Fighter - Jericho's Boys #6 - ch. 3 - Lake (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unedited. Very raw. Probably needs more passes so ignore any clunkiness. I'm fried this week. Its been an emotional rollercoaster and its only Monday. Working on having more chapters up this week for various projects. Hope you like it.

Matty stared at Lake, stricken. That was the only word Lake could think to describe the face. This shocked disbelief that Lake could be worried for him. But he was. He was so worried it made him feel sick inside. A slow, sour twist in his gut that didn’t belong to him, like his body had decided something was wrong before his brain could catch up.

He would have explained it if he could. He wished he had a name—an explanation—for this…thing, this sensation, this chest crushing ache that appeared when Matty looked at him. It pressed in tight behind his ribs, stealing space from his lungs, making every breath feel just a little too shallow. His face rearranged itself, his chin jutting forward in that way that said he needed Lake to know he was tough, that he could handle himself.

But no matter how hardened his features were, his eyes were so…bleak. So sad and needy, like he was hoping Lake would ignore his words and just stay. Like he was braced for rejection and begging for it not to come in the same breath. The thought pulled at something deep in Lake’s core and made him want to stay. It made him want to protect him somehow. 

Which was ridiculous. 

Dangerous.

But Lake knew better than anyone that just loving someone wasn’t enough to save them, cure them, heal them, no matter how hard they tried. He’d learned that the hard way—watched it fail in real time. Still, he wanted to know Matty, to peel back all the layers and see what it was that had burrowed deep enough to poison Matty’s whole outlook on life at such a young age. To understand what had made him sharp in all the wrong places.

He watched Matty push food around his plate, gaze darting to Lake like he hoped he’d stop monitoring him if he just waited him out. Like he was used to outlasting people. When Lake refused to relent, Matty begrudgingly ate exactly four broccoli florets, two small pieces of beef and a bite of an egg roll, features contorting like he was nauseated. 

When Lake arched a brow, Matty’s jaw clenched, narrowing his eyes at Lake. “What? What is your problem?”

“I could ask you the same thing?” Lake countered gently. “Are you…okay?”

It was such a wholly inaccurate question that Lake didn’t blame Matty when he snorted, face contorting. “I feel like shit actually. Thanks for asking. Having you hovering over me, watching my every move isn’t helping.” 

His voice had that bite to it again, but it felt thinner now, stretched over something fraying underneath.

Frustration tightened Lake’s chest. He had no clue how to fully articulate his concern for this stranger, this person he’d shared one single night with. He couldn’t exactly say, ‘Hey, I don’t really know anything about you, and we only slept together once, and it’s clear you’d rather be having a root canal than having me in your home, but do you by chance have CPTSD that has caused you to now have trauma surrounding food?’

Or maybe it was having his ass beat the night before. It could be a million things other than disordered eating, but Lake just…didn’t think so. 

Still, there was no succinct, non-invasive way to ask something like that. Did he even have a right to ask? Did one night—even if it hadn’t felt like just one night—give him that kind of access? He wasn’t sure. His friends were all wildly invasive and tended to just imprint on their mates like animals. None of them were a litmus test for normal.

Lake sighed. “I just want to know more about you and you’re not talking to me so, yeah, I’m going to watch you. How else am I supposed to get to know you?” It was more honest than he’d intended. More persistent.

“Maybe I don’t want to get to know you?” Matty snapped, then deflated, that hunted look returning. “Do I even get a say in this?” His voice dipped at the end, quieter, like he already knew the answer and didn’t like it, like he was used to being given directives instead of options. 

Lake didn’t have an answer for that. If he said yes, Matty would slam the door in his face and if he said no he was just a controlling asshole. If Jericho found out he had asked for consent—even for something non-sexual—and then ignored said answer…yeah, that would end badly for Lake. 

Possibly violently. Definitely loudly.

“What are you so afraid of?” Lake heard himself ask, voicing the question that had been bouncing around in his brain for hours. The second it left his mouth, he knew he’d crossed some invisible line.

