Page 116 of Offside Angle

“As if we rushed anything tonight.”

“Matteo,” I scold softly.

He has the decency to look a little sheepish. “Sorry… deal.”

I nod once and lean down, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock before taking him into my mouth for just a few seconds — just enough to hear that broken moan rip out of him. Then I pull off and reach over to the nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube.

I finish tugging his boxers all the way off and toss them somewhere on the floor. When I glance back up, Matteo is staring at the bottle in my hand with a flat expression before rolling his eyes. “I’m not a girl, Santi.”

“I don’t fuck girls, Matteo.”

He blinks, some of the attitude flickering for a second.

I squeeze some lube onto my fingers and warm it between them before settling back between his thighs.

“I’m going to start with my fingers,” I tell him. “Nice and slow. You’re going to tell me how it feels, and if anything doesn’t feel good, you say stop. Understood?”

Matteo swallows hard, but he nods.

I settle between his thighs and press one slick finger against him, rubbing slow circles first to get him used to the feeling. I keep my eyes on his face the entire time as I slowly start to push in. “Tell me what you feel.”

Matteo’s breathing is already shaky. “It’s… weird,” he admits. “Not bad. Just… different.“

I nod and keep moving slowly, letting him adjust. Only when I feel him start to relax around me do I carefully push in deeper, curling my finger just slightly.

Matteo’s voice jumps up an octave. His back arches hard off the bed, eyes going wide as a string of very colorful Spanish and English curses pours out of him. “Joder— fuck— what the— holy shit—”

I stop my hand immediately. “Stop?”

Matteo lets out a long, desperate whine, his thighs trembling around me. “Noooooo,” he groans, voice cracking. His hips twitch, fighting the urge to push back onto my finger. “Don’t stop. Just— fuck, Santi— do that again.”

I can’t help the small, pleased smile that pulls at my mouth. “Alright,” I murmur. “Breathe for me, cariño.”

I start moving again, slower this time, making sure to drag against that spot on every careful thrust of my finger. Matteo’s reaction is even better the second time — a broken moan ripping out of him as his hands fist the sheets.

Once I feel him start to relax around the first finger, I carefully add a second, moving even slower than before. I’m not trying to open him up enough to take me tonight — not unless he asks for it explicitly. Right now, this is just about making him feel good and getting him used to the stretch.

Matteo’s breathing grows heavier, but he doesn’t tell me to stop. After a few minutes, his hips begin to move — small, instinctive rolls against my hand. That’s when I lean down and take him into my mouth.

The sound he makes is filthy.

I groan around him, my eyes nearly rolling back at how vocal he is. I’ve always loved the sounds he makes, but this is something else. Every moan, every curse, every desperate little whimper goes straight through me.

Matteo still tries to do what I asked. Even as his back arches and his thighs tremble, he keeps attempting to tell me how it feels.

“F-fuck— it’s— s’full— your mouth— oh my god— right there—”

His words keep breaking apart, half-formed and breathless, but he tries. And I reward every attempt by sucking him deeper and curling my fingers just right.

It doesn’t take long before he’s right on the edge.

I feel it in the way his thighs tense, in the way his fingers suddenly tighten in my hair like he’s about to pull me off. He’s trying to be good — trying to stop me before he comes in my mouth.

I look up at him without pulling off, one eyebrow raised in clear warning.

Don’t.

Matteo’s fingers shake against my scalp. For a second, I think he might actually try to pull me away again. But then he lets out a shaky, defeated sound and drops his head back against the mattress, loosening his fingers as he gives in completely.