Playing Boyfriends 💋 | Season 2, Episode 1: First Ride on the New Couch (Patreon)

All characters depicted in this story are fictional and 18 years of age or older. Everything portrayed is safe, sane, and consensual.

“Aah—shit, Matteo.”

“Sorry, amore. Did that hurt?”

“A little. Just… go slower.”

Matteo let out a low, frustrated sound that was half laugh, half groan. “You said you wanted to do this today.”

“I know what I said,” I muttered, voice tight. “I just didn’t think you were going to ram it in like that.”

Matteo laughed again, breathless. “You are the one who keeps telling me to push harder.”

“Because we need to get it up there,” I snapped, though there was no real heat behind it. My fingers were gripping the wooden frame so tightly my knuckles had gone white. “Just… be careful with the angle. You are going to break something if you keep forcing it like that.”

“I am trying, bello,” Matteo said, voice strained with effort. “But you are making it very difficult to concentrate when you keep moaning like that.”

I let out a sharp breath that was almost a laugh. “I am not moaning. My toe just got caught under the leg again.”

“Matteo.”

“Yes, baby?”

“You sure Jessica is going to be okay with this?” I asked, breathing hard as I adjusted my grip on the heavy frame.

Matteo grunted, shifting his weight as he lifted his side higher. “I don’t care if she is. I am doing this for you.”

Heavy breathing filled the narrow stairwell. My arms burned from the effort.

“Careful, Matteo,” I warned as the frame tilted dangerously.

He adjusted quickly, muscles straining under his shirt. “I am trying,” he grunted. “But this couch is heavier than it looks.”

I let out a sharp breath, forehead pressed against the wooden armrest as we fought to keep the couch steady on the narrow stairs. The very heavy, very awkward, very expensive couch Matteo insisted on buying this morning because I made one comment about the old one being ugly.

Matteo was quiet for a beat. Then I heard the low, warm sound of his laugh again, closer this time. “You said my couch looked like it had been through a war,” Matteo reminded me. “And that it smelled like regret and old takeout.”

“I was being dramatic.”

“You were being honest,” Matteo said. “And I don’t like seeing you unhappy in my apartment. So now we have a new couch. A very nice, very heavy new couch that is currently trying to kill both of us on these stairs.”

I shifted my grip, trying to take more of the weight on my side. The old couch had already been dragged out that morning and left for collection. The new one was still wrapped in plastic, but even through the layers I could tell it was going to look good in the apartment — deep charcoal with clean lines, nothing like the monstrosity Jessica had picked out years ago.

Jessica didn’t know about it yet. She had left after her birthday to spend a few days at her nonna’s house in the hills. Matteo had waited until she was gone before dragging me to the furniture store with that determined look in his eyes.

Now here we were, halfway up the stairs, sweating through our shirts, trying to angle the damn thing around the tight corner without taking out the wall.

“Ready?” Matteo asked.

“No,” I said. “But go anyway.”

Matteo pushed. I braced. The couch moved another few inches, scraping against the plaster. My foot slipped on the step and my toe caught the edge of the frame again.

“Fuck—Matteo—”

“Sorry, sorry,” Matteo said quickly, voice full of genuine regret now. “I am trying to be gentle, I swear. You are just… very distracting when you make those sounds.”

I let out a shaky laugh despite the throbbing in my toe. “If everyone had a hot Italian boyfriend trying to shove furniture up narrow stairs, they would make the same sounds.”

Matteo was quiet for a second. Then I heard the smile in his voice.

“You think I am hot?”

“Matteo.”

“I am just checking,” Matteo said, and I could practically hear the smirk. “For research.”

“Research,” I repeated flatly.

“Mm. Very important research.”

We managed to get the couch around the corner with a lot of grunting, a few more curses, and one very close call with the light fixture. By the time we reached the apartment door, both of us were breathing hard and sweating. My shirt was sticking to my back. Matteo’s curls were damp at the temples.

We maneuvered the couch through the doorway and into the living room, finally setting it down in the middle of the space where the old one used to be. We both immediately started tearing off the thick plastic wrapping, pulling it away in large sheets until the new couch stood revealed. For a moment we just stood there, catching our breath.

The new couch looked good. Really good. Dark charcoal fabric with clean modern lines, the kind of thing that made the whole room feel intentional instead of like two people who had never really chosen anything together.

I wiped my forehead with the back of my arm. “You sure Jessica isn’t going to lose her mind when she sees this?”

Matteo shrugged, already crouching down to adjust one of the legs so it sat level. “It’s my apartment too. And it is not like she paid for the last one.”

I watched him work for a second. There was something tight in Matteo’s voice whenever Jessica’s name came up these days. Something that had been building for days and had only gotten sharper since we stopped pretending.