Matty’s eyes went wide, another wounded look flashing across his face, before he slammed his mask of anger back into place. It was so fast Lake almost missed it—almost—but not quite.

“Look, I get someone like you likes playing the hero, but I’m not some damsel in distress. I don’t need you to save me,” he said.

Lake wasn’t sure that was entirely true but he didn’t argue the point. Pushing him there would only make him bolt.

“I’m not trying to save you,” Lake said.

It was only half a lie. Maybe Lake did have a hero complex. But he’d never wanted to fix whatever it was inside Matty that made him so…fragile. He’d loved watching him soften for him that night, he’d never been more turned on than when he was watching Matty fall apart beneath him like he just couldn’t stop himself. It was etched into Lake’s psyche forever. 

Matty was defiant and defensive and quick to pick a fight but beneath that, there was this sadness that tore at Lake’s heart in a way he’d never experienced before. It lingered there, sharp and persistent, like a splinter he couldn’t dig out. This look like he desperately wanted someone to look past all the bluster and…hold all his pieces together.

It was obvious something bad had happened to him, something that had left a mark on his soul. Lake didn’t know when or how, maybe Matty didn’t either. 

In a way, he reminded him of Felix before he met Avi. He’d been all false bravado too, claiming he didn’t need anyone but his inner circle, outwardly acting like he was too good for the world while—not so secretly—being so insecure it was almost painful to watch, like if he let the mask slip for even a second, everything underneath would spill out.

Felix had faked being okay until eventually he actually was okay again. Avi had helped. He’d worshipped Felix until Felix had no choice but to believe in himself. Lake would happily do that for Matty if he’d let him. If Matty didn’t bite his hand off for trying. Matty wasn’t Felix. It was clear his wounds were deep. Deep and scarred over, but never healed. The kind that reopened the second someone pressed too close.

This was the type of responsibility Lake usually ran from, but there was just something about Matty. He had no way to explain this pull towards him, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. Maybe some people were just always meant to find each other like his friends said? Maybe it was cosmic, the stars, the universe, red string theory. Lake didn’t know, but he didn’t question his instincts. They’d saved him too many times. And right now, every instinct he had was telling him not to walk away.

Matty pushed his almost full plate away. “I’m done.”

His fingers lingered on the edge of the plate for a second too long, knuckles going white before he let go.

Lake wanted to argue, but it wouldn’t do any good. He could already see the walls going back up, brick by brick. “Okay.”

Matty frowned, confusion etched onto his pretty features. After a second, he seemed to remember himself, squaring his shoulders. “Good. I need to start resetting all of Hicks’ passwords.” 

His tone shifted again—cool, detached, like the last few minutes hadn’t happened at all.

Lake nodded, taking the dishes and scraping the food into the garbage, before closing up the leftover containers and placing them in the fridge. The mundane task grounded him, gave his hands something to do while his brain kept circling back to Matty. 

He was on the couch with the burner phone in hand, brows knitted together, tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrated on the task at hand. His posture had shifted completely—no longer defensive, just focused, sharp.

Lake sat beside him, close enough to look over his shoulder, close enough to feel the way Matty stiffened beside him the moment their bodies touched. It was immediate, instinctive.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Lake finally asked. “You seem freakishly good with computers. Like, I don’t know much about them, but I know this isn’t something you learned at a summer STEM camp.”

Matty snorted. “It is, actually. Camps funded and run by our government.” He glanced up briefly, his tone taking on a lazy smugness. “You’d be shocked what they’re teaching kids to do with computers nowadays. Their mistake was giving me access then assuming I wouldn’t use it however I pleased.”

He sounded like a supervillain. Lake probably shouldn’t have found that as hot as he did but he had a competency kink and Matty might be acerbic and cutting, but he was smart as fuck and convicted in a way that had Lake contemplating crazy things…like forever. 

“What does that even mean?” Lake pressed with a half-laugh. 

