*Reunited childhood friends discover that one of them hasn’t had their first kiss yet.*
*His lesson turns into something much more intense.*
**[M/M] Twinks, friends fucking around, first kiss, frottage/dry humping, explicit consent, they’re a bit tipsy though. 5.6k words.**
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**Prologue.**
Matt had recently moved back to Cullfield, a town he called home up until his parents’ messy divorce when he was thirteen. He hadn’t missed it for the neurotic weather and underfunded public schools; only for the friends that he was forced to watch go through adolescence through social media. Although there was one friend that he couldn’t keep tabs on no matter how hard he tried. Incidentally, he was the friend that meant the most to him.
He’d met Owen in kindergarten when he saw him drawing shapes in the silt at recess and decided to join him. Painfully shy from day one, Owen had just started to find his footing when they entered middle school. Matt brought him to every hangout, party, and school event until Owen felt at ease interacting with the world around him. Still timid, but functionally timid.
Once Matt was gone, their mutual friends found less reluctant people to hang out with.
Owen was on his own for the first time since age six.
This time, no one came to play in the dirt with him.
After Matt’s return, they’d been hanging out at shitty dive bars with the same friends who ditched Owen––catching up, talking shit, and getting drunk. Postpubescent faces contrasted with their childhood mannerisms.
During a smoke break behind the back of a brewery, Owen & Matt exchanged numbers and planned to hang out solo for the first time. They were both as excited as they were petrified.
Well, maybe only one of them was petrified.
—————–
**11:34pm, Thursday, September 9th, 2021.**
Owen knocked his beer over by accident, brown liquid spilling over the dark wood of the coffee table.
“Shit! Hold on” he exclaimed, immediately rushing to the kitchen to grab a towel before it dripped onto the carpet. His twiggy body darted around the cramped apartment, a baggy dark blue sweatshirt swallowing his frame whole.
“Jesus, man”, Matt chuckled, “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”
He wore a familiar, slouchy smile watching his friend fumble around.
Owen’s habit of panicking at the slightest inconvenience had clearly followed him into adulthood.
He rummaged through several drawers in the disorganized pantry until he remembered which one contained the washcloths.
“Hey, I’ve changed. I’m *at least* three inches taller than my thirteen year old self”, he retorted, his sharp left incisor poking out of his delphic smile as he walked.
Owen returned to his spot on the couch and placed the towel down, alcohol immediately soaking into the woven cloth. He patted the rest of the table dry in a lazy circular motion.
His hands were narrow with nails bitten as far down as they could comfortably go. Matt couldn’t help but notice how raw and angry Owen’s nailbeds were, juxtaposed with the smooth, freckled ivory of his surrounding skin.
He glanced up and said, “Fine, I’ll give you that one,” sinking back into the well-worn gray couch.
The night continued on with a few more drinks and Matt sharing some stories from school in Washington. They consisted of typical teenage debauchery––sex, petty crime, recklessness. Owen soaked in the carefree atmosphere, savoring every ounce of comfort. Matt’s presence had always put him at ease. He was a bowl of fragrant indica after a long day’s work.
“But yeah,” Matt continued, mid-story, “The people I dated were never good to me”.
Owen took a small swig of his drink, eyes widening. A cold wave of anxiety washed over him.
“*People*?” He asked with caution, eyes glued to the floor beneath their socked feet. His heart felt like it had fallen to his stomach; his lungs followed suit.
“Yeah, ‘people’,” Matt nonchalantly confirmed, not missing a single beat, “I don’t care what the person I’m getting with is. Especially back then, I’d fuck anything that moved,” He took a sip from his beer before continuing, “I fought it for a while––which is why I never talked about it with you. I’m cool with it now, though”.
Owen had spent his entire childhood knowing that he was attracted to men but never told a soul. His mother had inquired about his sexuality once or twice, but he didn’t feel like he could confide in anyone without judgment––not even his closest friends. Regret and relief washed over him. He wondered if his social ineptitude was partly due to the burden of secrecy.
A few seconds passed before he gained the courage to respond.
“Oh. Me too––the people part, not the fucking part”, Owen confessed, “I never got that far”.
He cleared his throat, eyes glued to the floor. A fire of shame roared inside him, flames licking at his belly.
“Wait, what? You’re still a virgin?” Matt uttered with a light laugh, brows perched high on his forehead.
Owen’s face heated up at the sound of the word.
