”

Shit. Matt didn’t really know what to say, how to answer that. He
wanted to promise Blaine that everything would work out, tell Blaine
nothing would change. That he could admit to being gay and not risk
ending up on the outside once more.

Matt couldn’t, though. Hell, just look at his own situation. Matt’s
mind raced as he tried to come up with the right words.

“Do you know why I stayed?” he finally asked, turning Blaine’s
question back on him. Blaine had shared, it was only fair, after all. “I
told my parents over spring break. That I was gay, I mean.
They…didn’t take it well. Oh, they didn’t come right out and kick me
out. Hell, they’re still paying for school. But it’s only because they
worry about what everyone would think, you know? They live in this
social circle where appearance is everything. It doesn’t look good to
disown your only son. They made it quite plain, though, that they

expect me to stay as far away as possible.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said. Matt cut him off with a quick shake of his
head.

“I’m not. We’ve never been that close-knit of a family. My point is, I
can’t promise you that nothing will change. But I can promise that, at
least for me, the benefits outweigh the risks. What I’ve gained, the
freedom to be myself, to stop living a lie day after day, it’s been
worth it.”

“I don’t know if I can be that brave,” Blaine admitted.

“You kidding me? You go up against guys built like football
linebackers on a regular basis. You’re a damned defender, man.
You’ve got the guts, trust me. Most of the guys aren’t going to care,
you know that. They don’t care about Jimmy and Coke, do they?”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “They’re a couple?”

“Of course they are. What, you haven’t caught them making out in
the showers yet? ‘Cause I thought everybody had at one point or
another. Those two can hardly keep their hands off each other.”

Blaine nibbled a bit on his lower lip and Matt had to force himself to
look away. The gesture was just too adorable. A strange adjective to
apply to a guy who looked as tough as Blaine, but there it was. Blaine
had thick, beefy shoulders, bulging pecs and cut abs. The shaved
head – a shade darker than his olive-toned skin – and the colorful
dragon tattoo winding up his left side usually only added to the
menace. And Matt found him cute as hell.

Matt saw the slight waver in determination and he pounced,
crowding close again until he stood between Blaine’s parted legs.
“The ones who truly matter won’t care,” he said. “And the rest?
Screw them. Maybe you’ll lose a few friends, but look what you get.”

Blaine looked up, those dark brown eyes scared, begging for
reassurance and that last little push that would send him flying into
the unknown. “And what would I get?”

“Me.”

The corners of Blaine’s lips tipped up. “Cocky much?”

“Hey, I’m worth it, babe.”

“You know, I think you just might be.”

Matt lifted his arms and pressed his palms flat against smooth,
heated skin, kneading the solid muscle of Blaine’s chest. “Give it a try.
We’ve got all summer.” Matt wasn’t quite able to keep the pleading
note from his voice. He was so close. So very damn close to having
everything he’d wanted for so very long. “Give me a chance.”

Blaine closed his eyes while endless moments of silence ticked away.

“Okay.”

It took a minute for Matt’s brain to process the word. “Okay?” he
asked. “Really?”

“Really. Just…take it slow, huh?” A half-smile tugged up one side of

Blaine’s mouth. “Don’t go running down the streets shouting ‘Blaine’s
got a boyfriend’ just yet.”

“Now, would I do that?” Matt asked with a chuckle.

“Damn right you would.”

“Maybe I would.”

Matt was tired of talking. He’d gotten his agreement, that was all he
needed.

Matt braced his hands on Blaine’s shoulders and climbed up the
other man’s body. He planted his knees on either side of Blaine’s lean
hips, straddling Blaine’s solid thighs. The concrete scraped against his
knees, but Matt ignored it, too busy focusing on the handsome man
in his grasp.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, licking his lips. “And I’m not letting you go.”

Blaine had gone insane. That was the only reason he could come up
with for why he was kissing Matt like this was their last day on earth.
He couldn’t seem to stop, though. Didn’t want to stop.

With Matt kissing him, all the reasons for lying, to himself and others,
didn’t seem to matter anymore. Matt’s tongue tickled the roof of
Blaine’s mouth, twined with his own. Matt tasted like ketchup and
beer and spice. It was addictive. Highly.

