His face screws up. “Fuck you, Mateo. God, you’re such a fucking—”
“Asshole,” I finish for him, deadpan. While I can admit, I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with the truth about Nathaniel, and my lack of knowledge that Travis even existed, he hasn’t exactly made any effort to hear my side either, choosing to judge without all the facts. It’s something I didn’t expect to annoy me so much, which makes fucking with him that much more fun. The thought of telling himhascrossed my mind, but ultimately, I’ve decided against it.
At least for now.
For one, there’s like a ninety-nine percent chance he wouldn’t believe me anyway, so what’s the point? And for two, hate sex is fucking phenomenal, the best there is, and as much as Travis insists that was an isolated incident, I very much plan on continuing to fuck him. Even though I don’t know Travisthatwell, I know him enough to know if he found out, it would naturally soften his opinion of me, thus taking away thehatein hate sex.
All in all, it’s better if he continues to think he hates me.
“Get in before my patience wears thin, and I beat your ass raw with a paddle to teach you a lesson.”
His eyes darken at the same time he rears back, like he doesn’t know if he should be turned on or offended by that. Regardless, he steps under the stream, with me following. The hot water feels exceptional on my tired and achy muscles, and it’s an added bonus that he looks fucking delectable, dripping wet in front of me.
With his hands clasped in front of him, shoulders hunched over, unease radiates off him. He picks the weirdest times to be awkward. I can be three fingers deep in his ass while he’s restrained to my bed posts, but a shower is too much?
“Turn around,” I instruct him as I reach for the shampoo bottle.
Narrowing his eyes, he glances down at my hands before dragging his gaze back up to meet mine. “Why?”
I roll my eyes. “Can you just do what you’re fucking told?”
Still look skeptical, he purses his lips, slowly spinning until I’m left with a fantastic view of his tight ass. I have to resist the urge to bend down and bite a chunk out of it.
Closing the distance between us, I set the bottle down before lathering my hands up, bringing them up to his scalp. His whole body stiffens the moment my fingers slide into the strands, and I have to hold back a laugh.
“Why are you washing my hair? You don’t need to wash my—”
“Fuck,” I groan. “You’reimpossible.Will you please shut the fuck up and let me take care of you for five fucking minutes. Then you can go back to hating me after.”
He huffs his annoyance, but says nothing else as I get to work, massaging his scalp and cleaning his hair. Eventually, he relaxes, his head lolling back, eyes closed. After I’m done with hair, I move on to his body, which makes him stiffen all over again, but in a completely different way. I drop to my knees to get his legs and feet, his cock jutting out in front of my face, taunting me. His cheeks are bright pink as he gazes down at me, lip pulled between his teeth.
Standing back at my full height, I bring my hand to his stiff length, washing the one area left. His bright blue eyes flutter closed, a content sigh coming from him as I half stroke, half wash. I pull away, letting him rinse the suds off on his own, putting a little bit of space between us. Wejusthad sex; there’s no reason why I’d need to take him again so soon. But the erection I’m sporting would disagree.
That’s nuts.
Once I’m done with him, I tell him where he can find a change of clothes, and he gets out, letting me wash myself. Alone with my thoughts, I’m not quite sure what to make of thissituationI’ve gotten us into. I’m no stranger to casual hook-ups, nor am I a stranger to the type of aftercare that is needed afterwards with my tastes. But I can’t help but notice how different this feels than it usually does. Normally, this part feels like agoing through the motionstype thing, where I can remain pretty detached. This, though… I don’t know what I’m feeling, but it’s certainly not that. All I know for sure is I wouldn’t mind one bit if this storm kept on for a few more days…
19
TRAVIS
The last twenty-four hours have been… interesting, to say the least. Mateo isinfuriating, and even more so since he can work my body over like a puppeteer and I’m his marionette. I need the snow to meltnow, so I can get a locksmith here and I can go home. Being in his proximity is fucking with my head.
He’s a smug bastard, and no matter how good he makes my body feel, I can’t get the image out of my head of him railing Nathaniel, and the cocky look on his face when I caught them. Like he found great satisfaction in ruining a relationship. And I know, I know, Nathaniel is more to blame than Mateo, but it isn’t Nathaniel I’m trapped in this house with, forced to spend dreadful time with. So, it’s much easier to place my anger with Mateo at the moment.
Now, I’m standing in his room, freshly fuckedandshowered, wearinghisclothes, staring out the window at the winter fucking wonderland happening outside. The snow has at least stopped, but none of it seems to be melting. Who fucking knows how much longer I’m going to be trapped here. The sun needs to come out and wipe this shit away, and fast.
I don’t even know how much time has passed since I’ve been standing in here. I vaguely heard Mateo come in and get dressed before leaving the room. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything to me, and just let me be. That shower wastoo much. The way he washed my hair with delicate fingers, and scrubbed my body down, making sure to take his time and get every single inch of flesh.God, it felt so fucking good, and he knew it too with the way my cock bobbed in front of his unreadable face.
The aroma of something I can’t quite place meets my senses. It’s food of some sort, and my stomach grumbles as I smell it, reminding me that I haven’t eaten in far too long. Another inconvenience due to this goddamn snowstorm from hell. After contemplating starving myself in favor of hiding out in this room for as long as I can, I decide food is more important to me than holing up, so I begrudgingly pad out to the living room, where I see Mateo in the kitchen,Neon Graveby Dayseeker playing softly, while he cooks… something. I’m still not sure what. The faint earthy scent of marijuana mixes with whatever he’s cooking, letting me know he probably smoked while I was getting dressed.
At the sound of my bare feet on the hardwood, he glances up, his usual unreadable expression plastered on his face. “You finally decided to come out,” he deadpans.
Deciding to ignore his statement, I sit down on the stool at the bar. “What are you making?”
“Breakfast burritos and hash browns. I took your dog to use the bathroom downstairs a minute ago. She does not like the snow. And I got her some more chicken.” He doesn’t look up from his frying pan as he speaks to me. “How do you take your coffee?”
I hate the flutter in my stomach that comes from hearing him take care of Nova. It’s such a small gesture, but he didn’t have to do it. Hell, he didn’t even have to let us in his house at all.