“Yeah”, he sheepishly confirmed.
“Handjobs, blowjobs, anything?” Matt playfully prodded with a coltish grin. Long limbs lay loose, and open, completely free of the awkwardness Owen exuded.
“No”, Owen clarified, abashed, “I haven’t even kissed anyone yet”.
He regretted it as soon as the words escaped his mouth. He tucked his hands into his pockets to soothe himself.
Matt’s chuckling had grown into a pitchy laugh of genuine disbelief.
“No way, man. That’s fucking crazy,” Matt said, pushing stray blond strands from his forehead, “I mean, how’ve you gone nineteen years without kissing anyone?”
The room felt two feet wide, getting smaller by the minute. His chest stung from the blow to his already below-average ego.
“I just haven’t found any people I felt like kissing, I guess” Owen stammered, “I don’t know”.
He felt splotchy redness burn across his cheeks and considered retracting into the safety of his hoodie to escape.
“Fuck, man, I could teach you. It’s not that hard”, Matt said, an easygoing smirk posted on the corner of his mouth.
Owen’s wry laugh in response was short and dry, humiliation evident. He looked down to play with his hoodie strings, toying with the frayed edges as he spoke.
“Y’know, I missed out on a lot of shit without you here. You helped me put myself out there and made me talk to people. When you left it was easier to avoid social situations altogether than to, like, fuck them up and make an ass out of myself. So, that’s partly the reason I never tried to make it happen,” Owen lamented.
When met with silence, he cautiously looked up at his friend. The blond had turned to be face-to-face, pushing his broad shoulders forward to inch into Owen’s territory. There were a few beats of neither men speaking, just staring at each other.
Matt draped his arm to rest on the upper cushion of the couch.
“You ready?” He inquired, russet eyes boring directly into Owen’s.
“For what?” Owen asked, clueless. He sustained eye contact while finishing the last of his beer.
“I said I’d teach you,” he replied, head tilting slightly. Matt’s voice was steady and relaxed––almost lazy in how he drew the words out.
At that moment, the world ceased spinning. Owen broke glance, his throat drier than ever. A succession of anxiety blazed from his crown to his soles. He swore he could hear his heart jackhammering outside his body. *Thump, thump, thump, thump.*
“You’re fucking with me” Owen half-chuckled, remnants of a grin fading into quiet panic. Every vellus hair on his body stood erect as he waited for Matt’s response.
“I’m not”, Matt assured, tone warm and resolute.
Owen tried maintaining composure in spite of the chemical tsunami flooding his brain. He was a complete deer in headlights. A few moments of silence passed as he processed the situation.
“Owen, you good?” Matt asked, narrowly ducking his head down to meet the other man’s line of sight.
Owen carefully swallowed as he reeled himself back from the depths of his thoughts, eyes timidly rejoining Matt’s. “Yeah”, he mumbled.
“Can I teach you?” Matt asked, earnest in his delivery. The light of the lamp next to them shone on his glossy hair, golden highlights floating in a sea of dirty blond.
“Yeah” Owen repeated, a red tint washing over his face.
That same heartbeat thrummed even harder now. *Thump, thump, thump, thump.*
Matt’s heart was pounding almost as fast––the only difference being that he could effectively hide it.
Owen took a swig from a nearby water bottle in an attempt to calm his nerves. Matt watched the knot of Owen’s adams apple lightly bob as he drank.
Feeling the nervous energy radiate off the other man, he extended a hand out to comfort him. It rested on Owen’s knee, patting the dark cotton of his joggers.
‘*You’re safe*,’ he said, without using a single word.
Owen felt Matt’s sight on him while he snuck his own intimidated glances, suddenly too aware of his insecurities––prominent dark circles and the mosaic of acne scars scattered across his jaw. His head felt as light as air, floating him off to a land of epinephrine and nerve-wracking temptation.
“Close your eyes”, Matt prompted, voice low and slack.
Owen inhaled slightly before he followed Matt’s direction. His eyelids fluttered shut, pale brown lashes now gently resting against the apples of his cheeks.
Owen’s heart was drumming heavy, rapid beats. He felt like it might break his ribs.
“Open your mouth just a little. Barely open”.
Owen’s lips part, leaving a sliver of space unshut. He imagined how ridiculous he must look, sitting in front of Matt with his face completely relaxed, mouth pouting. His overwhelming self-consciousness urged him to speak.