“She never really contributed much, did she?” I said quietly.

Matteo let out a short breath. “She paid for her half of the rent sometimes. When she remembered. The rest…” He gestured vaguely at the apartment around us. “I handled it. Always have.”

I didn’t say anything. I just stepped closer and helped Matteo straighten the couch until it sat perfectly.

When we were done, we both collapsed onto it at the same time, the new cushions still stiff and smelling faintly of fabric and wood. I let my head fall back against the headrest with a quiet groan.

“Fuck,” I said. “That was harder than I thought it would be.”

Matteo turned his head to look at me. There was sweat on his upper lip and a smudge of something dark on his jaw. His black t-shirt was clinging to his chest and shoulders. He looked unfairly good for someone who had just carried a couch up three flights of stairs.

“Yeah,” Matteo said, voice low. “But it was worth it.”

I smiled, small and tired. “You think so?”

Matteo didn’t answer right away. Instead he reached over, fingers curling gently around my jaw, turning my face toward him. His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, slow and deliberate.

“Yeah,” he said again, quieter this time. “I do.”

He leaned in and kissed me.

It started soft, just the press of his mouth against mine, warm and a little salty from sweat. But it didn’t stay soft for long. I felt the shift in his body as he turned more fully toward me on the couch, one hand sliding into my hair while the other gripped my waist and pulled me closer.

I made a small sound against his mouth and kissed him back, deeper, hungrier. My hand found the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the damp fabric. I could feel the heat of his skin through it, the steady thud of his heartbeat.

Matteo pulled back just enough to speak, our foreheads still touching.

“It’s funny,” he murmured. “The old couch was where we had our first kiss.”

My lips curved. “And this new one is going to be where we start the rest of it.”

Matteo made a low, pleased sound and kissed me again, harder this time. His tongue slid against mine, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring it. I felt heat pool low in my stomach, felt my cock start to thicken in my jeans as his hand slid under my shirt and spread warm over my lower back.

We broke apart again, breathing harder now. Matteo’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide.

“We have the place to ourselves,” he said, voice rough. “No Jessica. No interruptions.”

My hand was already moving, sliding up under his shirt, feeling the hard plane of his stomach, the way his muscles jumped under the touch.

“Yeah?” I said, thumb brushing over one of his nipples. “What are you going to do about it?”

Matteo’s eyes flicked down to my mouth, then back up. “I am going to fuck you on this new couch,” he said simply. “Until you forget what the old one even looked like.”

I laughed, breathless, and pulled his shirt up and over his head in one quick motion. It landed somewhere on the floor. Matteo did the same to mine, tossing it aside without looking.

We crashed back together, skin against skin now, mouths hungry. I swung one leg over his lap and settled on top of him, knees bracketing his hips. His hands immediately went to my ass, gripping hard through my jeans and pulling me down so our cocks pressed together through too many layers of fabric.

“Fuck,” I breathed against his mouth. “Matteo—”

“I know,” Matteo said, voice tight. He rolled his hips up, grinding against me in a slow, filthy drag that made us both groan. “I know, amore. I have you.”

My head fell back as his mouth found my throat, teeth scraping lightly over the tendon there. One of his hands slid between us, working open the button of my jeans with practiced fingers. He shoved both jeans and briefs down just far enough to free my cock, then wrapped his hand around it and stroked once, slow and firm.

I moaned, hips jerking forward into the touch.

Matteo watched me with dark, hungry eyes. “You are already leaking for me,” he murmured, thumb swiping over the head of my cock, spreading the precum. “So pretty like this.”

“Matteo,” I gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please—”

Matteo kissed me again, deep and filthy, while his hand kept working my cock in steady strokes. His other hand stayed on my ass, squeezing, guiding me to rock forward into every pull.

We stayed like that for a while — kissing, touching, grinding against each other on the brand new couch while the afternoon light poured through the big windows. The apartment was quiet except for our breathing and the occasional soft sound I couldn’t quite hold back.

Eventually Matteo pulled back, breathing hard. His lips were red and wet, curls messy from my hands.

“Ride me,” he said, voice low and rough. “I want to watch you.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I stood up long enough to shove my jeans and briefs the rest of the way off, then climbed back onto his lap. Matteo had already undone his own jeans, pushing them down just far enough to free his cock. It stood thick and flushed between us, the head already wet.

I wrapped my hand around it, stroking once, feeling the weight and heat of it. Matteo hissed through his teeth, hips twitching up.

“Condom,” I said.

Matteo reached blindly for his discarded jeans, pulled one out of his wallet, and tore the packet open with his teeth. I took it from him and rolled it on slowly, watching his face the whole time. Then I rose up on my knees, positioned myself, and sank down.

