“Per?” Matt whispered.
Perry didn’t move. He had his back against the headboard, his closed laptop gripped atop his lap, and the away crew phone on the bed beside him. His eyes were closed, his breathing was steady, and his neck was tilted at an angle between twenty-five and knocked-the-fuck-out degrees.
“Knew it.”
Grunting, Matt pivoted toward the room door. Once more, he engaged the lock.
He could always tell when Perry was worn down. In general, Perry was a careful thinker who didn’t like making imprecise statements, but since their arrival, his responses were even slower than usual. And his gait was way off. He wasn’t much of a strutter even on the best of days, but his strides were even stiffer than they normally were.
Arthur probably hadn’t noticed anything was amiss because he hadn’t spent as much time around Perry in the past few years. He didn’t understand his ways. Cora had just met Perry. For all she knew, his mannerisms were the same as they always were.
Matt had an insider’s knowledge.
Perry had been sleeping like shit, but Matt didn’t understand what had been disturbing him. They were all stressed out because of Rhiannon, but Perry hadn’t given any indications that he was any more fearful of her than anyone else on the crew. He had to know Heath would keep him insulated no matter how much shit hit the fan.
Matt did understand, though, that when fairies were too depleted of energy, their defenses were duller, their magic sensitivity became uncalibrated, and their offensive capabilities often vanished into the ether. Although he could hold his own if need be, Perry wasn’t much of a fighter, so being so tapped out could be an exceedingly dangerous thing for him.
Matt was going to sit his ass right there.
“Cuss me out later if you want,” Matt muttered and turned on the television. “If you even know how to.”
He settled on the narrow bench at the foot of the bed and leaned back onto his elbows. He looked back to check if the weight disruption stirred Perry at all.
Perry didn’t even twitch.
If he didn’t start to improve soon, Matt was going to have to tell Heath how off he was. Snitching was the last thing he wanted to do. He was philosophically opposed to running his mouth most of the time, but he didn’t know how else to help. Like most people of Sídhe descent, Perry tried to handle his personal problems alone, and Matt wasn’t intuitive enough about their wellness to troubleshoot without assistance. There was a chance that Perry had been relying on himself for so long that he could no longer recognize that he was bad at it.
Heath was an energy manipulator. If there was something wrong with Perry’s body or his magic, Heath could possibly help reverse it.
Matt would say something and deal with whatever fallout there was in his friendship with Perry later. He didn’t want there to be fallout, though. The possibility that Perry would turn his back and reject Matt’s company unnerved him. They were “Matt and Perry,” and Matt never wanted that to change. Perry was his friend—his person—and he didn’t know when, but he’d become protective of that.
Matt clicked through the channels until he found a ’90s action flick dubbed in English and settled back to watch. “You’re going to have to get it together, Per. That’s just the long and short of it, I guess.”
Perry didn’t stir when Room Service finally arrived ninety minutes later.
The attendant carried the tray in, set it next to the television on the dresser, and gave Perry, asleep and still clutching his laptop, a curious look.
Matt grimaced and opened his wallet, pushing out a little bit of there’s nothing to see here psychic influence. The expenditure was no sweat off his back. Influencing was his natural witchy temperature. Using his gifts with the intentionality the crew required had at first been like trying to aim a cat at a bullseye. He had to think clearly and often felt like he was hurling the magic out of his body. Back when his father had him occasionally step in to help defuse situations at Jeff’s former bar, Matt resorted to brute psychic force. Having matured, he’d discovered ways to finesse his energy since then. Despite not being a psychic of any sort, Siobhan had actually been his best teacher. Most of the time, she didn’t bother being gentle when she used her magic. Inflicting pain tended to be her goal. But when she was relaxed and patient, her magic was soft as petals.
“Shit.” Matt stared into his wallet at the stack of greenbacks. “I didn’t think to convert any cash.”
“American?” the hotel employee asked in a bright tone of inquiry.
“Yeah. That obvious?”
“America. Canada. UK. I guess, and sometimes right. Americans… Oh, Americans, strange with their tipping. But I do not mind.” The room service attendant held out a hand. “I like dollars. I put in my jar. Save for bank later.”
“Fine with me.” Matt gave him a twenty and suddenly had a useful thought. “Hey. You from around here?”