“I feel stupid”, he murmured, keeping his eyes shut tight.
“You don’t look stupid,” Matt reassured, a hint of a chuckle catching the front of his sentence.
He proceeded to move further into Owen’s space, a mere few inches separating them.
“Most people like cupping faces. It’s an easy way to find a position that works for both of you,” the blond continued, placing his hands on each side of Owen’s face, thumb brushing against the entrance of his ears, “You comfortable?”
Owen aptly nodded in response, sneaking in a quiet breath.
Matt’s body heat wafted over as he inched closer, hands still firmly resting on Owen’s cheekbones as he closed the gap between the two.
Owen’s breath hitched before Matt even touched his mouth. He felt the tiniest change of pressure–lips being grazed with barely any touch at all. It wasn’t until Owen exhaled through his nose that Matt pressed forward, sending a rush down the brunet’s spine.
Closed, warm mouths met, lips joining once with a distinct sound as they pulled apart. Owen inhaled deeply, feeling a warm shiver run down his extremities, eyes still partially lidded. Matt’s hands continued to gently grasp Owen’s slim face, checking his reaction from up close. Both men shared a meek smile, taking a moment to listen to the quiet hum of the air conditioning; absorbing the newfound tension in the room.
Matt then circled back, leaning in for a second kiss with a bit more force, deepening it just enough to not overwhelm the other man. Their lips crashed for a few beats longer than before, leaving the brunet breathless.
Owen felt his skin prickle, goosebumps dotting every inch. He was hypnotized by the feeling of Matt’s soft mouth pressing against his own to the point of being numb to every other sense. Having no idea what to do with the rest of his body, he instinctually rested his hands by Matt’s waist. Not holding him, just lightly touching his sides. His hoodie sleeves were far too long–loose fabric falling past his knuckles as he moved.
They hovered over each other’s faces again after they parted. Matt had opened up to see Owen wearing a dopey expression. His denim blue eyes were drunk on contentment. His fear had begun dissipating; billowing like black smoke off burnt rubber. His attraction was only revving up, thirsty for more contact now that they were apart.
“Feel good?” Matt said with a casual smirk, intermittently glancing at Owen’s lips.
Owen nodded meekly in response. It wasn’t unusual for him to fall silent when he’s flustered––it’d been a habit of his since childhood.
“Nice. You wanna try me now?” He offered. His irises resembled the amber of their beer bottles in the light. Owen felt himself being drawn into them, like a moth to a flame.
Owen took a moment to deliberate until he was ready to whisper back, “Yeah”.
He felt like he was on a fucking cloud––every subtle sensation amplified tenfold. He brought his hands up, gingerly placing them on Matt’s jaw. He felt the ever-so-slight grit of a freshly shaved face underneath his fingertips. A spoonful of confidence rattled inside his chest.
He went to lean in but couldn’t help hesitating. Hovering over Matt’s mouth, he asked, “Do I just… go for it?”, his voice trembling a bit.
“Dude. Don’t overthink it. Focus on what feels good,” Matt replied as he closed his eyes, “That’s the only shit that matters”.
Owen nodded to himself as he mirrored Matt, eyelids fluttering shut. He could barely hear himself think over the thudding of his pulse. Instead of indulging in his insecurities any longer, he made a conscious effort to try and let his body do the work for him.
He let himself linger over Matt’s mouth for a few more seconds before he pushed forward and committed to a tender collision. His body instantly reacted to the millions of tiny nerve endings on his lips being triggered at once. It felt like a matchbook striking a blaze inside of him.
To remedy the discomfort of their mixed-height position, Matt pushed himself down into Owen’s territory instead. Their clothed torsos slanted against one another, continuing to deepen the kiss with the newfound room. It was no longer going to be a simple few consecutive pecks; it was evolving into something much more intense.
The heat burning a hole through Owen’s abdomen was almost unbearable. A trail of electricity sank into him, red-hot by the time it made its way to his groin. He could feel the blood racing into his pants when Matt began to take the lead again, inching them both further down onto the couch. There was a symphony of heavy exhales between them as they played off of each other. What Owen was lacking in experience he made up for with boyish enthusiasm.
“You’re doing so good”, Matt mumbled between heated breaths.
