First Beer from My Stepfather

[bartsbasement]

Disclaimer: This is written by ChatGPT. If you don't like it, just look for another story. -- There are 5 parts to this story and it's a slow build. All characters are 18+.

Part 1: The First Beer​

The back deck was bathed in a soft amber light as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. The air was warm, a quiet kind of warmth that came after a long summer day, when everything slowed down and even the trees seemed to hush. Finn sat back in one of the weathered wooden chairs, his legs stretched out, one bare foot resting on the edge of the table. He wore a loose gray T-shirt and shorts, his blonde hair still damp from a quick rinse in the outdoor shower after lying out earlier that afternoon. A faint line of freckles had started to reappear across his nose and cheeks.

Matthew came out of the kitchen carrying two bottles of beer, one in each hand. His T-shirt clung slightly to his chest from the heat, dark hair pushed back with a hand towel draped over his shoulder. The five o’clock shadow on his jaw caught the last orange glow of daylight.

“Figured it’s about time,” he said, offering one bottle to Finn. “You’re twenty-one now. Legally corruptible.”

Finn smirked, reaching for the beer. “Thanks. First one ever,” he said, tongue-in-cheek.

Matthew arched an eyebrow. “Right. Of course. Never touched the stuff.”

They clinked bottles. The gesture was casual, easy, but something passed between their eyes—something that had no name but had been there since day one. Matthew looked away first, settling into the chair beside Finn with a quiet grunt, stretching out his legs.

They drank in silence for a moment. The cicadas had started their nightly chorus, and a breeze stirred the trees just enough to keep the heat from sticking to their skin. Finn tilted the bottle to his lips, taking a slow sip. The beer was cold, crisp. His eyes flicked sideways to Matthew, watching him as he drank. The lines at the corners of Matthew’s eyes softened when he smiled, and the curve of his mouth was easy to read even when he wasn’t.

“You’ve grown up a bit since last summer,” Matthew said, not looking at him.

Finn raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Just... different. Sharper. More settled. Not just the muscle,” he added, smirking. “Though there’s that too.”

Finn felt his face warm, and not just from the alcohol. “I’ve been working out. A little. Mostly walking to class.”

Matthew glanced over at him now. “Yeah? Whatever it is, it’s working.”

That was new. A compliment that sat right on the edge of something else. Finn wasn’t sure whether to brush it off or lean into it. So he just smiled and took another sip of his beer.

They sat like that for a while—just the two of them, a couple of feet apart, the silence increasingly less comfortable and more electric. Finn noticed the way Matthew’s shirt clung to his chest, damp where it curved around his collarbone, the shadow of hair visible through the fabric. He remembered how he used to find it awkward when they were left alone together. But lately, the awkwardness had turned into something else—curiosity, maybe. Or expectation.

“You miss it?” Matthew asked suddenly.

“College?”

Matthew nodded.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Sometimes. But being home’s not bad either.”

Matthew gave a short laugh. “You mean being waited on hand and foot by Char.”

Finn smirked. “She likes having me back.”

“You both do,” Matthew said, eyes still on his bottle.

That line hovered between them for a second too long.

Finn turned to look at him. “You and my mom... you guys doing okay?”

Matthew looked over, eyes holding his for a moment. “We’re fine,” he said. “Marriage is... different than I expected. Char’s amazing. Just... busy.”

“Yeah, she’s always been like that,” Finn said. “It’s kind of her thing.”

Matthew nodded. Another sip of beer. Another pause.

“I don’t mind the quiet though,” he added. “Gives me time to get to know you.”

Finn blinked. “Me?”

Matthew’s gaze held steady now. “You’re not a kid anymore. It’s different now.”

There was something behind those words—something unspoken, but felt. Finn didn’t know what to say. The air between them was thick with tension, and not the kind that could be laughed off.

He cleared his throat. “Want another?”

Matthew stood. “I’ll grab them.”

As he walked back inside, Finn watched the way his body moved, the shirt clinging just enough to hint at the muscle beneath. The door swung shut behind him, and Finn let out a slow breath.

This summer was going to be different.

He could feel it.

 

[bartsbasement]

Part 2: Lines in the Dark​

The second beer went down easier than the first. The sun had fully dipped below the horizon by the time Matthew returned to the deck, placing the cold bottle in front of Finn with a low, almost amused glance.

“Don’t go getting drunk on me now, birthday boy.”

Finn gave a soft laugh. “I can handle two beers. Barely.”

