Playing Boyfriends 💋 | Season 2, Episode 13: Fresh Cream on the Kitchen Counter (Patreon)

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

Matteo was already on the kitchen counter.

His damp t-shirt clung to his chest and stomach in dark patches from the run. The loose shorts and his underwear were shoved down just enough that his cock sat heavy and flushed against his lower abs, the head already shiny. His thighs were spread wide, feet hooked loosely against the lower cabinets, and he was watching me with an open, hungry expression that made my mouth water before I even touched him.

I stepped between his legs.

The heat coming off his skin was immediate. I could smell the clean sweat from his run on him, salt and skin and the faint leftover trace of his cologne. I rested both hands on his thighs and leaned in, pressing my mouth to the side of his neck where the sweat had gathered. I licked a slow stripe up to the hinge of his jaw. Matteo’s breath left him in a rough sound.

“Fuck…” he muttered. “Do that again.”

I did. I dragged my tongue along his collarbone, then lower, pushing the wet t-shirt up as I went so I could taste the salt on his chest. His nipple hardened under my tongue. I closed my mouth around it and sucked while my hand slid up the inside of his thigh and wrapped around the base of his cock. He was scorching hot and fully hard, the thick vein along the underside pulsing against my palm.

Matteo’s head tipped back. One hand came down to fist in my hair.

“Fuck, baby. You’re —”

I cut him off by licking another slow path down the centre of his stomach, following the trail of sweat that disappeared into the dark hair at his groin. His cock jerked when my chin brushed the head. A clear bead of precum welled up and started to slide down the underside. I caught it with my tongue before it could fall and then kept going, licking from the base all the way up to the tip in one long, wet stripe.

Matteo swore under his breath, the Italian coming out low and broken.

“Porca puttana…” (“Holy fucking shit…”)

I looked up at him while I did it again, slower. His eyes were almost black. His mouth was open. The hand in my hair tightened.

“Take it,” he said, voice rough. “Please. Put it in your mouth.”

I wrapped my hand tighter around the base of his thick 8-inch cock and finally leaned in properly. I kissed the head first, soft and open-mouthed, then let my tongue drag across the slit. The taste of him spread across my tongue, clean and slightly bitter and completely addictive. I took just the head between my lips and sucked gently, letting the wet heat of my mouth settle around him.

Matteo’s thighs tensed hard on either side of me.

“Oh—shit—”

I sank down another inch. Then another. The thick weight of him stretched my lips wide. I could feel every ridge and vein against my tongue as more of those 8 inches slid into my mouth. When I had taken about half of him I pulled back up, slow and tight, and then went down again deeper. Spit was already starting to gather at the corners of my mouth.

Somewhere down the hall the shower in Jessica’s bathroom was still running. The sound of water against the tile was steady and clear. Jessica and Nicolás were only a closed door away. The risk sat under my skin like an extra layer of heat.

I took his cock deeper.

The head pushed against the back of my throat. I gagged once, hard, and felt spit spill over my bottom lip and down my chin. Matteo’s hand flexed in my hair but he didn’t push. He just watched me with wide, dark eyes as I stayed there, breathing carefully through my nose, and then forced myself further down until my nose pressed against the dark hair at the base of his stomach.

“Oh cazzo… Adrian—” His voice cracked into a moan. “La tua gola… fuck—” (“Your throat… fuck—”)

I stayed all the way down for as long as I could. My eyes watered. My throat fluttered around the full thick length of him. When I finally pulled back it was with a wet, filthy sound. A long string of spit connected my bottom lip to the head of his cock before it broke. Matteo reached down and wiped it away with his thumb, then slowly pushed the same thumb between my lips. I sucked it clean while I stroked him with my other hand, still catching my breath, looking up at him.

Matteo was staring at me like he had never seen anything hotter in his life. A short, breathless laugh left him.

“You don’t have to impress me, you know. I’m already your boyfriend.” His voice was wrecked. “But fuck, baby, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

I leaned back in and took his cock into my mouth again.

This time I didn’t ease into it. I sank down until I gagged, pulled back just enough to breathe, and then went all the way again. Every time the head of his cock punched into my throat I made a wet, choked sound that I couldn’t control. Spit ran down my chin and dripped onto his shorts and the counter. Matteo’s hips started making small, helpless movements upward, like he couldn’t stop himself from trying to get deeper.