A sudden onrush of hormones flooded Owen when he felt Matt’s tongue slip into his mouth, filling the last gap between the two. The foreign sensation was turning his mind to buzzing static. He followed the lead, weaving his own into the mix. Wet tongues passed over one another, clumsily gliding with little constraint. Matt tasted of tangy citrus, beer, and clove cigarettes. Owen couldn’t get enough of it. Arousal was thundering through his body like a shockwave. Everything was happening too fast for his anxiety to catch up with. His system clamored for much more.
Owen then moved his head too suddenly, causing their teeth to awkwardly clack together.
His eyes snapped open as he pulled back, a thin strand of spit connecting the two, “Shit. I’m sorry”, he muttered.
“Don’t worry. It happens. Keep going”, Matt hurried back, sneaking a quick kiss mid-sentence.
They returned to their previous frantic rhythm, too worked up to let teeth get in the way. Their legs began to intertwine with every new, small movement. Owen was starved for more contact––even an ounce of friction would help sate his desires.
Once he felt the deep vibrations of Matt’s hum echo down his throat, he lost control––instinctively bucking his hips directly into Matt’s coarse blue jeans. One hardening cock crashed into another.
Matt pulled back as if he had touched a hot oven with an ungloved hand.
“Okay, slow down,” he whispered, a firm grip on Owen’s slender shoulders.
A painful pit formed in Owen’s stomach; worry cracked like a whip inside him.
“Did I do something wrong?” He blurted. He hadn’t realized how sweaty they’d gotten until that very moment, looking at Matt’s glistening forehead to escape meeting his glance.
“Christ, no, man. Not at all”, Matt clarified, shaking his head. He hovered over Owen’s flushed face, carefully choosing his next words,”I just don’t know how far you want to go,” he said, his hands lightly resting against the brunet’s collar bones.
Owen paused, faltering, “I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing. What do *you* want to do?”
“Listen, I’m down for anything you want. No pressure, alright?” Matt said, clutching Owen’s shoulder, “Give me your plan and we’ll do it”.
Owen couldn’t even look him in the eyes as he mulled it over. Matt’s grasp wandered up his neck, a lax hand lacing into the brunet’s hair. Owen felt naked while fully dressed, his dick still firmly pressing against his tightening joggers. His insistent libido pleaded with his timidity.
“Just this. Through clothes”, he replied, tripping over his words.
His eyes reflexively slammed shut when Matt’s fingers got caught on a knot in his messy mane. A slight, breathy moan uncontrollably escaped his throat, followed by self-conscious laughter.
“Oh my God”, Owen silently mouthed, covering his face with his hands.
He thought he’d met the threshold for embarrassment by that point, but had clearly been mistaken.
Caught off guard, Matt joined with his own growing laugh, “So that’s what you’re into, huh?”.
A few moments passed before Owen felt ready to speak again, finally uncovering his face.
“Sometimes I’ll tug on my hair when I’m jerking off,” Owen stammered while staring up at the ceiling.
He puffed a sigh, chuckling to himself, “I can’t believe I just told you that”.
Matt’s pupils enlarged in response, black pools drowning his whiskey-brown irises.
“I’ll remember that,” he replied. “C’mere”, he continued, gesturing for them to switch positions. Owen fumbled his way into straddling Matt’s sturdy lap on the couch.
Matt thought Owen was most beautiful in this light. Shadows contoured the hollows of his cheekbones. Deep-set, sleepy eyes were illuminated by the dim television beside them. Light caught the glossy spit on his soft, pink mouth. There was a single cut on his bottom lip from his habit of nipping at it. Matt wanted to tug on it with his teeth until he could taste the iron on his tongue.
Owen’s skin was so flushed that he practically glowed pink as he sat above Matt. He peered at him, breathing heavily in anticipation of action. Matt could see the tinge of fear in his eyes as Owen second-guessed himself.
“If you feel like stopping at any point, tell me. It won’t ruin anything or piss me off,” Matt reminded him, maintaining careful eye contact.
“Yeah, I know,” Owen said, nodding. His shoulders shed a bit of tension, letting himself hang over the blond. His posture continued to sink lower as they stared at each other, mouths ajar.
Matt soon laced his fingers back into Owen’s dusky strands, gently pulling as he rolled his hips upward tepidly.
“Oh, fuck”, Owen murmured, closing his eyes. His cock was completely rigid against Matt’s.
He harshly ground his hips into Matt’s lap in response, earning a breathy grunt back from the other man. Their bodies were grating against one another in slow, tentative surges, sparking with every single stroke.
