Chapter Nineteen

By the time eight o’clock rolls around, Matt has managed to prepare everything for the next morning and a bit more, with the timers set so that Margaret can pull the last couple batches of muffins out of the oven when they go off. It’s overcast outside, the chill of the night beginning to seep through the doors and into the bakery, and Matt pulls on his spare coat and scrubs the last of the flour off of his shirt before he steps out into the main shop. Margaret gives him a knowing look as he passes her, reaching up to fix his hair. Good luck, she mouths at him, a soft smile on her face as she pats him on the arm. He nods back at her, once, before stepping past the counter and taking a seat at James’ usual table.

He can see why James likes this spot over the rest of the tables in the bakery. Outside the window, he watches as the traffic goes by, lets his gaze trail after the handful of people hurrying past on their way home. The weather is edging toward wintry, the trees nearly bare and the sky a cloudy gray. It won’t be long before the autumn rain turns to winter snow, blanketing the city in clean white. Inside the shop, it’s warm and cozy, full of the smell of freshly-baked pumpkin bread and coffee, a stark contrast to the chilly air just past the glass.

A draft catches Matt by surprise, goosebumps raising along his arms, and when he looks up he sees James standing in the doorway, staring at him with an earnest look in his eyes. He must have stopped home to change before coming to the bakery. He’s in a different outfit now, a black wool coat and a red scarf knotted around his throat, instead of the pinstriped suit that Matt usually sees him wearing. It’s a heady change, James looking so casual and approachable, James having gone home to redress just to have dinner with Matt.

“Ready to go?” James asks.

“Just about,” Matt says, standing up and waving a quick good-bye to Margaret. He knows she’ll be okay on her own, she’s closed up shop alone before and she had all but forced him out of the kitchen when it came time for James to come to the bakery.

The cold air hits him full in the face when he steps out, and he shivers despite the jacket he has on over his thin shirt. Next to him, James looks him over worriedly before unwrapping the scarf from his own neck and tying it neatly around Matt’s. It’s an unexpected gesture, and Matt startles before realizing what James is doing. Once the scarf is on, though, he goes bright red. The wool of the scarf is soft against his exposed throat, and it smells faintly of cologne and James.

Matt blinks at him, caught off-guard. Tentatively, letting a small smile tug at his lips, he brings a hand up to touch the red fabric, stomach fluttering at the fond expression that crosses James’ face at the movement. “Where are we going?” he asks, looking down the sidewalk to see what shops were still open.

“It’s a surprise,” James replies, “but we’re driving, if that’s okay with you. I have my car, traffic isn’t bad so it’ll be faster than taking the subway.” He looks hesitant, nervous and vulnerable in a way that Matt’s never seen him before. “I mean, if there’s somewhere you want to go instead that’s all right, it was just a suggestion.”

“It’s fine,” Matt replies softly. He’s oddly touched by the change in James’ demeanor, in the way that James is so clearly genuine now in stark contrast to the professional facade he usually puts on. “Wherever you have in mind is fine, I’m just happy to be here.” It might be a little too close to the truth, but Matt supposes that he doesn’t care if James knows how much he likes him, after everything.

With a sideways glance at Matt, open and affectionate, James leads him a little ways down the street to a sleek black car parked along the sidewalk. James opens the door for him, and Matt stumbles a bit as he climbs in. It’s by far the nicest car he’s ever been in, and he doesn’t hide his awe as he stares around at the interior. James chuckles a little when he climbs into the driver’s seat and sees Matt taking it all in.              

The drive is short, fifteen minutes of speeding down the city streets, Matt’s eyes flicking between the road and James’ hand on the gear shift. James is a precise driver, if a fast one. He takes the turns a hair fast, leaving Matt with a rush of exhilaration whenever they turn onto a new street.              

After a short while, James parks them in a lot behind a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Matt stares at the building, an unexpected haven of greenery in the concrete jungle of the city. It’s an old building, exposed brick and industrial rafters, but planters have been put down in just about every available square foot. Soft lights are strung overhead, illuminating a small fenced-in patio with intimately small tables scattered across the pavement. Beside him, James kills the engine, turning to Matt with something like determination scrawled across his features. Matt hardly gets a second of warning before James is leaning forward, pulling him closer with a hand fisted in the red scarf around his neck and pressing their lips together.