“Sì—così—just like that—” His Italian spilled out mixed with English. “Your mouth is so fucking wet… cazzo, just like that—”

I reached up with my free hand and pressed two fingers against his lips. Matteo opened for them immediately. I slid them into his mouth and he sucked hard, tongue curling around them while I kept bobbing on his cock. Every time he moaned around my fingers the sound vibrated against my skin.

The shower in Jessica’s bathroom shut off for a few seconds, then started again. Matteo’s eyes flicked toward her door and a dark, amused smile pulled at his mouth even while he was sucking on my fingers.

I pulled off him just long enough to speak, voice already rough.

“Just make sure they don’t walk in.”

Matteo let my fingers slip from his mouth with a wet pop. His voice was low and filthy.

“Maybe they should. Then Jessica will finally know we aren’t faking a single fucking sound.”

The words went straight through me. I took his cock back into my mouth and sank down until my throat closed around him again. Matteo’s hand tightened almost painfully in my hair. His other hand gripped the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles went white. His thick thighs flexed hard on either side of me.

“Urrghh… Arghh, baby—”

I set a rhythm that was deep and relentless. Every few strokes I would take his cock all the way and stay there, gagging quietly around the thick intrusion, eyes watering, spit running freely down my chin and over his balls. Then I would pull back and focus on the head, sucking hard and tight while my hand stroked the slick shaft. Matteo’s stomach kept flexing. His thighs trembled against my ribs.

“Adrian—fuck—I’m not going to last if you keep—”

I didn’t let him finish the sentence. I took his cock deep again and hummed around him. The vibration made his whole body jolt. A fresh spurt of precum hit my tongue. It tasted sweeter than the sweat I had licked off his dick earlier. I swallowed it and kept going.

Matteo was almost incoherent now. Italian curses and broken praise kept falling out of his mouth.

“Cazzo… sì, così… la tua bocca… non fermarti—”(“Fuck… yes, like that… your mouth… don’t stop—”)

His hips were moving more openly, fucking up into my throat in short, desperate thrusts. I relaxed my throat as much as I could and took every thrust, gagging wetly each time he bottomed out.

“Cazzo, la tua bocca—so good—so fucking good—”(“Fuck, your mouth—so good—so fucking good—”)I could feel him getting closer. The rhythm of his breathing had gone ragged. The hand in my hair was shaking. I pulled off just long enough to look up at him, lips swollen and shiny with spit, and stroked him firmly from base to tip.

“Give me that cream you promised,” I said.

Matteo let out a short, broken laugh that turned into a moan. His hand came back to my hair and guided my head forward again.

“Then take it.”

I took his cock back between my lips and sank down until the head was lodged deep in my throat. I stayed there, swallowing around him, and that was all it took. Matteo’s entire body went rigid.

“Arghh… yeah… fuck—take it, baby—”

Thick, hot pulses flooded my throat. The cum was heavy and distinctly sweet. I swallowed hard and kept swallowing, taking every spurt without pulling off. His cock throbbed heavily against my tongue as more of that sweet release kept coming. His thighs clamped around me. The hand in my hair held me down through the entire orgasm until the last weak pulses had faded.

Only then did I slowly pull back.

I kept most of it in my mouth. A little spilled from the corner of my lips and ran down my chin. I stood up fully between his spread thighs, cupped the back of his neck, and kissed him.

Matteo opened for me immediately. The kiss was deep and messy. I pushed some of the sweet cum into his mouth and he groaned, tongue sliding against mine as we swapped the taste of him back and forth. One hand stayed fisted in my hair while the other gripped my hip hard. We stayed like that, breathing into each other, the mix of his cum and my spit passing between us in slow, filthy kisses.

When we finally broke apart, a thin string of saliva still connected our mouths for a second before it broke. Matteo’s eyes were dark and dazed and completely soft.

He rested his forehead against mine, still catching his breath.

“What the fuck was that…”

I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth and smiled.

“That’s how I like my dessert.”

My throat felt sore and used in the best possible way. Matteo carefully slid down from the counter. His legs were a little unsteady. He reached down, tucked his still half-hard cock back into his underwear, then pulled the shorts up over it. His damp t-shirt fell back down over his abs, sticking to the sweat on his skin. Then he pulled me in again and kissed me softer, slower, like he was trying to say thank you without words.

We stayed in the kitchen for another minute like that, trading lazy kisses while his hands moved up and down my back under my shirt. The shower in Jessica’s bathroom had gone quiet. The apartment felt still around us.Eventually Matteo kept one arm around my waist and we started moving out of the kitchen, still pressed close. He didn’t really walk so much as keep pulling me into him between steps. His mouth found mine again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against mine like he was still trying to thank me for what I had just done to him. One of his hands dropped and grabbed my ass hard, squeezing as he kissed me, the kind of grateful, filthy kiss that said that had been the best head he had ever gotten and the only way he knew how to show it was by trying to put his tongue down my throat.