“Mmm, you taste good,” Matt murmured into Blaine’s mouth.

“You, too,” Blaine replied, the words muffled since he wasn’t quite
ready to let go of Matt’s lips yet.

“Show you something?”

Blaine gasped as Matt’s finger rubbed the small of his back. God, who
knew he was so sensitive there? Those talented fingers pressed, slid
down inside his jeans to tease the top of his crack. Blaine let go of the
heated kiss to drop his head back, thought and concentration
shattering into a million pieces.

“Do that again,” he ordered.

“If you insist.” Matt smiled at him. That finger moved again and
Blaine arched into the solid heat of his…boyfriend, lover, friend? Hell,
who cared? Blaine’s brain didn’t work well enough to figure it out
right now.

Matt trailed kisses down the side of Blaine’s neck, tongue flicking out
to taste – the hollow of his throat, the edge of his jaw, the dip of his
collarbone. Matt paid particular attention to the top of Blaine’s left
pec, laving the dragon’s head tattooed there until the greens and
reds glistened with moisture. Blaine leaned forward, returning the
favor by tracing the series of stars on Matt’s shoulder.

He remembered when they’d gotten their tats. The team was
celebrating a big win and the end of the season. They’d been drunk,
the bar had been packed, and Matt and Blaine had lost the rest of the

guys. He didn’t remember whose idea it had been. He just
remembered seeing the flashing neon sign, feeling the rush of
adrenaline. Matt’s crazy, hyped-up laughter.

Now that he thought about it, Blaine realized that most of the best
moments of his life revolved around Matt. Around them. Maybe this
was the next logical step.

To his lust-numbed brain, the thought made complete sense.

Matt’s kisses turned to gentle nips, each one increasing in force.
Blaine groaned, hands coming up to cup Matt’s head. The short
strands of his dark hair felt both soft and bristly at the same time
under his touch. Blaine ran his hands along Matt’s head, shoving his
fingers through the mass, messing it up until Matt’s hair stood up in
strange spikes.

In response, Matt grabbed a bit of skin next to Blaine’s dragon and
started sucking. He applied pressure, teeth, and tongue until Blaine
started writhing and moaning. Then Matt pulled back with a soft
sound, surveying his handiwork with evident satisfaction.

“Marked you,” he said. “You’re mine now.”

Blaine glanced down, nearly crossing his eyes in an attempt to see. A
large, raised mark on his skin, the beginnings of a bruise.

Well, how about that? His very first hickey. Sweet.

“Yeah,” Blaine replied. “I guess I am. So what are you gonna do with
me, now that you have me?”

Matt’s grin could only be classified as wicked. “I’m going to blow your
mind.”

“You’ve already done that,” Blaine admitted.

“Then I’m going to give you the best sex of your life.”

“Not hard, I’m not exactly well-rounded in that area.”

Matt rolled his eyes, huffing out a breath of frustration. “Stop talking.
You’re making my brain dizzy.”

“So shut me up,” Blaine dared, still playing with that soft hair.

“With pleasure.”

Before Blaine’s fuzzy head could process the motion, Matt was on his
knees in front of Blaine, busily working open the fastening of his
jeans. Matt slid down the zipper gently, eyes widening and cheeks
flushing a deep red when his task was completed.

“Damn, babe,” Matt said, licking his lips again. “Would you look at
that?”

Blaine hadn’t bothered with underwear, which he thought now was a
very good thing. Gave Matt easier access. Confident hands pulled his
cock free, Matt stroking the hard, pulsing length with an almost
maddeningly gentle touch. Blaine was aroused enough – and just
from a kiss, damn it – that he needed more, harder, rougher. Now.

Using his tight grip of Matt’s hair, Blaine pulled the dark head closer
in a silent plea. Matt made a small, almost needy, sound. Then soft,
wet heat engulfed the head of his cock and Blaine’s world blanked
out. A gray fuzz invaded his vision and he yelled Matt’s name, hips
thrusting forward involuntarily. Matt grabbed Blaine, holding him
still.

“Please, Matt, please.” The words just poured out of Blaine, begging,
needy words that he couldn’t stop. All he cared about was getting
more. He’d never felt anything as amazing as Matt’s lips on his shaft.