The stretch was familiar now, but it still made my breath catch. Matteo’s hands gripped my hips hard, holding me steady as I took him inch by inch until I was fully seated, ass pressed flush against his thighs.

We both groaned at the same time.

“Fuck,” Matteo breathed, head falling back against the couch. “Adrian—”

I leaned forward, hands braced on his massive chest, and started to move.

I rode him slowly at first, rolling my hips in deep, grinding circles that made his cock drag against every sensitive spot inside me. His hands stayed on my waist, guiding me, thumbs stroking over my hipbones. His eyes never left my face.

“You feel so good,” Matteo said, voice wrecked. “Still getting used to fucking a guy.”

I moaned, head tipping back as I picked up the pace, lifting up and sinking down harder now. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, wet and filthy. Every time I dropped down, his cock punched up into me, deep and perfect.

Matteo’s hands slid up my back, pulling me down into a kiss that was all tongue and teeth and desperation. I could feel his abs flexing under my palms with every thrust upward, could feel the way his thighs trembled with the effort of holding back.

“Don’t worry,” I gasped against his mouth. “You’ll get used to the feeling.”

Matteo growled low in his throat and planted his feet on the floor, driving up into me with sharp, powerful thrusts that made me cry out. One of his hands wrapped around my cock again, stroking me in time with every snap of his hips.

I could feel it building fast, the heat coiling tight in my stomach, my balls drawing up. I was loud now, moaning openly every time he fucked up into me, every time that thick cock dragged over my prostate.

“Adrian—fuck—baby”Matteo groaned beneath me, hips snapping up harder, driving his cock deep with every roll. His hand worked my length in tight wet strokes, thumb pressing over the head on every upstroke. I rode him faster, thighs burning, ass slapping against his hips as I took every inch of him.

Matteo’s breath hitched. “Arghh… I am close.”

I kept riding, grinding down on him, taking his 8” cock again and again. It cock throbbed inside me, thick and pulsing. With one final, deep thrust he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, groaning my name as he filled the condom in hot, heavy pulses. His hips jerked up through it, pressing deep, his abs clenching under my hands.

The sight of him coming undone beneath me pushed me over the edge.I came with a loud, broken moan, my cock pulsing hard between our bodies. Thick ropes of cum spilled across Matteo’s stomach and chest, painting his abs in warm, wet streaks. Some of it landed higher, catching on his collarbone and the side of his neck. My body clenched tight around him, thighs shaking.

“Fuck—careful, don’t let it spill on the couch,” I gasped, voice cracking.

Matteo leaned forward quickly, wrapping one strong arm around my back and pulling me flush against his chest. His other hand kept stroking me through it, firm and steady, milking every last drop onto his skin instead of the new fabric beneath us. I kept rocking slowly on his cock, drawing out the pleasure until I was empty and trembling.

When it finally faded I stayed seated on his lap for a long moment, breathing hard, his spent cock still buried deep inside me. I looked down at him, at the beautiful mess I had made across his chest and stomach, and felt a fresh wave of heat roll through me.

“You look like a work of art,” I said, voice hoarse.

Matteo smiled, slow and satisfied. He carefully lifted me off him, pulling out with a soft wince from both of us. Then he stood up, completely naked, and walked closer until we were standing face to face in the middle of the living room.

The afternoon light poured through the big windows, warm and golden, catching on the streaks of cum across his chest and stomach. A light breeze drifted in from the open balcony doors, brushing over our bare skin. We stood there together, naked and flushed, hearts still racing.

Matteo reached up and cupped my jaw, thumb stroking gently over my cheek. He leaned in and kissed me, slow and deep, tasting like sweat and sex and us.

“Bello,” he whispered against my lips. “So fucking bello.”

I closed my eyes, letting the word settle over me. Standing there naked in Matteo’s apartment in the middle of the afternoon, with my cum warm on his skin, I felt exposed in the best possible way. Raw. Real. Completely his.

This was us now. No more pretending. No more hiding behind fake dates and careful performances.

Just Matteo and me.

The lie had ended. And this… this felt like the beginning of everything real.

────────────────Playing Boyfriends 💋 | Season 2, Episode 2: The Date We Never Had

Author’s Note

Whew.

I told you Season 2 was going to start with a bang… and damn, did they deliver.

Adrian and Matteo are finally done pretending, and the honeymoon phase is hitting them (and that new couch) hard. I hope you guys enjoyed the ride as much as I did writing it 😉

Thank you for all the love on Season 1. This story has quickly become one of my favorites to write, and seeing how much you guys adore these two makes me stupidly happy.

Season 2 is going to be messier, hotter, and a lot more real. We’re diving deep into what happens after the confession — the loud sex, the jealousy, the family drama, the fights, the make-up sex, and everything in between.

Buckle up, babies. It’s only going to get better.

Troy 💋