Matthew didn’t sit back in his own chair. Instead, he leaned on the wooden railing a few feet away, sipping his drink as he stared out across the yard. The porch light above them cast a warm glow over his shoulders, catching on the slight sheen of sweat along his neck. His jaw moved slowly, shadowed and strong, the soft scrape of his stubble audible as he rubbed the back of his hand across it.

Finn watched him—longer than he meant to. He wasn’t sure when his curiosity had turned into something more physical, but it was definitely there now, sitting just beneath his skin. He looked away, taking a drink.

“You ever think about what you’d be doing right now if you weren’t here?” Matthew asked, still looking out.

Finn shrugged. “Probably at some bar with friends. Getting trashed. Pretending I’m still nineteen.”

Matthew smiled faintly. “And yet you chose to come home.”

Finn glanced at him. “It’s still home.”

“Is it?” Matthew turned now, resting against the rail, facing him. “Does it feel like it still fits?”

The question hung in the air. Finn wasn’t sure how to answer. He thought about the way his room hadn’t changed. The posters on the wall. The desk too small for his laptop now. How everything felt slightly too familiar and slightly too distant.

“Some things do,” he said finally. “Other things... feel different.”

Matthew tilted his head. “Like me?”

Finn froze for half a second. “You’re not exactly easy to ignore.”

Matthew let out a low chuckle and took another sip of his beer. “Didn’t realize I was trying.”

“You weren’t,” Finn said before he could stop himself.

Their eyes locked for a second. Just a second. But long enough.

Matthew set his beer down on the deck railing behind him and crossed his arms, leaning back casually—but his eyes never left Finn. “You always look at people like that?”

Finn blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to read something under the surface.”

Finn’s throat went a little dry. “Maybe I am.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was something else—something hotter, tighter. The air between them vibrated with it.

Matthew stepped closer, slowly. Not much. Just enough to close the space between the edge of the deck and the chair where Finn sat.

“Just so you know,” he said quietly, “if there’s something you’re looking for...”

Finn’s heart was pounding. “Yeah?”

Matthew leaned in slightly, just enough that Finn could smell the beer on his breath, could see the lines at the corners of his eyes. His voice dropped.

“You’re not the only one.”

The screen door creaked open behind them, sharp and sudden, breaking the moment. A gust of air from inside the house followed, cool and too bright. Finn blinked and leaned back slightly, and Matthew stepped away as if nothing had happened.

“I grabbed chips too,” Matthew said casually, walking back inside to fetch them, his voice raised like it was just another night, just another conversation.

But Finn’s fingers tightened around his beer bottle.

His chest was still tight.

The moment wasn’t gone. It was just waiting.

 

[Alex472]

T

 

[bartsbasement]

Part 3: Closer Than Before​

The sky was dark now, and the stars had come out, scattered faintly across the navy stretch above them. A few moths danced lazily around the porch light, and the breeze carried the scent of cut grass and warm wood. Inside the house, the lights were dim. Matthew had set down the chips in the kitchen, but neither of them was really hungry.

They’d moved to the living room, beers still in hand, the mood quieter, heavier, but not uncomfortable. Finn sat on the couch, one leg curled under him, the other stretched out. His cheeks were pink from the alcohol—or maybe from how close Matthew was now, just a foot away at the other end of the couch, turned toward him, one arm draped casually along the back cushion.

Matthew was talking about some trip he and Char had taken the past fall, something to do with wine tastings and hiking, but Finn wasn’t really listening. He nodded, smiled, made the right sounds, but most of his attention was on the low gravel of Matthew’s voice, the subtle lines at the corners of his mouth when he smirked, the faint dark trail of chest hair visible beneath the loose collar of his T-shirt.

Finn took another sip, only to find the bottle empty. “Shit.”

Matthew stood. “I’ll grab more.”

Finn watched him walk to the kitchen—his broad shoulders, the way his shirt clung to his back. He ran a hand through his own hair, heart thudding.

When Matthew came back, he handed Finn another bottle, then sat down even closer this time—closer than before. The inside of his thigh brushed Finn’s knee lightly, then didn’t move.

Finn froze, then looked down at where they touched. Then up at Matthew’s face.

Matthew didn’t look away.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

Finn nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just... warm.”

Matthew took a long sip of his drink. “It’s a hot night.”

He didn’t move away. Neither of them did.

