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I shouldn’t have doubted that I was enough. His response to me lets me know that I am.
Without a word, Coop turns toward me, his bright eyes meeting mine. My fingers tiptoe up his back and grip the nape of his neck. He’s warm, flushed, and fuck, I want to claim him.
His tongue flicks out and wets that mouth, and I pull him even closer, our hips pressed together as the music thumps all around us.
“Matthew,” he breathes and even though I can’t hear him over the sound of the bass hitting us, I can read his lips. Can see that it’s my name exiting his mouth.
No one else’s.
“Matthew,” he says again, and without overthinking it, without thinking at all, I lean down and capture those lips with my own.
Kissing a man for the first time should be bewildering, should set me adrift, but for some reason, this kiss does nothing more than set down roots. They twine and wrap around me, digging deep into the essence of us. My world which always felt like it was spinning sideways, out of my control, comes settling into the steady pull of his orbit. For the first time in my life, I feel my future align into place.
Coop. My true north.
My lips slant over his and I press my tongue into his mouth, feeling his trembling exhale against me. His fingers are twisted into my shirt, holding on to me tightly. My tongue touches his, a tentative swipe, and I feel his groan vibrate through me.
Fuck. Fuck. Why does he taste so good?
I do it again, a lick, a swipe, and he shakes against me. I don’t want to stop, but he pulls away, his lips slick with my spit, his cheeks stained red.
“Matthew,” he says, his word drifting away in the sound around us. And I’m lost.
I crash my lips into his again and lick into him, touching every corner of his mouth with my own, trying to taste him, to savor him, to devour him. Our teeth clash, frantic and brutal, but fuck, what else am I supposed to do when he ignites this flame inside of me? He tastes sweet, like sugar and pears, like that drink he was consuming earlier.
My teeth tug on his bottom lip, and in the middle of the dance floor, I realize that our cocks are hard. We’re both ready for what comes next, but neither of us are in the right place.
Fuck, we should have just stayed home.
We could be in our bed right now, doing exactly this. Only naked.
My fingers dig into his side and a desperate thrum of need pulses through me. I want to drag my lips across his body, want to kiss every part of him.
Even parts I never thought I’d want to.
This moment broke something in me, something that needed to be set free, and now I feel like I can finally breathe and think and do whatever I want.
And I want to do all sorts of shit with Coop.
With my husband.
My lips pull away from his and he chases them, his body leaning into mine, trying to get another taste. He looks dazed, and the fact that I’ve reduced him to this—a trembling, uncouth mess—makes my chest swell. Coop could have anyone, and he seems to want me.
“Let’s go home,” I say gently into his ear. Coop only nods, standing on his tiptoes and kissing me once more, dragging time away with him. We stand there for ages, our mouths fused together, until our lips are raw and sore, until his cheeks are red from the abrasions of my five-o’clock shadow.
But even so, even when he’s a mess, he looks perfect.
When we finally make our move, the crowd has only grown in size, a pulsating, gyrating organism, and we have to muddle our way through, trying to get to the exit. As we do, I see a familiar face in the crowd.
My heart skips a beat and I hesitate, my feet stumbling over nothing. For a second, I wonder if it’s a hallucination, a trick of the mind.
Why would Mitch be here?
There’s no fucking way my brother would be here at a gay club. He hates gay people, has made it clear how he feels about them time and again.
I blink and rub at my eyes, but when I look back to where I thought I saw him, I see that it’s someone else. Someone so not my brother.
As I shake my head, I continue my way through the crowd, wanting to get Coop home. Wanting to get him alone.