He angled himself just slightly closer, trying to see the screen better—trying not to think about how aware he was of the heat coming off Matty’s body.

Matty shrugged, not looking up from his task, voice bored as he said, “My father is a high-ranking government official. I was matriculating at private schools with tech programs that fed directly into government-run coding camps.”

“Seriously?” Lake asked. “There are actually government-run coding camps…for kids?”

Lake wasn’t sure why he was so surprised given what he knew about Project Watchtower. Did Matty know about that?

“Mm,” Matty confirmed.

“What do you do there?” Lake asked, frowning.

Once more, Matty shrugged. “Capture the flag competitions, penetration testing.” 

“What now?” Lake asked. 

Matty snorted out something akin to a laugh. “And you say I’m a perv. It's just a way to practice hacking without actually affecting the real world.” 

He was sure Matty was dumbing it down for Lake, assuming he needed it spoon fed to him like a kindergartner. And he was right. Lake didn’t get any of this tech shit. 

“They teach you to hack? Doesn’t our government hate hackers?” 

“The government loves hackers. They hate ones who aren’t hacking for their gain. They teach us what they like to call ‘ethical hacking’ with the understanding that we’ll use it in our cushy, practically guaranteed NSA or DARPA jobs that we get by being nepo babies.” 

His tone made it clear exactly what he thought of that.

Lake had enough insider knowledge to know what Matty said was true. If being in Thomas Mulvaney’s inner circle had taught him anything, it was that nothing happened by chance. Their lives were essentially curated by unseen forces like they were characters in a game they’d been dropped into at birth. Paths laid out before they even knew how to choose one.

“So is there like an army of other eighteen year old brainiacs who are building programs like you do?”

Matty gave a barely there smile. “Nobody can do what I do. Well, maybe one other person.” 

Lake wasn’t sure if Matty was smart or Lake was an idiot but it took him longer than it should to make him realize Matty hadn’t actually answered his question. Or maybe Matty had dodged it on purpose.

“Wait, just because they taught you how to hack, doesn’t mean they taught you how to build a program that can scrub the internet. I know one of the most skilled hackers in the world and even she can’t do that.”

“Calliope?” Matty asked, innocently, like he was name dropping a celebrity.

Of course, he’d know Calliope. He was Aiden’s brother.

Once more that thought hit him.

Fuck.

He was Aiden’s baby brother. How did he keep forgetting that? How did he keep looking at him like Aiden wasn’t going to crucify him—possibly literally—when he learned he’d defiled his baby brother? Would he believe Matty had started it?

“Yeah. You’ve met her?”

Matty gave a rare smile. “She’s sort of running her own hacker camp out on her farm. She invited me and two other guys around my age. Ansel and Elio. They are pulling some next level hacks, cracking super sophisticated banking software.”

Enzo’s brothers.

“Like most hackers, I have my own…unique skillset,” Matty said. 

His fingers kept moving as he spoke, fast and precise, like they couldn’t stop even if he wanted them to.

“Easy, Liam Neeson,” Lake teased.

Matty’s lips twitched in a barely there smile and Lake felt like he’d won the lottery. The reaction hit him harder than it should have, a quiet rush of satisfaction settling low in his chest. Like earning that tiny crack in Matty’s armor meant something. 

More than it should. More than it likely did.

“Seriously, though,” Matty said, voice filled with a level of hero worship that made Lake envious. “Calliope can do anything. Literally. She just has a different focus. Helping Thomas and the other Mulvaneys…and you guys, I guess,” he added almost begrudgingly. “All of you are like having ten full-time jobs. You’re all so needy.”

Lake laughed. He wasn’t wrong. If anything, that might have been an understatement.

“How did you feel when Aiden told you about the family business?” Lake asked, desperate to keep him talking now that every word wasn’t dripping with sarcasm. 

He didn’t want to lose this version of Matty—looser, just a little less guarded.