“Somewhat, but no,” he said obscurely. “You need tour guide? I know a man. Has nice car.” He kissed his fingertips and looked to the heavens. “Ah, luxury, yes? And always, it smell nice. You like the cologne? He spray it. Is perfect.”
“Tour guide? No, not exactly.” Siobhan had also taught Matt to exploit every possible interaction to find opportunities. No one was as good at talking people into, and out of, things as she was, but Matt had picked up some helpful tips about gathering information from unusual sources. The staffer likely knew jack shit about shapeshifter activities, but he would definitely know where people liked to gather.
“I’m just wondering what the nightlife is like around here,” Matt said. “You know, bars. Clubs.”
Places where Bears might hang out after dark and that were off the proverbial beaten track.
The red-vested man clucked his tongue and folded the cash into his apron pocket. “Nothing good. People do their hikes and take their selfies here. That is all.”
“Then where do the locals go?”
“Depends. You want dance? You want drink?” He gave Matt an assessing look from head to toes, then added in mumbles, “You don’t look like you dance.”
“Dancing was something I stopped doing when I reached around five-ten. Not getting much grace out of this body anymore.”
“Ah, I see.” The employee clapped his hands together and nodded as though Matt had handed him the key to life’s great mysteries. “You want girls? Pretty girls. Lots of pretty girls. Or how about food? I know the best places for food.”
Matt would certainly be asking him about those places later if whatever selections under those food domes weren’t piled at least two inches high.
“Pretty girls are par for the course where I come from,” he hedged. “I’m more interested in cheap beer and listening to drunks tell tall tales. Know anyplace like that?”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes. I believe I understand now what you require. Many places, yes, yes. You want list?” He snapped his fingers and pointed pertly toward the door. “I bring you list, but first I must deliver. Patience, please.” He hurried out and pushed his rattling cart down the hall, likely to Arthur’s.
Perry still hadn’t moved.
“Gods.” Matt wriggled the laptop out of Perry’s grip and set the device on the nightstand. The alarm clock said it was nearly eight. If they didn’t get moving within the next couple of hours, the day would be a bust as far as the mission went.
“I have returned!” Matt’s new friend reentered the room with a sheet of paper and a pen. He scratched a list of seven different bars and pubs onto the page in what was probably Bulgarian.
Matt couldn’t read any of them, so he’d have to leave deciphering the clues to Perry.
Matt gave the man another twenty. “If I see you tomorrow, I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Yes, please do. I love to hear a good story.”
Matt closed and locked the door behind the exiting worker, then picked up the room phone to ensure Arthur had gotten his meal.
“Tell Perry thanks,” Arthur said. “Looks good.”
“Yeah? I haven’t looked at what I got yet. Going to do it now. What do you think? Should we check on Cora?”
“You may do that at your leisure. Or peril,” Arthur snarled and hung up.
“All rightie, then.” Matt shook his head and set the receiver into the cradle. He had absolutely no problem with waking the Wolf and risking whatever vicious snark she had queued up. Norseton was full of women with fast mouths and sharp tongues. When people were pleasant for too long, he got suspicious.
“I’ll head over to get her sorted out after I handle my stomach situation.”
He hated to wake Perry, but he suspected that whatever that thing was that he ordered would be best eaten hot.
“Hey, Per?” Matt squeezed between the wall and the left side of the bed to rouse him. How Perry could sleep on his back like that, Matt had never been able to understand. Matt’s lower spine would have been screaming within fifteen minutes.
“Per? Food’s here. You should eat something.” He floated his hand beneath Perry’s nose. “You breathing? Yeah, you’re breathing.”
He was disinclined to shake people awake in general. Shaking fairies while they slept was definitely a reliable way to get stabbed.
Perry probably didn’t have a dagger on him at the moment, but the reflex could still activate. He’d probably try to slice across Matt’s face.
“You’re not in a fairy coma, are you?” Matt squeezed Perry’s limp right hand. “Probably overdue for one. Haven’t slept in forever, have you?”
Perry wasn’t stirring, but he was starting to sweat. The moisture along Perry’s hairline hadn’t been there a minute before.
Matt pressed the back of his hand against Perry’s forehead.
He couldn’t tell if he was hot or not, or at least if his temperature was running hotter than his baseline. While Perry’s hands tended to be ice blocks all the time, his face didn’t necessarily feel the same way.