Their hungry eyes met once more and the tension became too overwhelming to bear. Within seconds, their mouths collided again, furiously lapping without any concern for precision. All Owen could focus on was rocking his hips into Matt’s stiffening cock. Matt swore he could feel Owen’s length throbbing between them in short pulses, but the heavy denim he was wearing was too thick to truly tell.
Matt pulled their mouths apart with a slick pop and rasped, “Can we take our pants off? Not naked—just underwear”.
Owen didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he jumped up from the couch, his hard cock bouncing in his tented briefs when he kicked the legs of his pants off. Matt pulled his jeans down to reveal boxer-briefs with an unexpectedly dense outline, his pink tip poking out from the tight elastic band. Owen’s head was spinning from the sight alone, beholding it for a moment before getting back on top of Matt.
When they rejoined they fell straight back into their brisk tempo.
Owen rutted like an animal in heat against the other man’s thick bulge. He’d never felt this obscene in his entire life––choking on moans while his foreskin slid with every stroke, teasing his tip every time it rolled past it. He gasped three throaty moans with his head thrown back in immature ecstasy before he sped back down to the blond’s mouth, reuniting their eager tongues.
Owen knew he couldn’t last much longer with less material separating them. He felt untameably lewd as he grated against Matt’s cock, panting between their clumsy open-mouthed kisses. Matt’s rhythmic thrusting was sending him to a different plane of existence. A familiar molten heat pulled downward with each passing moment. He was indifferent to his own inexperience by now—all he craved was to keep building the fire that resided in his abdomen until its inevitable explosion.
“Matt”, Owen sputtered as he rocked, looking down at his friend’s face through half-lidded eyes, “You’re gonna make me fucking come like that”.
Matt was trying to keep himself from climaxing at that exact moment. Witnessing Owen’s vulnerability on full display with his name on his tongue was agonizing.
“Need me to slow down?” He replied, accidentally accelerating their pattern of movement as he asked.
“No,” Owen pleaded, his voice raspy and voracious,
“I’m so–,” he breathed out with an angelic moan, “I’m so goddamn close”.
The croaking desperation in Owen’s voice made Matt weak.
Passion and vigor raged inside of his body.
It was then that they frantically began thrashing against each other, friction intensifying with each forceful snapping thrust––carnal and absolutely filthy.
Sweat dampened Owen’s hair, making it shine in the surrounding light. The length cut right past his sharp chin, begging to be pulled.
Matt gripped the back of Owen’s head to pull him down, sucking on the salty, sensitive skin of his pale neck.
That had been the final sensation that pushed Owen over the edge of orgasm.
“Fuck, fuck…”, he cried out, shamelessly writhing onto Matt’s rigid, throbbing cock. All sense of self-consciousness was lost––Owen bucked his hips as he sprayed ropes of cum all over the groaning blond below.
He slowed to watch himself twitch in the last moments of his orgasm, his mouth open in awe as each wave of pleasure rippled through him.
Matt’s dick had become fully uncovered at some point, the entirety of his length exposed for both to see. Owen watched it pulsate beneath him––surely close to the edge. A thick pearl of precum collected at the delicate pink slit.
In his post-orgasm haze, Owen gained the confidence to gently press the pad of his thumb onto it. Matt shuddered with pleasure, his cock jumping up in response.
“Owen”, his voice rumbled, soft and low.
“Hmm?” Owen cooed, lazily pushing his long hair out of his face to meet Matt’s line of sight. He felt blissfully light-headed, his head swarming with oxytocin.
“Can I keep going or are you too sore right now?”, Matt politely asked, obviously close to the edge of his climax.
“Matt,” Owen rasped, his spindly hand grazing the other man’s torso. His fingertip lightly circled the ridge of Matt’s sensitive, glistening cockhead, causing a second bead of translucent precum to drip down his rock-hard, throbbing length.
Owen dragged his finger down to dip in the ribbons of his cum on the blond’s abdomen. He coyly licked it into his mouth, admitting, “I want to make you come”.
“Jesus fucking Christ”, Matt stammered before pulling Owen down by the strings on his neck with great force.
Their mouths urgently collided––spit and salty seed mixing into a pulp as their tongues furiously lapped against each other. Matt’s husked moaning felt like it was shaking the entire apartment. It rumbled in the other man’s ear, mesmeric and guttural.