One hand left Blaine’s hips, coming down to play with his balls, rolling
and tugging, the touch firm, moving rhythmically in time with the
motions of Matt’s mouth. He licked from base to head with his
tongue, swiping streams of pre-cum off the head, swallowing and
sucking again.

Blaine chanted Matt’s name, squirming and groaning. The heat and
pressure built up, higher and higher. He could feel tingling in his
lower back, his sac drawing up close to his body, stomach muscles so
tight they ached. He needed, so much. Just a little more.

“Matt, please, gonna –“

“Come on, babe,” Matt replied. The words sent vibrations rippling
through Blaine’s hyper-sensitive skin and he yelped, bucking and
writhing. Not enough. Not enough.

Fuck. He needed to come. Now. Before his body ripped itself apart
from sheer frustration.

Matt’s solid form pressed closer, wrapping around one of Blaine’s
spread legs. He was…oh, God, Matt was thrusting against his leg,
need written in the tense line of his bare shoulders. His mouth kept
moving, up and down, swirling around. Both hands now gripped
Blaine, fingers digging into his shaking thigh muscles with bruising
force.

Matt pulled away, Blaine’s cock slipping from between his lips.

“No, no.” Blaine tried to pull him back, the hot summer air feeling
cold against his skin after the inferno of Matt’s mouth.

Matt merely shifted until he was practically riding Blaine’s calf,
braced himself, and went back for seconds. The position was
awkward as hell, Blaine’s leg muscles screeching in protest, but he
ignored it. Almost – there!

Blaine’s release ripped through him with sudden ferocity, sending
him over the edge so unexpectedly that his whole body seemed to
lock up. Sparks flashed behind his closed eyelids. He bellowed Matt’s
name, tugging and pulling, trying to get the other man as close as
physically possible. The orgasm seemed to last forever, spurt after
spurt of spunk pouring out of him.

And Matt took it all, licking and suckling, swallowing down Blaine’s
cum like he couldn’t get enough.

Finally, finally, the lights faded. Everything within Blaine went limp
and he slumped, the wall he was half sitting on and Matt pressed
against his legs the only things keeping him from collapsing into a
gooey pile of blissed-out Blaine.

It took Blaine’s exhausted brain several moments to realize that Matt
was still moving. He had his cheek pressed into Blaine’s stomach, hips
grinding against Blaine’s legs.

Mustering up some of the strength that orgasm had drained out of
him, Blaine grabbed Matt and hauled him upright. He braced the
slightly smaller man against his chest, fumbling with the button on
those teeny-tiny cut off shorts. Blaine practically had to peel the
denim away from Matt’s skin. The tight fit must have been damn
near painful, as hard as Matt’s cock was when Blaine finally
succeeded in freeing it. Smooth skin met his touch, Matt shaved
clean, the feeling a fantastic contrast to Blaine’s own dark bush.

Blaine wrapped his fist around Matt and pulled, hard and fast and
probably a bit too rough but his concentration was shot and…

It only took a few firm strokes before Matt shouted wordlessly and
spilled into Blaine’s hand, the hot, sticky mess coating him with the
physical evidence of Matt’s pleasure.

Blaine felt ridiculously proud of himself as he cradled Matt against
him, brushing his clean hand against sweaty skin. It fascinated him,
Matt’s pale coloring against his own, much darker, hue.

“We should go in,” Blaine murmured absently, rubbing against the
non-tattooed shoulder. “You’re starting to turn red.”

Despite his dark hair, Matt had the palest skin. It didn’t tan, just went
right to lobster-bright and peeling. As much as Blaine was savoring
their current position, tucked together, sated and lazy, he didn’t want

Matt to hurt later.

Matt made a sound that was either agreement or ‘fuck-off’. Blaine
chuckled. He helped Matt to one side, reluctant to let the other man
go. But his arms were still a bit shaky from that sexual apocalypse
Matt had unleashed on him and he didn’t want to drop Matt. That
would make a great ending for their first time together. Leave Matt
with wicked sunburn and a concrete rash. Yeah. That would just
guarantee another go-round.

Matt braced himself against the concrete wall. “Don’t think my legs
work yet,” he said. “Damn, babe.”

“Right back at ya,” Blaine replied.