Matty looked up from the phone, putting his face too close to Lake’s. For a second, it was like the world froze, like in a movie, the two of them trapped in a freeze frame, each one trying to read the other. Lake could feel the ghost of Matty’s breath against his mouth, warm and distracting, his focus slipping in a way that had nothing to do with the conversation.

Then it was gone, Matty clearing his throat and moving as far away as he could without physically standing up. Disappointment settled deep within, sharp and immediate, catching him off guard, but then Matty turned his whole body towards him, bringing his bare feet up onto the couch, wiggling his toes under Lake’s thigh without looking up from the phone. The contact was casual—absentminded even—but it sent a slow, unexpected heat curling through Lake’s system.

At first, he thought he might ignore the question, but eventually, he said, “I didn’t feel any type of way about it. I already knew Thomas was part of Project Watchtower. I obviously didn’t know he was married to my brother. I didn’t even know Aiden was alive. My dad told me he’d died before I was born.”

So he did know about Project Watchtower. The Watch. Where Mac and Archer worked. The secret government program where they trained psychopathic assassins who had been planted within wealthy, powerful, and influential families. Sometimes Lake couldn’t believe this was his life. That this was the world he operated in now—casually discussing things that should have sounded insane.

“How did you find out about the Watch?” Lake asked.

“I broke into my dad’s office, hacked his computer and cracked his safe. For a spy he was really fucking lazy about his security. But that was just his malignant narcissism. By the time he was back home from one of his requisite three-day visits, I knew everything about him and our government’s dirty little secrets. Including his association with Thomas.”

There was no pride in his voice. No excitement. Just fact. Like it hadn’t been a choice—just something inevitable.

Did Matty have any illusions about his father? Did he think his father died a hero during some government mission or an ‘accident’ or did he know who Kendrick truly was? He had called his father lazy and a malignant narcissist so he doubted that was the case.

“Did you start helping people because you wanted to be like your dad?” Lake asked, tilting his head to study Matty. 

He watched carefully this time, bracing for the shift.

Matty sneered without looking up from the phone. “My father was a traitor to his country. A disgusting monster who used his position to take advantage of vulnerable people. I do this to prove to myself that I’m nothing like my father.”

There it was—the edge. The anger that felt older than him.

Lake didn’t know much about Marshall Kendrick, but he knew that he’d been a terrible enough person for Aiden to let a bunch of grad school psychopaths take him apart piece by piece while he was still alive. Did Matty know about that? Would it make him feel better or worse?

“Nobody would think you were like your father,” Lake assured him.

Matty scoffed. “My father would be devastated to hear that. He did everything he could think of to make me a carbon copy of himself.” 

His mouth twisted, something bitter and almost broken flickering beneath the surface before he buried it again.

There was a hollowness to his words. Did ‘everything’ entail abuse? Matty showed many of the signs. Lake would know. He’d also grown up with an abusive father. He’d just gone to prison before his poison had a chance to penetrate down to the roots of who Lake was. He’d recovered with the help of his friends, Jericho, therapy. 

He’d had an out. A lifeline. Matty…might not have. He’d been under his father’s thumb much longer than Lake. It was clear that whatever Kendrick had put him through had been enough to scar him. He wanted to scoop him up and cuddle him but it would be like trying to snuggle a rabid wolverine. Matty would probably claw his eyes out and sink his teeth straight into Lake’s jugular. And the worst part was Lake wasn’t entirely sure that would stop him from trying.

Matty stood abruptly, walking to his computer and falling into the plush chair. The sudden movement felt like a break in the moment, like a door slamming shut before Lake could get any closer.

Lake watched him, staring at his narrow shoulders, watching the tension bleed away, noting the way he avoided looking back. “What are you doing now?”

Matty shot him a distracted look over his shoulder. “I’ve exported the most recent stuff so we have a jumping off point, but a full data grab is going to take about an hour even with wi-fi as fast as mine.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Lake asked.