The thick material of Owen’s hoodie felt like a sauna; The fabric utterly drenched from the all-encompassing humidity of the room. He considered taking it off, but became too caught up in the sensations of the moment to act on it. Instead, he submitted to the heat, accepting it as collateral for Matt’s continued animalistic moans.
His hips were moving at a much faster pace than before; his body arched upward, ramming himself into the damp material of Owen’s black briefs.
Owen’s wilted, oversensitive cock was burning, tender from his recent orgasm. He was wincing in equal pleasure and discomfort.
He felt Matt’s dick twitch underneath him, his entire body clenching as he thrusted. Owen had sweat dripping from every extremity, his inhibitions melting along with it. There were no objections from his insecurity; caught in a haze as Matt hammered his hips into him.
“I’ve wanted this for so long”, Owen confessed, voice scratchy and faint. The words fell from his mouth almost involuntarily, “Thought about you while I fucked myself. It would make me come so hard”, he panted through gritted teeth, “Thinking about you cumming inside of me”.
He had let out a small exclamation when a groaning Matt firmly grabbed onto his narrow hips, thumbs pressing hard against the fragile bone underneath. Owen wrapped his arms around Matt’s neck and pressed their flush, smiling faces together. The bittersweet pain of every frantic motion made him hiss softly, the vibration buzzing against Matt’s skin.
“I’m––*fuck*!” Matt consequently growled, tightly gripping Owen’s body as the impending climax tore through his system. Strong fingers harshly tugged at the ends of Owen’s strands one final time, inciting an impassioned shriek from the brunet’s aching throat.
It took three more vigorous, wanton thrusts before Matt’s eyes rolled back in his head. His crimson-tinged cock erupted glistening cords all over his stomach; stray droplets dotting his chest and face. His long legs involuntarily twitched as his orgasm slowly ebbed. As the last surge waned, Owen pressed his weight against Matt, planting a single clumsy kiss on his mouth.
Matt’s light brown happy trail led down to a tidy bush––now completely coated in the two’s warm, frost-white cum. Their skin clung together like bare thighs on hot, leather car seats.
Owen’s chest almost felt hollow from how unoccupied with discomfort it was. He was used to the same familiar feeling of worry, but it had apparently fled once he stripped his pants.
His heart thudded as he sunk back into reality. He had felt–and was–the most naked he’d ever been with another person. A quiet joy wrought through his small, slack body; a toothy grin plastered on his face.
“What the fuck,” he laughed, burying his face down into the crook of Matt’s neck, “That really happened”
Hearing the rumble of Matt’s chuckling in response felt like a relief.
“Right?” The blond echoed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he spoke. He brought his hand up to ruffle Owen’s sweaty hair and said, “Hey, can I take a shower here? I feel fuckin’ nasty right now”.
After being given the go-ahead, Matt made his way to a short, cool shower to wash the remnants of the evening down the drain. He battled the thoughts of how heavenly Owen’s face contorted in the throes of his orgasm; how all inhibitions had slipped away like sand through fingers with each pounding thrust.
His cock weighed heavy in his hands as he contemplated jerking himself off to the thought, ultimately deciding against it.
When he returned to the living room, he caught a glimpse of Owen in his natural habitat. He was in another oversized top–this time a ratty black Smashing Pumpkins tee–and large orange basketball shorts. His feet were perched on the coffee table, bouncing restlessly.
Owen had grown into his peculiar, birdlike features so well. Matt couldn’t help but stare at him from the hallway before reclaiming his spot on the couch.
They sat next to each other, bantering about the ridiculous infomercial for a ”military-grade” tactical tool that looked flimsy enough to fall apart while opening its packaging.
Owen took glances at the other man during lulls in their conversation, seeing that Matt was holding himself back. He clearly had something on his mind that he was doing a poor job at stifling.
Matt looked over at Owen, who was staring blankly at the television.
He extended his arm out to touch the brunet on the leg, tapping him twice until they locked eyes.
“I used to jerk off to your yearbook photos”, he confessed, followed by an embarassed chuckle.
“You what?”, Owen stammered, eyes widened in shock, “How long ago?”.
He wore a hesitant smile on his face, unsure of how to properly emote.
“Before and right after I moved”, Matt answered, “Man, you have no idea how weird it is saying that out loud”, he laughed, “That’s the type of shit I planned to take to the grave”.