Lips definitely weren’t cold last night.
Matt had to shake his head and scoff at his behavior the previous night. The only thing stopping him from wallowing in delayed mortification at having come on to Perry that way was the aggressively practical part of his semi-fairy brain. He had no reason to be ashamed. He might have been “raggedy as fuck,” as Cora might have called him, but he’d asked and not just took. Naturally, he’d asked Perry because Perry was the single eligible person on the planet who both would tell him yes and who hadn’t yet fallen into Matt’s “Nah, you’re ugly, too” grinder.
All in due time for that, I guess.
Matt reached across Perry’s body and tried the other hand. That one was limp, too.
“Hey. Perry. Get up, man. Sleep when we get back to the Hearth. This place isn’t secure enough for you to pass out for three days. I hope that wasn’t your plan.”
He was going to have to shake him. Matt would just have to hold his head back far enough to avoid a strike. It wasn’t that he was so worried about Perry hurting him. He was more concerned that Perry would beat himself up about it later. Casual violence wasn’t his vibe, but guilt certainly was.
“All right. Let’s try this.” Matt put his left knee onto the bed. If he straddled Perry, he could shake him and then lean away before Perry’s reflexes fully activated. And with Matt bracketing his body, Perry wouldn’t instinctively hurl himself off the bed and hit the nightstand on the way down.
Matt was about to lift his other knee onto the bed when he noticed the unusual bulge at an upper thigh of Perry’s jeans. “You hiding weapons now, too?” He asked with a laugh. “I didn’t think that was your style. You’re classier than the rest of us. You don’t shove things into your pants.”
He peered down at the shape, wondering if it was a pocketknife or a collapsible baton or something. He couldn’t really imagine Perry using either of those things. Swords and shotguns were more of his speed.
Wait.
Common sense perked up and gave Matt a “Hellooooo, dispshit!” knock inside his skull.
He leaped back like the hand of Zeus had just smacked him because that bulge wasn’t from a weapon.
The rasping sound that came out of Perry’s chest next was words, and Matt needed a minute to recognize that.
“What’d you say, Perry?” Baffled, he moved closer to the nightstand, still staring at Perry’s misshapen jeans.
“Everything. Hurts.”
Alarmed, Matt shifted into problem-solver mode and tilted Perry’s face toward him. “What hurts? What do you mean?”
Perry’s Adam’s apple bobbed laboriously as he forced his eyelids up.
Bloodshot eyes. No pupils.
He looked like shit, but paler.
“Nothing left to hide it,” Perry rasped.
“What are you talking about? Hide what?”
Slowly, Perry lifted an arm. The hand dangling from his limp wrist gestured vaguely toward his crotch. “That. Out of magic. Now everyone gets to see.”
“What do you mean, now everyone gets to see? You’ve been hiding what? You’ve been…”
Oh.
Oh shit. No.
Perry’s cheek twitched. “For weeks.”
Matt was afraid to do that calendar math, but he couldn’t escape the obvious fact that “weeks” was before Matt had asked him to examine his mole. That was even before Matt had play-wrestled Perry on the beach on an unseasonably warm day and cheated by snaking his hand up the leg of Perry’s trunks. That was before Matt woke him with tremendous whacking noises, and even before he’d bribed Perry to repair his uneven eyebrows. Perry had had to sit on Matt’s chest and hold his face down to keep Matt from yelping every time he plucked.
That whole time, Matt had treated him like the crew eunuch.
“Fuck, Perry. No.”
“I wish no were the case. That would be more convenient.” Perry closed his eyes.
“No, no, no.” Matt tugged on Perry’s wrist and gave his right cheek a light slap. “Don’t nod off again. Talk to me. You can tell me what’s going on. I know about what’s happening to you. I heard about Asher’s change.”
Perry scoffed. “He didn’t even know what it was.”
“And you did. You didn’t want the crew to know. Why would you keep that a secret if you know it happens to everyone?”
“I prefer to keep private things to myself. I don’t want to…” Perry’s cheek twitched again. “Be a part of those conversations.”
The playful ribbing and teasing and oversharing, he meant.
The shit Matt subjected him to all the time.
Fuck.
Matt eased off the edge of the bed and put his back against the wall. “You must think I’m an asshole. Shit, man. You just sit there and tolerate things, and the whole time you’re miserable, aren’t you? Dammit, you should have told me to back the fuck off.”