Matty didn’t answer him, fingers clicking away on the keyboard. The rapid staccato filled the silence, giving Lake too much time to think. Too much time to watch. After a solid ninety seconds, he stood once more, crossing to the couch. Only this time, instead of sitting beside him, he planted himself right in Lake’s lap, hands falling to his shoulders.

Lake’s breath caught, his body reacting instantly, instinctively, like it had been waiting for this.

“I have a few ideas,” Matty murmured, looking Lake over like he was a dish he couldn’t wait to sample. His gaze dragged, slow and deliberate, heat replacing the earlier cold distance.

Lake’s cock hardened embarrassingly fast. His hands fell to his hips easily, squeezing gently. 

“What did I tell you about teasing me?” His voice came out rougher than he intended.

Matty grabbed his wrist, pulling Lake’s hand into his lap, palm flat against the now obvious bulge in his sweats. “Who’s teasing?”

The contact sent a sharp pulse of heat through him, knocking the air from his lungs in a completely different way than before.

“You know the doctor said we can’t,” Lake said, even as he squeezed Matty through the thin fabric of his sweats, all the blood rushing south. His restraint felt thin. Fragile.

“No, she said we shouldn’t,” Matty reminded. “Besides, I know you know how to be…ge-careful.”

He tripped over the last word, like that wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Like something softer had almost slipped out before he caught it. 

Matty was studying him, body stiff, jaw tense, but his eyes…they were pleading with him like he might crumble to dust if Lake refused him. Like this wasn’t just about getting off, but about being chosen. About not being turned away.

Lake didn’t want to refuse him, for so many reasons. But he also didn’t want to hurt him. “Want me to help you out?” he murmured, squeezing him once again, his thumb dragging slow and deliberate, testing, watching every reaction, mesmerized by the broken cry that escaped Matty’s parted lips.

He pressed himself more firmly into Lake’s hand, eyelids floating shut. “Obviously,” he snapped, but it came out a little too breathless to be believable, the edge in his tone not quite masking how much he needed it.

“Okay, but you have to do exactly what I say,” Lake managed, wondering if it was possible to die from anticipation. His pulse was loud in his ears, his focus narrowing down to the feel of Matty in his lap, the weight of him, the heat of him.

“What does that mean?” Matty muttered, glowering down at him with an adorably pouty expression.

Would Matty have been this sweet and sulky all the time if he’d been raised by someone else? Someone who cared? Someone who hadn’t beat the vulnerability out of him? Or would he have been softer, easier, less sharp around the edges?

“It means you just lie back and let me get you off,” After a second he added, “And don’t tell that scary doctor lady.”

Matty snorted, a genuine smile gracing his bruised face. The shift was dizzying—one second wrecked, the next bright, like he couldn’t hold onto one version of himself for too long. “Are you afraid of my doctor?”

“Obviously,” Lake said, feigning exasperation.

He narrowed his eyes, cute little crinkles forming at the corners, but the smile remained. “Are you sure you kill people?”

That smile, wide and unguarded, punched the breath from Lake. It hit him low and hard, something in his chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with lust. “I’m multifaceted,” he managed. “Don’t try to put me in a box.”

“That’s a weird thing to say when your hand is still on my dick,” he said, looking down pointedly at said hand.

“Hey, you’re the one who tried to distract me. Do you agree to my stipulations or not?”

The smile slipped from Matty’s face, replaced by something…hotter, needier. His gaze dropped to Lake’s mouth, lingering there for a beat too long. Lake curled a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in until their mouths collided. Matty hissed in pain but didn’t pull away. He tried to deepen the kiss, his movements almost frantic. All sharp edges and urgency, like he didn’t know how to take something slow.

Just like on Halloween night.

“This is why I said we need to go slowly,” Lake said against his lips, hand moving to capture his jaw, applying just enough pressure to keep him still. Grounding him. Holding him there.