I didn’t complain. I kissed him back just as hard. Part of me needed it. The guilt of not telling him about Nicolás the moment I saw him that morning sat heavy under my ribs, and letting Matteo devour my mouth felt like I could somehow make up for the secret by giving him this. Like if I gave him enough pleasure, enough softness, it might balance out the secret I was still carrying.

We were still making out in the short hallway when I felt eyes on us.

I opened my eyes without breaking the kiss.

Nicolás was standing in the doorway of Jessica’s room. Shirtless. A white towel sat low on his hips. His hair was wet and pushed back from his face. He didn’t look away. Neither did I.

I leaned into the kiss with Matteo even more, one hand sliding up the back of his neck, and kept my eyes locked on Nicolás the entire time. Matteo made a low sound against my mouth and squeezed my hip, completely unaware of the audience.

I finally pushed at his chest, breaking the kiss with a small cough.

“Matteo… uh.”

He blinked, still a little dazed, then turned.

Nicolás was still there.

Matteo’s expression flickered with surprise, then a short, almost sheepish smile.

“Ah. Compagno. Scusa.”(“Ah. Buddy. Sorry.”)Nicolás’s mouth curved slightly. He answered in smooth Italian.

“Non c’è problema.”(“No problem.”)

Matteo’s eyebrows lifted. “Parli italiano?” ("You speak Italian?")

Nicolás gave a small nod, still leaning against the doorframe. “Sì. Mia madre è di Palermo.” (“Yes. My mother is from Palermo.”)

Matteo let out a short, impressed breath. “You’re full of surprises.”

The energy in the space shifted. The heat from the kitchen hadn’t fully left, but something cooler settled over it. Matteo’s hand stayed on my waist, possessive without being obvious. Nicolás’s gaze lingered on me for half a second longer before he glanced back toward the bedroom where Jessica was moving around.

Matteo cleared his throat and looked between us.

“We’re ordering takeout,” he said. “You two want in?”

Nicolás nodded once. “Sure.”

Later that night, the four of us ended up on the couch with containers open on the table. The television played something neither of us were really watching. Jessica sat close to Nicolás, her legs tucked under her. Matteo kept his arm along the back of the couch behind me, fingers occasionally brushing the back of my neck. Conversation stayed light and surface-level. I ate without tasting much of it. Every time Nicolás’s eyes met mine across the space I looked away first.

Eventually Matteo and I stood up, said goodnight, and went to his room.

The door closed behind us with a soft click. Matteo pulled his damp shirt off and tossed it toward the chair, then stepped out of his shorts. He climbed onto the bed in just his underwear and reached for me immediately, tugging me down with him. His body was still warm. He kissed the side of my neck, then my jaw, then my mouth, slow and affectionate.

“That mouth of yours,” he murmured against my lips, a little cocky and very fond. “I’m going to be thinking about it for days.”

I smiled and kissed him back. Physically I stayed soft with him. I let him pull me against his chest, let his arm settle heavy around my waist, let his fingers trace idle patterns on my spine. But inside my head the quiet had turned sharp. Every time the apartment settled into a deeper silence I found myself listening for movement from the other side of the wall. Matteo noticed I was quieter than usual. I felt him study my face once or twice in the low light. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and didn’t push.

We fell asleep like that, tangled together in the middle of his bed.

I woke up sometime after 2:00 am.

The room was dark. Matteo’s breathing was deep and even against the back of my neck. His arm was still draped over my waist. The secret sat on my chest like a physical weight. I carefully lifted his arm, slipped out from under it, and sat up. For a moment I just listened to him sleep. Then I stood, pulled on the first t-shirt I found, and quietly left the room.

The living room was dim, lit only by the city glow coming through the balcony doors. I was halfway to the kitchen for water when I saw him.

Nicolás was sitting on the couch in the dark. Shirtless. In Matteo’s shorts that Jessica borrowed earlier. 

He turned his head when he heard me.

We looked at each other across the quiet apartment. No one spoke. The only sound was the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of a scooter somewhere below.

I stood there in Matteo’s t-shirt, the taste of him long gone from my mouth, the secret suddenly so loud I could almost hear it.

Nicolás didn’t look away.

Neither did I.

────────────────Playing Boyfriends 💋 | Season 2, Episode 14: Two in the Morning