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[personal profile] damnednforsaken
Title: Unexpected Confessions
Rating: FRAO
Word Count: ~687
Notes/Warnings: This story contains slashy sexual situations between an older male and a younger male (both are consenting adults), and this is my first time posting slashy naughtiness with John and Matt, so be warned. I must thank the wonderful [livejournal.com profile] lunabee34 for being amazing enough to beta this for me, and [livejournal.com profile] n3_slashchat for submitting this prompt. Posted for Round 13 at [livejournal.com profile] rounds_of_kink.

Matt doesn’t mean to tell John. It just slips out when his mouth isn’t paying attention to the little mini-Matt freaking out in his head, jumping up and down with a bright red ‘Danger! Danger!’ sign in his hands. Granted, he’s a little smashed, and his brain-to-mouth filter needs to be replaced anyway. What it boils down to is that John knows now. Finger-fucking. Matt craves it, can’t get enough of it. He can come just from those long, strong fingers playing inside him.

He almost has a few times when John is prepping him, has had to beg John to just Get on with it before I kill you, you goddamn cock-tease. Matt is surprised that John hasn’t figured it out already, especially when he pulls something like that. Not that Matt is really gonna complain if his little confession lands him in this position.

Flat on his back, knees spread wide and back arching almost painfully, Matt pushes back on the fingers inside him. They know all his hot spots, but more than that, those fingers know exactly when to do what. Going fast and hard for a few thrusts, hitting his prostate head on, making him spiral out of control so damn fast that he’s almost there pleasepleasepleaseJohnplease! before backing off. Shallow, slow, steady, missing his prostate altogether for an even longer time, making him squirm, writhe, and whimper.

“Please, John... Oh, God, John...” Matt breathes out, his voice a broken and shaky mess that would normally embarrass him. His whole body is trembling and quaking, craving a release that he has been just this shy of for what seems like hours now with John’s strong calloused fingers stretching and twisting his insides, ratcheting him up higher and higher until he can’t stand it.

He begs and pleads with John to just let him come, please just let him come, but all he gets in response is a teasing swipe of his prostate from those fingers while John’s other hand soothes down his flank, John’s mouth presses gentle kisses to his forehead, and John’s voice tries in vain to soothe the inferno racing through Matt’s veins.

Matt’s favorite part is just before John lets him come, when John’s fingers are moving steadily inside him, the rhythm not changing or faltering at all, the same steady, focused attention pushing and pulling him apart at the seams. Just before he lets Matt come, John leans down, licks the shell of his ear, presses kisses to the sweat-slick skin on his neck. He pushes and holds his fingers on Matt’s prostate like it’s the trigger on his favorite gun as he whispers harshly in Matt’s ear, “Come on, Matty, come for me now.”

Matt’s world grays out, and he comes with a wounded little cry as tears leak steadily down his face. When he comes around, John is holding him, gently petting his sides and back with a smug little smirk on his face. Matt tries to glare at him, but he can’t right then, so he settles for wrapping around John like a pretzel until he can’t tell their limbs apart in a way that usually annoys his older lover.

Despite his recent return to the living, Matt feels a yawn creeping up on him. He can imagine the fond smile he knows is on John’s face, but he feels the gentle squeeze he’s given, hears the words spoken in a soft tone used only for him. “Sleep, Matty. You can get back at me later.”

Matt huffs a soft laugh, sleepily replying, “Asshole.”

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December 2009

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