He still gave him what he wanted, his tongue sliding past his lips, still sweet from the soda they had at lunch. The taste of it hit Lake harder than it should have—sugar and heat and something that felt dangerously intimate. Matty huffed out a breath through his nose, sinking into the kiss, his whole body relaxing. Fuck, why was that so hot? Why did it get Lake hot just knowing Matty could let go with him? That he trusted him enough, even for a second, to stop fighting.

“Are you going to do what I say?” he asked, tightening his grip on his face just enough to get his attention. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind him who was in control. For now.

Matty pulled back enough to meet his gaze and Lake’s eyes got caught up on Matty’s spit slick lips as he asked, “Are you trying to dom me right now?”

He sounded amused. Curious. Like he was testing the idea, turning it over.

Lake laughed softly. “I might if I thought you’d listen, but we both know better.”

Matty leaned in and licked over Lake’s lower lip. Slow. Deliberate. A challenge wrapped in heat. “I might be convinced if you make the offer enticing enough?”

Lake let his hand slide from Matty’s jaw to his chest, then lower, following its path with his gaze. Slow enough that it felt intentional, like he wanted Matty to feel every inch of it.

Lake’s eyes fell to Matty’s swollen lips, then back to his eyes. “Well, then, here’s my offer. You do what I say, and I’ll get you off.”

Matty’s lips quirked upwards into a smirk. “Succinct. Persuasive.”

Lake snorted. “Did you just make a Hamilton reference?”

Matty laughed, mouth finding his again, mumbling, “Nerd.” 

Lake’s hands slid to cup Matty’s neck, letting Matty control the kiss for a moment or two before he took over once more. He deepened it gradually, shifting the pace, turning it from playful into something heavier, more deliberate. “Stand up,” he said between kisses.

Matty whined like he didn’t want to leave Lake’s lap. The sound went straight through him, low and needy in a way that made his grip tighten without thinking.

“Come on,” Lake said. “I promise it will be worth it.” His voice dropped, quieter now, edged with something that felt dangerously close to a command.

Matty kissed him one final time before standing. “Now what?” he mumbled, already pouting once more. His fingers lingered on Lake’s shoulders for a second before he pulled back.

“Take off your shirt.”

Matty carefully pulled his arms from his shirt, then gingerly pulled it over his head, tossing it onto the sofa beside Lake. “Now what?” His chest rose and fell a little faster now, anticipation threading through the question.

Lake took a minute to admire the view, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he took in just how fit Matty really was. The faint marks on his skin, the tension still held in his shoulders, the way he shifted under the attention—aware of it, but not looking away. When he made it back to his face, Matty was smirking at him once more like he could read his dirty thoughts.

Lake sat up, pressing his lips to the bruises forming on Matty’s ribs, earning a small cry of surprise. He softened immediately after, breath warm against the skin as he lingered there, letting the moment stretch.

Lake didn’t rush, just took his time brushing his mouth across each injury, careful, almost reverent, like he was mapping them out, before he pulled away. “Turn around.”

Matty gave him a suspicious look, a flicker of hesitation there, like he didn’t fully trust this—but did it anyway. He hooked his fingers in Matty’s sweatpants, then slid them down to mid-thigh, unhurried, giving him time to react, to pull away if he wanted to, taking in the curve of his lower back and the generous curves of his ass before he tipped forward to drag his teeth over one cheek.

Matty gave him another swallowed cry, his hands fisting at his sides. The sound was sharper this time, edged with something that felt dangerously close to need.

Lake’s hands curled around his hips, sitting back and taking Matty with him, guiding him so he absorbed the shock of the fall into his lap. He kept one arm firm around him, steadying him, not letting the movement jolt him too hard. Lake grimaced as Matty’s ass connected with his lap and his obvious hard-on.

The contact sent a jolt straight through him, his grip tightening reflexively before he forced himself to ease up.

He expected a snarky comment but instead Matty sat stiffly like he wasn’t sure just what Lake intended to do with him. Like he was bracing for something instead of leaning into it.