“I don’t think you’re an asshole.” Perry’s Adam’s apple convulsed as he pushed his weight up onto his forearms. “I’m definitely pretty miserable, though.”
“I made you miserable. Be specific. Simone tells us that all the time. She tells us to own our shit, and that’s what I’m asking to do.”
“The misery was inevitable. Does your nearness affect me? Does it contribute? Yes. I don’t see the point of dissembling.”
“Nearness is a quaint way of putting it when there’s a man subjecting you to his frat boy dick-handling.”
“I used the word I meant.” Perry let himself lie back down. He closed his eyes and squeezed his biceps with opposite hands. “You don’t have to have your clothes off. Fairies in the state I’m in don’t need much triggering.”
Wait. Wait.
“And you’re saying…that you think I’m attractive?”
“Don’t you think you are?”
That was the closest thing to a non-answer Perry had ever given him. Perry didn’t play word games the way Heath did.
Matt shifted his weight, unsure if more words would help the situation or make it worse. He didn’t know what the protocol was for when one’s roommate was enduring a metamorphosis of sex drive so violent that it stole sleep from him and changed key aspects of his performance.
Tell Heath? No. No way in hell.
Perry had said he didn’t want people in his business. He probably didn’t want to be goaded toward sexual conquests or have his exploits cataloged for conversational filler.
Matt couldn’t remember what had helped Asher through his period of discomfort, and he was probably being presumptuous thinking the same things would help both, anyway.
“Do you want to try to eat?” Matt asked. Food was all he knew to ask about.
“I will. I need a moment, please.”
“Well, do you mind if I eat?”
“Please do.”
“Okay, but do you want me to get you something? I don’t know if it’s something a couple of ibuprofens would help. Or I could spare you a little energy if you can figure out how to take it. I can’t really do what Heath does. I can give it up, but I can’t force it on you.”
“I don’t need you to do what Prince Heath does,” Perry murmured. “I’ll be fine.”
“When?” Matt knew the question was rude, and his tone was rude, too, but martyrs annoyed him. Always had. There was no reason for Perry to volunteer to suffer solo.
And Matt was beginning to suspect that Perry’s current ill state had more to do with him booking them separate rooms than his concern about square footage.
“I’ll be up in a couple of hours. We’ve got investigating to do.” Perry rubbed his arms and grimaced.
“What’s wrong now? What’s wrong with your arms?”
“It’s a…propelling ache. That’s the term many fairies of older generations use. The pain is meant to make me seek.”
“Seek sex, you mean.”
“Yes. The ache is deep. Hard to ignore.”
Being more human than anyone else in the crew, Matt probably understood pain better than most. His body was strong, but he had to work harder to stay that way and recovering from extreme exertion was always slower. He simply powered through because Heath expected him to be as reliable as his father. He took for granted that the fairies would actually handle pain worse than him simply because they so rarely experienced it.
“Sometimes counter-pressure helps me when my body hurts,” Matt said. He felt like he was grasping at straws. “Just putting weight on it.”
Perry scoffed again. “I’d need a full-body weight, I think. Being made a pancake seems reasonable now.”
“You want to be a pancake? That can be arranged.”
“Are you going down to the gym to find some weights? I assume there’s a gym here. Everyone’s so fit.”
“No.” Matt wriggled Perry’s shoes off and tossed them onto the floor. He looked at his watch. There was no way of knowing how long getting Perry sorted would take. He could only hope that Arthur wouldn’t get impatient and want to head out immediately after he finished his food.
Perry lifted his head and gave him a curious look. “What do you have in mind?”
“Pancaking,” Matt said neutrally. He tilted his chin toward Perry’s situation. “Can you control… Never mind. Doesn’t fucking matter. Your answer wouldn’t change a damned thing, so I don’t know why I thought to ask. I’m taking off your pants. I don’t think we’re going to have time to do laundry on this trip.”
Perry wanted to reject Matt’s brute plan. His reluctance was evident in the crisp flags of red on his cheeks and the deep furrow in his brow. He wanted his pride, his privacy, his secrets.
He must have wanted relief more, though, because he nodded.