Matt’s frozen for a moment, his lips parted in surprise, and he only manages to collect his thoughts enough to kiss James back for a split second before James is pulling away. There’s an impossibly fond look on his face, and his cheeks and lips are flushed red. It’s a look that Matt would be happy to see on him every day, if he could.

“Sorry,” James breathes, exhilaration in his voice, blushing to his ears. “I had to do that before we went in.”

Matt nods, still slightly in shock, before he realizes that James looks nervous. “Don’t be sorry,” he reassures James hastily. “You’ve been...” he breaks off, searching for the words. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

That prompts a smile from James, spreading across his face like the flush on his cheeks, and he leans in for one more quick kiss before they get out of the car and head for the restaurant.

***

When James pulls up to Matt’s apartment to drop him off for the night, it only takes a split second of thought for Matt to invite him up for a coffee. There’s little pretense about it, James following Matt up the stairs and through the front door, his eyes wide and blown black with want. The apartment is as tidy as Matt left it, but James hardly notices as he backs Matt against the wood of the front door, unwinding the scarf from around his neck and kissing him deeply.              

It’s not desperate or hasty, there’s no fumbling to get clothes off despite the fact that Matt’s been half hard since they left the restaurant. It’s slow but passionate, a crush of lips and hands sliding over bodies. Matt had no idea he could like this part of it this much, but here they are, up against his door and kissing like their lives depend on it. Matt pushes the expensive coat off of James’ shoulders and drapes it over the coat rack next to him without breaking contact, trailing his fingers down James’ spine as soon as the thick fabric is out of the way. James sighs at that, his eyelashes fluttering against Matt’s cheekbone, and he nips gently at Matt’s lower lip, startling a low groan from his throat. Matthew’s never been kissed like this before. James could devour his mouth for hours and never get tired of it, like the only thing James wants in life is to swipe his tongue along the sensitive flesh of Matt’s lips, to reach up and twine his fingers in Matt’s hair and hold on for dear life.

It feels like an eternity before they break apart, Matt’s legs starting to shake from standing in place for so long. Coughing self-consciously, James slides out of the way and lets Matt step properly into the apartment.

“We’re doing this, aren’t we?” James says quietly, as Matt busies himself with kicking off his shoes and draping his jacket over the back of a chair. “You want to do this, with me?”

“This as in sleeping together in about half an hour, or this as in a relationship?” Matt asks with an amused smile on his face, and James coughs again, surprised.

“Both, I guess, but I meant the relationship part.”

Matt looks up at him, at the vulnerability in his expression and at the sight of him standing, flushed and kiss-heady in his living room. “Yes,” he says emphatically, crossing the room in two long strides to pull James into a kiss. It’s not passionate like the others, just chaste and sweet, an answer to James’ question. “Yes,” he repeats when he pulls away, and James’ answering smile is blinding.

“With Mills...” James starts, and breaks off when Matt’s expression goes dark and pinched.

“I nearly forgot about that,” he admits, leaning forward and tucking his head into the crook of James’ neck. As if on instinct, James’ arms reach up to wind around him, holding him tightly. “I don’t suppose we could talk about it in the morning?”

“We should talk about it now,” James says, and Matt sighs softly in agreement, straightening his spine and pulling James by the hand to sit down on the couch. “Karen says I should quit,” James says, and Matt hadn’t expected that. He had been bracing himself for some sort of but clause, an agreement that they could be together as long as they kept it under wraps so they wouldn’t jeopardize James’ agreement with his newest client.              

“What, tell Mills you can’t make it? That would make for a nasty review, I think.”

“Not if I do it as a political statement,” James says, and that gets Matt’s attention. “Karen thinks I should come out publicly, start only supporting people and companies that I agree with.”

“And are you okay with that?”

James is silent for a long moment, tracing circles across Matt’s forearm with the tip of his forefinger. “More than okay, really. I should have done it a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” Matt asks, and James turns to look him in the eyes, blue meeting hazel.

“I didn’t have a reason to until now,” he replies, leaning in to kiss Matt again.

There is little need for pretense after that, and their kisses grow heady and desperate in a matter of moments. Fumbling their way off the couch and down the hallway, Matt helps James strip his shirt off, letting it fall in a crumpled heap on the floor, forgotten. With his chest bare, Matt can admire the hard cut of James’ abdomen, the lean lines and curves of his muscles and the thin trail of hair running down his stomach. He’s breathtakingly beautiful, an absolute vision standing in front of Matt with his lips parted and his hair mussed.