Matt laid his head against Blaine’s shoulder, sighing with
contentment. Blaine smirked before raising his hand and licking off
some of the cum coating it.

Matt groaned and smacked him in the stomach. “Stop that,” he
chided. “Do try not to look so sexy, please. I need a few minutes to
catch my breath.”

“Good for you,” Blaine replied. “I think a few minutes is being
optimistic, myself.”

“Hey, I’m good for another couple of rounds, easy.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” Blaine said around a mock groan.

“Nope, no dying,” Matt stated. “You’ve got to stick around a while.

I’m not done with you yet.”

“I don’t think I’m done with you, either,” Blaine admitted.

“Up you get, big boy,” Matt declared suddenly.

“Not like I’m all that much bigger than you are.” Blaine grumbled, but
complied. His feet felt off, like they were on the wrong legs or
something. Hell, his knees were shaky. Sex had never done that to
him before. He might have been in denial, but that didn’t mean
Blaine was a complete innocent. A blow job was a blow job, after all,
no matter what equipment came attached to the person delivering it.

Or at least, that’s what he’d thought until today. Matt just may have
spoiled him for anyone else. Which Blaine was, surprisingly,
completely all right with.

Clinging a bit to each other, they staggered to their feet. Blaine nearly
did a nose dive when his pants, wrapped around his thighs, tried to
trip him up. He struggled, twisted, finally managed to untangle
himself and get his clothes righted. Matt snorted, the sound leading
into full-blown, utterly amused cackles.

“Look at us,” he said around another snort. “Hobbling around like a
couple of idiots.”

“Yep. That’s us. Two idiots.”

“Wish I could argue with that, babe, I really do.”

Matt’s shorts were down around his knees. He didn’t bother yanking

them up, though. No, sir, the man just shoved and wiggled. Then he
stood there, stark naked in the backyard, the deepening rays of the
setting sun flushing his skin golden. Long-fingered hands planted on
slender hips, Matt grinned. Blaine swallowed hard and counted to
five.

Don’t pounce on the man, don’t pounce.

Aw, hell. The counting thing was definitely a lost cause. This time it
was Blaine dragging Matt. “Come on, inside. You really are starting to
turn nice and red.”

Matt scowled. “I hate being so pasty. Maybe I should try some of that
tan-in-a-bottle crap. Mike says the stuff works great.”

“Mike spent two weeks wandering around campus as the orange
wonder,” Blaine pointed out.

“Right. No tan-in-a-bottle for me.”

“I like your skin.” Blaine let Matt precede him through the door, his
hand lingering on the aforementioned skin. Yeah, he liked, all right.
Pale and smooth and oh so touchable. “Besides, this way, I have a
great excuse to rub lotion on you. I can start on the shoulders and
work my way down…”

Woosh. Instant arousal. Matt’s cheeks went red, breathing
deepened, and that long, thin cock rose proudly to curve up, drawing
Blaine’s eyes to more of that luscious skin.

“Upstairs?”

Blaine nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

Matt grabbed his hand, twining their fingers, and led Blaine down the
hall. He looked at their laced hands, looked at Matt, and some of the
ever-present tightness left his chest. Blaine could hardly remember
the last time he’d been this happy.

Maybe being gay wasn’t going to be so bad, after all. Not that he had
plans to go announcing their changed relationship from the rooftop
of the student union. Hell, Blaine didn’t even think he was ready to
walk around campus holding hands like this. But the thought of
coming out wasn’t nearly as scary now as it had been earlier today.

And if Blaine had Matt, he thought that, by the time the fall semester
rolled around? He’d probably be doing that announcement. Because
Blaine thought that Matt was going to be worth it. Every little bit of
trouble, every fight they’d probably get into, every taunt and sneer
sent their way.

If he had Matt, Blaine figured he could handle anything.

THE END

Author bio: K.M. Mahoney has been creating stories since before she
could write. After devouring every book she could get her hands on
(and a few that she had to sneak past her parents), K.M. turned to
writing her own. K.M. loves nothing more than wandering new places
and, on occasion, entirely new worlds with her characters. Her
characters range from cowboys to Victorian nobleman, accountants
to shapeshifters, and everything in between. She admits to having