Like a paramedic springing into action, Matt unfastened Perry’s jeans and yanked them down his legs by the hems. There was already a dark, wet circle blooming beside the flap of his boxers. He’d been using magic to hide that from Matt. Weeks, he’d said. He’d been in Matt’s space with a hard cock, and never once suggested to Matt that he had his own problems he needed to deal with when Matt was selfishly needling Perry with his.
“I wouldn’t have teased you, Perry.” Matt helped him remove his shirt, then took off his own because messes didn’t tend to be self-aware enough to limit themselves to a single body. He next took off his pants.
“I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me, either.”
The statement stopped Matt dead in his tracks.
Is that what I’m doing? Feeling sorry for him and telling myself it’s friendship?
That didn’t feel right.
No. Nuh-uh.
Fear and worry were the most significant things motivating Matt’s actions. But he felt a little angry, also, that Perry hadn’t wanted his help or that Perry hadn’t trusted him enough to take Matt into his confidence.
“I just want to help, okay?” Matt said. “I’m not going to say anything to anybody. You don’t tell people my shit. I’ll do the same for you. You hear me?”
“I hear you.” Perry grimaced as Matt climbed onto the bed. Matt had jostled him.
“Shit. I’m sorry. You’ll feel better in a minute, though.”
Matt hoped.
Kneeling at the bed’s edge, he allowed himself a moment to strategize. They were close enough in height, so the best bet seemed to be lining them up by their shoulders and letting the rest of his weight fall where it would.
“Maybe tuck your arms in against your sides,” Matt suggested.
“Like this?”
“Exactly like that.” Matt eased his body down onto Perry’s, left side to right, and clamped Perry’s arms against his body. “Am I too heavy?”
Perry gave his head the most infinitesimal of shakes. “No. You’re not too heavy.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.” Matt could feel Perry’s belly scooping and quivering beneath him.
He felt other things, as well, such as the transfer of slick and cool moisture from one layer of fabric to the next.
“Those need to come off, too.”
“What do?”
“Your shorts.”
“But if you—”
“Yes, if I get up, your pain won’t abate. It’ll only take a second.” Matt removed them for him, apologizing when Perry winced. The waistband had hooked his tender shaft.
“Okay, that’s just fucking unfair,” Matt muttered as he wadded the underwear in his fist. He had the rudest, caveman-clubbiest dick when he was erect, and Perry was the embodiment of erotic art. He was smooth. He was symmetrical. He was long and thick.
He was a fairy. They were all built to entice, and apparently, Matt had a type.
He rolled his eyes.
“What?” Perry asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just wondering how much magic you were using to keep that disguised.”
“Is that really what you were thinking?”
No, I was thinking your dick’s pretty.
Perry had the kind of dick that needed its own velvet pillow.
Without responding, Matt returned his weight to Perry, and immediately regretted it.
They were aligned.
If Perry noticed, he didn’t comment. Nor did he comment on the increased pace of Matt’s breathing or the inflation of the second cock sandwiched between them.
Back at the Hearth, Matt had said that everyone seemed ugly in a way to him as of late, and the exception was beneath him. He’d been living with Perry for years, and until recently, he’d never noticed the man was beautiful.
He’d just been…Perry. His friend, field partner, and unfortunate roommate.
Matt was going to let himself overthink the situation. He was going to get frustrated with himself about what he’d seen or hadn’t seen, and that was a useless outlay of energy. His focus should have been on making Perry comfortable because they had important work to do—eating being the greatest among those things.
“Tell me if this is helping at all, Per.”
“It does help.”
“Yeah? So why didn’t you ask before?” Despite his best efforts, Matt was in his feelings. He didn’t know if the empathic witch part of him was to blame for processing the slight or the fairy one.
“I didn’t think to. I suppose I could have asked someone.”
“You could have asked me. My bedroom is right beside yours. We live together. Who the hell else would you ask?”
“Yes. I misspoke. I’m sorry for that. I should have asked you. You were the safe choice, were you not?”
“I’ve always been the safe choice.”
Matt couldn’t be positive, but he thought he caught a flinch in his lower periphery. He held himself up a bit on his forearms to look down at Perry’s face. “Are you looking for an argument? I’m good at arguing. My father and I spent about six years doing nothing but that.”
“I wasn’t picking a fight. I’m uncomfortable, is all.”
“So do something to make yourself more comfortable.”
Perry’s brow creased.