Finn shifted, a subtle turn, and his knee pressed more firmly into Matthew’s thigh. The contact sent a quiet bolt through his stomach. It wasn’t overt. It wasn’t bold. But it was happening.

“You’ve been looking at me differently lately,” Matthew said after a long pause.

Finn swallowed. “You too.”

Matthew turned fully toward him, their legs now touching completely, calf to calf. “You know how long I’ve noticed you?”

Finn’s voice barely came out. “Since last summer?”

Matthew’s eyes darkened slightly. “Before Char and I even got married.”

Finn’s breath caught.

Matthew’s hand moved slowly, deliberately, and settled on Finn’s leg. Just above the knee. The heat from it pulsed through the thin fabric of Finn’s shorts. His fingers didn’t move—just rested there, claiming space.

Finn didn’t flinch. He didn’t move away. He leaned into it.

“Is this okay?” Matthew asked, voice steady, careful.

Finn nodded, pulse loud in his ears. “Yeah.”

The hand slid slightly up, no more than a few inches, but enough to make Finn’s whole body tighten. His skin felt hypersensitive now, like every inch was watching, waiting.

“You’ve got no idea,” Matthew said softly, “how hard it’s been not to look at you the way I want.”

Finn exhaled, shaky. “You don’t have to stop anymore.”

The distance between them collapsed slowly, without words. Matthew leaned forward, his hand sliding higher, their faces inches apart now. Finn could smell the beer, the heat of his skin, the sharp scent of his deodorant under the sweat and summer air.

But Matthew didn’t kiss him yet.

Instead, he brushed his fingers up Finn’s thigh, grazing skin, teasing, and pulled back just enough to leave him burning.

“We’ve got all night,” he murmured, voice rough.

Finn was trembling now—not from nerves, but anticipation. He didn’t look away.

“Then don’t stop.”

Matthew’s fingers curled slightly on his leg, possessive.

Not yet.

But soon.

 

[bartsbasement]

Part 4: Almost​

The room was silent, except for the soft hum of the fridge down the hall and the occasional creak of the old house settling. Outside, the summer night pulsed with the sound of crickets, but inside, everything had narrowed to one thing—one breathless, charged point between Finn and Matthew.

Matthew’s hand still rested on Finn’s thigh. His fingers were motionless now, but the weight of them was impossible to ignore. Finn sat completely still, his heart pounding so hard he was sure Matthew could feel it. The space between them felt like static, humming with the heat of everything unsaid—and everything about to be.

Matthew’s eyes moved over him slowly. Not hungrily, but with a quiet intensity that made Finn’s skin prickle with awareness. It was like Matthew was memorizing every part of him—his flushed cheeks, the freckles lit faintly by the warm lamplight, the shape of his lips, slightly parted.

“You’ve changed so much,” Matthew murmured. “You don’t even realize.”

Finn gave a quiet breath of a laugh. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.” Matthew’s thumb brushed against the inside of Finn’s leg—bare skin now. Finn’s shorts had shifted higher when he leaned back. The touch was light, but Finn still felt it everywhere.

“You’ve been walking around this house all summer,” Matthew said, voice low, “barefoot, shirt half off, those damn freckles showing every time you step outside. And you think I’m not watching.”

Finn swallowed hard. “Were you?”

Matthew’s lips twitched slightly. “Every time.”

A pause. Then:

“You want me to stop?”

Finn shook his head instantly. “No.”

Matthew’s hand slid higher. Finn’s leg twitched involuntarily, his breath hitching in his throat. The edge of Matthew’s knuckles brushed the hem of his shorts—right where thigh met hip. Finn tensed under the touch, not from discomfort, but from sheer need.

Matthew leaned in, the heat from his chest almost touching Finn now. “Then tell me what you want.”

Finn’s mouth was dry. He looked up, eyes locking with Matthew’s, and for a moment he almost said it—I want you to touch me. I want your mouth. I want everything.

But what he whispered instead was, “You.”

That was all it took.

Matthew moved closer. His hand left Finn’s thigh only to find his jaw instead, strong fingers curving around it, thumb brushing the edge of his lips.

And then, finally—finally—he kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was slow, but deep, like Matthew had been holding this in for too long and couldn’t keep it quiet anymore. Their mouths met with a hunger that surprised even Finn, who let out a soft, involuntary sound against him. His hands gripped Matthew’s shirt, tugging him closer, trying to feel more.

Matthew groaned low in his throat as Finn’s tongue brushed against his. The kiss turned hotter, rougher. Teeth, lips, breath—all clumsy, perfect heat. Matthew's hand slid down Finn’s neck, over his chest, stopping just above his waistband.

