But why did it feel so… final?
To Nick’s pleased surprise, Matt doesn’t leave after sex, nor does he ask Nick what his problem was this week. Maybe it’s Christmas magic or something—Nick’s not going to look that gift horse in the mouth. He lets himself snuggle closer to Matt onthe couch, curling his fingers into the sleeve of the other man’s soft T-shirt while Matt absently toys with his hair. The lights are down low, the TV glowing as it plays one of theDie Hardmovies.
Fingers squeeze gently at the back of his neck, and Matt shifts slightly. “You want anything? Drink, snack, whatever? I have to pee,” he says, voice low and apologetic. The hockey player gives a dramatic sigh but pushes himself up into a seated position.
“I’m good. Go piss, girl.”
“Dork.” As Matt stands, he presses a soft kiss to Nick’s forehead. It’s nothing, really, but it has Nick sitting there dazedly as the other man walks away, his skin tingling from the contact.
That, that surely cannot be the actions of a man who’s just here to fuck. Right??
Be brave, Amy told him, like maybe he doesn’t need to swallow back the overwhelming affection he feels when he looks at Matt sometimes. Like maybe it’ll be okay if he reaches out to tangle their fingers together for no reason other than to feel Matt’s skin against his own.
Like maybe he’s got a chance.
Nick must be lost in his thoughts for a lot longer than he realized—the couch dips beside him as Matt sinks back into it, a chocolate-peppermint cookie in one hand. Lindsay’s holiday baking started early this year.
“No cookie for me?” Nick’s lips curve in a pout, and Matt scoffs.
“You said you didn’t want anything.”
“I didn’t know you’d found the cookies!”
Matt laughs, his hair falling into his eyes as he shakes his head in dismay. Giving Nick a smug look, he takes a large bite out of the cookie. “Sucks to be you,” he coos with his mouth full.
“Asshole,” Nick accuses—then he lunges, mouth-first, aiming for the rest of the cookie in Matt’s hand. Matt reels back just intime, Nick biting the meat of his forearm instead. The musician yelps, still laughing.
“Ow, you dick!”
Nick ignores him, making another lunge for the cookie. He pushes Matt back against the couch, trying to pin him down to claim his prize. But despite Nick’s NHL status, Matt is both bigger and stronger than him—something Nick shouldn’t find as hot as he does. Matt easily turns the tables, flipping them over until Nick’s the one pinned. He’s only using one arm, his other held out behind him, keeping the cookie firmly out of Nick’s reach.
“Ask nicely,” Matt reprimands playfully. Nick smirks, lurching up—not for the cookie this time. Instead, he presses his lips to Matt’s. Caught off guard, Matt doesn’t react for a moment, and Nick takes the opportunity to tease his mouth open, delighting in the taste of chocolate and peppermint as the kiss deepens. Matt cradles him closer, groaning softly, the scrape of his stubble against Nick’s cheek sparking a fire deep in his belly. Nick wiggles one arm free to grip Matt’s shoulder—and then reach up, plucking the remains of the cookie from limp fingers.
Then he shoves Matt off the couch and onto the floor.
Matt shouts in alarm, sprawled on the rug and staring up at Nick in betrayal as the hockey player smugly pops the cookie into his mouth.
“Oh my God, what iswrongwith you,” Matt grumbles, making Nick laugh.
“You are not the first to ask that question.”
“No kidding.” Matt huffs, hauling himself to his feet, rubbing at his lower back. “Now my ass hurts.”
“Poor baby,” Nick replies, grinning up at him. “Want me to kiss it better?”
That startles a laugh out of the musician. He steps forward, and before Nick can protest he’s got two hundred pounds of muscle straddling his lap, crowding him against the back of the couch, bracing his thick arms across Nick’s shoulders. The spark of fire within him turns to a blaze, his blood rushing southward at a dizzying pace. Matt looks far too smug about it.
“You’re a menace,” he declares in that low near-growl that makes Nick’s heart race. His smirk widens as he presses down against Nick, tangling fingers in his hair and bringing their mouths together once more.
“You’re into it,” Nick retorts, smug and knowing. There’s a smudge of chocolate at the corner of Matt’s mouth, and Nick swipes his tongue across it, turning the movement into a messy, scorching kiss.
A giddiness swells in the center of Nick’s chest—it’s been a really long time since he just hadfunwith somebody like this, since he’s had someone he could laugh with in bed, could trust enough to be a goofball with.
They part for air, Matt’s eyes glowing and his face flushed, and Nick opens his mouth to suggest they move things back to the bedroom but what comes out instead is: “I’m gonna miss you so much.”
Both of them freeze. Matt gets this startled, perplexed look on his face that has Nick’s insides twisting into knots.Fuck, why did he say that??
“I mean… because of Christmas, y’know,” he stutters, feeling his cheeks flush. As if that’s any more of an excuse. It’s literally two weeks, not even that. Matt’s going to think he’s either pathetic or a nymphomaniac.