“Go ahead. If this isn’t working, tell me where to move to, for fuck’s sake,” Matt snapped. “Use words instead of trying to cover shit up with magic.”
Perry’s brow definitely smoothed, but only because his eyes had narrowed in a chastising fashion.
Matt knew he’d pissed him off because Perry wasn’t the pedantic type. He let people’s fuckups go unmentioned. He tended to let other people deal with slinging the blame when it was needed.
“I am going to…” Perry swallowed, let out a breath, and tried again. “I am going to shift. I’ll need you not to.”
“So, stay right here?”
“If you’re able to. I understand this might be…” Perry shrugged beneath him.
“Well, whatever it is, I owe you some favors. So, have at it.”
“Thank you.”
Initially, Matt didn’t notice that Perry was moving at all. He’d closed his eyes, and that labored tension remained in the tight gripping of his jaw and his rigid body. But then Matt felt the contractions of Perry’s belly. He felt the subtle gyrations of his hips. He felt the shy creeping of Perry’s cock along the side of Matt’s.
Friction.
His body was seeking friction, and he was feeding his impulses with teaspoons of relief instead of by the ladleful.
“Is that enough for you?” Matt sounded exasperated because he was. It wasn’t even his rodeo, and the micromovements still weren’t enough for him. In fact, he found the slight motions somewhat offensive. “Are you afraid I’m going to say something?”
“No.”
“So, what are you doing? I get that you’re wired to want people to ignore you as much as possible, but this shit ain’t it, man. Maybe I’m not the greatest at subtlety in general, or even patience, but there’s no way in hell that this is doing anything for you. If you need to nut, go on and fucking nut.”
That was crass, and Matt knew it was. He’d always handled Perry with kid gloves, albeit filthy ones, and he just couldn’t anymore. Maybe the change was because he’d noticed that Perry was nice to look at, or maybe because Perry had already kissed him during Matt’s own hour of desperation. Whatever had prompted the change, they couldn’t keep going about things like business as usual.
And yet Perry still asked, “You don’t mind?”
Matt ground his back teeth together tightly and stared at the headboard. He was almost tempted again to shake Perry, just to wake him up a little more. “Do. What. You. Have. To. Do.”
Perry’s forceful swallow probably would have sounded like thunder to a bee.
However, he did move his hips more. His shaft collided against Matt’s.
But then he shook his head. “I’m sorry. The fabric… My skin aches.”
“Oh, your skin aches?” Matt said in a deadpan tone he didn’t even recognize coming out of him.
Yet again, he was on his feet, and he shed that last layer of modesty.
When he returned to spread himself atop Perry’s long body, he pinned Perry’s wrists next to his shoulders and aligned their shafts exactly where they were before. “Go.”
“You’re angry.”
“Yeah, I’m a little angry. I’m fucking angry because you’re naked, and apparently that makes me hard, and you know what hard feels like, right? Of course you do. Hard feels like a looming punishment, and the only ways for you to escape it is to either be on your best fucking behavior or to choose to make it worse first so it ends faster.” Matt got nose to nose with Perry and growled, “At the risk of making this all about myself, I’m asking you to make this end faster.”
Perry blinked. Then he moved. Clumsily, because Matt was heavy atop him and his range of motion was limited. And clumsily also because his hips weren’t designed for the kind of elegant spirals and figure-eights some people were good at. He could go up and down and side to side, and he had to make that be enough—the same as Matt.
Matt’s lovers had never complained, but in that moment, he wished he could do more for them.
“You do it,” Perry said. “Can you?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’m…tired, Matt. I can’t—”
“Yeah.” Matt didn’t need an essay. His understanding wouldn’t improve any further and might even make Perry resent him for making him state the obvious.
Matt took over the movement. He pinned his body as tightly against Perry’s as he could and braced his toes into the mattress top. Still gripping Perry’s wrists, he found a rhythm.
Lubrication might have helped, but they hadn’t gone to Bulgaria knowing they’d need to have a desperation fuck. The lack of penetration didn’t really matter in the scheme of things. Matt could keep playing that game of semantics at his own peril. Sex was sex, even if it was with his roommate.
“Is this better for you?” Matt asked.
“Yes. Thank you.” Perry let his head fall to the right. He breathed through parted lips as his fingers curled into fists.