Finn was panting when they finally broke the kiss. His face flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed with something darker than just lust—want.

Matthew leaned his forehead against Finn’s, breath shallow. “If we go further…”

Finn cut him off, voice rough. “I don’t care.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure.”

Matthew nodded, then kissed him again, slower this time, deeper—less heat, more promise. His hand slid beneath the hem of Finn’s shirt, fingers splaying across bare stomach, up over the slight ridges of muscle, feeling him like he’d imagined doing for too long.

And Finn let him.

Eyes fluttered closed, hands trembling slightly as they moved up Matthew’s arms, over the hard lines of his shoulders, pulling him down on top of him, mouth finding his again with more urgency.

They weren’t careful anymore.

They didn’t need to be.

By the time Matthew had Finn laid back against the couch cushions, bodies pressed flush, shirts rucked up and forgotten, the only thing left was the tension between what they were doing—and what came next.

Not yet.

But soon.

Very, very soon.

 

[bartsbasement]

Part 5: Give In​

Finn didn’t remember how they made it to Matthew’s bedroom. He just remembered the feel of Matthew’s hand gripping his wrist, leading him down the dark hall, the silent thump of their bare feet on wood, his blood rushing so loudly in his ears it drowned out everything else.

The door clicked shut behind them.

And then there was only breath—hot and close—and hands.

Matthew kissed him hard, pushing him gently back against the bed. Finn dropped onto it, his legs spreading instinctively, looking up with something raw in his expression: trust, want, need.

Matthew stood at the edge of the bed, pulling off his shirt with one smooth motion. The porch light from the window threw soft shadows across his chest—broad and firm, dusted with dark hair, stomach tight beneath the line of his ribs. His eyes never left Finn’s face.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, voice low, serious.

Finn exhaled, almost shaky. “So are you.”

He reached for him, fingers brushing the waistband of Matthew’s shorts. Matthew leaned over him again, one hand cradling the back of Finn’s neck as he kissed him—slow this time, teasing. His other hand slipped beneath Finn’s shirt, then pushed it up and over his head, exposing the lean, warm body beneath.

Freckles across his chest. Pale skin flushed pink. Stomach tight with tension.

“You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Matthew whispered, lips grazing Finn’s jaw, then lower, over his throat, his collarbone.

“Then take it,” Finn whispered. “I’m yours.”

That was all Matthew needed.

Clothes came off in quiet urgency. Finn’s shorts peeled down, leaving him bare beneath Matthew’s body, legs parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. He reached up to touch Matthew—his arms, his chest, his face—like he still couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

Matthew kissed down his stomach, slow and reverent, then came back up, aligning his body with Finn’s. His cock was hard and hot against Finn’s thigh, the weight of him pressing Finn into the bed. Finn arched up into it, seeking more.

Matthew looked down at him. “I’m going to fuck you,” he said, his voice rough with restraint. “Slow. Deep. I want you to feel it for days.”

Finn’s whole body shivered.

“Please,” he breathed. “I want it. I want you.”

Matthew reached into the drawer beside the bed, pulling out a condom and a small bottle of lube. Finn watched, wide-eyed, legs already spreading further, his hands gripping the sheets in anticipation. Matthew’s fingers were steady as he slicked them up, then leaned down between Finn’s thighs.

The first touch made Finn gasp—cool, wet, then slow pressure. One finger, sliding inside carefully, giving Finn a moment to adjust. Then a second. Finn’s hips twitched, breath coming faster, moans soft and barely restrained as Matthew worked him open with gentle, steady strokes.

“You’re doing so good,” Matthew murmured, kissing his knee, his thigh, his stomach.

“Please,” Finn moaned again. “I need you.”

Matthew rolled on the condom, slicked himself up, and pressed forward—lining up slowly, eyes locked on Finn’s.

“Look at me,” he said.

Finn did.

And then Matthew pushed in.

The stretch made Finn gasp, eyes fluttering shut, but he didn’t pull away. He held on—breathed through it—his fingers digging into Matthew’s shoulders as he was filled, inch by inch, until Matthew was fully inside him.

“Fuck,” Matthew groaned, forehead pressed to Finn’s. “So tight. So perfect.”

Finn whimpered softly, overwhelmed—in the best way. “Don’t stop.”