“Lean back, relax,” Lake said softly. His voice dropped, gentler now, coaxing instead of commanding.

Matty only hesitated for a moment before he complied, melting back into his arms. The shift was immediate, his weight settling fully against Lake, his head tipping back just slightly like he didn’t have the energy to hold himself upright anymore. Fuck, he was so obedient. He must really be freaking out to be this pliant. Or trusting him. And that hit harder than anything else.

Lake’s arms closed around him, one hand sliding up to thumb over a nipple, while the other closed around his straining erection. Lake had a perfect view over Matty’s shoulder. Not only could he watch himself stroke Matty, but also see his facial expressions as he did. 

“Already panting and I haven’t even started,” Lake mused, his lips pressing just under Matty’s jaw line. 

“Then work faster,” Matty said through gritted teeth. 

Lake nipped at his shoulder but increased his hand’s motion, obsessed with the feel of his hard length against his palm and watching the rise and fall of Matty’s belly. 

Within minutes, Matty was squirming in his lap, tiny moans falling from his lips, his ass inadvertently grinding against Lake’s aching cock. 

“Fuck, you sound so hot right now,” Lake managed, eyes rolling back at one almost painful roll of Matty’s hips. 

“Faster,” Matty gasped. “Please.” 

The plea had Lake’s blood boiling, his hips rutting up against his ass against his will. Lake complied, distracted by the slow grind of his dick against Matty’s perfect ass. He didn’t know if he could get off like this, but that wasn’t really the point. He wanted to watch Matty fall apart. He’d been haunted by the memory of it that one night, but the image was fading too fast. 

He wanted to commit this new sight to memory. Matty’s closed eyes, his flushed cheeks, pink chest, his swollen parted lips and heavy breaths, those pretty little whines.  It was driving Lake crazy, pushing him closer to his own release without even trying. 

“Close,” Matty whispered, now actively thrusting into Lake’s tightened fist. “Oh, fuck. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please.” 

Lake groaned, not even sure Matty knew he was speaking, but it was making him crazy. He gripped Matty’s hip with his free hand, pulling him down as he thrust up, chasing the jolt of molten heat that shot through him each time they collided. 

“Me too,” he panted, latching his mouth to Matty’s neck, the taste of salt and skin exploding on his tongue. 

Matty cried out as he came, wet heat spilling onto Lake’s fist as he continued to stroke him through it until he whined like he was oversensitive.

Lake released his spent cock, wrapping his arms around Matty's waist, holding him steady while he rutted against him. Lake pressed his face into Matty's neck, his own breath hot on his skin, the scent of spicy soap and sweat making him crazy.

Matty started to work his hips against him, reaching up to curl his arm around Lake's neck, holding him against his throat like he needed him. It felt like minutes passed before he was pushed over the edge, but it was probably seconds. It hit him like a wall, static filling his brain as his release spread across the fabric of his pants and he sank his teeth into Matty’s shoulder, riding out the pulses of his pleasure. 

They sat there, breathing heavy, Matty’s sweaty hair sticking cutely to his forehead. 

After a few minutes had passed, Lake asked, “Are you okay?” 

It wasn't meant to imply anything. Just a simple check-in, but Matty turned his head towards him, looking…conflicted. Lake couldn’t pass up the opportunity to seal their mouths together once more, relieved when he kissed back though hesitantly. 

When Lake broke the kiss, Matty sighed, sinking back against him. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

He didn’t sound fine. Lake couldn’t put his finger on exactly what emotion the younger boy was feeling, but he seemed…resigned. 

“Are you sure?” Lake asked, running his fingers through Matty’s now unruly hair. 

“I said I’m fine,” Matty said tightly, mood shifting with lightning speed. “I’m gonna go take another shower…alone,” he added, like he expected Lake would invite himself to join. 

He stood abruptly, yanking his pants up before marching to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

Lake sighed, letting his head thump against the back of the couch. “Well that went well,” he muttered to the room.