Owen’s innards were swarmed with butterflies, their wings fluttering against his organs.
“How did you even find me attractive?” Owen replied, his head fully reclined on the cushion behind it. There was a strange blend of insecurity and subdued arousal in his tired eyes.
“You were hot––you just didn’t realize it. I don’t think you do now, either”, Matt said, rushing to continue his sentence before Owen got the chance to shut his compliment down, “I forget what grade it was, but there was one where you had your mouth opened up a little bit. As soon as I would see it I’d get hard”.
“God”, Owen whined as he laughed, “I looked like a greasy fucking rat”.
His eyelids shut as he looked up to the ceiling, refusing to stare a compliment in the face. With his body being too burnt-out to let him get hard any time soon, he instead lightly tingled from groin to perinium. It was a warm, pleasurable sensation tapping at his skin.
“Maybe I was into that”, the blond exclaimed, receiving a playful punch in the arm in response. “So, tell me, was kissing worth the wait?”, he continued, keeping a nervous eye on Owen’s expression.
Owen stared straight ahead at the TV, “I mean,” he muttered as he shifted in his seat, reaching for a sip of water. The tingling ceased, replaced by the cold chill of anxiety. After a brief pause, he mumbled, “As long as it didn’t ruin things, definitely”.
“Don’t worry about that sort of shit, Owen”, Matt said, “Everything’s good”, he followed, hoping his words could quell the other man’s fears.
“Worrying is kind of my thing”, Owen calmly replied, blinking back at Matt with a sleepy smile.
“No, *dirty talk* is kind of your thing”, the other man said. A devilish smirk crept onto his face as he playfully bumped shoulders with Owen.
“Oh, god. Don’t–”, The brunet stammered, his entire body stiffening with humiliation, “I don’t even remember what I said”, he sighed, “Was it bad?”
“Opposite of bad”, Matt reassured after his chuckling fit ceased, bringing his hand to slap the top of Owen’s slender thigh.
“You sure?”, Owen asked quietly.
“Pretty sure. Ask my fucking––” Matt answered, almost startled by his own interrupting laughter, “Ask my fucking dick, man”.
“Shut up”, Owen said, sheepishly smiling back at the blond. His cheeks were ablaze with an abundance of redness.
“Are you blushing?”, Matt teased, slinging a gangly arm over the back of Owen’s neck. He pressed the back of his hand to the other man’s right cheek to test its temperature. It had been, of course, very warm.
Owen scrambled to cover his pink face with his hands, yelping, “No, I’m not fucking blushing!”
His embarrassed giggling overlapped with Matt’s reply of, “Sure, dude. Sure.”
Owen peeked through his splayed fingers, making steady eye contact. He could barely keep his eyes open, trying not to surrender to the call of slumber.
“C’mere”, Matt said, gesturing for him to scoot closer.
Owen eagerly obliged, resting his head on the blond’s shoulder. He breathed in his scent: ginger and musk. The TV buzzed in the background as everything faded away to the quiet of sleep.
—————–
**10:14am, Friday, September 10th, 2021.**
Owen woke up on his side of the couch, blanketed and alone.
Scraps of memories from last night swirled around his groggy brain, all too fuzzy to make sense of. The metallic aftertaste that coated his tongue made him regret buying the cheapest beer they had at the grocery store.
When he ripped his blanket off, he felt a scratchy stickiness in his briefs, likely a result of an early-morning wet dream.
As he sat up, Owen noticed something unusual.
Perched upon the table was a piece of notebook paper taped to a plastic cup. Next to it was an unopened bottle of yellow Gatorade.
Scrawled in boxy, messy handwriting, the note read,
*”Text me when you get up,*
*I wanna show you my place tonight*
*P.S. Sorry about the hickey*
*I didn’t think I was going that hard”*
Owen sunk back into the couch, beaming.
He smiled to himself. *’Oh’*, he thought, *’I guess it wasn’t a dream.’*
————–
**Note**: This is my first time writing a story. Mistakes are inevitable.
This was loosely based off a scene in a film I love.
Owen was deliberately written to say “Yeah” a lot and not last very long in bed.
A counterbalance to the uber-confident sex god virgins I read about way too often.
I hope someone ends up liking it. Regardless, I plan on writing more of these two and others.
Not all will be this vanilla, though.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/qn12cg/spirit_desire_matt_owen_mm_first_kiss_virgin
Wow, so erotic
I love it!