Matthew began to move. Slow at first, long strokes that pulled nearly all the way out before pressing back in, deeper each time. The rhythm built gradually, their bodies slick with sweat, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Finn moaned into Matthew’s shoulder, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.

Matthew fucked him just like he promised—slow, controlled, possessive. Every thrust was deliberate, claiming, dragging pleasure out of Finn until he was trembling, lost in it. Matthew’s mouth found his—kissing him hard between thrusts, whispering praise, dirty promises, his voice thick with lust.

“You feel so good around me, baby,” he groaned. “Taking me so fucking well.”

Finn could barely answer—his whole body rocked with sensation, every nerve lit up, overwhelmed and desperate for more. His own cock throbbed between them, untouched but leaking, rubbing between their slick stomachs.

Matthew reached down, took him in hand, stroked him in time with his thrusts. That was all it took.

Finn cried out as he came, shuddering beneath him, warm release spilling between their bodies. His walls clenched hard around Matthew, and Matthew swore, breath ragged, as he drove in once more—deep and hard. “Fuck—” he gritted out, pulling out quickly, one hand fumbling down to slide off the condom, his chest heaving.

“Let me see you,” Finn said breathlessly, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Matthew grunted, hand wrapped tight around his slick length as he knelt between Finn’s spread legs, staring down at the flushed, trembling boy beneath him.

Then he came.

The first rope of cum hit Finn high on the chest, just under his collarbone.

The second arced even farther—spattering warm across his neck and throat.

Finn gasped, watching it happen, the heat of it, the shock of how much, how hard.

Matthew groaned low and deep, his abs tightening with each pulse, more of his release striping Finn’s chest, stomach, and finally dripping down the soft curve of his lower belly.

By the end, Finn was panting, flushed, his body a mess of sweat and cum and shaking afterglow. He looked up at Matthew with awe, chest rising and falling as he wiped a streak of it from his throat with his fingertips.

Matthew leaned down and kissed him—messy, slow, uncaring of the stickiness between them.

“Fuck,” he whispered, forehead pressed to Finn’s. “I’ve never—”

“I know,” Finn breathed. “Me either.”

Finally, Matthew collapsed onto his side, pulling Finn with him, arms wrapping tight around his waist.

Neither of them said anything at first.

Until Finn whispered, “Was that… wrong?”

Matthew kissed the back of his neck, softly.

“No,” he said. “That was everything I’ve been waiting for.”

Finn turned in his arms and looked up at him, eyes soft.

“So… what now?”

Matthew smiled. “Now we stop pretending.”

And outside, the summer night went on—warm, quiet, and filled with something entirely new.

 

[michaelnola]

Part 5: Give In​

Finn didn’t remember how they made it to Matthew’s bedroom. He just remembered the feel of Matthew’s hand gripping his wrist, leading him down the dark hall, the silent thump of their bare feet on wood, his blood rushing so loudly in his ears it drowned out everything else.

The door clicked shut behind them.

And then there was only breath—hot and close—and hands.

Matthew kissed him hard, pushing him gently back against the bed. Finn dropped onto it, his legs spreading instinctively, looking up with something raw in his expression: trust, want, need.

Matthew stood at the edge of the bed, pulling off his shirt with one smooth motion. The porch light from the window threw soft shadows across his chest—broad and firm, dusted with dark hair, stomach tight beneath the line of his ribs. His eyes never left Finn’s face.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, voice low, serious.

Finn exhaled, almost shaky. “So are you.”

He reached for him, fingers brushing the waistband of Matthew’s shorts. Matthew leaned over him again, one hand cradling the back of Finn’s neck as he kissed him—slow this time, teasing. His other hand slipped beneath Finn’s shirt, then pushed it up and over his head, exposing the lean, warm body beneath.

Freckles across his chest. Pale skin flushed pink. Stomach tight with tension.

“You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Matthew whispered, lips grazing Finn’s jaw, then lower, over his throat, his collarbone.

“Then take it,” Finn whispered. “I’m yours.”

That was all Matthew needed.

Clothes came off in quiet urgency. Finn’s shorts peeled down, leaving him bare beneath Matthew’s body, legs parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. He reached up to touch Matthew—his arms, his chest, his face—like he still couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

Matthew kissed down his stomach, slow and reverent, then came back up, aligning his body with Finn’s. His cock was hard and hot against Finn’s thigh, the weight of him pressing Finn into the bed. Finn arched up into it, seeking more.