One hand on his hips and another cupping his face, Matt leads James backwards toward the bed. As he goes, James fumbles with the waistband of Matt’s jeans, pulling open the button and fly and pushing them down his hips until Matt can shimmy them down and onto the floor himself. In a move so smooth and fluid Matt hardly notices it until it happens, James sinks to his knees and noses at the black fabric of Matt’s briefs.

Sucking in a sharp breath through his nose, Matt glances down and meets James’ eyes, the blue reduced to a thin ring around his blown pupils. Without breaking eye contact, James works Matt’s impossibly hard cock out of his boxers and gives the head an experimental lick.

Matt’s knees nearly buckle at that, and all he can manage is to grab blindly at the headboard for support as James eases his cock into his mouth inch by inch. It’s almost too much to handle, the burning wet heat of James’ tongue and the feel of James’ fingers digging indents into his hips. After a moment, Matt realizes that James is pulling at him, easing his hips back and forth, and Matt takes it as the invitation it is, resting one hand lightly atop James’ head and thrusting gently into his mouth. It’s heady and incredible, watching as he sinks between James’ full lips with each snap of his hips, and he has to look away and fix his gaze on the back wall to avoid spilling down James’ throat too early. He had thought he would be cool and collected when this finally happened, but that’s far from the truth. In the end, all he can do is cling to James’ hair as his hips stutter out of rhythm, watching helplessly as James swallows down his release with his eyes fluttering shut.

It’s a sight that Matt never thought he would get to see, James pulling back and looking up at him with a rakish grin on his face, wiping a trace of cum away from the corner of his mouth and licking it off his fingers. Matt groans. James is going to be the death of him if he keeps this up.

Finally, blissfully sinking into the bed, Matt pulls James on top of him, kissing him soundly. James’ mouth tastes like a combination of wet warmth and Matt’s own release, and Matt shivers when James nips at his lower lip. Fumbling on his side table, Matt grabs hold of the little bottle of lubricant, pressing it into James’ hands with a wordless request. James’ eyes go wide, but he sits back on his heels, a work of art poised atop Matt’s hips. James digs around in his pocket for a second before pulling out a foil-wrapped condom with a small noise of success, before crawling off Matt to shuck his pants and briefs. They drop to the floor, along with Matt’s shirt, and then James is finally circling one slick finger around the soft skin of Matt’s hole.

It’s torturous, the way the stretch around James’ finger is too much and not enough all at the same time, and it’s all Matt can do not to whine pitifully when James adds in a second finger and begins scissoring them gently. He opens Matt up carefully, excruciatingly gentle, hushing Matt’s moans with deep kisses. By the time James deems him ready, Matt is a wreck, panting and moaning incoherently, pulling at James’ arms and shoulders as James rolls the condom onto himself.

The first slide of James’ cock into him is blissful, the initial burn subsiding into a throb of pleasure that strikes deep into his gut. James runs his hands over Matt’s chest, sure and steady, his face illuminated by intense, unshakable focus. It’s almost too much to stand, and Matt sobs out a moan that sounds vaguely like James, please when James pulls out slowly and snaps back in.

He sets a powerful rhythm, slow but strong, and Matt is only dimly aware of the fact that his mouth is moving, words spilling out of him unchecked. He’s too far gone to even care about what he’s saying, figuring that it must be good by the blissed-out look on James’ face. The room is silent save for the slide of skin on skin, filling Matt’s ears like music.

Matt takes James’ cock as deep as he can, clenching around him when James sinks in again, throwing his head back to bare his throat. James latches onto it without a need for an invitation, sucking a red bruise into the skin at the base of Matt’s throat and drawing a low moan from Matt’s lips. Matt sighs at the scrape of stubble across his collarbone when James pulls back, his face screwed up in concentration.

“Fuck, Matt, I’m going to—”

Matt moans an agreement, tugging James down to kiss him soundly as his hips stutter, his cock pulsing inside Matthew as he collapses, boneless, to the bed.

It’s a long moment before they find the strength to roll away from each other, James pulling out of Matt, leaving him disappointingly empty again. He disposes of the condom quickly, tying it off and tossing it into the trash can before crawling back into bed to pull Matt tight against him. Matt is content to have James there, blanketed around him. He can’t remember the last time he went to bed so content.

“Everything all right?” James murmurs after a moment, his lips brushing the back of Matt’s neck.

The answer comes easily, real and genuine. “Never better.”