Matt chose to accept that as feedback and therefore continued in the manner in which he’d started.
Pullups and crunches next week, he thought as his lower belly started to ache and fatigue. He increased his speed and force anyway, though, because the dynamics and tempo were just as important as the touch.
He wouldn’t lie that the touch wasn’t nice, though.
He noticed that Perry kept lifting and lowering his left leg, skimming the inside against Matt’s calf and thigh. It may have only been a reflexive moment intended to extinguish unwanted fidgets, but any added sensation moved Matt closer to his goal—to Perry’s goal, he hoped.
Matt needed a little more…something, despite already feeling like his body was overspent. If he was going to fuck his roommate, he would at least like to have a reason to be ashamed of his overbearing bullshit the next day. “Per, put your face against my neck.”
“Hmm?”
“Kiss it if you want to. I need to have something up top.” He needed to feel like he wasn’t a means to an end, even if he had made Perry feel like that exact thing in recent days. He was a hypocrite, but he’d make up for his bullshit, somehow.
Perry found the crease between Matt’s neck and shoulder with his warm mouth. He kissed it in between pants and moans, and those labored breaths against Matt’s sweaty flesh sparked him to curve his spine and roll his hips even more.
The skin was getting wetter between them. No one had come, but the movements were silkier and the collisions of their cocks more harmonious. They were matched well in length, so whenever Matt’s thrusts reached the peak, the tip of Perry was ready against Matt’s balls.
Matt was so focused on metering out his breaths and attempting to ignore the warning shots of ultimate sensation thrumming between his legs that at first, he didn’t notice the slight sharpness against his shoulder. He didn’t truly feel the sting of the teeth breaking his skin until Perry’s hips rocked toward him. There was heat, and there was a sting. There was slick, unctuous wetness, and there was a radiating pain.
Perry’s teeth sank deep into the flesh while his spend lubricated the flesh between them. The bite hurt like hell, and it made Matt reflexively roll them onto their sides. His body had started to stiffen and thrust in the way it always did when it was purely his nerves taking over after his muscles had worn down.
His fingertips notched into the flesh of Perry’s ass as he strained to relax his body from its contorted thrust. Up and up his ejaculation seeped between them, past bellies and up to their chests.
In that moment, laying in a semi-petrified state with his teeth clamped hard together, his toes locked into curls of pleasure, and his heart beating faster to push blood to places that already hurt too much, he understood why people who knew fairies warned them to never, ever fuck fairies. Their energy made the pleasure feel unnatural.
The room was cold all of a sudden. Matt didn’t think the quick temperature drop was due to blood loss, but more likely just an adrenaline crash and the effect of sweaty skin in unheated air.
Releasing his grip on Perry’s rear end, Matt sucked in a breath and let it out sharply.
Okay.
Okay. Yeah. That was…
His toes curled again.
Fuck.
Slowly, Perry unlatched his mouth from him. “I…am sorry.”
“For what, Perry?”
“Making this messy. I didn’t mean to.”
Matt scoffed and carefully peeled them apart from each other.
They lay on their backs and stared down at themselves.
Matt was going to get up and deal with the mess. First, he needed to see where their other heads were. “Do you feel better?”
“I don’t hurt anymore.”
“Good. Was the cure worse than the ailment, though?”
“I’m fae,” Perry said.
That might have been an obscure response for some, but Matt understood the intent. Perry meant that he had harbored no expectations.
Matt may have had a few of his own, though. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. He was making shit up as he went along and trying again not to read too much into anything. If he’d been born more than one-quarter Sídhe, that might have been easier to do.
Cautiously, he clamped a hand over the bite. The wound wasn’t bleeding. Just tender. Touching it, though, made his balls ache as though they were telling him, “Can’t you wait a little while before starting that shit up again?”
Letting his breath out in a long and fractured exhalation, he looked over at Perry.
He was asleep again.
Matt was quite the opposite. He was wired.
“Okay. Well.” Very carefully, he pressed his forearms to his belly to catch what dripped and shambled to the bathroom.
His skin was splotchy, his hair was sweat-slicked, there was an angry red bite bruise on his shoulder, and there was drying semen all over his torso.
But he felt like a god—like nothing could take him down. Most people had to trip on mushrooms to feel like that.
Turning on the hot water, he chuckled. “I guess I’m only fucking him from now on. Shit.”