Matthew looked down at him. “I’m going to fuck you,” he said, his voice rough with restraint. “Slow. Deep. I want you to feel it for days.”

Finn’s whole body shivered.

“Please,” he breathed. “I want it. I want you.”

Matthew reached into the drawer beside the bed, pulling out a condom and a small bottle of lube. Finn watched, wide-eyed, legs already spreading further, his hands gripping the sheets in anticipation. Matthew’s fingers were steady as he slicked them up, then leaned down between Finn’s thighs.

The first touch made Finn gasp—cool, wet, then slow pressure. One finger, sliding inside carefully, giving Finn a moment to adjust. Then a second. Finn’s hips twitched, breath coming faster, moans soft and barely restrained as Matthew worked him open with gentle, steady strokes.

“You’re doing so good,” Matthew murmured, kissing his knee, his thigh, his stomach.

“Please,” Finn moaned again. “I need you.”

Matthew rolled on the condom, slicked himself up, and pressed forward—lining up slowly, eyes locked on Finn’s.

“Look at me,” he said.

Finn did.

And then Matthew pushed in.

The stretch made Finn gasp, eyes fluttering shut, but he didn’t pull away. He held on—breathed through it—his fingers digging into Matthew’s shoulders as he was filled, inch by inch, until Matthew was fully inside him.

“Fuck,” Matthew groaned, forehead pressed to Finn’s. “So tight. So perfect.”

Finn whimpered softly, overwhelmed—in the best way. “Don’t stop.”

Matthew began to move. Slow at first, long strokes that pulled nearly all the way out before pressing back in, deeper each time. The rhythm built gradually, their bodies slick with sweat, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Finn moaned into Matthew’s shoulder, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.

Matthew fucked him just like he promised—slow, controlled, possessive. Every thrust was deliberate, claiming, dragging pleasure out of Finn until he was trembling, lost in it. Matthew’s mouth found his—kissing him hard between thrusts, whispering praise, dirty promises, his voice thick with lust.

“You feel so good around me, baby,” he groaned. “Taking me so fucking well.”

Finn could barely answer—his whole body rocked with sensation, every nerve lit up, overwhelmed and desperate for more. His own cock throbbed between them, untouched but leaking, rubbing between their slick stomachs.

Matthew reached down, took him in hand, stroked him in time with his thrusts. That was all it took.

Finn cried out as he came, shuddering beneath him, warm release spilling between their bodies. His walls clenched hard around Matthew, and Matthew swore, breath ragged, as he drove in once more—deep and hard. “Fuck—” he gritted out, pulling out quickly, one hand fumbling down to slide off the condom, his chest heaving.

“Let me see you,” Finn said breathlessly, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Matthew grunted, hand wrapped tight around his slick length as he knelt between Finn’s spread legs, staring down at the flushed, trembling boy beneath him.

Then he came.

The first rope of cum hit Finn high on the chest, just under his collarbone.

The second arced even farther—spattering warm across his neck and throat.

Finn gasped, watching it happen, the heat of it, the shock of how much, how hard.

Matthew groaned low and deep, his abs tightening with each pulse, more of his release striping Finn’s chest, stomach, and finally dripping down the soft curve of his lower belly.

By the end, Finn was panting, flushed, his body a mess of sweat and cum and shaking afterglow. He looked up at Matthew with awe, chest rising and falling as he wiped a streak of it from his throat with his fingertips.

Matthew leaned down and kissed him—messy, slow, uncaring of the stickiness between them.

“Fuck,” he whispered, forehead pressed to Finn’s. “I’ve never—”

“I know,” Finn breathed. “Me either.”

Finally, Matthew collapsed onto his side, pulling Finn with him, arms wrapping tight around his waist.

Neither of them said anything at first.

Until Finn whispered, “Was that… wrong?”

Matthew kissed the back of his neck, softly.

“No,” he said. “That was everything I’ve been waiting for.”

Finn turned in his arms and looked up at him, eyes soft.

“So… what now?”

Matthew smiled. “Now we stop pretending.”

And outside, the summer night went on—warm, quiet, and filled with something entirely new.

Great writing and story that was hot as fuck

 

[bartsbasement]

Great writing and story that was hot as fuck

Thank you!

 

[Infamous Hacker]

That was soo sexy! Got me hard and leaking!

 

[aluneo619]

Great writing and story that was hot as fuck

thank dumbass ai stealing from artists instead of the person who posted it

 

[michaelnola]

thank dumbass ai stealing from artists instead of the person who posted it

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