Page 90 of In at the Deep End

Matt let out a long sigh. Maybe this was simply biology.

Maybe after everything that had happened over the last few days, his brain needed somewhere to put all the thoughts that refused to settle. He’d hardly be the first person to clear his head before trying to sleep.

He closed his eyes, sliding his hand beneath the cotton, beneath the waistband of his shorts, to curl it around a dick that also seemed to be suffering from insomnia. Matt gave several slow tugs, conscious of it filling his palm even more. His breathing caught, and he pushed up with his hips, settling into a rhythm. He kicked off the duvet, removed the shorts, and planted his feet on the mattress, hips in motion, keeping the movement leisurely, aiming to let the intensity build.

Creak. Creak.

His skin prickled, and he froze, heart pounding.

Owen stood motionless in the doorway. The dim light spilling in from the sitting room caught the outline beneath his shorts.

Matt noticed it in an instant. Then he noticed something else.

Owen was backing away.

Confusion flooded through him. Why is he leaving? That hard-on told Matt plenty.

A breath later, everything clicked into place.

The awkward moments by the pool, the glances, the flustered smiles. The way Owen always seemed to find an excuse to put another step between them.

Why the hell didn’t I see this?

Owen’s hesitation, his careful boundaries… That was him trying to protect both of them. Matt had never been surer of anything.

And Owen was retreating again.

Matt blurted out the only word in his head.

“Don’t.”

Chapter Eighteen

For a second or two, Matt had no idea how Owen would react.

He stood there in the doorway, the rise and fall of his chest steadier than Matt’s, his gaze drifting over Matt’s naked body.

In a flood of boldness, Matt gave his dick a gentle tug, his heartbeat erratic.

Owen’s breathing hitched. He walked slowly to the foot of the bed and paused, arms by his sides, his eyes on the motion of Matt’s hand before moving to his face.

Matt didn’t look away, didn’t pause in his leisurely strokes, feeling lighter in his chest, a sense of calm stealing over him. Owen reached for his own erection, then stopped.

Matt stilled. “Do it.”

Owen rubbed his crotch, and Matt had to watch. He swallowed, Ben’s comment now making a lot more sense.

‘They’re hardly going to laugh at yours.’

Clearly the water in the pool had been cold.

Matt tugged on his cock, gaze locked on the slow motion of Owen’s hand.

The moment felt surreal and heady at the same time.

He managed a chuckle. “Where’s lube when you need it?” Matt made sure to keep his bottle hidden at home. There were some things mothers did not need to see. And his was stuffed into the drawer of his bedside table.

Owen stilled, turned around, and headed into the sitting room. A moment later, he returned and tossed a bottle onto the bed.